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Sugar Daddy

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A Z Fell’s Bookshop, almost nine/wine o'clock.

Crowley was hovering patiently in the horticulture section, whilst keeping an eye on a busy Aziraphale, who was at his desk scribbling all manner of things to keep everything just so. It was taking forever, but the angel became irascible if certain things weren’t completed for the night, so Crowley knew it was better to wait to have his full attention. 

He was pondering a choice of wine when there was an abrupt knock at the door.

‘We’re closed!’ called Aziraphale reflexively, incanting his bookseller catchphrase. 

‘Police, Mr Fell,’ called a brash voice. ‘We’d like to talk to you please.’

Crowley watched as Aziraphale, who’d quite forgotten there was a demon in his bookshop, dropped his pen and scurried to the door. Crowley shrank seamlessly into his smallest snake form and continued to observe from behind the spine of RHS’s Encyclopedia of Plants and Flowers.  

Aziraphale opened the door to two impassive police officers. 

‘Mr Fell, might we come in?’ said the one with big hair. The angel nodded politely and gestured for them to enter. 

Crowley noticed an emergence of nervous ticks that Aziraphale usually lapses into when under stress. Curious. 

‘It’s to do with an apparent robbery at Ernest Bakers,’ said officer Big Hair. 

The other one was tall and squinty, and cut in. ‘A centrepiece cake, meant for an event late tonight, somehow disappeared from the bakery after closing time. A man answering your description was seen in the vicinity earlier this evening and it’s been suggested that you might be able to help us with our enquiries.’

‘Oh,’ said Aziraphale with a gulp, rubbing his hands together. ‘By all means.’

Tall and Squinty started scribbling in their notepad as Big Hair spoke again. ‘Can you tell us where you were around 7.30pm?’

Aziraphale cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I was on my walk.’

‘And your walk takes you past the bakery?’ asked Big Hair.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you see anything suspicious?’ asked Tall and Squinty, not looking up from his notepad.

‘I’m afraid not. Everything looked…’

Don’t say it , thought Crowley, loudly.

‘...tickety-boo,’ said Aziraphale triumphantly.

Tall and Squinty huffed. ‘So you don’t know how a man matching your description came to be holding a whole red velvet cake, in broad daylight?’

‘Well that does sound strange,’ answered Aziraphale, trying to sound like a concerned citizen. ‘When I walked past the bakery, there didn’t seem to be anything amiss.’

‘The cake was replaced by another cake,’ said Big Hair. ‘Almost identical, but with some peculiar flourishes that the baker says had nothing to do with him.’

If snakes could frown, Crowley would have been frowning. 

‘How curious!’ said Aziraphale sweetly, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘Well, I must say, I did see one gentleman, very well dressed, lovely bow tie, who appeared very interested in the goodies in the shop window.’

‘Your reflection perhaps?’ asked Tall and Squinty, with the levity of a cast iron bath.

There was a light sound in the air, and quite instantly, both officers appeared to have forgotten what they were doing there. They blinked at each other.

‘Well,’ said Big Hair, somewhat befuddled. ‘Thank you for... answering our questions Mr Fell. Helpful as always. We’ll be on our way.’

‘Of course,’ said Aziraphale pleasantly, confused but going with it. He saw them out and turned around, feeling oddly lucky. That was when he saw his lanky demon creep out from behind a bookshelf. 

‘Ah! Crowley! Forgot you were here!’ Crowley was glaring at him. Aziraphale smiled brightly. ‘Um... Oh…’ he mumbled, realisation dawning. ‘That was you, wasn’t it?’

Crowley sauntered steadily towards his angel, hands in pockets, studying him intently. He was wearing his sunglasses, but Aziraphale could feel the golden snake eyes boring into him. 

The angel nervously cleared his throat. ‘Shall I get us some wine?’ He didn’t wait for an answer and made a quick dash for the back of his shop, but Crowley deftly caught him before he could get away. The demon gently ushered the sheepish angel so he was standing right in front of him, and kept a hold of his elbows. He peered at Aziraphale, incredulous.

‘Angel?’ asked Crowley, his voice gravelly. ‘Did you... steal a cake ?’ 

