It was a year to the day after Armagge-didn’t, and Aziraphale was content. True, there were some first editions he was still desperate to get his hands on for the shop – the blessedly whole and soot-free shop, thank…well, thank Adam, really – and there was this disagreement he had with one of his neighbours about the unnecessarily adventurous cat that sometimes broke into said shop through a top window, but…Things were good. He flicked his eyes over to Crowley, who was gesticulating widely with his fork while accounting some story or other, and smiled gently. Things were good.
“And Beelzebub didn’t let me do anything fun for ages after that!” he ended with an exaggerated pout. Aziraphale chuckled, partly because it was expected of him, but mostly because it made his heart soar to see Crowley so carefree. Happy, even.
“I’m sure you plotted your revenge accordingly while you were on the bench, dear?” he quipped, eyes twinkling.
“Nah, didn’t really seem worth it. They did do worse things to me, but…eh. Work, right?” Crowley shrugged, finally putting the bite of food in his mouth after he had been jiggling it around for ages and chewing thoughtfully.
“This isn’t half bad, you know?”
“I thought you already knew this place?” Aziraphale asked with the beginning of a frown on his face. Crowley waved his concerns away with a gentle flap of a hand.
“I do, just – this” he gesticulated between the both of them with his now-empty fork – and what a whiplashed fork it was. “This, us. It’s fun, isn’t it? It’s good.”
Aziraphale felt a gentle blush rising in his cheeks. They had never addressed anything that was or wasn’t between them, or whether Aziraphale was just an old, romantic fool who saw solid figures where there were only shadows. Still, the last few months had felt different. Different from before.
“Yes, dear” he said softly, after a long pause, when Crowley had already been redirecting his focus to wave a waiter down for the check. “It’s very good.”
They had been drinking for a few more hours, casually, in the back of the bookshop, on that old Chesterfield sofa that Aziraphale treasured over most of his other earthly possessions. (And if it was mostly because Crowley had miracled it into being just a short while after the shop opened, after he complained quite lengthily about having nowhere to sprawl…Well that was nobody’s business, was it?) Crowley, as always, lounged near-bonelessly, wine glass dangling from his long, elegant fingers and foot softly bouncing in the air to the melody playing on the gramophone.
If there was a moment to live in forever, out of every moment in time one could choose, this would most certainly be it.
However, the angel couldn’t quite settle down the way his friend did. Something from their earlier conversation…It gnawed at him, deep and insistent.
Well, it couldn’t be helped.
Aziraphale looked up from where he was currently clutching his hands in his lap uneasily. “Crowley, dear…” he started carefully, and quite immediately lost his footing when he saw those big, beautiful eyes blink at him.
“Yes, angel?” Crowley mockingly replied with the exact same tone of voice, a teasing smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Aziraphale just frowned, and carried on regardless, balling his hands into fists and using the gentle bite of nails into his soft palms to ground himself. “What did you mean, earlier, when you said that they had done worse things to you? Down…downstairs?”
“It’s literally Hell, angel. I’m sure you can imagine” he exclaimed with a lazy sweep of his hand, but Aziraphale saw the uneasy flash in his golden eyes. Hoping he was wrong, but very much dreading that he wasn’t, he asked:
Crowley scoffed, and shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by this. “Of course they did. A few times.”
If there had been a wine glass, vase or something as fragile like a three-pound lump of crystal in Aziraphale’s hands, it would now be glittering all over the hardwood floors in beautiful, tiny shards. “What? When?”
“Oh, after I didn’t complete an assignment the way they wanted. I told you, they don’t write rude notes. After the deal with the church, for example. They didn’t like that. At all” he emphasised, voice suddenly not as confident and strong anymore.
Aziraphale paled. “They tortured you?”
“For a few years. Didn’t you wonder why you didn’t see me til ’67?” the demon tried to tease with a mock-hurt expression and a hand clutched dramatically to his chest, but it sailed miles away from what Aziraphale was capable of processing right now.
“They tortured you for 26 years?”
“Give or take. They didn’t give me a report on what was happening on earth when they came in, you know.”
“Crowley…” he started, not quite threateningly or furious in any way, but the lights decided to give a bit of a flicker all the same. Just to show respect where respect was due.
“That’s why I wanted to rob the church” Crowley confessed quietly, picking at his quite fantastic nail beds to avoid having to meet the angel’s no-doubt disappointed eyes. (They weren’t as flawless as Aziraphale’s, of course, but whose nail beds were, really?) “As soon as they let me out, I needed…I wanted to protect myself, stupid as it might have been. I had to know that it wouldn’t happen again, not like that, not without me defending myself.”
The room fell quiet. Crowley ran a hand through his hair uneasily, the tense silence weighing heavily on him. He should have just shut up about it, made a joke, distracted Aziraphale. Spilled his wine on purpose, sneezed, something. Everything would be better than this silence.
Said silence was broken by a near-silent whimper. When the demon whipped his head towards Aziraphale to comment on it – maybe it was that brainless tabby cat from the next block over stuck in that blasted oak tree again, that beast was a nightmare to get down from there – he stopped short, gaping for a second before he gathered himself again.
“Angel?” Aziraphale had a hand slapped over his mouth – as to muffle all potential noises, probably – and his eyes were clenched shut. Big, fat tears were streaming down his face in a constant flow. He shook his head when Crowley placed a careful hand on his forearm to try and comfort him, and the demon yanked back his hand as if burned, moving a few inches away from the angel for good measure.
“Aziraphale, why are you crying?” Crowley insisted quietly, after a minute or five of him just listening to the angel’s crying in agony, insides twisting as if to escape his body.
“How couldn’t I?” the other said meekly, his voice still drowned in occasional sniffles. “They hurt you, over and over and over again, and you never told me. I did nothing to stop it.”
The demon frowned. “You couldn’t have.”
“You asked for holy water in 1862, Crowley!” he exclaimed with a desperate tinge to his voice, slapping his palms down on his knees. “If I would have been less stubborn, if I would have listened to you…” The last words died a quite painful and slow death in the back of the angel’s throat, and the heaving breath he took did little to comfort him.
The demon was absolutely gobsmacked, but scrambled to make everything alright as good as he could.
“No, angel, no, it’s not your fault. There were too many when they got me, it wouldn’t have –“ Crowley broke off in the middle of the sentence when he realised that this didn’t sound as comforting as he had intended it to be.
Aziraphale was full-on shaking now, shoulders hunched and drawn up to his ears, rocking from side to side uneasily in the perversion of comfort. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you…” He broke off in a whisper, staring at his hands in his lap with a mournful expression in his eyes.
“I didn’t think much of it. It’s just how things are done down there” Crowley tried to soothe him, tried to be flippant about all of this, but to no avail: Aziraphale looked him dead-on in the eye and shook his head. He had stopped crying, thank…someone, but now there was quiet fury burning through the despair.
“Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. The pain.”
Crowley scoffed, throwing his arms up in the air and bolting out of his usual sprawl on the couch, pacing the floor impatiently. “Well, what do you want me to say? That I begged them to just end it already after months of them going at it again and again? That I would have given everything just to make them stop? To stop all of it? The darkness and the whips and the knives and the burning? What they said they would do tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, while I was already dripping blood on that filthy floor? The silence afterwards, when they left me all on my own, and I didn’t know what year it was, if I was ever getting out of there, if I was ever going to see the sun again? See you again? If they would destroy me or just leave me there to rot for eternity?”
He whirled around to fix Aziraphale, who was still sat on the sofa, looking at him like a rabbit in front of a snake.
“I would have betrayed you in a heartbeat, Zira, just to get out of that hole.”
The angel’s eyes softened, and he seemed to draw a big breath before he pushed himself off the sofa to stand directly opposite Crowley on shaky legs. Carefully reaching out, he touched Crowley’s cheek with his trembling fingertips before cradling the side of his face in his palm, thumb stroking under the demon’s eye to wipe away what were definitely not tears. “And I would have taken your place gladly.”
“Don’t say things like that” the demon whispered brokenly, even as he leaned into the warm touch, body language quite honestly begging for more. More warmth, more comfort, more…more Aziraphale.
“It’s true. Crowley, you…” the angel stopped himself, eyes flickering down to Crowley’s mouth for a second before their gazes met again. He licked his lips nervously, and Crowley wanted nothing more in the world than to reach out and be brave for once, but…
“I’m ruined, I know. You’re only getting that now?” he chuckled bitterly, and the sound tasted like ash in his mouth.
“Shhh” the angel tutted, even as he put his other hand on the side of Crowley’s neck, eyes widening slightly as he felt the rabbit-quick flutter of the demon’s pulse under his skin, and wasn’t that just mortifying.
“You’re exquisite.” He leaned in the rest of the way, going on his tiptoes and kissed Crowley right between his meticulously kept eyebrows. His lips were soft, so soft and plush, on the demon’s skin, like nothing had ever been before.
“You’re absolutely stunning” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s mouth when he went back down on flat feet, nearly close enough for their lips to brush but not quite. He leaned their foreheads together for just a moment to catch his breath before he strayed to press gentle pecks on Crowley’s still-damp cheek, wandering up over the sharp line of his nose, his forehead, right up to his hairline, where he lingered for a moment.
“Wonderful. Just wonderful” he mumbled against Crowley’s hair, the hand on his neck caressing the skin with the most careful of touches, like one might pet a very, very tiny black leopard kitten.
