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Ride Out the Storm

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Summer in London meant the evening was hot with the air thick in one's lungs and a sense of anticipation lurking around every corner.  An angel and a demon who’d seen every type of weather the world had ever known, locked themselves away in a Mayfair flat, determined to ignore the unpleasantness of a night that was anything but refreshing. All the windows were open in the hopes of catching a breeze but the air remained still and heavy.  

They could close the windows, miracle the flat cooler and go on with their evening in comfort but they’d had enough wine to make them pleasantly relaxed and a miracle like that was far more difficult than they were capable of at that moment.  So Crowley and Aziraphale sprawled on the couch - Crowley far more sprawling than the angel, but that was to be expected - and sipped their wine as the noise of London in the evening washed over them both.

"It really is far too warm, my dear boy," Aziraphale muttered, sitting up to take off his jacket and fold it neatly over the chair beside him.  The waistcoat followed and Aziraphale even unfastened his cuffs, something Crowley couldn't remember seeing him do before. 

Crowley swallowed down the myriad of responses that came to mind and shrugged as best he could from his current position.  "Then do something about it, angel. You can do miracles just like I can." As a snake, Crowley didn’t mind the heat nearly as much as Aziraphale did.  He also didn’t wear half as many layers.

Aziraphale pouted, unused to Crowley not giving in to his requests and Crowley bit back a smirk at his frustration. Sometimes his angel made it so easy. "But it's your home, Crowley.  As your guest, it would be rude of me to impose in such a way." 

Golden eyes rolled at that.  As if it had ever stopped Aziraphale before.  "It's practically your home as well, Aziraphale.  Do whatever you like. I won’t stop you."

Crowley closed his eyes once more, figuring there’d be a snap and the place would get colder.  What he didn’t expect was to find himself with a lapful of angel a moment later, accompanied by a roll of thunder somewhere off in the distance. 

“I can do whatever I like?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley looked up at him in surprise, meeting the mischief gleaming in Aziraphale’s blue eyes. There was an unspoken question there, as well.  Despite how many times they’d confessed their love - in word and in deed - since the Apoca-didn’t-happen, Aziraphale was always so careful about crossing Crowley’s boundaries. (Crowley was just as careful with Aziraphale’s, but it was quickly becoming clear that now free from Heaven’s influence, Aziraphale had very few boundaries as far as pleasure was concerned.)  Crowley gave a terse nod and fully expected Aziraphale to kiss him. 

Crowley didn’t know why he even tried to anticipate Aziraphale’s actions because the angel had been surprising him since they stood together at the wall.  

Instead of a kiss, Aziraphale sat on his lap, looking Crowley in the eye as Aziraphale popped open his own shirt, one button after another.  Crowley heart raced as new inches of skin were revealed and while he wished to touch, to kiss, to lick, to bite, he held back, wanting to see what his angel would do.  He watched, eyes unblinking like they would be in his other form, as Aziraphale shrugged out of his shirt and set it to the side.  

Crowley wanted to run his hands across his skin, feel the slight give of his lover's soft stomach and hear the giggle that always accompanied such a motion.  The thought caused electricity to spark in his veins, his passion seeking some outlet while being denied the one he most desired.  

Aziraphale moved on, opening Crowley's shirt and kissing his way down the demon's chest.  A warm buzz went through Crowley at every touch and he wondered what it felt like for Aziraphale when he was touched by a demon.  He hoped it felt even better for Aziraphale whom Crowley would devote the rest of his life to giving every happiness the world had ever known.

By the time Crowley's shirt was unbuttoned, Aziraphale was kneeling between his legs and Crowley could have sworn the room had grown even warmer, though a breeze ruffled the curtains.  Not that either of them paid it any attention, both too focused on one another. Something about that angelic face about to do something that felt positively sinful never failed to get Crowley hot and bothered and the air from the window caused him to shiver both with chill and lust. 

"Angel," he whimpered, running a hand through Aziraphale's hair.

Aziraphale leaned into the touch and smiled up at his lover.  "What do you need, love?" 

"You, Aziraphale.  Always you. Only you."

Stretching up to meet Crowley halfway, Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands as their lips met in a passionate kiss. Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the building as Aziraphale maneuvered his lover onto his back on the couch.  Done with formalities, Crowley miracled away the lower half of their clothing, so as Aziraphale finished stretching out on top of him, he was met with nothing but skin.  

“You always have me,” Aziraphale promised and the weight of his words hung between them, a thick and tangible thing that made Crowley’s heart race and his eyes water.  To have the love of an angel was a blessing for anyone. To have the love of an angel as a demon was a joy beyond all others. 

Their bodies were well used to this dance by now, and Aziraphale took them both in hand, giving long slow strokes, building the tension between them to an almost explosive level.  Crowley could feel something dark and energetic wanting out of him, waiting to burst forth the moment he let down his guard. Likewise, he could see heat and light building in Aziraphale, ready to wash the world clean if his angel willed it so.

It barely took any miracle at all to ready Aziraphale and the angel shifted so he could straddle Crowley’s hips and took him in one long, slow, slide.  Through what felt like miraculous self-control, Crowley didn’t thrust up immediately into Aziraphale’s welcoming body. Instead, he laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s and tightened his grip on his lover’s hands as their eyes met.  

The electricity that sparked in Crowley’s veins hummed between them, and as they started to move, sinuous rolls of the hips and gentle sounds of flesh against flesh, the world outside took notice.  Rain began to fall and the breeze picked up, a counterpoint to the fire between them that overheated their skin, making them both damp with sweat that had nothing to do with the sultry summer air.

As he gave himself over to Aziraphale, letting the angel use him to chase his pleasure, Crowley felt something snap inside him.  The room lit up as a bolt of lightning split the sky in two and thunder rattled the few possessions Crowley had in his home. “Aziraphale,” he whimpered, releasing one of his lover’s hands to take Aziraphale in his grip and stroke him in time with their motions.  His angel deserved all the pleasure in Heaven and Earth, and he, a creature of Hell, was the one to give it to him.  

Outside, as warm summer rain fell, it offered relief from the incessant heat that had clung to the city all evening, all while the inside of the loft grew more thick and humid.  The sounds of water falling against the window and splashing on the floor provided a soundtrack to their lovemaking that neither of them noticed at all.  

Aziraphale bent forward, capturing Crowley’s lips in a bruising kiss as their movements began to lose some of their grace, becoming more chaotic and desperate.  He whispered Crowley’s name against his lips, a litany, a benediction; a praise for the one he loved the most. And when they came, the skies cried out along with them, thunder crashing overhead and lightning sparking across the dark London sky.   

The petrichor blew in on the breeze as the two of them came down from their high, sharing kisses and soft words.  A quick miracle cleaned their mess and they curled together on a couch perfectly sized to fit them both. While their racing hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal, the storm continued to rage outside, cooling the loft significantly.  

And when they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, the storm settled as well.  The wind died down, the thunder and lightning calmed and the rain began to dry on the pavement below.

Finally, they - and the sky - could rest.