Crowley wasn’t nice.
He had established as much on several occasions during their early acquaintance, century-long friendship, and eventual romantic relationship. Aziraphale, in fact, found it almost laughable how defensive somebody could get over a simple and flattering four-letter-word, such as ‘nice’. Then again, Crowley was a peculiar somebody, with a peculiar attention to certain details.
Hence his aversion towards four-letter-words that didn’t spell out ‘L-O-V-E’ (he quite adored that one, actually. So much so, that he directed it towards Aziraphale several times a day and was eager to receive the proclaimed sentiment in return just as often).
Another four-letter-word that seldomly slipped into the angel’s vernacular concerning Crowley was ‘good’. While ‘nice’ could be appropriated even to a demonic being as his beloved, Aziraphale was fairly certain Crowley would be severely cross with him if he ever accused him of being ‘good’. It wasn’t like Crowley took pride in his demonic nature; but being associated with an adjective solely reserved for all things, well, good surely would be overdoing it a bit. Aziraphale never could be sure where the boundaries lay for his partner- and by all means, there weren’t many- but there were certain ones that he wouldn’t dare of making the mistake of crossing. With respect to several of these, he had learned this piece of advice the hard way.
Yet, on a fateful Wednesday afternoon (raining, early autumn) the angel forgot himself and slithered right into a moment he would describe as ‘boundary-crossing’. It wasn’t intentional by any means. They had been lounging around the bookshop all day due to the less than ideal weather conditions, Aziraphale opening up his doors (albeit a bit reluctantly) for people searching shelter from the London rain. He was busy with politely discourage their tries in buying any of his first editions (although he did sell some token novels he kept in the forefront of the shop and wasn’t at all attached to, one of Adam’s splendid ideas). He had been surprisingly busy all day, too polite to refuse anyone seeking a dry sanctuary from the ghastly weather, and hadn’t had any time for his partner, who sort of sprawled on one of the sofas as a decorative item (In moments like these, it was plainly obvious that Crowley harbored the desire to return to his serpent form from time to time, but when Aziraphale had tried talking to him about it, he quickly learned that it was among the category of “certain boundaries he just made the mistake of crossing”). It was well in the evening when the rain had stopped and Aziraphale send the last customer on their merry way home and he felt the exhaustion of a day filled with socializing tearing on him. He leaned his forehead against the door, closed his eyes, and just breathed in the quiet for a couple of seconds.
When he turned to face Crowley’s latest lounging space of choice, he resisted a snort at finding his love draped across his desk in a very dramatic fashion. He petted Crowley’s hair affectionately before he freed some take-out menus from underneath the demon’s butt. There was no way there would be any going out tonight for dinner, but he craved the warm comfort of food which he so adored.
“Well, that was something. I should be happy so many people still harbor an interest in books…. But I really wish they would harbor it somewhere else…”
While scanning the menu of that authentic little Chinese place just down the street, he continued to pet Crowley’s red waves (which he had been growing out recently), carding his fingers through them from root to tip. Crowley, not very subtly, pushed into the touch in a fashion that reminded Aziraphale strangely of an overgrown cat.
“Will I ever understand why you chose to own a bookshop, of all things?”
“Minor oversight,” the angel murmured distracted, now very intently focusing on the various options of dumplings before him. Somewhere in his concentration he must have stopped showering his demon with affection, because after a full minute of waging his options (Chicken was the scrumptious classic, but prawn packed that sinful flavor punch, and cabbage had that lightness to it…!) nimble fingers snatched the menu out of his hands.
“I was looking at that!”
“We both know you’ll order some of each, there’s really no need for all this intense looking.” Crowley played with the slip of paper in his hands to appear casual, yet Aziraphale suddenly sensed some tension radiating off of his partner. “Besides,” the demon continued in a blasé way, but Aziraphale payed closer attention that he had been before, suspecting there was something on his love’s mind, “you haven’t been looking at me all day. So, if anyone deserves some intense looking, it’s definitely not that menu.”
And although the demon would probably deny any accusations of the sort until the day this universe exploded, Aziraphale saw the pout before it was quickly masked with a sneer. The angel’s metaphorical heart grew ten sizes at Crowley’s failed attempt to appear nonchalant about his obvious need for some love and attention. When Aziraphale leaned in, cradling his partner’s face in his palms and bringing their lips together in a sweet peck, the demon’s façade crumbled to a large degree. He pushed himself closer, until he was kneeling on Aziraphale’s desk, wrapping himself around his angel.
“You’re right, my dear. I’ve been so distracted! And you’ve waited patiently all day-“
Each word was punctuated by a gentle caress- against Crowley’s cheek, and snake tattoo, and arm, and back. Crowley soaked up the loving touches eagerly. Ever since the evening one week after the world didn’t end, physical contact became such a constant in their day-to-day lives, that its absence was felt strongly and missed immediately.
“A very hard feat, that was,” Crowley murmured, voice low and soft with a twinkle of amusement around the edges. “Dare I say, I’ve earned myself a treat?”
His palms found Aziraphale’s hips, pulling him even closer to the desk, playfully smirking at his lover. Aziraphale felt the smirk even when he went in to kiss him again, tongue lightly tracing the upturned curve of Crowley’s lips to ask for permission to enter. In answer, the forked tip of the demon’s serpent tongue flickered into his mouth, licking into him. Even after the countless kisses they had shared since that evening, Aziraphale’s body was still flushed with a strong rush of adrenaline at- finally- being able to kiss the only being in the whole universe he ever had fallen in love with (he had loved Oscar Wilde and all the others, to a certain degree, but this was different).