“Zira” Crowley choked pathetically, when all other words failed him. He had wrapped his arms around the angel and clung to his shoulders and back as soon as the angel had started this attempt of melting him into a puddle of black sparkling goo.
“I’m here, darling. I’m here for you.” Aziraphale spoke softly, nuzzling the demon’s hair one last time before gently nudging his face to the side, lips touching his temple, the outside of his cheekbone and the sharp line of his jaw with reverence.
Crowley drew in a sharp breath through his equally sharp teeth when Aziraphale starting mouthing at the curve where jaw met neck, soft lips anchored over his racing pulse, not sucking or biting, just…staying. Feeling.
“What are you doing to me?” the demon asked into the little space there was between them, letting his hands that had been clenched tightly relax and drift to the front of Aziraphale’s body, resting carefully on his chest. He wasn’t pushing him away in the slightest, in fact he curled his fingers into the angel’s coat lapels only to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly disappear into thin air.
“What I should have done millenia ago” Aziraphale answered simply, warm breath tickling the skin of Crowley’s neck where it was still a bit damp from the press of the angel’s mouth. With a shy smile on his face, he edged back a bit, but only far enough to be able to look at Crowley. He plucked one of his hands off his coat like one would a piece of off-course dandelion fluff and cradled it between both of his own. Very slowly, he guided it to his mouth and gentled a kiss over the sharp knuckles, eyelashes fluttering up so their eyes could meet.
“Aziraphale” the demon breathed out in disbelief at the amount of affection in the other’s eyes.
Aziraphale smiled, beatifically, and leaned in to kiss Crowley right on his lovely, shock-slack mouth.
Nothing really mattered after that, anymore.
the response I got to this was INSANE, thank you so so much!!!!
Here we have much-needed communication and comfort, they deserve it.
Love you loads,
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Crowley froze entirely the moment that Aziraphale kissed him on the lips, too baffled to react. However, when his brain rebooted after a moment or two, his hand that was still holding on to the angel’s coat tightened, and he positively yanked Aziraphale closer. He kissed back with all his might, sliding in his tongue when the angel gasped in surprise. Aziraphale tasted like sunshine and caramel and good, heavy wine, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Any of it. Their lips were sliding together perfectly, Aziraphale’s arms a strong and safeguarding presence around his waist, but he needed more…
He steered them backwards until the back of the angel’s knees hit the edge of the sofa, and made them tumble down on it with a light push. Crowley basked in the way Aziraphale looked up at him for only a moment, eyes wide and sparkling and bright, and straddled him impatiently. Ducking his head down to kiss him again, Crowley moaned when the angel cupped his face reverently, fingertips stroking promises of tenderness into the heated skin. His fingers flew to his own shirt, unbuttoning it in a frenzy, not caring if the shirt would be salvageable after. The cool air that was now caressing his newly-bare chest was like a kick to the system, and he wriggled even closer on Aziraphale’s lap, legs spreading around the generous width of his hips.
With roaming hands, he fiddled with the angel’s abundance of tiny pearlescent buttons – he knew, even through the haze of lust, that Aziraphale would definitely not appreciate a garment being ripped in the name of passion – and actually managed to undo all of the buttons of his silly, perfect waistcoat without looking even once, not even breaking the kiss. With a satisfied sigh, he yanked the bottom of Aziraphale’s shirt out of his trousers and slid his hands under it immediately. He needed more, he needed everything, he needed…
“Crowley.” The angel’s voice cut through the fuzzy veil hat had settled on Crowley’s brain, and judging by its urgency he would guess that this wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had called his name. And not in a good way, either.
He blinked open his eyes, picture swimming before him for a moment before he could focus on Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale’s helpless, regretful face. Crowley’s stomach twisted.
“Crowley, what are you doing?”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” he exclaimed, a slight edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. “You want me, I want you, let’s get on with it!”
“Crowley…” Aziraphale started, still stroking his face carefully. No. Lovingly. More love than Crowley deserved, surely. But lust…lust he knew. Lust he was familiar with. Lust he could do.
His golden eyes turned sultry, and he moved his shoulder in a way that made his unbuttoned shirt slip off of it, revealing a spot of pale, slightly freckled skin that had helped him seal more than a few temptations, back in the day. He flung his arms out to lock behind Aziraphale’s neck, gently caressing the nape of it with his fingernails before he sensuously let them drop over his throat, down his chest, his stomach, down, down…
“Don’t pretend like you don’t want this” he muttered in Aziraphale’s ear as he leaned in tightly, feeling the other’s body heat. “I will make you feel so good.” He flickered his tongue against Aziraphale’s earlobe, and the angel shivered accordingly. “I will let you do anything to me, anything you could think of. Don’t you want that?” he asked, hand confidently moving over the angel’s cock and gripping.
“I don’t!” Aziraphale exclaimed loudly, pulling Crowley’s fingers away with his one hand and pushing him a bit off of him with the other so their eyes could meet.
Crowley blinked, his lust-blown pupils instantly shrinking back to their usual slits as he frowned. “You…don’t?”
“Of course not” the angel cried out, shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe Crowley’s audacity. ‘Cause you’re disgusting, Hastur’s voice echoed in his head. Disgusting and filthy. Nobody will ever want you, you know? Your perverted ideas of…affection, of happiness. You’re a demon, Crowley, that’s not what you do. Not what you deserve. You know what you deserve, though? This.
The memory sliced through him like the knife had, that day, and the day before, and the year after. He shrunk back into himself, his pathetic, useless self, and scrambled to get off of Aziraphale’s lap, pulling the shirt back over his exposed shoulder and wrapping his arms around his torso. He felt sick. “Why kiss me, then, hm?” he hissed venomously, heart still sinking when he looked the angel in the eye, the way Aziraphale’s empty hands were closing around air like he tried to trap the memory of having held him.
“Crowley, I…I want you. I do, believe me, I do. So much. But not now. Not right now, when you’re vulnerable and scared and…”
“I AM NOT SCARED” Crowley yelled, and a dark part of him enjoyed the way Aziraphale stared at him in…in fear. The angel was afraid of him. Finally, after all he had done, all he had said, this had been the tipping point. He should have known it was too good to be true. Too good to last. “You! You are scared, you always are! Scared of doing what you want! Scared of the consequences, of what people might think” he spat it out like a disgusting aftertaste. “You with your mellowness and your soft heart and your magic tricks and your tea and your books and…”
“Crowley, stop” the angel whispered, voice heavy with tears. “Please, stop.”
As the rage cooled off in him, it was instead replaced by a horrible, cold block in his stomach as he watched Aziraphale drop his head into his hands, shoulders shaking with what he could only assume were sobs. It was his fault. Everything, always, was his fault. He didn’t know what to do about it, either; he could just stand in front of the weeping angel and stare at him, unblinkingly.
“I’m sorry” he heard Aziraphale say after a few minutes, words muffled by his hands before the angel raised his head again. “For not being as brave as you.” His mouth tried to curve into a shaky sort of smile, but it hurt Crowley just as much as the desperate look in his eyes did.
“I’m not brave, angel! Didn’t you listen to a word I’ve said tonight? I let them do things to me, I just hung there and let them…” He stopped short as a new wave of memories hit him, but he shouldered past the darkness and the screams and the pain in his head. Not now, damn it. “I’m a coward, Zira, I didn’t even have the guts to tell you, or to get back at them, or…”
Aziraphale scrubbed the tears off his face with an impatient palm before he stood, stepping in front of Crowley with a determined set in his jaw. “You didn’t let them do anything. You were in pain, in horrible pain, you were trapped down there, you had nowhere to go, did you?” Crowley shook his head miserably, if mostly unconsciously. The angel looked at him sternly. “Did you?”
“I didn’t” the demon croaked, voice mostly used up by his earlier yelling and the way his emotions were apparently trying to choke him from the inside. “I didn’t, I didn’t, I wanted to go but I couldn’t, they just kept me there, and did miracles so I would heal, so they could start all over again. I…I tried, Zira, I swear” he insisted with a shaking voice, and why were his cheeks so wet?
“I know, dear.” Aziraphale replied, tears again coming down his cheeks – and oh, that was it. “I know you did.” He enveloped Crowley into a tight, nearly bone-cracking embrace, pushing the demon’s head into the crook of his neck, and Crowley…
Crowley held on for dear life, struggling to get even closer – he would have climbed into Aziraphale, if that was possible – and taking in the angel’s comforting smell in lungfuls. “They hurt me, Zira” he keened. “They hurt me for years and years, and they never stopped. Why didn’t they stop?”
“I’m here” Aziraphale whispered, very much a non-sequitur, and it felt like every single fibre of his heart was ripping itself apart, listening to this.
“They said they weren’t angry with me. They…said that this was just how things were done. That I needed to learn…” Crowley’s voice broke off into incoherent gasps of air, and he shuddered violently in Aziraphale’s arms.
“Needed to learn what, darling?” he asked, although he was already quite sure he would hate the answer.
“I needed to learn what a disgusting creature like me deserved. That this was the only sort of touch I…could ever wish for.”
“My goodness” Aziraphale groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter and burying his face in Crowley’s hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he whispered fervently against the demon’s head as he rocked them gently from side to side. “You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be touched with love, only with love.”