Aziraphale gave a nominal wiggle, but otherwise kept still in Crowley’s grip. 

‘No?’ he lied, so transparently that the demon snorted. 

The angel tried a little harder. ‘It went wrong!’ he cried. ‘I only meant to get a slice. But I heard someone coming and I panicked, and then I had the whole cake, on the wrong side of the window! And then I miracled a new one in its place, but it was a bit more elaborate by mistake.’ He shifted on his feet and bit his lip. ‘There was an unexpected amount of tiers and ball bearings.’ 

Crowley felt like he could spend the rest of eternity facepalming. ‘You could have asked me to get it for you, if you were going to be wicked,’ he chided, giving Aziraphale an admonishing squeeze.

‘I don’t need you to get me things,’ argued the angel, squirming out of the demon’s clutches. ‘I can do it myself!’ He got free and backed away, rubbing an elbow.

‘Clearly you can’t!’ said Crowley, scowling at him. ‘You lack the precision needed for doing bad things.’

Aziraphale’s lower lip started to protrude at the same time as his eyes became very big indeed.  

Crowley ignored it. ‘What is wrong with you? It’s Paris and crepes all over again - risking your neck for a nibble .’

It was unclear which one of them had done it, but in a heartbeat, Aziraphale was dressed head to foot in his Georgian aristocratic outfit, immaculately layered in silks and frills. 

‘Oh!’ squeaked Aziraphale, happy to see his antiquated summer suit again. He smoothed out the lace on his cravat and stretched out a well-dressed leg. ‘Takes me back,’ he said, eyes gleaming mischievously at Crowley. 

Crowley frowned and removed his sunglasses. It was the silliest thing he’d ever seen the angel wear, even within the fashion of knee-breeches, stockings and oodles of lace. 

Aziraphale continued to sashay about in the fancy clothes, adjusting a frilly cuff. ‘Well, it’s not like they have the guillotine here.’

‘You could still be prosecuted!’ said Crowley testily, trying not to be distracted by the image of his angel trussed up like a vintage page boy. 

‘I didn’t mean to do it!’ groaned Aziraphale, blue eyes pleading up at Crowley through his eyelashes. The demon was unmoved, so Aziraphale smiled as brilliantly as he could. ‘You know, Crowley, I am always grateful when you rescue me, or stop me getting into trouble.’ 

Crowley glared. ‘Oh, you’re not out of trouble,’ he warned ominously. 

Aziraphale’s smile melted away into a worried blush. ‘I fail to see that I’ve been that bad,’ he said, looking rather sorry for himself.

‘Oh, really?’ said Crowley, steadily, putting his hands on his hips, and doubling down on the glare.

‘Oh come on! It’s just a bit of cake! You’re a demon for heaven’s sake! It’s hardly a mortal sin.’

Crowley snarled at him, pointing a finger in his face. ‘Aziraphale, you nearly got caught! What about your shop? What would I do if you got put in prison? I’d have to get you out. I enjoy the odd recreational miracle as much as the next demon, but that was needlessly reckless!’

Aziraphale pouted. 

The demon started to pace, gesticulating chaotically. ‘After everything we went through! We’d have to run away!’

‘You didn’t seem to mind the idea not so long ago…’

Crowley turned sharply. ‘When the world was ending!’ he spat. Aziraphale winced and ruefully looked down at his shiny shoes. 

‘We won, angel,’ continued the demon. ‘We stopped the world from ending and survived being fugitives from heaven and hell. For the first time in 6,000 years we can stay exactly where we are. And you decided to jeopardize all of that for a slice of cake?!’

‘I didn’t mean to!’ Aziraphale repeated petulantly, wringing his hands. He swallowed a sob. He knew he was cornered. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with a sullen huff. He scowled at the demon.

Naughty ,’ scolded Crowley. ‘Come here.’ 

The angel gingerly went to him. Crowley took his hands in his own, negotiating the frivolous cuffs, and stooped to the angel’s eye level. ‘Where’s that cake now?’ he asked, lips pursed in disapproval. 