Perhaps he let himself get a bit carried away by the moment, as he would later try to rationalize his next decision- perhaps all that kissing on a day where there had been decidedly too less kissing had made him a bit bold. Either way, the second their lips parted, it slipped out of him:
“Indeed, you did. You’ve been so good for me, Crowley.”
As soon as it was said, Aziraphale abruptly started thinking again and immediately wished that he could take it back. Surely, Crowley would feel personally offended by his attempt at being seductive which was missing the mark by a mile. He hurried for damage control, fretting terribly over his careless mistake. Crowley’s hands on his hips had grown slack (probably from shock) and Aziraphale took them in his and kissed both wrists in an attempt of showing his regret.
“My dear, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so-“
He was stopped by one perfectly manicured and blackened fingernail against his lips. The angel closed his mouth abruptly, ready to take whatever Crowley chose to give him- he rightfully deserved it. Calling a demon ‘good’- how outrageously paternalizing! How could he even muster the audacity to-
Of all the things.
His demon blushed a pretty red color and avoided his eyes and said nothing at all concerning the matter.
Instead, he summoned the menu, pointed at the options and said: “I want the fried ones.”
He then gracefully unfolded himself from the desk and vanished to the backroom where they stored their aged wines.
The angel stared after his partner in pure disbelieve, feeling like something of significance had just occurred between them.
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Aziraphale started to investigate. Introducing different variables, carefully gauging the results, analyzing them in the privacy of his own mind. It was almost a scientific endeavor (a celestial being engaged in scientific experimentation- oh, the irony), the way he drew conclusions based on the facts presented to him (he felt like a character in a detective novel- a thrilling thought!). And, dare he say, he came to some pretty interesting conclusions, indeed.
He had started subtle, just letting the word slip into conversation now and again when referring to something Crowley did or the way he looked. Casual, unpresuming things- but they didn’t cause the reactions Aziraphale was looking for (Crowley just appeared smug, mostly).
He then upped his game, specifying the compliments and paying closer attention to their relationality: Making sure to refer Crowley’s ‘goodness’ back to himself and voicing his approval of their existence. Things like flowers brought as a surprise or a warm cup of tea on a dreadfully cold day were celebrated by Aziraphale; he never once failed to voice how pleased he was with his partner’s thoughtfulness towards him; how good he was for him. The reaction was always the same and always exactly what the angel anticipated: A little bit of shell-shock for a couple of seconds, then that pretty blush, and a hasty retreat.
It was curiously beautiful thing to watch; something that, Aziraphale had to admit, he couldn’t quite get enough of. He made a habit of noticing the smaller things Crowley presumedly had always done and pointed them out as something special. It made him happy to be the source of his partner’s delight- who knew that some simple words of approval were all that really got Crowley going.
In more than one regard, it seemed.
Three or four times, Aziraphale could have sworn he saw a poorly concealed bulge in his demon’s pants and smelled the burning scent of his lover’s arousal in the air. Having established now that Crowley seemed to like being praised, the next step was to find out just how much he liked it.
This part of the investigation proofed itself to be more difficult, especially because of mentioned retreat. He could have just asked Crowley- but really, where was the fun in that? Aziraphale was enjoying himself immensely, in his little quest to explore one of his partner’s kinks. Heaven didn’t understand kinks, since Heaven had a limited understanding of regular sex, the advanced variety has proofed too much of a hassle to keep up with; and Crowley claimed Hell didn’t invent kinks either, since they required an understanding of complex emotions demons usually didn’t possess. So, naturally, Aziraphale viewed this little adventure into the world of kinks as another one of his beloved researches on human nature. If it got Crowley off in the process, well that was the delicious bonus.
The perfect opportunity presented itself a few days later, when they were visiting Anathema and Newt to discuss their friends’ upcoming wedding- Aziraphale gushed over the event the moment Anathema had called him to share the happy news and Crowley had pretended to be annoyed at his angel’s enthusiasm out of spite, when in reality Aziraphale knew Crowley had seen every romantic comedy ever produced multiple times (Aziraphale found it simply adorable how, whenever they happened to watch a movie that fell into this specific genre, his demon pretended to be nonchalant about the whole thing and failed about halfway through).
Truth be told, Aziraphale was a tiny bit nervous- they hadn’t seen the two humans since they officially updated their relationship status from friends to lovers- but it turned out all this worry had been in vain. Anathema and Newt had only shared a brief glance when the two otherworldly beings turned up at their doorstep holding hands (it was Crowley’s favorite display of affection and Aziraphale really couldn’t deny his demon anything when he asked for it). They then were told that most people who met them already thought they were a couple long before they actually became one- so the dramatic coming out turned out to be a bit anticlimactic, really. Which, as Crowley immediately lamented, was a down-right tragedy; he had had a speech prepared and everything. He could only be mollified (and stopped from reciting the whole thing anyway) by hot chocolate infused with enough Baileys to knock a mortal unconscious and an impressive tower of whipped cream.