“I don’t” Crowley whimpered, even as he went practically boneless under Aziraphale’s ministrations. “They weren’t completely wrong. I am a disgusting thing, and revolting, and…”
“You are nothing of the sort, dear. You are not a thing, first of all. And you are beautiful, in fact, maybe the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t lie to me, not about that” Crowley pleaded, voice small and delicate and very un-Crowley.
“I’m not lying. You are absolutely wonderful. You deserve good things” he insisted gently, pressing a kiss into Crowley’s hair.
Crowley flinched, for only the fraction of a second, before he relaxed into Aziraphale’s arms again, but the angel noticed anyway.
“Darling?” He lifted his head from where it had been firmly lodged on top of Crowley’s, to get a better look at him, but the demon only burrowed further into Aziraphale’s embrace, making it impossible to see his face.
“I changed my mind. Please don’t tell me if you didn’t mean it, any of it. Don’t tell me. Not tonight. I just…I just want something to believe, tonight” Crowley finished miserably.
“Crowley, look at me.”
“Let’s stay here for only a minute, alright? I’ll get my act together and I’ll…I’ll leave and we never have to talk about it again. Just…give me this one minute. Please.” Crowley was outright begging now, clinging to him, face pushed impossibly close into the crook of the angel’s neck, and it broke Aziraphale’s heart to see him grasping at straws so eagerly, like that was really the biggest thing he could hope for. To be allowed a minute more in his arms and to be then kicked out like a filthy dog.
“You can have hours of this, if you want. Days. Years, even. But please, Crowley, please look at me.”
The demon lifted his head with a sigh, like he was strapping up for a punishment but ready to accept his fate. He was fidgety as he turned fully towards Aziraphale, straightening his back – they heard a vertebra or six pop at the motion – and eyes restless on his face, searching for answers.
Aziraphale reached out with both hands again, cradling Crowley’s head in his palms like he had done not too long ago. But how much had changed since then.
“I love you, Anthony J. Crowley.”
Crowley’s reaction – or its beginning, at least – was violent; his mouth twisted into a vicious snarl even as his shoulders started to shake under the heavy implication that maybe this wasn’t a trick, maybe this was real?
“You don’t” he hissed helplessly, writhing to get out of Aziraphale’s grip, but for once, the angel wasn’t letting go.
“I do. I love you, I have loved you for decades, and I will love you until the end of time, if you let me.”
“But…I am…” Crowley started, confusion marking his face. “And you are…”
“We’re on our own side, remember? We’re the same, you and I. Just let me give you…”
“Give me what?” he asked timidly, after a while of them just staring at each other, with Aziraphale apparently incapable of finding the words.
“Anything” the angel sighed. “Anything and everything that you want.”
“I want you to touch me” Crowley spoke clearly, even though he was absolutely terrified by the idea of having Aziraphale see him.
“I’m not sure sex is a good idea at the moment, dear” Aziraphale said regretfully, careful not to make it sound like a rejection. He gently swiped his thumbs over the demon’s cheeks in a light caress. “We’re both very upset, and I don’t want to ruin everything. I know I said everything you want, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I didn’t mean sex necessarily, you old pervert” Crowley flashed him the beginning of a grin, and oh, there he was again. “I just…I want to feel you, and be felt by you.” I want to remind my body that not every touch means pain, he didn’t say, but Aziraphale saw it on his face anyway.
He smiled gently, and leaned in to put the sweetest of kisses on Crowley’s lips. “That I can do.”
If you read this right after I posted you might remember me promising body worship porn in the next chapter. I tried, folks, I really did, but they just won't stop TALKING and angsting my goodness.
But we are going to have porn in chapter four (I already know that because I just wrote it, hee hee), so that's something to look forward to!!
again, thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the kind words, I feel very spoiled. I hope you enjoy this too :)
Lots of love,
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Crowley smiled against Aziraphale’s mouth, sighing quietly at the way the angel’s palms ran down his shoulders and arms, just enough weight behind it to ground him.
“Your shirt feels so soft” the angel muttered, eyes still closed, mouth slack and lips just parted enough for the words to escape. Crowley wanted to cry at the blissful sight of him, but settled for touching their foreheads together. He didn’t dare close his eyes, knowing he’d be overwhelmed in a single second. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed slightly downwards, past the adorable point of Aziraphale’s nose, right on his pink, perfectly small mouth.
It didn’t help him in not feeling overwhelmed at all.
“Do you like that? Being surrounded by something soft?” Aziraphale continued, voice still easy and familiar like a boiled sweet from your nan’s tin in the kitchen.
“I…do?” Crowley replied, quite unsure on where this was supposed to go.
“And why is that?”
“It’s…uh, well, it feels…” he struggled in coming up with something that might allow an infernal interpretation. But somehow he found it quite hard to translate his preference into evilness. Just four-letter words, really, and wasn’t that atrocious?
“Good. Nice. Warm. Safe?” Aziraphale prompted, the world’s worst Scrabble player – but also, apparently, the best mind reader. He carefully traced the sensitive inside of Crowley’s wrists with his fingertips, sliding down to interlace their fingers.
“Your hands are masterpieces, I don’t think I’ve ever told you” he continued, an unexpected turn that had Crowley blink and start from the lull he had previously been in.
“They’re alright” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. He remembered his knuckles, swollen and bloody and split, hideous. He remembered Ligur fixing the splintered bones with a lazy wave of his own healthy fingers, fully planning on doing it all again just because he fancied it. Crowley had spent that week dreaming of transforming into a lovely little ferret to gnaw Ligur’s fingers clean down to the bone. He shuddered at the memory, and Aziraphale gentled a kiss against his temple. Without noticing, he had burrowed back into the warm crook of the angel’s neck.
“You…wouldn’t have liked me, the way I was down there” he whispered against the skin, hands holding Aziraphale’s tightly. There was still no masking the way they shook. “The way I looked. None of it.”
Aziraphale tutted, thumb stroking the crease between the demon’s thumb and forefinger, and oh, those were quite a few nerves, weren’t it? “Of course I wouldn’t have liked it. Because you were in pain. But don’t ever think I would have not liked you for you. In every time that I’ve known you, I’ve liked you.”
Crowley scoffed. “Angel…” he sighed, only to be promptly interrupted.
“I liked you in your Nanny get-up, and in that ridiculous outfit you wore when you freed me from the Bastille. I liked you as a snake. And when I was angry at you about the holy water, I still liked you. Heck, I liked you in the 80s.” His tone was dripping in fake horror, and it was so over-the-top, so dramatic in a quite bitchy way – in a word, it was so Aziraphale – that Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. He instantly got rewarded with a slight rumble of the angel’s chest as he joined, and just the right amount of feeling Aziraphale’s face nuzzling into his hair.
If this was anything at all of how real therapy went, he could get behind why so many humans swore by it.
“That was a low point, I have to admit” he conceded, lifting his head from his hiding spot to look at the angel again. Aziraphale looked at him like one would look at a highly adored, highly skittish cat that was just crawling out from beneath the sofa. Well, hello there, beautiful, look at you. I missed you. Crowley was flabbergasted at having so much tenderness directed at him. (He didn’t know it was going to get even worse after that.)
Aziraphale, apparently, had thrown all ideas of measuring himself when it came to affection off the highest cliff he could find in his mind. His smile was unbearably soft, and Crowley braced himself. “But even all that neon couldn’t keep me away from you. Nothing could. Nothing, except if you said you wanted me to go away.”
“Angel, please…” he choked, not knowing if his next words would have been stop or never leave me, I’d perish, please. Judging by the angel’s reaction, his eyes portrayed the latter.
“Shh, I’m here” he soothed, one hand carefully curling against the back of his neck, right under his hairline. “I won’t leave, I swear. I’ll be here, through neon and all.”
Crowley chuckled wetly, and leaned in to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek, marvelling at how gently a soft “…oh” escaped the angel’s mouth. He placed both his palms on the blonde’s chest, feeling a solid heartbeat under the thin shirt, and ran them over the expanse of his soft pecs reverently.
“I like this” he admitted, a bit shily. “Touching you, that way, without an ulterior motive.”
“Do you…want me to touch you like that?” Aziraphale questioned timidly, trying not to let his voice portray too much of how much he would want that. This wasn’t about him, not tonight.
Crowley tongued his lower lip nervously, unconsciously, before he answered. “Yes.”
Aziraphale breathed in shakily, touching the tips of his fingers on Crowley’s chest. Like a pianist getting ready to perform a masterpiece, but, well, the masterpiece was already there under his touch, wasn’t it? Arching into the feeling of skin on fabric and – oh – skin on skin? (Crowley had never managed to rebutton his shirt, after all.) They breathed out together as the angel flattened his palms on Crowley’s body, fingers spread out wide, and watched them rise and fall along to the demon’s breaths.
“You are stunning, my dear” Aziraphale whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking too loudly. Curiously, he stroked his palms upwards to the tense line of his slim shoulders, wondering how it would be like to have them tucked under the plush line of his arm in the back of a movie theatre, watching a cheesy film that Crowley would pretend to hate, and that Aziraphale wouldn’t really quite be able to enthuse over. Sure, that romance was rather lovely, and nicely portrayed, but…mundane. They barely knew each other at all and pretended like they were meant to be. No no, he wanted to tut. You go along and yearn after someone you know you could never have, who could never want you, and love you, you do that for a few centuries, and then we’ll talk about heartbreak and a satisfying resolution…
He might have thought about one or two times.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like for someone who’s seeing you for the first time” his voice was silky and warm and a bit wistful, like he wanted to be the one stumbling around the corner right into this snarling, beautiful creature. Carefully, he dug his thumbs into Crowley’s trap muscles, not hard enough to really loosen the tension there, but consequently also not enough to hurt. There had been enough pain for several immortal lifetimes, and he knew he couldn’t take it back, but he might as well try.