Aziraphale gave a nervous glance towards the kitchen. Crowley took the hint and strode in that direction, dragging a shuffling, red-faced angel behind him. 

On the kitchen counter stood a mouth-watering red velvet cake, boasting exquisite frosting, and smelling like warm vanilla and distant cocoa.

‘See!’ chirped Aziraphale, confident that Crowley would understand now. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’

Crowley gave him a hard stare and snapped his fingers. The cake disappeared. 

Aziraphale was crestfallen. Crowley did not understand. ‘Where’s it gone?!’ cried the angel.

‘Back to the bakery.’

‘That’s not fair!’ grumbled Aziraphale, looking for all the world like his favourite toy had been confiscated by a bitterly cruel adult.

Crowley mimicked a pout. ‘Oh poor baby! Is your sugar daddy being more daddy than sugar?’

‘You’re not my sugar daddy!’ cried Aziraphale, outraged, trying to tug himself loose. ‘You’re not any kind of… parent, or carer...’ He trailed off, wriggling a little, and glancing back at Crowley as if hoping for something. 

Crowley raised his eyebrows, vaguely aware of being baited but not entirely sure he minded. ‘Is that so?’ he asked gently. ‘Then why am I having to discipline you?’ 

Aziraphale harrumphed into a full-on sulk. ‘Crowley, I am a 6,000 year old ethereal being! Stop treating me like a human child!’ 

It would have been a fair point, had it not come out as a stroppy whine and been accompanied by a half-hearted kick to Crowley’s shin as he tried again to wriggle free.

Crowley tightened his grip, mind made up. ‘You can call me whatever you like, angel, but you are going over my knee.’ 

Before Aziraphale could argue, he was dragged over to the sofa and pulled over Crowley’s lap like a ragdoll just as soon as the demon had sat down. The various coats were flipped up out of the way and Crowley abruptly brought his hand down on the seat of the cream-coloured breeches in a fusillade of smacks. 

‘Ow! You can’t!’ cried Aziraphale, making as much fuss as he could muster and kicking his legs out. ‘Oh Croooowwwwley!’

‘Brat!’ scolded Crowley fiercely. He spanked hard, ensuring the sting was felt through the material. 

Aziraphale gasped and screeched into the sofa. ‘You demonic tyrant!’ he called out, vocalising each impact. ‘Ow! Ah! Oh! Ow! Ow! Ah! Oh!’

‘You’re the angel with worse impulse control than a demon!’ admonished Crowley. He landed a few more spanks, then relented, satisfied the shock and discomfort of it had hit home. He watched with interest as Aziraphale continued to squirm and whimper as if his backside was still being assaulted. 

‘You are so spoiled,’ breathed Crowley fondly, unable to stop himself from stroking the fluffy blond hair in an attempt to settle his angel. 

Aziraphale hiccoughed pitifully.

‘Oh poor thing ,’ hummed Crowley, scooping up the chastened principality so he was sitting in his lap. Aziraphale rested his head on the demon’s shoulder and allowed himself to become limp while Crowley sweetly petted him for a good few minutes. A tear rolled down a rosy cheek. 

The angel pressed his face into Crowley’s chest with a sniff. ‘Are you very angry with me?’ he murmured, barely audible.  

Crowley nuzzled and stroked him. ‘No,’ he replied softly. ‘Just... vaguely wrathful.’

More muffled words from the subdued angel. ‘Am I forgiven now?’ he croaked.

Crowley held him close and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Say sorry,’ came the stern instruction. ‘And mean it.’

Aziraphale clambered in Crowley’s lap to straddle the demon, knees pressed into the sofa and bottom nestling on the lean thighs. He wrapped his arms around Crowley's neck and got as close to him as he could. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. It was just sincere enough without being any kind of promise whatsoever of better behaviour.

The demon smiled and nibbled his ear, his arms snaking around the plump waist. ‘What am I going to do with my incorrigible cherub?’

‘Love me,’ said Aziraphale happily, sitting back and gazing adoringly at Crowley. Crowley responded by pulling a face that represented violent nausea, and the angel grinned at him impishly. 

‘So naughty. I will always rescue you, no matter what,’ said Crowley. ‘But I’d rather stop you getting into trouble in the first place.’