This is how the angel ended up discussing wedding cakes with a lap full of demon- who, at some point obviously bored with the conversation, had nestled himself atop of his angel’s thighs. Anathema and Aziraphale had shared a little private grin looking at the cuddly demon- Crowley’s behavior was (and here comes another four-letter-word which the demon absolutely despises) really cute. The angel wrapped his arms around Crowley’s thin waist, securely holding him in place against his chest, fingers playing absent-mindedly with the hem of his love’s suit jacket. It feels domestic, to spend time with their friends and still be affectionate on a certain level. ‘I could get used to this; I can get used to this,’ Aziraphale thought giddily to himself.
By the time the conversation switched to decorations, Aziraphale was pretty sure Crowley had dosed off a bit (he had, after all, drunken an ungodly (pardon the phrase) amount of Baileys).
“… and it’s like, who knew florists were so expensive? We would really love to have something natural and fresh around the venue, but we also don’t want to spend our whole fortune on the wedding…”
There it was.
“I’ve just had the most wonderful thought! Crowley might be able to help you out,” here, he nudged the half-limp mass of demon to get his attention, who gave a small hum of acknowledgment.
Needless to say, the soon-to-be newlyweds were a tad disbelieving. Demons and gardening didn’t exactly go together, after all. “Really?” Newt asked very, very carefully.
“Oh yes! He is simply exceptional with plants. Right, dearest?”
“I’m exceptional at scaring them into obedience,” the demon huffed, but his voice carried a slither of pride.
“Don’t sell yourself short, my love, all of your fosterlings are beautiful. Oh, you two, you’ve never seen such blossoms and colors!” He took a deep breath and turned, so he was looking more at Crowley’s face, “You’re so good.”
The change rippled over Crowley’s body almost immediately, with the way he sucked in a sharp breath and grew a little bit more rigid against Aziraphale’s chest. The angel, pretending to not having noticed anything, held onto his partner a little tighter, to prevent Crowley from bailing this time.
“Okay…. Well, if you’re willing, Crowley, that would be quite lovely, actually.”
Crowley made a vague sound of agreement, obviously fighting to get his countenance back. Aziraphale gave him the satisfaction, but only until Newt and Anathema vanished into the kitchen.
The angel resisted the impulse to grin mischiefly as he rested his head against the junction of Crowley’s shoulder and neck with feigned innocence. He deliberately pitched his voice lower and smoother- like rich honey- when he whispered into Crowley’s ear: “You’re the best. My best, aren’t you, darling?”
Aziraphale felt the ripple of goosebumps paired with the heating of the skin (a delicious paradox) against his lips, which were still resting near his demon’s ear, and which he now used to press feather-light kisses right against the sensitive arch of Crowley’s neck. He felt his love swallow and resist a deep noise- a noise, Aziraphale knew, would have been a moan if they had been alone. It filled him with a deep satisfaction- to be the reason his partner had to fight to keep control. He, in a very un-angelic fashion, wanted to debauch him. Crowley was shuddering against him, a full body shudder and then Aziraphale smelled it- burning, and heady, and unmistakable for what it was. His eyes ranked down Crowley’s lite form and sure enough there it was, the physical (and incredibly hard) proof that his demon definitely harbored a little kink. Exhilaration filled the angel, mixed with tingling arousal. Bold and daring, he let his hand slip high up the demon’s thigh, to feel the burning skin through the fabric. He chanted his hips forward only a fraction, enough that his own desire rubbed against Crowley’s leg. The demon let out a stuttering breath and slammed his eyes shut.
“Angel,” he stammered, voice faint and surprised and desperate.
“It’s getting rather late. We should be on our way,” Aziraphale called to the general direction of the kitchen, and with the blink of an eye, they were in Crowley’ bedroom.
His first scientific experimentation had been a complete success, the nefarious angel mused with giddy glee, as his partner crawled on top of him, panting into the bruising kiss they shared. The demon keened as his angel got a hold of his backside and pulled, to bring their groins together- hot flesh sliding against hot flesh through way too many layers of clothing- before he frantically started to chant his hips forward, creating just the right amount of friction to be pleasurable.
A complete success, indeed.
Aziraphale hadn’t yet felt confident enough in his findings to actually bring them to use during their bedroom activities, especially since they moved in a very languid pace with respect to this part of their relationship. They were both eager and willing, but six thousand years of restraint and hesitation didn’t vanish into thin air overnight. There was kissing- a lot of kissing- and the occasional hand-/or blowjob (the morning Aziraphale had given Crowley his very first blowjob ranked among the top ten moments of his entire existence) or intense frottage session; but nothing more. Nothing as elaborate as kinky sex. Crowley’s sexual inexperience (and likewise, Aziraphale’s experience) remained a touchy subject between them (not quite in the ‘crossing a line’ territory, but close enough) which they both politely skirted around as much as possible.
It was all the more surprising, when Aziraphale found himself in the position where he just couldn’t resist the temptation of putting his newly gained knowledge to good use (who was he kidding- for an angel he was exceptionally bad at resisting temptation and astonishingly good at tempting).