“How would you feel about more kissing?” he asked, still rubbing firm circles into Crowley’s shoulders, joy flooding through his system at how the demon went almost completely slack under his attention and care.
“Yes” Crowley sighed, and it was almost a moan. “Yes, more. Please.”
Aziraphale smiled, let his hands slide down to Crowley’s chest again, if only to mirror the other, and leaned in to kiss his sharp jaw, the whole line of it, up to his ear, where he made particularly sure to kiss a certain serpent. The snake was too flustered to hiss in response, and settled for a preening slither on the spot, which Aziraphale rewarded with another little peck.
“Everything about you” he muttered, kissing down the curve of Crowley’s nose, “is just how it should be. No statue could ever compare. I’m amazed Botticelli even dared to make anything after he met you.”
“He said my nose was impossible to carve” Crowley grumbled in half-mock-annoyance (he was still a bit put out about that, honestly).
“I think your nose is wonderful” was the simple reply, sealed with a peck on the tip of it. Crowley wanted to scoff at the saccharine ridiculousness, and sun himself in that moment forever like it was a warm rock in a nice, mossy forest clearing at the same time.
“Well, you’re biased, clearly” he insisted, sliding his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and pulling him tighter again. As if by reflex, the angel’s hands slid over his waist, right underneath his shirt, and settled on the cool skin. Their wide eyes locked, and Aziraphale saw there was a thought in Crowley’s head, and there was nothing he could think of instead: “Say it.”
Crowley didn’t say anything. He just let his head fall back and moaned.
Things got a little fuzzy after that, for a moment, as Aziraphale unconsciously gripped Crowley’s slim waist – and how did all organs even fit in there? – and drew their torsos flush together.
“Sorry, sorry” he said instantly, quite mortified with his reaction, but the demon wouldn’t let him have it.
“More” he rumbled, and his eyes were so bright and insisting that Aziraphale couldn’t help but comply. He ran his hands over the planes of Crowley’s back hungrily, unseeing, like there was an answer to every question he could ever think of hiding somewhere between the freckles and the paleness.
“You feel…” he wanted to ramble as he was sometimes wont to do, but instantly forgot his train of thought as Crowley thought now it would be appropriate to cradle his head in one long-fingered hand and slot their lips together desperately. It was still an impossibly gentle kiss, just the two of them pressing against each other like they couldn’t bear to be parted, like the other’s mouth was the logical extension of their own.
Time didn’t quite stop, but it was damn close.
“Crowley” Aziraphale hurried to say as they parted, as the demon buried his hands in his blonde curls again, tilting back his head just a bit to expose the lines of his throat.
“Crowley, I want…”
“What do you want, angel?” the demon said, trying for ‘nonchalant’ and shooting right into ‘desperate’.
“You, everything you want to give me, everything you want to show me.” And there was the rambling. (It always happened some time or other.)
“You can have it” Crowley replied fervently, pushing their lips together again, hands fisting in Aziraphale’s shirt to hold him close, please, let him stay… “You already have me.”
“How could I deserve you?” Aziraphale asked wondrously, obviously in awe as he followed the long lines of Crowley’s body with his eyes and then his hands, just firm enough not to tickle, slipping under the fabric again and exchanging a questioning glance with the demon. Crowley’s head jerked, less of a nod and more of a snake striking, and Aziraphale was absolutely charmed, even if the way the demon let the shirt slip off his shoulders and positively threw it across the room made him shudder on the inside.
The view that was now presented to him made him shudder on the outside; miles upon miles of soft-looking, freckled skin, lean muscles shifting underneath nervously, twitching where the angel dared to put his careful hands on them.
It was all he could do to not fall to his knees right then and there to worship Crowley for eternity. (There would be time for that later, hopefully, and wasn’t that just a thought.)
“You deserve someone better. Someone whole, and good” the demon choked out that last word like it hurt him, and his hands clenched into painful-looking fists at his sides. He looked vulnerable, and terrified, and Aziraphale hated every bit of it.
“You are whole, my dear” he rushed to say, picking up one white-knuckled fist and petting it gently, clutched tightly to his rabbiting heart. “And you are good – not to pedestrians, but to the people that you care about. You were good to Warlock, Crowley” he tenderly reminded him, eyes misting up when he saw the demon’s pinched expression soften at the mention of that little supernova of a child. “You were good to Anathema, in your own way, and to the kids when they came over with Pepper’s mom the other day. I saw you sneaking Dog a treat under the table too, you know” he muttered, leaning in a bit in a quite conspiratorial matter, and saw a bit of mischief spark in Crowley’s pretty eyes. “And you are good to me. So, so good. More than I ever thought anybody could be.”
“I hurt you” Crowley rebuked, “so many times. I hurt you earlier, when I said those things.”
“You weren’t saying anything nasty. It was just the truth; I just…I couldn’t believe that you could be tortured for two and a half decades, by the most horrendous beings one could think of, and that your heart would still not find anything worse to say about me than me liking tea and books and being afraid of what people thought of my actions. It takes strength to not lose that beautiful softness, unbelievable amounts, and I am not quite sure how you managed it, to be honest. There is nothing that I hold against you, I swear it.”
Crowley visibly turned those words over in his head like he had just been handed a Rubik’s cube that he had no idea how to even start on; it showed in the narrowing of his eyes and the pursing of his lips. The gentle furrow of his forehead, and the nervous tic in his jaw.
“I…” he started, then shook his head. But clearly, the thought stuck, and he tried again.
“Of course you are” Aziraphale choked through the tightness of his throat, laughing at his own ridiculousness even as he sniffed.
There was a single tear running down Crowley’s cheek as he clenched his eyes shut, lips twisting unhappily, as he felt those words burn on his tongue. The angel, not knowing what else to do, really, placed a kiss over the tear and caught it with his tongue.
“Did you just…French my cheek?” Crowley sputtered, half-amused and half-bemused. (He was quite proud to have invented those words, actually; they were the bane of foreign students’ existence.)
Aziraphale licked his lips, a bit self-consciously. “I couldn’t bear to see you cry more.”
Crowley’s mouth twisted, but before he could say something that would make the angel even sadder, possibly, he had already leaned in and licked the salty taste out of Aziraphale’s mouth.
It was met with quite a bit of enthusiasm, to say the least.
Can you guess what my favourite line is?
P.S.: Smut in the next chapter, wahey!
please heed the changed rating! ;)
Please also note that Crowley is facing some issues with consent because he would do pretty much everything for Aziraphale if he asked. This is, however, discussed and - for the moment - solved. If you have any worries that this might trigger you for whatever reason, please skip the part between the stars.
Lots of love, Liz xx
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Somehow, a bit later (almost two hours, but really, who’s counting when you’re immortal and also dying for a gentle touch), Crowley’s legs had ended up wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist, the angel’s sure hands holding him up by the thighs. His tongue was licking a broad stripe up Crowley’s neck greedily, and he groaned at the way the demon’s crotch rubbed against his own. It was quite distracting, really.
“Can I lay you down on the sofa?” he gasped against Crowley’s pulse point, sucking on it in the gentlest way. (He wasn’t sure how they had hurt him – the list would probably shorter if he asked how they hadn’t hurt him – but he wouldn’t start asking now, so he steered clear of any pain he could possibly inflict, anything that could bring him back to that wretched place.)
“Yes, whatever you want, angel” Crowley replied, and although his body was arching into Aziraphale’s, there was something that didn’t sit quite right with him.
Too pleasure-drunk to really be concerned with that for the moment, Aziraphale’s staggered over and dropped Crowley on the sofa, following right after. His shirt had been gone for a while now, and the press of a leanly muscled chest against a solid one with just the right amount of give was absolutely delicious. He dared to settle a bit more weight on Crowley, just enough to hear him gasp and groan, and turned his head to the side to mouth at his biceps.
It was a ridiculous thing, really; it wasn’t like he found his biceps sexually appealing, but there was – apparently – no way for Aziraphale to see a part of Crowley and not want to put his mouth all over it, to breathe in the essence of his skin and test the texture of it against his cheek. Rubbing the whole length of their torsos together, hips lightly grinding into each other, Aziraphale moved up a bit to loom over Crowley to kiss him again.
Crowley was shaking.
And not in a good way.
His eyes were shut tight, his head turned to the side, almost into the pillow, and his lips were pressed together, inwards, as if to hold in a silent scream.
Aziraphale’s stomach turned.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” he exclaimed, voice tight and full of concern.
“Nothing” Crowley hurried to say. “Keep going.”
“Does this feel good to you?” he asked, pointedly canting his hips into Crowley’s, and the demon shuddered as his eyes flew open, as their gazes met.
“Yesss” he hissed out, but there was a shadow in his eye that Aziraphale didn’t like at all.
“Tell me everything you feel, my dear” he asked, gently but surely.
“Zira, this is…”
“Indulge me” he insisted, just a bit firmer.