‘Thank you, sugar daddy,’ said Aziraphale, his eyes glinting on the word sugar. 

‘No, no, Aziraphale,’ mumbled Crowley, with a wince. ‘That’s not what that means.’

‘Can I have my cake now?’ asked the angel, eyes wide, licking his lips.

Crowley’s mouth fell open. ‘No you cannot!’ he said sternly. 

‘Please?’ pleaded Aziraphale. He coyly played with the lace on his sleeve. ‘It’s my favourite.’

No .’ Crowley was starting to regret not administering a harsher punishment.

His angel batted his eyelashes demurely. ‘Please, daddy ?’ He added a pronounced pout for good measure. ‘Just a little bit?’

Crowley clenched his jaw, and with one hand around the angel’s waist, pulled Aziraphale up and forward just enough to reach around and smack him hard on the bottom. It elicited a yelp, despite the layers of clothing. 

‘Do you want another spanking, Aziraphale?’ he asked dangerously. ‘No breeches this time?’

The angel drew back minutely, then fully drooped into a lump of contrition. He started to play with Crowley’s shoelace tie, slowly coiling it around his fingers, and occasionally glancing at the angry demon, who was holding him vice-like around his middle, the long fingers laced together behind the angel’s back. Aziraphale inched forward hopefully, angling for a forgiving cuddle, but Crowley was still fixing him with a baleful glare, possibly waiting for another apology. 

The angel kept up his sorry little glances, and Crowley kept up the punishing stare, one eyebrow arched aggressively. This continued, a battle of wills, until they both began to soften. Aziraphale leaned in for a hug all the same and Crowley finally yielded, his warm hands rubbing the angel’s back as he breathed in an intimacy he couldn’t remember knowing. He placed little kisses on the angel’s temple for what felt like an age. 

An uncomfortable wriggle signalled the end of that little reverie, however, the angel’s penchant for mischief no doubt renewed. He looked at Crowley optimistically. 

The demon sighed in resignation. A white china side plate appeared, with a bite-sized chunk of red velvet cake on it. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up. ‘Oh. Thank you,’ he intoned, reaching for his treat and popping it in his mouth.

Crowley glowered at him as he devoured the desert and wickedly licked his fingers.

...sugar daddy ,’ added Aziraphale, wiggling his eyebrows, and bottom, seductively.

‘You are going to hell,’ scolded Crowley.

‘Only if you’re there,’ said the angel, still flagrantly coquettish and brushing away any crumbs. 

Crowley narrowed his eyes. ‘How long have you been fantasising about me punishing you for Paris?’

Aziraphale shifted in his lap. ‘Hard to say,’ he said with an affected shrug. ‘One or two decades, or perhaps one or two centuries.’

‘You could have just asked!’ 

‘Oh dear me, how vulgar.’

Aziraphale ,’ hissed Crowley. But then the angel was kissing him, soft lips on soft lips, so very tender. Aziraphale paused, dreamily regarding Crowley and sighing at the answering bliss in the demon’s eyes. ‘I saw how you looked at me, and I liked it,’ he explained, twiddling his ankles.

Crowley felt the elegantly embroidered coat between his fingers. He did like it. More layers than a trifle. His pouty angel, needing to be rescued. And by nobody else but him. 

Aziraphale hummed. ‘Rescued by a dark stranger, a mysterious and possibly dangerous peasant, who told me off for being so dreadfully foolish. Delicious .’

‘I am going to beat you with your stupid shoes,’ said Crowley. 

‘You can if you want,’ said Aziraphale, eyes twinkling. ‘They work best when applied to a naughty bottom .’

‘Oh, fuck me ...’ exclaimed Crowley, wondering what on earth the angel had been reading.

‘If you like.’ 

‘I ought to put you to bed!’ threatened Crowley, trying to cobble together what was left of his dominance.

‘Yes, daddy ,’ said the angel sweetly, before giving Crowley his level best gay glance. 

‘Oh, that’s it,’ groaned the demon, flopping back on the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. ‘I resign from the Cosmos.’ 

