Crowley started ordering the bill straight after the main course when they dined out, and at first Aziraphale didn’t make a fuss (even though he had always thought that the best part of going out was a decadent dessert painstakingly-made by someone else – the other food was nice, but priorities). After the third time it happened, Aziraphale resolved to put his foot down.
When Crowley suggested that they go out for lunch, the angel practically stamped his foot in a tantrum. ‘No!’ he harrumphed. ‘We go out, and we never get any dessert, and that’s the fun part!’ He looked coldly at the demon. ‘If you think I’m pudgy, and this is a way to try and get me to cut down, it won’t work!’
Crowley’s eyebrows flew up like startled sparrows. ‘Oh no, no no no,’ he babbled. ‘I think you’re great, love the way you look, um….’ His hands clenched at his sides. ‘It’s just… oh fuck.’
Aziraphale folded his arms. ‘Just what?’ he asked, his voice as balmy as the Arctic.
‘I can’t be with you when you eat them.’
Aziraphale looked worried. ‘Is it the smell? Too strong?’ He started to wring his hands. ‘Oh Crowley dear, I didn’t realise, if they were making you bilious…’
‘It’s not the smell,’ Crowley said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s your face.’
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. ‘My face? What’s wrong with my face?’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t choose it exactly, but I never saw the need to ask for a different one…’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your face, you muppet!’ Crowley threw his hands up. ‘It’s… when you eat something you like, you…’
Aziraphale looked up to Heaven for strength. ‘Why do you never have a problem finding something to say until I ask you a direct question?’ he said snarkily.
Crowley crossed his arms. ‘You look like you’re really, really enjoying it, and I get a raging hard on, and one of these days it’ll flip a bloody table over!’ Crowley dragged a hand over his mouth, round his neck and through his hair, looking absolutely mortified with himself. ‘I have known people who would give up their soul to give their partners that face that you so casually give a crème brûlée.’
There was a silence for two whole minutes, and 120 seconds never felt so long in the history of the universe. Crowley mentally catalogued all the places he could flee to, and Aziraphale stared at the floor open-mouthed.
‘I didn’t… I assumed… you never said.’ He sounded wounded. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘Because I thought it would – you’re an angel, I’m a demon, didn’t think you’d want –‘ his hand gestured to his body, ‘-this.’
Aziraphale moved quickly to stand in front of Crowley, and placed his hands on his shoulders. ‘But I do, Crowley,’ he said soft but steely. He looked at Crowley’s lips. ‘I’ve always wanted you.’ He leaned in slowly, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on Crowley’s lips.
‘Grrk,’ came Crowley’s reply, arguably not his most dignified response to anything. He breathed out slowly. ‘Little bit out of my depth here, angel,’ he said quietly.
A sly sultry smile spread on Aziraphale’s face, and Crowley almost melted. ‘Well, first things first, you owe me a dessert,’ Aziraphale said, walking off to the kitchen and getting something out of the fridge. He brought a white waxed-paper box onto the table, and sat down. ‘Over here Crowley, there’s a dear,’ he said cheerfully.
Crowley walked (with some difficulty – his body was not calming down) and sat down next to him. The box was opened and the smell of coffee, cocoa and Marsala filled the air. Tiramisu, one of Aziraphale’s favourites (in a very long list). ‘What is this for?’ Crowley asked, excitement and dread causing his stomach to rollercoaster into his throat and back.
‘Feed it to me,’ Aziraphale commanded.
Crowley swallowed. ‘There’s no cutlery.’
Aziraphale took a finger and ran it through part of the creamy layer of mascarpone, then sucked on his finger, all the while keeping his bright blue eyes locked onto Crowley’s. ‘Your turn,’ he said.
Crowley, with a shaking hand, picked up a generous scoop of filling, then held it near Aziraphale. The angel (again with the eye contact, fuck) took his wrist, gently massaging the pulse point, and drew the finger closer to his mouth. He then first licked it with his tongue, then took it into his mouth, groaning contentedly around it.
The sound and the sensation (vibration, tight, wet heat) went straight down Crowley’s arm and to his cock, which was now hard and throbbing, and he’s still sucking it.
Aziraphale pulled off and gave a pointed look to the rest of the dessert. ‘Come on, that was barely a mouthful,’ he said. He waited as Crowley got another scoop, this time over two fingers. He took them both in his mouth, running his tongue over them and sucking hard.
‘Zee, please, I can’t…’ Crowley started to beg.
Aziraphale bit the tips of the fingers gently, and put them down. ‘If you don’t get out your cock and fuck my mouth with it, I am never letting you come round again.’
Crowley had never moved so quickly. He stood up and unzipped, pulling himself out and gently pushing his cock past Aziraphale’s bright, spit-soaked lips. Aziraphale moaned loudly around it, sucking it down greedily, until Crowley’s whole cock was enveloped.
Aziraphale slapped one of Crowley’s cheeks suddenly, that flash of pain causing his hips to buck forward. He got the general idea soon enough, moving back and forth quickly. Another smack, a prickly sting that just added to the pleasure of it.
‘Zee, sweetheart, I’m gonna… can’t last, too good…’ he panted.
Aziraphale’s eyes were becoming slightly glassy, and he hummed contentedly. He then just kept sucking harder, moving his head with more force, making it impossibly wet and tight and…
Dots of white flashed across Crowley’s vision as he came hard, and it felt as if his whole body had sublimated. He removed himself carefully, and fell slowly to his knees, head in Aziraphale’s lap and arms wrapped around his legs.
Aziraphale trailed his fingers through Crowley’s hair, lightly tugging the strands. ‘Get your breath back, dear,’ he said quietly. ‘Because I am far from done with you yet.’