Crowley rolled his eyes, but complied. “Warm, and…squishy. I like the way you kiss me. You’re good, Zira, so good, I just –“
“What is it, darling?” Aziraphale dug deeper. Crowley’s eyes flickered to the side unconsciously, towards where his elbows rested on both sides of his head, keeping him close and warm and safe and caged and oh fuck.
Aziraphale shot up into a kneeling position, straddling Crowley.
“I made you feel trapped, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”
Crowley smiled ruefully, mouth a regretful tremble. “A bit. I was getting through it, I swear, I could have done it. For you.”
The angel had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t lose his temper, and that he wouldn’t raise his voice, but this was harder than he thought it would have been.
“You said something, earlier, that you would let me do everything I wanted to you” he recounted slowly, choosing his words carefully. He felt a bit silly, hair standing every which way, flushed down to under his chest hair, and sitting on his haunches in Crowley’s lap. It was a thin line to straddle: Making Crowley feel safe and making Crowley feel wanted.
He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to do either, at this point, and it made him feel like a horrible failure.
“I meant it, angel. Anything you want, you can do.” In a different context, Aziraphale’s mouth would have watered at the implications that this included, but now, it only made him sad. And furious. This was not two and a half decades of torture. This was 6000 years of all kinds of creatures using Crowley, and not caring one bit about what he felt. 6000 years of tempting and never being tempted in return. If he could go back in time to smite every single one of them, he would, consequences be damned.
“What about what you want?” he asked quietly.
Crowley furrowed his brow, and glanced up at him with the most heartbreaking look of devotion in his eyes. “What do you mean? I want you.”
The angel sighed inwardly. “And that means anything I could possibly want from you is alright?”
“Sure” the other said, a bit more suspicious, drawing the words a bit longer than it specifically needed to be.
Aziraphale closed off his heart for the short moment that it took to get the next words out; and for the next in which Crowley’s eyes, wide and startled and betrayed, met his. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it otherwise.
“Would you let me hurt you, Crowley?”
He felt the demon tremble underneath him, and wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and comfort him.
“If that’s what you want.” His eyes were dull and seemingly unseeing, looking straight through Aziraphale.
“Heavens, Crowley” he exclaimed, appalled at the sudden emptiness of the demon’s voice. He sounded detached, and a bit resigned, and Aziraphale hated the echo of it in his brain. “You…Do you want to be hurt? By me?”
“Do you want to hurt me?” Crowley asked quietly, completely skipping his own answer to Aziraphale’s question. He looked so lost and forlorn that the angel couldn’t help but stretch out his hands to slip them under Crowley’s armpits, dragging him up against his body like a ragdoll. Even in this moment, in this terrible moment, where at least a part of Crowley considered the option that Aziraphale could want to hurt him, he fell into the cradle of his arms easily and hungrily, clinging to the broad line of his shoulders and drinking in every ounce of warmth and comfort the angel could offer him.
What has the world done to you, Crowley?
“Of course I don’t want to hurt you, my darling” he insisted gently, rocking them from side to side as much for Crowley’s solace as his own. “I just mean to tell you: You don’t have to let anybody do anything to you. Especially not– not in bed. You only do what you want to do, alright?” He angled himself back a smidge to meet Crowley’s eyes. “Alright?”
The demon looked at him sceptically. “Alright” he agreed slowly, like he still wasn’t quite sure what Aziraphale was getting at. That was a different conversation for a different day.
“I love you, Crowley” Aziraphale promised.
“I love you too” the demon replied after a few moments of stillness, cautiously, like he was trying out the words in his mouth and found them a bit of an awkward fit, like he wasn’t sure if they were any good.
“Say that again, please?” the angel whispered against his cheek, kissing the blushing skin.
“I love you” Crowley repeated, voice a bit stronger this time.
“Please.” A soft brush of lips against a sharply pointed chin.
“I love you” a breathless exhale and a hand curling around Aziraphale’s cheek.
“Please” more kisses, this time covering the snake again, nose pushed against his hairline in quiet devotion.
“I love you” a moan and sharp hips bucking into his own.
“Please” he gasped, not really quite sure if he was begging for desolation or forgiveness, grinding his hips down, whole body curling towards Crowley’s, and Crowley keened.
“Can I…on top of you?” the demon stuttered; all thoughts of grammatical structure thrown in the wind.
Aziraphale moaned at the image of this beautiful creature writhing on top of him, and would have given himself whiplash from nodding too hard if he would have been aware human bodies did that. Thankfully, he wasn’t.
He flipped them over, lying back on the indulgently soft breadth of a decadently wide bed that had definitely not been here before; in a bedroom that – again – hadn’t been there before. It was a bit of a miracle, and a much-needed one at that. Staring up at Crowley reverently, carefully stroking the sides of his ribcage, his waist, flicking playful thumbs over his nipples, he basked in the demon’s attention and fondness.
“Crowley” he sighed, at a loss for words, just a tad, and Crowley…Crowley came down to meet him, laid out his whole torso over him, and there was the writhing he had dreamed about more often than he would like to admit. And, unexpectedly, next to the writhing, there were soft touches all over his face. Playful swipes over his eyelids, a smacking kiss on the side of his nose. His tongue gently flicked into the groove of Aziraphale’s chin, tickling, before he nuzzled the soft skin of his cheek with a sigh, and the angel couldn’t help but chuckle breathlessly as he skimmed his hands up Crowley’s torso.
Crowley was curious, he realised, curious and playful. Silly, even, just a bit, as he tickled under Aziraphale’s soft jaw for one moment and then flicked his earlobe with his index finger in the next. He’s never had fun in bed, he realised, not in that way, and he would brood over this over a strong cup of tea in the near future, probably, but for now he could barely hold in the joyful, giddy laughter threatening to spill over into the air at the open enjoyment that Crowley found in him.
Their lips met again, only for a teasing peck, really, but then suddenly Crowley’s tongue was in his mouth, and Aziraphale’s hand grasped his chin, and the thumb of his other hand was teasing a nipple, maybe, and everything got quite a bit more urgent.
“Crowley, my dear” Aziraphale groaned helplessly, as the demon flickered his tongue over the angel’s pulse point.
“Yesss” he hissed in reply.
“Darling, may I touch you?” he gasped in a single breath, like they were running out of oxygen – hilarious for two beings who technically didn’t even need to breathe but still, for some reason, decided they quite liked to. His hands hovered over Crowley’s back, close enough to radiate warmth on the cool-but-warming-to-his-touch skin, and he couldn’t help but wiggle his hips just a bit to get some relief through friction…
The bulge in Crowley’s trousers was, suddenly, gone.
“Dearest?” Aziraphale asked carefully, just to be sure he wasn’t missing anything major here.
“I prefer this” Crowley started slowly, nodding down towards his crotch, “but…a cunt’s more vulnerable, isn’t it? So…unless I know it’s safe, or I’m alone and sure nobody will barge in…I…”
“Shh. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to” he assured the demon, gently pushing Crowley’s head into his chest for a few seconds so he had time to get his facial expressions under control without the demon seeing, blinking away the sudden tears that had risen at the unbidden images.
“I will listen to everything you want to say, but I don’t need an explanation if you don’t want to give one” he forced out, a part of him frothing with resentfulness about everything that had shaped Crowley’s need for being so careful, so timid, so apologetic. A bigger part – and he felt like this would be a constant, had been a constant for many centuries – just wanted to love Crowley and show him as much as he would be allowed to do so.
“Another time, maybe” Crowley said, pressing a kiss on Aziraphale’s neck before lifting himself up again, bracing himself on the angel’s broad chest as he glanced down. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you” Aziraphale breathed, like a vow, relishing in the way it made Crowley’s eyes sparkle.
“Touch me, here?” he whispered, taking Aziraphale’s hand and gently pushing it against his crotch. The angel could feel his heat through two layers of fabric, and barely faulted his heart for picking up speed.
“Slow is what I do best” he smiled, a bit impishly, and guided Crowley down gently for a reassuring kiss before he popped the button of his jeans. “Help me get those infernal devices off?”
“They’re skinny jeans, not the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Certainly wouldn’t expect them in there” Aziraphale winked at him, fully aware that he couldn’t wink suavely, and delighting in the way it made Crowley cackle. He couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him even as they wrestled with the fabric, eventually succeeding and dropping them off the side of the bed. Crowley had accidentally kneed Aziraphale in the chin, just a bit, in the middle of it, but the angel wasn’t even perturbed. Crowley deserved this; awkwardly getting undressed and giggling, sneaking kisses every few seconds until they forgot what they had meant to do in the first place. It was a far cry from a regular demonic temptation, and Aziraphale loved it.
“My, you are gorgeous” he exhaled as he first let his eyes linger on Crowley’s legs and hips, clad in very snug black boxer briefs. Swiping his blue eyes up to meet golden ones, the demon looked at him with an inquisitive bottom lip between his teeth. “Alright? Not too bony?”
“You are exactly the perfect amount of bony that I prefer in my Crowleys” he replied with a cheeky yet soothing sort of a smile, scooting down a bit on the bed before sharing a long look with the demon.
Crowley’s legs fell open invitingly, gangly limbs spreading every which way. “Come here. I want you in between my thighs.”
“As you wish” he quoted, unnoticed, as he kneeled between Crowley’s legs, lifting one of the long limbs to his mouth and kissing the inside of his ankle reverently, letting his tongue flicker out just a bit, just enough to make Crowley squirm.