In his defense, it had been the loveliest day. Crowley could be a down-right romantic when he set his (metaphorical) heart to it, and for some reason, he had felt that particular tingle today. They had the most wonderful date- for it was a date, Crowley even insisted on calling it that- just strolling around this city which they held so dear in their hearts, like the had done a million times before. But it was different, because they were strolling as a couple- walking intimate and close, entwining their fingers, pausing occasional for a kiss, not caring where they where or who watched them. This, Aziraphale realized, was what freedom felt like- they were free now- and this, he decided, was how he wanted to spend all eternity. The day was topped off with a performance of ‘As you Like It’ at the Globe Theatre, for nostalgia’s sake. Only this time, Crowley was standing right behind him, holding him flush against his body, arms tightly wound against his angel’s waist, head resting calmly on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Now, when Crowley laughed at one of the funnier bits, the angel could hear it close and intimately in his ear and feel it from the way his demon’s belly expanded lightly against his back- and from time to time Aziraphale turned his head and Crowley- ever attentive, always caring- let him kiss his jaw or ear or lips as much as he liked (which was a lot, considering he was a very insatiable angel).
When they returned to the bookshop for the night, Aziraphale’s heart was so full of love that he felt like bursting at the seams- a rich, exhilarating feeling. For the unpresuming human eye, Crowley still had this air of untouchability and distance around him, hiding behind eccentric fashion, and his sunglasses, and his sneer; but Aziraphale saw the soul behind the façade every second that they were alone and lately even when they were among others. Shining behind it like stars in the evening sky- bright and clear and beautiful.
Aziraphale didn’t know about Her plans- wouldn’t dare to presume he did, but he often found himself wondering, when it was late and Crowley was curled fast asleep with his head in the angel’s lap, how a creature as sensitive and wonderful as Crowley could be cast out of Heaven. They’ve had the snippets of this conversation, only once, and Aziraphale never made the mistake of crossing this line ever again. It had been ghastly and unexpectedly painful, and Crowley had been asleep for half a century after it. His demon’s voice- pitched low in barely repressed anger and pain- spitting the words “I have been Her child, too. I am Her child,” was something that haunted him on the darker days of his existence). It also had been the only time he had seen Crowley’s body in its original form- the serpent features, the scales, the marred wings, even the halo- burned and cracked and broken looking like the horns human history presumed fallen angels grew- and Aziraphale had caught himself doubting Her; only for a brief moment, but long enough for him to realize that this demon before him deserved better than what he had been put through. These, among many other things, were things he never dared to say out loud, but he had made it his personal mission to make Crowley feel how much he cared, how much he was worth to him.
His demon- his demon that had saved him countless times, who was patient with him even though Aziraphale knew he was a fretting mess sometimes, who watched plays with him he knew that he didn’t even like, who brought him flowers and chocolates unprompted. Crowley- his Crowley, his demon, his dearest, his love- had been so good to him; had taken such good care of him, and Aziraphale was eager to give some of it back. To take such good care of Crowley, because his love deserved it.
So, really, who could blame him (Almighty, please give me strength) when the second he closed the door of the bookshop behind them, he had pinned Crowley against the nearest wall- in between crammed bookcases and shivering plants. He kissed him with everything that he had, poured unsaid sentiments into the movements of his lips, put fond endearments in his hands, as they wandered over planes of expensive black fabric- gently swallowing the surprised yelp Crowley gave at the sudden change of pace.
Aziraphale knew Crowley had been slightly aroused for the better part of an hour- had smelled it when one of their kisses had turned heady and deep. At first, he thought he had been mistaken, because the visual proof seemed to lack profoundly, until he realized that Crowley had changed his effort today. While Aziraphale was old-fashioned in every way- once he had grown a liking to something, he tended to keep it for as long as he liked it; which was why he never saw the necessity to change his effort since he first manifested it. Crowley was different- Crowley liked change, liked to keep things in flux and dynamic- Aziraphale knew, because a very drunken demon had told him about 200 years ago (and the angel never forgot a thing that his demon told him) that he switched things up from time to time; sometimes preferred the warm softness of a pussy over the heavy weight of a cock.
The knowledge that Crowley had switched his effort up right now had sent Aziraphale reeling, hence the fact that he had sported an impressive errection for the better part of an hour, too. He had never seen Crowley with a female sex before- even the prospect was shooting dizzying excitement through his veins.
When he trailed his lips down Crowley’s neck- nipping and smelling the delicious skin he found there- he felt the hitch of breath against them.
“Not that I’m complaining-“ and oh, wasn’t it delicious how Crowley’s voice already sounded so breathy and wrecked?- “but what brought this on, then?”
Aziraphale paused, to give Crowley a look through his lashes he hoped came off as seductive (judging by the way his demon swallowed audible, he was successful), before he kissed a small path right to Crowley’s ear, breath ghosting in warm waves over the snake tattoo.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, angel, but what-“
“Just relax, my darling. Let me take care of you.”
A sharp intake of breath, a quiet shudder. The smell of arousal intensifying. The tremble in his demon’s thighs, which were pinned softly but firm against the wall. The perfect opportunity to bring his newly gained knowledge to good use. The chance to pleasure Crowley in ways he hadn’t been able to before. The angel barely suppressed a groan at the prospect of the things that were in store for them tonight. His cock jumped in the confinements of his pants, leaking the tiniest big of fluid into his underwear. Something about Crowley made him come completely undone. He took the demon’s earlobe between his teeth and pulled, relishing in the feeling of Crowley jerking against him.