‘Don’t,’ said Aziraphale quietly, suddenly sincere. ‘Take me to bed instead.’ 

There was no flamboyance, no affectation, no manipulation. The blue eyes were growing anxious by the second. The angel held his breath.

Crowley looked at him searchingly, pretty much as he’d done all night. Finally the merry-go-round had come to a stand still. His eyes fell on the angel’s lips, which he kissed delicately. He gathered the angel in as close as he could, enjoying the feel of lips brushing lips and the sound of soft pops before the kiss deepened. 

Aziraphale canted his hips in lazy arousal, feeling the demon’s belt buckle press against his crotch. He moaned in delight. He rolled his hips again, applying more pressure this time, and gave a dry gasp at the sparks of pleasure. 

‘Hey...’ breathed Crowley, stilling the angel with a firm hand. They both peered down at the increasingly visible bulge in the angel’s crotch, now tenting the front flap on his pristine breeches. 

‘Okay, my angel,’ said Crowley, his voice dry. ‘You want to do this? Want me to top you? To be your daddy ?’ 

Aziraphale’s pupils enlarged. His breathing quickened. He smiled mischievously and nodded. 

‘Then you do exactly as you’re told. Clear?’

Another eager nod.

Crowley took a deep breath and set about removing the angel's top coat. It was like unwrapping a wedding present. 

Crowley moaned. ‘Undress. Lie down.’

The angel looked up coyly, and did neither.

Angel ,’ warned Crowley, his mouth just quirking up a little at the side. ‘Do you want to know what my belt feels like when it’s applied to a naughty bottom?’

Aziraphale flinched in horror, his eyes darting to the silver snake buckle. 

Crowley raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t think either of us wants that, angel. Do as you’re told, please. No miracles.’

The angel idly considered performing a strip tease but thought better of it. The watchful eyes of the demon were unnerving. He peeled his cravat and waistcoat off as efficiently as he could, giving the occasional glance to his top. He was now mostly white frills plus the insistent indiscretion in his crotch. He squirmed uneasily in Crowley's lap, and the demon realised how those layers had been something to hide behind. 

'I don't want to get in trouble,' said Aziraphale. 'But...' he struggled to find the words, or the courage to use the only ones he could think of.

Crowley smiled in understanding and shepherded him off his lap, setting him down preciously on his back. With a snap of his fingers, the sofa expanded into a sofa bed. He slowly crawled on top of his angel with a hypnotic gaze, forming what he hoped was the cover Aziraphale needed to feel safe. Indeed, Aziraphale was looking up at him with an adoring trust; lying in wait, completely at his mercy. 

Crowley freely adjusted himself, his own crotch now feeling uncomfortably tight, and covered the angel's body with his own without breaking eye contact.

‘Oh my,’ intoned Aziraphale breathlessly, instinctively lifting his hips up.

Crowley placed a warm palm on the side of the angel’s face and kissed him lovingly, then hungrily. He rolled his hips to meet Aziraphale’s, then ground against him hard, making them both gasp. The kissing continued, lips, face, neck, as the demon sought and surrendered to the luxurious friction between them. He dry humped the angel, enjoying the act for what it was, until they shared a look that demanded more from one another.

Crowley sat back on his heels and regarding the squirming mess beneath him. Aziraphale looked like he'd been running. There was a little patch of wetness on the front flap of the breeches, where his erection was straining the material. Crowley deftly unfastened the flap buttons and pulled it down like a magical little drawer bridge. No underwear. Aziraphale’s cock sprung free, reaching for the stars. The demon tutted, then stooped down to take the errant organ in his mouth.

Aziraphale squealed and bucked up into the hot mouth. Crowley suckled on him, noisily intoning his delight as if consuming an ice cream, his talented tongue making its way around every part of his penis. His mouth settled on the tip, taking the shaft in his fingers and starting to masturbate the angel, who arched backwards, starting to wail. 

Crowley pulled his mouth away, sure the angel was losing all or any self-control, and pulled at the open flap. In a movement that almost made Aziraphale faint, Crowley ripped the fabric down with just enough miracle to tear the breeches apart in the gusset. Before Aziraphale could remark on the technique, Crowley had flung both legs over his shoulders, shiny socks and shoes elevated in glorious indignity, and with full access to the angel's most private area.