“If you lick my foot again, I will kick you” the demon warned, but his eyes were warm and joyous, stretching his hands down as far as he could to at least skim Aziraphale’s knees, even if they were still covered in horrid corduroy trousers.
“Perish the thought” the angel chuckled, pressing another – very much tongue-free – kiss to the tender skin before he made his way up. His hands petted along the slender lines of his calves, sparse reddish hair catching at his palms as he revelled in the subtle play of muscle under Crowley’s skin.
“Beautiful” he mumbled, nose nudging against the bend of Crowley’s knee, careful not to tickle him – he had learned the hard way, when humans had invented tickling, that Crowley was incredibly ticklish and incredibly prone to kicking.
“’s just a knee” Crowley said mulishly, but his eyes had a certain misty quality to them that Aziraphale would not comment on for fear of making the demon grumble.
“Well yes, but it’s yours.”
“I live to serve” he shrugged, half-joking, just quoting some random human expression he had picked up on over the millenia. When he looked up at Crowley again, now fully settled on his stomach to reach the insides of his thighs comfortably, his eyes were flickering intensely.
“To serve me?” Crowley croaked, not quite dangerously. But with intent. Aziraphale felt his every hair stand on end, and his cock twitch a bit.
“What a delightful thought” he said nonchalantly, pretending like the thought didn’t kill him just a little, in a very, very enjoyable way. “If you want.” He ducked back down between Crowley’s thighs, covering the pale skin in soft kisses. Feeling particularly daring, he licked a stripe up to the edge of Crowley’s boxer briefs, tip of his tongue poking under the fabric. The demon shuddered, canting his hips in the direction of Aziraphale’s face.
“Good?” he asked, just to be a bit of a bastard.
“Again” Crowley demanded.
Aziraphale did it again. And again. And then on the other leg. (What a pity that human forms only have two legs, Aziraphale thought.)
He laid careful fingertips on the leg holes of Crowley’s underwear.
“Could I push these up a bit?” he rasped, and didn’t imagine the way that Crowley’s hips twitched when he heard the changed register of his voice.
“You can take them off if you want” Crowley replied, biting his lower lip, eyes fixed on Aziraphale.
He quirked an eyebrow. “If I want?”
“You’re gonna be insufferable about this consent thing, aren’t you” he groaned, but Aziraphale could see the thankful flicker in his eyes. “I want you to take off this nonsense.” He shook his hips in emphasis, serpent nature shining through as he wriggled near-boneless. “Would you be interested in that happening?”
“Very” Aziraphale growled playfully, right against the front of Crowley’s underwear, and apparently the gust of air during his exhale was a very pleasurable thing, if the way that the demon whined was anything to go by. He pushed himself back up, settling on his haunches, and looked down at Crowley, almost naked, all but writhing on his sheets. He curled his fingers in the elastic waistband, looked up at the demon a last time to check, and after a slightly shaky nod and very slim hips being raised, he pulled them off in one swoop.
Aziraphale ducked back down in what he hoped wasn’t an embarrassingly quick amount of time, but he couldn’t really help himself, it was just… “Your scent” he moaned, lapping gently at Crowley’s inner thigh, not quite close enough to really lick up the juices that had already started to soak the demon’s underwear, and were glistening on his lips, partly hidden by dark curls. “I have never smelled anything so delicious; I swear to you.” He let very gentle fingertips wander over the sharp valleys of Crowley’s hipbones, straying up to Crowley’s stomach again before dragging his palms straight down until he was right at the edge of this delightful patch of pubic hair.
“You are a vision” he muttered into Crowley’s skin, kissing and licking and nosing his way towards the apex of his thighs, just slow enough for both of them to lose a bit of their minds.
Crowley sank his hands in Aziraphale’s hair, not tugging, just carding his fingers through the pale curls. “Is this alright?” he asked carefully as the angel looked up at him.
“It feels lovely” Aziraphale assured him, keeping up the eye contact as he licked a long stripe up the crease of Crowley’s thigh.
“Angel!” Crowley exclaimed, hips bucking freely. He’d have to be a bit careful to not accidentally have his face knock into Crowley’s pelvis, but Aziraphale would chop his hands off before he held the demon down without him explicitly asking for it.
He licked his lips, catching Crowley’s taste on them and groaning against the demon’s skin unabashedly. “Dear, I might never recover from having you.”
“You don’t need to. I don’t want you to” Crowley said with a strange amount of tenderness in his dark eyes; the black pupil had almost completely taken over at this point. He carded through the angel’s hair encouragingly, running his thumb along the shell of the ear with a wistful smile. Aziraphale nuzzled his cheek against the inside of his thigh in response, feeling the lean muscle tense and relax under his skin.
Making sure Crowley’s eyes were open and had complete view of what was about to happen, Aziraphale slowly moved one of his hands from Crowley’s stomach further down, lightly caressing the edges of the labia with a fingertip.
“Aziraphale” Crowley moaned.
“Yes, darling. Yes” he stuttered nonsensically, blood rushing when he heard the demon call out his name like that.
His touches got bolder, but the nature of them stayed gentle and loving. He ran a careful finger up and down Crowley’s slit, fingertip nudging between the lips just to tease, just a bit. His tongue flicked out once in a while into the sensitive creases of where Crowley’s legs moulded into his pelvis, determined to know every square centimetre of him by taste alone. If would take a while, but he had time and was nothing but committed to the cause.
“You’re so good to me, angel, fuck” Crowley babbled, fingers still anchored in Aziraphale’s hair, gently pulling at times, stroking his temple and cheekbone at others.
“You deserve everything, my love, everything you want” he breathed over Crowley’s skin, and dared to let his tongue nudge the demon’s labia.
The effect was instantaneous. Crowley’s fingers clenched in Aziraphale’s hair in reflex, and his back bowed. “Again” he gasped, and Aziraphale delivered, generously wetting his tongue in his mouth before he touched the tip of it to the soft, wrinkly skin a bit further down, closer to his opening. He badly wanted to spread Crowley open, to dive in face-first and not come out for weeks, but patience was a virtue, and he didn’t want Crowley to be overwhelmed in a bad way. So instead, he kept up his not-quite-teasing, gentle licks up and around Crowley’s cunt, drinking in his breathless gasps. On a particularly enthusiastic lick up his slit, Aziraphale’s tongue accidentally slipped between the lips, nudging Crowley’s clit with the tip of it.
Aziraphale froze, previously closed eyes flying open at the punched-out sound that Crowley had made. He raised his head and met Crowley’s glowing eyes; the demon had risen up on his elbows to get a better look at his angel. He was absolutely breathtaking, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, eyes sparkling.
“Zira, don’t…don’t stop” he croaked, tongue flickering out to wet his lips.
“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asked carefully, tenderly petting Crowley’s flank with a broad and gentle palm.
He heard the demon sigh in mock-annoyance, and knew he had a big storm coming.
“I...I want you to get yourself down there, and I want you to eat me out like you haven’t had food in a week, and I might want one or two fingers in me to go with it. And I don’t want you to stop until you’ve given me a spectacular orgasm, maybe more if your jaw can take it” Crowley growled lowly. “Is that consenting enough for you?”
Aziraphale’s brain had to reboot for a moment or seven before he could answer. The pictures that he was imagining now, what sounds he would make, the smell, the taste…“Yes.”
“I thought I’d broken you there, for a second” Crowley chuckled, running a playful fingertip up Aziraphale’s jaw.
“Nearly. Those words in your wicked mouth…” the angel broke off, unable to vocalise, at least for now.
Aziraphale nodded vigorously, knowing he might look like a fool and not caring one bit. “Very.”
Crowley smiled, a bit wicked and a lot fond, and pulled Aziraphale up to kiss him languidly, because he could. Because he wanted to, and he could have what he wanted, apparently.
“I love you” he whispered against the angel’s lips, calves caressing the sides of his body where he had wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s middle.
“I love you too” the angel replied, leaving a long line of kisses on his way back down.
Them getting aroused by exchanging love confessions...I mean. I couldn't not.
And yes, I did make a bad Monty Python reference, I regret nothing.
I'M SORRY for the cliffhanger, the porn was just running away from me and got super super long. But we can all look forward to some very indulgent smut in the next chapter at least!
Behold the porn :D
Thank you for joining me on the wild ride that was this fic, thank you to all the lovely people who gave kudos and kind words, I love you all very much.
Losing himself in Crowley’s cunt was possibly the easiest thing Aziraphale had ever done. As soon as he had gently spread his lips with his fingers, he knew that he could spend whole days just licking, sucking, tasting, and not ask for anything more but making Crowley feel ecstatic, warm, loved.
The demon was free and generous with his moans, apparently unworried about any prudish neighbours or nosy cats; Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley even knew there was such a thing as neighbours or cats in the world, at this moment.
“Aziraphale, oh…Someone, fuck, Zira, you…” he gasped, back a long, sinuous arch as he writhed on the sheets, as Aziraphale had his head buried between his thighs, deliciously bracketed by the lean length of them. One of his hands ran up and down Crowley’s leg soothingly, or maybe just to satisfy his own tactile cravings – as if the sensations on his tongue weren’t enough.
He suckled on Crowley’s clit with pleasure, circling his tongue around and giving a broad lick with the flat of it, feeling his walls pitifully clench around nothing.
“How do you feel about those fingers now?” he enquired, lifting his dominant hand towards Crowley’s entrance and teasing his labia with a bit of a wicked glint in his eyes.