Warm hands traveled underneath Crowley’s shirt over pronounced hipbones, following the path of red hair to a decorative navel, caressing the thin waist, stopping at already peaked nipples. He knew Crowley’s were extremely sensitive, and only just touching them was a guaranteed turn-on for his demon. So, he took them both between his fingers, softly rolling them at the same time. Crowley let out a gorgeous sound and slumped forward, head resting on his angel’s shoulder, completely overcome by arousal. Aziraphale smirked to himself. Oh, they had barely even begun!
Crowley’s legs were shaking so much that only Aziraphale’s bodyweight kept him upright- a realization that increased the angel’s excitement by several notches. Something about having this creature- this strong, powerful creature- trusting him completely with the most vulnerable side of himself send a wave of protectiveness and admiration over the angel. Crowley was his- only his- and therefore, his to indulge.
With that in mind, he lifted Crowley’s lanky legs only through thinking about it (his fingers, after all, were still quite busy giving the demon’s rosy nipples some very welcome attention), wrapping them around his own firm hips- keeping him in place by the power of angelic force. Crowley made a small noise of affirmation, locking his ankles behind Aziraphale’s back. Their crotches were nearer like this- pressed together tightly. He wondered idly if Crowley would be able to come just from this- some clever tugs and praise sprinkled in here and there- but that was an idea for another time. He didn’t wish to tease his love like that, not tonight. Not when he deserved to be thoroughly pleased. Caressed into oblivion. Gently taken apart and put back together again. Loved- with every inch of Aziraphale’s being.
By the ragged sound of his breathing and the tremble in his abdomen, his love was already tumbling into the first orgasm of the evening- keening against Aziraphale’s shoulder, hiding his face. He, then, whined unhappily, when Aziraphale ceased his ministrations on his chest, but let out an enthusiastic moan, when the angel slipped his fingers inside his pants instead, gently brushing the scales which had already started to form there. The angel took his time to run over the top of the demon’s waistband, caressing the soft lacing he encountered there- over and over again until a very desperately hissed “Azzzzzira,” prompted him to travel down, cupping the soft mound lovingly in his palm. Crowley tensed, and Aziraphale felt him quiver in his gentle hold.
“Alright?” he asked, for this was new territory for both of them.
“S-sensitive,” the demon replied from his hiding-spot against the angel’s shoulder (how bizarre- they were still fully dressed). He quivered again. “Don’t stop?”
“Whatever you desire, dearheart.”
The space was warm and wet- his demon had already soaked through what the angel presumed were very tasteful knickers (Crowley did never anything half-assed, ever). Carefully, Aziraphale circled two of his fingers over the underside where Crowley’s opening was dripping, while his palm remained firmly pressed against the delicious hill of his lover’s sex. Tentatively, he pushed his fingers upward. His love let out a sinful sound that wrecked through both of them- different than he had ever sounded before. Intoxicating, exhilarating, addictive (Aziraphale immediately wanted to hear it again and again and again).
His other hand found Crowley’s pronounced jaw and lifted his head, willing the sunglasses off his demon’s face with the blink of an eye. The demon’s gaze was filled with raw arousal- the pupils wide and shining in the center of liquid gold- the eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of vulnerability and desire. He had seen this look countless times before, still it never failed to punch all the breath he didn’t need out of his lungs.
He caressed over the reddened skin, pressing his thumb against the corner of his lover’s lips in unmasked adoration. He could feel the ripple of tiny scales underneath his palm (something his demon would be very self-conscious about later, and he was kind enough to never let the topic slip into conversation).
“Look at you -“
“All yours,” Crowley huffed, his voice gone rough and small in the face of his angel’s undivided attention.
“Mine,” Aziraphale affirmed softly, because he knew it was what Crowley longed to hear. “My beautiful demon-“
He watched as Crowley shut his eyes in surprised embarrassment, knitting his eyebrows more tightly together, as if to protest, but the angel felt a pulse run through the mound in his palm and a gush of fresh wetness against his fingers. He pressed in more insistently, so that the fabric rubbed against his lover’s slick lips.
“Who has been so good to me, all day. Haven’t you, darling?”
There was no hiding this time of the emotions that played out over Crowley’s face as he received the praise, his mouth falling open in a toneless moan. The sight was easily one of the most magnificent things Aziraphale had ever seen- his cock gave a more prominent jerk that he was sure Crowley had felt against his hip where the angel was pressed.
“And now you’re all wet and lovely, just for me.”
Crowley whined- a high and desperate sound- at the sinful words leaving Aziraphale’s holy mouth (the angel himself was no stranger to dirty talk, he had bed several very eloquent men and women back in the day), tone dripping sweet and rich like honey. Goosebumps erupted underneath the angel’s palm that was now stroking over the demon’s collarbones, back down again to his lover’s nipples.
He wasted no time, no longer denying his partner the very first release of the evening and gave the right nipple a hearty twist, while his fingers slipped inside of the knickers. He relished in the feeling of Crowley’s clit rubbing against his hand and the velvety soft skin of Crowley’s lips, tensing in releasing as he ran his nails over them, drawing slow circles near Crowley’s quivering opening.