‘Oh GOD!’ Aziraphale cried. 

Crowley smirked and spat on his fingers. ‘Not God - daddy ,’ he corrected, his fingertips gracing the angel’s puckered entrance. He inserted a finger with a malevolent leer.  ‘ Little arsehole ,’ he teased in a throaty rumble. 

Aziraphale beamed wantonly, wrapping his fingers around his abandoned erection and putting his wrist to work. The demonic spit™ was increasing in quantity and viscosity, feeling coolly smooth and wickedly wet inside him. He really did love Crowley’s demonic miracles. He greedily pushed onto the digit, then the second and third as they were added, stretching him pleasantly. He was an utter disgrace. 

Crowley groaned involuntarily and thoroughly indecently. With a frantic fumble, he unzipped and pushed down his jeans and underwear, his palm working his cock. He aligned himself, and the angel’s legs elevated even further as Crowley’s shoulders leaned in close. Aziraphale felt something warm and blunt nudging his entrance, then cooed as Crowley slowly eased all the way in with a succession of 'fuck's. 

He lowered himself down onto Aziraphale, placing a soft kiss on his lips and studying his angelic face. 

‘Sorry I was bad, daddy,’ encouraged Aziraphale, pupils blown to kingdom come. 

‘You will be,’ said Crowley through gritted teeth. He raised himself up, straightening his arms, and thrust hard. 

The room was soon full of the ungodliest grunts, as Crowley attempted to control his pace. He would occasionally slow down and cover his angel again, smoothly grinding and showering him in kisses, before sitting back on his heels and fucking him senseless. The shiny shoes rocked back and forth like lanterns in an earthquake. 

Crowley pounded into him at just the right angle, and Aziraphale squawked. The demon’s touch was so gentle, yet his thrusts so powerful, and the contrast made Aziraphale’s head swim.

'Ah fuck, ah fuck, ah fuck,’ he groaned, fapping away. 

‘Language!’ scolded Crowley, swatting his bottom.  

The angel tried to talk in panicked bursts. ‘I’m… you’re… I’m going to... I CAN’T HELP IT…’

There was a filthy moan and the angel spurted copiously all over his fist, his white shirt, and his lacy ruffles. Crowley felt muscles spasming around his cock as Aziraphale arched and writhed in noisy climax, a picture of exquisite bliss, the white wings suddenly unfurling and spreading in a resplendent hallelujah. 

Crowley gaped in disbelief at the vision beneath him and started to rut at a beastly speed, mercilessly chasing his own climax. So much more sensitive now, Aziraphale’s orgasmic cries became orgasmic screams as he continued to pump for more while his prostate was repeatedly slammed.

So. Fucking. Sinful. Crowley was coming undone. Aziraphale’s head was thrown back, lost in a sea of delicious abandon, fiendishly defiled, his fist still frantically milking himself, all in a bed of ornate white feathers. ‘Don’t stop, don’t stop,’ he murmured. ‘ Please …’

Crowley felt a surge of ecstasy from deep within him. He came with a sudden shout, his own ebony feathers springing up boldly behind him in triumph. He flung himself against Aziraphale and filled him up, rolling his hips like waves slapping into a harbour. 

The angel cried out, feeling so full, and another burst of seed erupted all over his sticky hand. His wings vibrated until the undulations faded and his cock softened. 

Crowley was cherishing the position, balls deep and so satisfied, thinking idly of how some creatures stay locked together after coitus, and wishing that was them. However, fatigue was advancing and the angel was starting to look like he might appreciate no longer being impaled. He politely withdrew and flopped down next to his angel. 

'All better?' he breathed.

'Mmmph,' answered Aziraphale drowsily. Then he chuckled to himself. ‘I did it twice!’

‘Good boy,’ said Crowley with a lopsided grin. He reached for his hand and held it tight. 'Anyway,' he said. 'You're grounded.'

Aziraphale rolled onto his side into the fetal position and cuddled up to his demon daddy. 'Okay,' he said sweetly. 'I'll stay right here.'