“I feel- ah! Fucking fantastic about them” Crowley moaned, canting his hips forward in a silent plea. On another day, Aziraphale might have teased and implied and edged, but not tonight. Tonight, what Crowley wanted immediately, Crowley got immediately.
The angel licked a long, indulgent stripe from Crowley’s perineum, over his twitching hole up to his clit, and sank one thick finger into the demon’s heat.
He groaned against Crowley’s cunt at the hot-silky-wet-good feeling surrounding him, and the vibrations made Crowley go tense all over; hopefully in a good way. His moans certainly seemed to suggest it, and Aziraphale laved his tongue over the other’s soft folds diligently to coax more sounds out of him.
“Give me another one, Zira” Crowley gasped, every muscle standing to attention, and wailed when Aziraphale complied smoothly, massaging the sensitive skin right at the first half-inch of his entrance with the pads of his fingers for a moment before sinking as deep as he could go again.
“You are too lovely, darling” he breathed into the skin, diving back down to lap up the wetness that something still managed to escape between his fingers. He groaned at the taste flooding his mouth, drew his tongue along the demon’s labia, suckled a bit only to hear Crowley whimper, and flicked the tip of his tongue right underneath the nub where Crowley really needed him. He offered a gentle movement of his fingers – less of a thrust and more of a soft push, a gentle, slow, delicious drag along his inner walls, combined with a swirl of his tongue over the demon’s hardened clit to soothe every possible trace of discomfort at the stretch.
Crowley howled and tensed around his fingers instantly, and Aziraphale wanted to apologise quite profusely and pull them out, tongue still fluttering against the demon’s clit in a perverse attempt of comfort even as his insides clamped around him rhythmically.
“Don’t you dare pull out” Crowley hissed weakly, chest heaving, and oh.
Aziraphale couldn’t help but move his fingers gently in time with the contractions, still no thrusting, more rocking back and forth in small increments. His mouth thoughtlessly moved over Crowley’s clit as he twitched; long, hopefully soothing strokes of his tongue – if there was such a thing – trying to calm Crowley enough for him to try better this time, to make him feel good again.
“Terribly sorry, I’ll do better” he said softly, flicking out his tongue towards the demon’s labia again, edge of his tongue barely touching his clit.
Crowley lurched like he had grabbed a live wire.
“Ah, too much!” he warned, and Aziraphale lifted his head, a bit confused.
“Don’t you want to…you know, orgasm?”
Crowley’s big yellow eyes blinked at him for a second before he answered. “I literally just came. Give me a minute, will you?” he chuckled, giving a mostly unconscious squeeze around Aziraphale’s still-buried fingers.
The angel blinked, a gentle frown on his face. “Really? You don’t have to just say that, if you didn’t climax yet, I can keep going. I am enjoying this immensely, you know?” Aziraphale said truthfully, and Crowley cackled, reaching for him with both hands and pulling the angel up to lie down next to him with a bit of shifting involved.
“You are too perfect, you know?” he smiled, fondly and a bit exhausted-looking, stroking the lines of the angel’s soft face with a gentle expression in his eyes.
“Does that mean I should take my fingers out now?” Aziraphale asked. He didn’t know the etiquette after all, with those parts in particular, especially not if maybe a demon’s would be different. He had read about it, of course – not the demon bit, but those…bits in general – but it never really said anything about appropriate post-orgasmic behaviour. Apart from maybe make sure to cuddle, if they like that, and don’t fall asleep right after. Which Aziraphale thought was a laughably low bar, really.
Crowley hummed, as if he was actively considering just keeping the angel’s fingers inside of him forever – and that was something that Aziraphale was going to think of a lot, wasn’t he? – before he nodded lightly.
“I guess” he sighed, sounding terribly inconvenienced, and winced just a bit when Aziraphale gently pulled his fingers out, quickly soothed by the way the angel kissed him softly on the forehead right after to chase away the bit of discomfort and the sudden feeling of emptiness.
There was no elegant way of cleaning his fingers without looking like a fool or a pervert, so Aziraphale settled for miracling them fluid-free behind his back. He very much did want to touch Crowley’s face, but he wasn’t sure how the demon would feel about if that hand still carried…well, a bit of Crowley.
“Did you enjoy that?” he mumbled as he cradled Crowley’s cheek and scooted a bit closer to him, gently intertwining their lower legs. It would be terribly uncomfortable and quite sweaty in a matter of minutes, but it just felt terribly romantic and intimate at the moment, didn’t it?
“I very much did” Crowley sighed, kissing Aziraphale languidly and very much enjoying the taste of himself in the angel’s mouth. (He had never tasted himself quite like that; only ever from his own fingers, and that was a very different sensation.)
“Next time, I’ll give you a warning when I’m close. I thought you’d know how that looked. And sounded. And everything.” Crowley was struck by a sudden and completely irrational wave of blinding jealousy at the thought of Aziraphale doing this for somebody else, learning their tastes and sounds and how they looked when they were about to come.
“I read a few books on it, over the years” Aziraphale confessed, a bit conspiratorial, and a bit shy. It was absolutely endearing. “But I didn’t think it would be…this good, to just watch you come apart. It’s never been like this before.” His eyes were deep and hungry, easing the sting of the emotion of it; Crowley shuddered in delight at the thought that he might be Aziraphale’s favourite. (The angel had told him he loved him, of course, multiple times, just a little while ago, but the demon was a bit dim when it came to affection, so say the least.) He still wanted to bare his teeth at the implication that there had been others.
It didn’t matter, of course, because he was the one who got to have this now; he was the one Aziraphale was holding in his arms, he was the one the angel was currently petting. There was no other word for it, really: long strokes of his lovely hand starting at the nape, all the way down his spine down to his tailbone, over the side of his ass and onto his thigh. Crowley hummed in contentment and pulled up his leg into a nearly perfect right angle to get even closer, thigh wrapping over the side of Aziraphale’s body. His very much naked body.
“When did you miracle off my clothes, by the way?” the angel asked, quite casually.
“About a second after you put that first finger in. I thought you noticed” he shrugged, too boneless with pleasure to snark or make an innuendo as he twirled the angel’s chest hair between his fingers, making sure not to pull on it too much.
Aziraphale chuckled, a bit darkly. It was very tempting, to say the least. “Darling, I didn’t notice much at all while I was feasting on you.”
“Feasting on…Zira, nobody actually talks like that” Crowley sputtered, trying to downplay the way he blushed fairly terribly. Judging by the smug look in Aziraphale’s eyes as he leaned in for another kiss, it didn’t quite work, but he didn’t really care, to be frank.
Their kisses got progressively harder, deeper. Hungrier. Hungrier for more touching, more moaning, more of everything. Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s ass in his broad palms as they rocked against each other, sweat – while a bit disgusting – helping their bodies slide together more easily.
“Crowley” he groaned, sound coming from deep inside his chest, as the demon’s arms tightened around his middle. One hand drifting upwards, he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, grinning at him before he ducked in for a kiss. When they parted, the angel turned his head to the side, kissing Crowley’s palm, kissing every finger he could reach as the demon’s fingers traced the outline of his mouth. It was when his tongue flickered out to taste Crowley’s fingertips, and Crowley answered by dipping two fingers into Aziraphale’s burning-hot mouth right to the second knuckle, watching how the angel moaned around them, eyes closing in bliss as he sucked, that the demon finally lost the last shreds of his patience.
“I want you inside me” Crowley moaned, pulling his fingers out and cradling Aziraphale’s jaw with his spit-slick hand, about as wantonly as he could possibly get, limbs sprawling, hands grabbing, lips caressing. Aziraphale couldn’t think.
“We don’t have to” he breathed, as if on reflex, “I can…”
“I want you, Aziraphale, please. Please fuck me.” He canted his hips as if to draw him inside right this second, but Aziraphale stopped him with a single raise of his hand.
“What about…protection?” He remembered that much from his books, after all.
Crowley let his head drop with a thump and laughed breathlessly towards the ceiling; a warm and loving sound. “Zira, we don’t have a sex, usually, you know that. Where would I even possibly get pregnant? I’m an immortal supernatural entity that changes genders as often as I so please. This is really quite sweet, but unnecessary.”
“Just wanted to make sure” he shrugged, a bit helplessly, a bit bumbling, a bit afraid he’d killed the mood. The demon, however, was quick to dissuade his doubts with a quick kiss.
“And that’s very considerate. Now get inside me, please.”
“Would you want to be on top? I could still hold you close, but you’d have more…” Aziraphale gestured vaguely at the air – the air felt terribly chuffed to be acknowledged, honestly – just to not have to say I would love to blanket you with my body and feel like there’s nothing in the entire universe apart from us, but I also don’t want you to have a panic attack when I’m inside of you, so there’s that.
Crowley smiled softly, tenderly stroking the angel’s cheek. “I would love that, actually.” They tumbled around a bit on the way of getting the demon on top, getting lost in kissing and chuckling and more kissing again, and then at some point Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s cock, hard and warm in his hand, and that changed a bit of how things were going for a while.
“Now, Zira, now, pleasssse” Crowley hissed, pushing Aziraphale off of where he was currently nestled in between the demon’s thighs again, face buried in his cunt with seemingly not a single care in the world. Aziraphale found himself on his back with a low huff, licking his lips, his eyes widening when he saw Crowley straddling him with a determined look on his face.
“Yes?” the demon asked, voice strong and sure and lovely.