“Close, angel,” the demon then breathed in a strained voice filled with poorly concealed noises. He was too far gone to even care about how wanton he sounded to Aziraphale’s ears (just like the naughty angel wanted him to be). “I…I need…i-inside, please-“
The request took the angel by surprise, sending hot waves of desire through his veins. This- this right here was kind of, sort of, a little bit- a big deal. They had skirted around the topic of penetration for the time being- Crowley seemingly oblivious to it, and Aziraphale unsure of how he could bring it up. That his demon apparently wanted to be taken by him (only him- ever only him), that it was to happen right now…. Well. Aziraphale was the experienced one between the two of them, experienced by all means, really. He wasn’t new to the practice of penetration. But. But the mere thought of being inside this marvelous creature whom he had loved for decades, whom had loved him for centuries was…
He took a deep breath to steel his nerves.
Aziraphale leaned in close and nothing but moaned right into Crowley’s ear (causing even more goosebumps to ripple over sensitive skin). “Let go, my love, I’ve got you. Yes…” And, when a finger carefully breached his lover’s opening (the soft-hard grip of Crowley’s walls around his digit made the angel’s head swim) added “Good boy.”
Crowley’s orgasm was instantaneous and intense- his channel constricting around the finger that wiggled around ever so slightly to prolong the high, slick coating it and the angel’s hand in waves. Only a not so minor angelic miracle prevented Aziraphale from finishing himself (in his pants, no less!) only from witnessing the delectable feast that was his love in the thrones of orgasm. Deep satisfaction washed over him at being able to please Crowley so thoroughly, as he held the shaking body of his demon, who was digging his nails in Aziraphale’s coat and groaned as all his muscles continued to clench.
They stayed like this for a couple of seconds, catching their breaths and gathering their wits. Aziraphale could pin-point the exact moment when Crowley started to shake himself from the glow of post-orgasmic bliss and began worrying, perhaps even becoming ashamed about the experience they just shared, felt it in the way his shoulders suddenly tensed and he buried his face deep in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. The angel came prepared for this, however (He knew Crowley quite well, if he said so himself). He wrapped his arms tightly around the lithe body of his demon that still clung to him, pouring all his love into the hug. Crowley seemed to melt against him, gratefully. As Aziraphale moved to pull his finger out slowly (to improve the hug considerably), Crowley made the tiniest noises of protest.
At that, the angel gave quite the un-angelic smirk (which the shy demon, naturally, couldn’t see from his position pressed against his lover’s neck), rotating the digit slowly. The ability to orgasm multiple times in a short succession was definitely a considerable advantage of female genitalia, and if Crowley was willing, well, Aziraphale was happy to indulge him. Judging from the faint ‘oh’ that left the demon’s lips when Aziraphale found that special spongy spot inside him and rubbed over it with the pad of his finger, his demon was more than just willing. One might even call him eager.
Aziraphale had been worried for a second there, that Crowley’s self-consciousness would get the better of him- that he would voice his desire to retreat, to be alone, to stop this and never try it again. It would have, dare he say, made him more than just a little crestfallen but his outmost priority was to oblige Crowley’s every wish. This wish, turned out, was apparently to be fingered right into a second orgasm. Aziraphale’s libido was quite ecstatic as these wishes continued to be sexual in nature (his errection hardened a little more, the head now quite damp with precome). The room was quiet except for Crowley’s deep breaths in his hiding place and the faintest of squelching noises from where Aziraphale gently fucked his finger inside his partner’s sex. The air around them smelled headily of arousal- of fire and smoke and earth and them.
“You can add another, you know? I’m not fragile-“ His demon huffed in an attempt to sound like his usual snarky self, but failed adorably so.
“Is that so?” The angel smiled, stifling a laugh as Crowley gave him a look from his hiding place against the angel’s neck.
“You-“ he started, but paused, as Aziraphale prodded a second finger against the slightly stretched rim, teasing it to let the bigger intrusion in.
“Yesssss,” Crowley hissed, followed immediately by a low growl as his body opened up and drew Aziraphale’s second finger inside. He let his head fall against the wall, moaning as both fingers worked in tandem inside him, baring the long column of his neck. As an angel who was indulged as Aziraphale, he just wasn’t able to resist when a feast was presented to him, so he licked a broad stripe over the pale and party scaly skin. The way Crowley clenched around his fingers made the angel’s movement shudder, his own arousal more and more difficult to ignore.
But he would be dammed (pardon the irony) if he lost his control before he satisfied his love again.
Time to raise the stakes.
Some stray hairs had fallen out of the demon’s messy bun, framing his face in flaming waves, and Aziraphale wrapped a strand around two fingers and tugged, ever so slightly (ever since he had patted Crowley’s hair when he thought the demon was asleep, Crowley had made it quite clear that there was hardly a physical sensation in which he relished more than having Aziraphale play with his hair in any way, shape, or form). The tug earned him a quiet whimper and some slick seeping out around his fingers.
“You really love that, don’t you?” Crowley keened in agreement. “Yes, you do. Having your angel manhandle you, pleasure you”- here, he leaned in close to Crowley’s ear, hot breath ghosting over it. “worship you.”
The demon’s mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh’, in equal protest and surprise, but his walls tightened around the fingers moving inside him, gently scissoring to stretch the velvety-tight passage.
“Next time,” Aziraphale continued, now pulling on Crowley’s hair to keep him in place, for the demon had already moved to hide his face again, “when you have such a delicious little cunt just for me, I will devour you.”