“Yes” Aziraphale answered, skimming gentle hands up Crowley’s legs up to his hips, and held on for dear life.
Crowley sank down on Aziraphale’s cock slowly, bottom lip pinched between sharp teeth to not let the keen escape that was clawing up his throat. His hands were scrambling for something to grab on to before they settled to cover the angel’s at his sides. “Aziraphale” he gasped when he had taken him down to the root. He didn’t want to move just yet; this first sensation of being filled, of being had, was too delicious to let go.
“Crowley” Aziraphale returned, in quite the same fashion. He was trembling in an effort not too move, chest heaving a bit already. “You feel so good around me, heavens” he exclaimed when Crowley gave an experimental rock forward, just enough grind behind it to have his clit shove against Aziraphale’s pelvis; almost enough.
“Fuck” the demon exclaimed. “Move, please. Please. Slow, but…please.”
“Yes” Aziraphale whispered, or groaned – maybe both – and pumped his hips up once, their combined moans catching the air.
“Like that” Crowley encouraged him, returning his grindingly slow rhythm with own swivels of his slim hips. “Just like that.”
His hands clenched around Aziraphale’s, longing to have something to hold onto, and the angel flipped one of his palms to interlace their fingers, holding tight, holding steady. Ripping his eyes away from the point where they were joined, he was breathless as he saw Crowley’s face.
“You look like you were made from stars” Aziraphale rasped as he looked up at this…this divine being. Head thrown back, neck a temptingly long pale line, shoulders and freckled chest rising and falling in time with his breaths, he was absolutely radiant. Crowley rocked on top of him, cock buried deep, peaceful, beatific expression on his face, and looked more deserving of the universe than he’d ever done before. Aziraphale moaned, arched his back, and let himself fall even further. Hand reaching up high, he dragged his palm down Crowley’s torso, splaying his fingers wide, feeling the muscles tense and relax under his touch as the demon rode him. “Stars, and nebulas, and dying suns for your eyes, how are you even real, I can’t…”
“Shh” Crowley soothed his rambling, placing his hands on either side of Aziraphale’s head and leaned down for a deep kiss. The shift changed the angle of the cock inside of him, rubbing against his walls in a beautiful way, and he snarled into the angel’s mouth lustfully.
“What do you need, dear? Tell me everything you want.”
“More” the demon breathed, clenching around Aziraphale’s cock to drive the point home.
“More of what?”
“More” he repeated stubbornly. “More of everything, more of you, all of you.”
“You can have it” Aziraphale gasped even as he speeded up his thrusts, though they stayed fairly languid and indulgent; there was just that bit more force behind them, and he drank in Crowley’s moans as if it was ambrosia. “You can have everything you want. You already have me.”
“Tell me” Crowley insisted desperately, writhing against the angel’s hand when he wedged it between their bodies to rub his clit in time with his thrusts.
“You have me, Crowley, I’m yours.”
“The…the other thing” he groaned, even as his toes were already curling and his fingers digging tightly into Aziraphale’s hair, even as he was panting against the angel’s mouth, tongue flickering out to get a taste.
“I love you” Aziraphale breathed, like a benediction. “I love you, Crowley. You’re safe here.”
“Yessss” the demon hissed, kissing Aziraphale forcefully; jaw almost unhinging in an effort to devour him alive, it seemed.
He shuddered against the angel’s chest, nipples rubbing against the patch of slightly coarse hair, and it made his hips twitch forward violently. “Zira” he whimpered, and Aziraphale redoubled his efforts. Crowley flinched. “Not so hard” he added, weirdly apologetic, and the angel kissed the doubts out of his mouth.
“Apologies” he muttered against his lips and gentled the touches on his clit, since that seemed to be what he had shied away from most.
“It’s fine, it’s – oh! Yes, perfect, you’re perfect” Crowley panted, kissing deep into Aziraphale’s mouth, and Heavens, was there any place this tongue couldn’t reach?
“May I touch your hair?” Aziraphale rasped, synapses firing every which way. Crowley moaned against his neck at the mere implication, and nodded furiously.
“You can grab it, just don’t- don’t yank on it.”
“Thank you, my love” he quipped as he sank his hand into Crowley’s hair, tone almost flippant like the silkiness between his fingers didn’t drive him just a bit wild.
He carded his fingers through his hair with a strong and sure grip, front to back, as Crowley whined against his spit-damp skin where he had dragged his tongue along a tendon in Aziraphale’s neck.
“Again” Crowley demanded, canting his hips to grind against Aziraphale’s hand, which had been demoted to a quite passive character – not that the angel minded that at all. It seemed to be working quite fabulously. He complied, running his fingers through it again, fingernails softly scratching along the scalp, following the whole way over the top of his crown down towards his nape.
Crowley whined as soon as Aziraphale’s fingers slid down the space where his skull met his spine, and keened when the angel, having caught on, concentrated on that particular spot.
“You’re absolutely stunning, look at you” Aziraphale said incredulously.
“Look at you” Crowley replied with about the same intensity, palms sliding over the angel’s soft and round stomach to his plush but solid chest. “You’re wondrous.”
Aziraphale smiled fondly, as he was wont to do, and Someone, this was how it was going to go, wasn’t it? Crowley could really have this, could have Aziraphale. Aziraphale, who was soft and beautiful and incredibly good with his effort, who was generous and his, he was his, he was…
Crowley came with a sound close to a scream, clenching forcefully around Aziraphale’s cock as he rutted into him, so much so that it wrung a deep-set, chesty moan from the angel, and shook apart.
“Zira” he gasped for breath as the angel gently brought him down from his orgasm with soothing movements, thankfully leaving his clit alone; he might discorporate if he were to touch it right now.
“Zira” he repeated, brain not quite on board again just yet, and kissed him as tenderly as he knew how to, palms petting every plane of the angel’s body that he could reach.
“Amazing, you are simply amazing” Aziraphale sighed against his mouth as they parted, and made to lift Crowley off of him.
“Nonono” Crowley protested, anchoring himself down on the angel’s lap, making his still-hard cock rub even deeper.
“Crowley, aren’t you too sensitive?” Aziraphale frowned worriedly.
“I don’t want to come again, it’d be a nightmare to get me there” he conceded, “but I do want you to come while you’re inside me. Please?”
Aziraphale moaned as Crowley canted his hips, seemingly innocent, and gave him a bit of a squeeze at the same time.
“As if you’d even need to ask” he replied obstinately, and started moving again as Crowley chuckled throatily.
Oh, this is going to be quick, Aziraphale realised, gasping against Crowley’s lips as they kissed.
“Let go, Zira, I have you” the demon promised, curving an arm around the angel’s shoulders to cradle him even closer, cradling his head carefully.
“Please, Crowley” he whimpered, not even sure what he was asking for himself, but the demon’s eyes softened impossibly in understanding.
He leaned in closely, tucking their cheeks right next to each other so their breaths puffed against the other’s ear in warm, harsh pants, and kissed the angel’s temple.
“I love you” he groaned, as Aziraphale hit a particularly satisfying spot inside of him, and Aziraphale’s world flashed white.
He was clutching Crowley’s waist when he came to, hips still twitching irregularly to chase something that had already been reached – in a quite spectacular way no less. Crowley had his head pillowed on his shoulder, thoughtfully carding his long fingers through the angel’s chest hair, smirking up at him when their eyes met, Aziraphale’s still a bit disoriented and cloudy.
“There you are. You were somewhere else I think, for a second.”
“Terr-hrmh. Terribly sorry” Aziraphale managed to croak on the second attempt. He needed a glass of water, or maybe a gallon.
“Oh, it was lovely to watch” Crowley waved him off, stroking a loving finger over Aziraphale’s cheek and turning his head just enough to be able to kiss him very gently.
“Hmm” the angel hummed against his lips when they parted for air, just an inch, before he leaned in for another much deeper taste.
They lay next to each other, cuddled closely together, with Crowley’s head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his lanky body curving around the angel. The room was warm enough not to need to get any sheets or duvet to cover them – thankfully, miraculously, really – and so they simply basked in the other’s presence, hands softly wandering this and that way without a clear destination in mind.
“Are you happy?” Aziraphale asked after a blissful while of this, maybe a bit foolishly. It was a loaded question, and Crowley thought about it for a long, silent moment, even if they didn’t stop their mutual petting and caressing. (And they wouldn’t stop for a few more hours after that, even.)
“I think” he started carefully, looking at Aziraphale with wide, clear eyes. “I think I’m about as happy as I could be, at the moment.”
Aziraphale’s smile could have blinded Heaven. “That’s nice” he said; a bit of an anti-climax, really.
Crowley’s lips twitched in a bit of amusement, and he pretended to reach out to grasp at Aziraphale as if to push him up against a wall. (A thought that should definitely be revisited another day, but this time without paintball guns and former nuns and everything else that rhymed with that.) It seemed lifetimes ago, to think of how riled up that simple thing had made him, how angry he felt at the slice of the imagined knife. He’s lying, he had thought to himself. You’re a demon, you’re not nice, you’re never nice, nice is a four-letter word, Hell’s voices had sounded in his head, so loud and brash that he didn’t even notice he had slammed Aziraphale against the wall until he had felt the warmth of him against his torso.
But now, things were a bit different.
“Yes” he returned his angel’s smile, and kissed him again, just because he wanted to. “It is nice, isn’t it?”
Yeah, Hell could suck it.