The angel closed his eyes and inhale deeply, smelling Crowley’s smoky-sweet stench and exhaling in a little moan that wasn’t entirely added in for show. Crowley was shaking all around him, incredibly wet and hot. And already close again. Aziraphale relished in this sinful display of carnal lust.
“Do you picture it, my dear? Me sinking to my knees to feast on the lusciousness of your desire? Lapping up your nectar like I’m starving for it? Oh, I bet you taste divine-“ Judging by the sounds his lover was making, cunilingus definitely went on the to do list for future bedroom adventures, the angel noted giddily. Just thinking about it himself sent a pleasant little shiver down his spine. He would never tire of the endless possible ways to please Crowley. They had all eternity, after all.
The demon was meeting the trusts of his fingers with jerky movements of his hips- all finesse lost to wild desire, face a mask of ecstasy, glistening with sweat. It was- easily- the most breathtaking sight. Aziraphale’s neglected cock gave another jerk, and he made sure to press it against Crowley’s hip. “Do you feel what you do to me? You gorgeous creature, you idle temptress- my beautiful demon…. Just looking at you makes me… desperate.”
Sensing the release seconds away, Aziraphale started applying pressure with his palm against Crowley’s mound. That way, his clit, which the demon had shamelessly rubbed against his angel’s hand, was stimulated even more than before. The hard little nub twitched against Aziraphale’s skin.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped high, eyes slamming shut, “Oh…oh...Aziraphale…”
“That’s it, show me, such a good boy.” The angel increased the speed of his ministrations, pulling his demon’s red locks tighter. He was rewarded by the most erotic sound, spilling from his lover’s well-kissed lips. In this moment, he resembled a piece of art.
“Show me how good I make you feel, Crowley.”
And oh, it was the most gorgeous feeling of Crowley’s walls fluttering and clambering around his fingers, sucking him in while his love wailed through his second orgasm. The angel fucked him through it very gently, whispering encouragements into his hair. He withdrew his fingers after the demon’s sex had stopped twitching and let out a little satisfied breath when his hand emerged warm and slick-coated.
Without thinking, he brought it to his mouth for a taste, moaning low in his throat when the aroma unfolded on his tongue. Sweet, and salty, and somehow so unmistakably Crowley, that he was tempted to dip his fingers in again, to have another sample.
He caught his lover’s gaze, who was shaking and holding onto his shoulders for dear life, legs twitching around Aziraphale’s waist. He panted, his pupils- already extremely expanded- grew a little more at the display his angel was giving him. Said angel had the audacity to blush, he was presenting a rather naughty sight, after all.
He cleared his throat, to vanish the veil of arousal still hanging heavily over himself, in an attempt to regain some of his proper posture; he had let himself go quite a bit there (oh, the things Crowley was doing to him…).
Crowley, however, clearly had other ideas, for he slammed their mouths together in a hungry kiss- tongue chasing the traces of himself in Aziraphale’s mouth- while snapping his fingers once- and they were in the bedroom of Aziraphale’s flat above the bookshop (that had been nonexistent prior to their relationship), twice- and they were both stark naked. There was a fire in the fireplace, basking them both in warm light, in the otherwise dark room.
Aziraphale’s cock gave an enthusiastic jerk as he was pulled between the open legs of his love; while Crowley was laying on his back with his hair fanning behind him like a halo of flames. The demon’s gaze was burning as he looked up to him, and Aziraphale’s arms were already shaking in an effort to keep himself upright in the face of such intense adoration and want. Pre-come drippled against the hill of Crowley’s sex, where his errection was hovering, in an attempt to keep his respectful distance until he got further instructions.
This was, as previously mentioned, a big deal, after all.
The demon cupped his face in his palm (how even such a small action could radiate so much love, Aziraphale would never know), running his thumb over his jaw lovingly.
“That was exceptional, angel. Now it’s your turn. Let me make you feel good.”
“Crowley,” the angel started, willing his voice not to shake from the level of arousal he was experiencing. It was getting hard (ha!) to think. He felt like he was drunk with desire. “I’m so close.”
The demon smiled seductively at him (he could be a right tease if he wanted to be), opening his legs a little wider. “I want you to come inside me.”
Oh. Oh. He almost finished right there.
Since he no longer was solely focused on Crowley’s pleasure, his own desperation had taken the center-stage, but he willed it back for a moment longer. They had never discussed penetration and now it was all happening so fast, it made the angel almost feel guilty for some reason.
“Love…oh… we…don’t have to, if-“
“I want you to, angel. Please.”
Although another bead of pre-cum collected at his slit, the angel hesitated, searching his lover’s face. Crowley let out a little huff, in fond expiration, although he could see a little twinkle of gratitude somewhere in those golden eyes.
“I want this, Aziraphale. I do. I’ve wanted this… for an embarrassingly long time, but I never knew how to bring it up. There, happy? You can stop worrying that pretty little head of yours.”
The angel bit his lower lip, as the demon ran a reassuring hand up his flank, over the collection of pure light points on his cooperation dusted on there like freckles, which Crowley always referred to as little constellations. It was a familiar touch. Loving. Save.
“I don’t want to mess this up-“
He was silenced by a sweet kiss, nothing more than a gentle press of their lips.
“Do you trust me?” the demon asked against his angel’s lips with unmasked tenderness. The atmosphere of the room had shifted from being charged in heady sexual energy to something slower, something deeper, something much more intimate.
“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed, voice heavy with emotion.
“I trust you, too. I know you’ll take good care of me, angel. You always do.”
Aziraphale swallowed around the lump in his throat, pressing his forehead against Crowley’s. It was moments like these, where he was very briefly overwhelmed by the intensity of their connection. Suddenly, he was reminded that indeed Crowley was the center of his universe, and that he was Crowley’s- for eternity if they wanted to- that they belonged together in a way that should definitely not be possible but was the only thing that seemed right in Her chaotic plans.
There were emotions expanding in his chest much too grand for the human conceptions of words, there was no way any of them would ever do them justice.
He tried a meager “I love you,” knowing it wasn’t even close to enough.
“I love you, too.” But he knew that Crowley understood. Crowley always understood him.
The demon smiled fondly at his angel, letting his hands travel down to his lover’s wide hips. “Now, come on. My pussy’s so empty, I need your cock to fill me up-“
He grinned as Aziraphale stifled a small laugh at the sudden change of tone.
“This will hardly be the proper thing, my dear, I’m so sorry. I won’t last-”
The demon shushed him with another kiss. “You’re talking too much right now,” he tutted. Aziraphale had half the mind to make a cheeky retort about how the demon hadn’t seemed to mind his talking just minutes before, but his voice died in his throat when Crowley took hold of his cock and gently guided him towards his entrance.
Aziraphale let out a shuddering moan as his lover rubbed the wet head against his own slick folds. His errection hardened further, steadily working towards an impending release. At the first breach- the ridges of Aziraphale’s head momentarily catching on Crowley’s rim- they both held their breaths. It was a slow slide, Crowley’s channel was slick and stretched from their previous activities, but still the most glorious tight grip Aziraphale had ever felt.
“Oh,” he breathed in amazement and wonder, his eyes flickering between the warm space where they connected one inch at a time and his demon’s expression, forked tongue licking his lips and shimmering scales rippling among his neck. “Oh, Crowley-“
He felt the walls tighten and grip at him, as his lover gave a tiny shutter at the sound of his voice. Aziraphale himself hardly recognized it- it was deeper than usual, and rich, somewhere between a moan and a prayer. Without warning, the demon pulled him down by the neck, roughly enough that the angel’s arms gave out and he was seated fully against his lover- the roundness of his stomach, his abdomen, his crotch pressing against Crowley’s hard lines and scales. They met in a heady kiss, tongues battling for dominance, as the changed angle seated Aziraphale’s errection firmly inside. When Crowley started to roll his hips the tiniest bit- rubbing his over-sensitive clit against his lover’s soft form- Aziraphale knew he probably wouldn’t last longer than half a dozen thrusts. Maybe less. He could perform an angelic miracle to last longer, but he was much too far gone at this point- his body tensing, cherishing every part of contact between them. When he pulled on his lover’s hair, Crowley cried out softly into his mouth and arched his back, bringing his angel’s cock impossibly deeper and rubbing his sensitive nipples against Aziraphale’s chest.
“Darling-ah, my darling-“ the angel moaned as he gently snapped his hips forward, breathing moist against his lover’s lips. Bright golden eyes watched him attentively. “I’m going to come. You feel so good; so tight, so wet, so beautiful- oh Crowley, you are my universe- You’re going to make me come, my good boy-“
Without warning, Crowley shivered into his third orgasm, keening in both surprise and ecstasy, whole body tensing and releasing underneath and all around Aziraphale. It was the wet-hot quiver that did it, for the angel immediately followed suit- pulsing and pulsing and pulsing into his lover in a drawn-out orgasm that left him blissed out and boneless.
Crowley butted his head against Aziraphale’s thigh, in a demand for head-rubs. The angel sighed fondly and indulged his love, while nursing a hot cocoa. They were both naked, warm, and thoroughly satisfied by their first time (although, if the angel could improve anything about it, it probably was the duration- but come to think of it, there was always time for a round two, or ten, or twenty thousand. They had all eternity).
His demon’s voice sounded hoarse and quiet, almost inaudible when he buried his face against his lover’s wide hip.
“If you’re waiting for the part where I start dissolving into a self-conscious mess, because I sure as Hell don’t deserve the wonderous things that just happened to me, you can stop holding your breath. I’m much too blissed out for that.”
Aziraphale looked down at the cuddly ball of demon against his side. “You know… all of it was true. Crowley… I can’t even find the words to tell you how much-“
“You’ve found quite enough words for one evening, angel. And you made me feel good enough to actually believe them.”
A smile broke out on the angel’s face, rivaling the sun in brightness. Crowley scoffed at it to cover up his bright blush.
“Don’t look at me like that, don’t get used to it. I’m still a vicious demon, you know.”
“Oh, absolutely. Vicious. Evil. Rotten to the core.”
“It’s bad courtesy to mock your lover in bed.”
Aziraphale swallowed a giggle and leaned down, to give his Crowley a sweet kiss on the nose. The demon wrinkled it for show.
“Oh, you’re right. I’m ever so sorry, my dear. How can I make it up to you?”
Crowley pouted that cute little pout he always put on when Aziraphale was teasing him and he pretended not to like it.
“…..I want fried dumplings.”
At that, Aziraphale actually dissolved into giggles and against his better judgement, Crowley joined in.