"Crowley, I'm so full, I really can't finish it!" Aziraphale fretted over his dessert, a chocolate fondant with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (well, actually, it was Crowley's dessert, who had ordered it knowing full well he'd have two bites and then pass it to Aziraphale). "But it tastes so good and it won't keep!" The angel wrung his hands, and brought his eyes up to meet Crowley's. "Dear, I don't suppose you could…?"
"Give you a bit of help?" Crowley finished the thought, the lights in the restaurant glinting off his sunglasses.
"Oh, if you would, Crowley," chirped the angel as if Crowley had suggested the idea without any prompting from Aziraphale. "That would be absolutely lovely, thank you."
Crowley slithered out of the booth and round to Aziraphale's side of the table. He sat so close their thighs touched. He put one hand on Aziraphale's swollen middle and started to rub in little circles. He leaned into Aziraphale's ear. "Now, angel, just think about it… just a few more bites, really. That's not so hard." He picked up the fork with his other hand and scooped up a bit of cake and ice cream. "Just take it one bite at a time." He brought the fork to Aziraphale's pretty pink lips and purred, "One decadent, sinful bite at a time."
Aziraphale shivered. He ate because he loved food, but he was fairly certain he could eat just about anything if Crowley was the one feeding it to him. He loved the way Crowley would coo in his ear (Wouldn't you like another bite, angel? Go on, just one more) while his dextrous hand toyed with Aziraphale's stomach, already weighed down by so much fine food. The stretch of his stomach was divine, and he could feel it stretch just that little bit tighter with every bite Crowley fed him. Something just felt inexplicably right about it all.
Crowley liked to feed his angel. It was obvious how much Aziraphale enjoyed it, which would have been enough for Crowley, frankly. But more than that, it was like creating a beautiful masterwork of sin. A magnum opus dedicated to gluttony, really.
And an angel -- his bloody angel -- was the canvas (and, to be fair to Aziraphale, the co-artist). What demon wouldn't enjoy that?
Crowley scooped up another bite of the fondant, chocolate oozing nearly off the fork. But not quite. Crowley made sure it all went into his angel's mouth and not on his clothes. "You don't usually need my help until after dessert, angel. I suppose you did have rather a lot to eat tonight."
Aziraphale swallowed, again savoring that lovely stretch and silky, rich chocolate. "Yes, dear boy, but only because it was all so delicious. You picked such a wonderful restaurant. How was I supposed to resist the temptation to indulge myself?"
"Overindulge," murmured Crowley, leaning in to nibble at Aziraphale's ear.
"Yes dear, I suppose you're right. Remind me, Crowley. What did I have tonight, again?" said the angel, a little breathlessly.
Crowley froze, dropping even his habit of breathing except to exhale, "You bastard."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Aziraphale beamed at Crowley when he pulled back to scoop up another bite of fondant. Aziraphale knew exactly what watching him glut did to Crowley -- and that the feigned innocence made each sin all the sweeter. He opened his mouth dutifully and took the next bite of the proffered dessert.
"Well, let's see… we had the wine, of course." Crowley tilted his head to indicate the empty bottle. "And you had three brioche buns."
"Four, actually, dear. It was definitely four." He sighed wistfully. "Very fresh. So perfect and buttery."
"Four brioche buns," Crowley amended, a thrill going up his back. "And then for starters you had the consommé. And some of my bruschetta."
"Ooo, those were lovely, weren't they, darling? I do hope you got your fill of them before I polished them off."
Crowley managed a curt nod in response, resisting the urge to squirm. Instead, he forked more fondant, swirling it around in the growing puddle forming underneath the ice cream. "And we had that fondue."
"Delectable," hummed Aziraphale as he wrapped his plump lips around the fork once more. More dessert for his angel. More sweetness filling him up.
Crowley did his best to keep his voice level. "Then there was the pasta. And most of my steak and veg." Aziraphale swallowed his latest bite, and Crowley stared at the angel's adams apple as it bobbed.
"All absolutely wonderful. You do like your steak a bit rarer than mine, dear, but it was still delicious, and that alfredo was to die for."
"And then--" Crowley swallowed, his throat dry. "Then the cheesecake."
Aziraphale groaned softly. "Goodness me, the cheesecake! So rich and creamy--and that raspberry sauce! Simply otherworldly."
Crowley was barely holding it together at this last display. He held up the fork. "And now," he said, his voice finally breaking. "A chocolate fondant. Last bite, angel."
"Really, already?" said Aziraphale, letting a note of surprise slip into his voice.
Crowley drew even closer to Aziraphale, pulling his knees onto what space there was on Aziraphale's lap. "Yess, angel, really." The faintest bit of a hiss slipped out.
Aziraphale bit his lip and purred, "You are a wily one, Crowley. Coaxing me into eating all of this. Really, how is a being supposed to cope?"
Crowley felt a little faint from all the half-truths and gluttony, and he sounded it too. "Well, you could start by taking the last bite."
And Aziraphale did.
Aziraphale never would undo his trousers in public, not if he could help it. It didn't matter how full he was or how much his waistband dug into his midsection. His trousers stayed fastened shut.
But the Bentley didn't count as public. "Oh, good Lord," moaned Aziraphale in relief as he undid his trousers. "I really did have a lot to eat tonight, didn't I?" They were speeding along through central London.
"I thought you hated when I drove distracted, angel. What was it? 'Crowley, no! Stop fiddling with the CD player! You almost hit that pedestrian!'"
Aziraphale was caught off guard. "I-I do--! I-- you did!" he stammered, discombobulated.
Crowley grinned. "Don't sweat it, angel. Just keep the moaning and carrying on about how much of a glutton you are to a minimum until we get home, eh? Or I may actually hit a pedestrian this time."
When Crowley parked the car outside Aziraphale's bookshop, the angel did up his trousers again despite the demon's raised eyebrow. Once they were inside, Aziraphale undid his trousers for good.
They didn't have genitals, but they had plenty of other nerve endings, and they both enjoyed the sensation of touch. They both particularly enjoyed Aziraphale's belly; Crowley, touching it, and Aziraphale, having it touched.
Especially when it was full. Crowley loved being able to feel just how truly glutted his angel was. For Aziraphale, a stuffed belly made for a more sensitive one. Crowley's hands felt nice anytime, but when he was full?
They were a sin in themselves.
"Mmmm… Crowley…" Aziraphale was stretched out on his bed, in just his trousers and shirt. Crowley was sat up on the bed next to him, his skilled fingers massaging Aziraphale's bloated stomach.
"You did such a good job tonight, angel. Glutted so good for me. I love watching you sin. It's fucking glorious, angel, honestly." He bent down to bury his face in Aziraphale's plush belly. "Sssatan, you are gorgeous."
The angel gave a dreamy sigh. "You make it so easy to sin, dear boy, and so pleasurable…"
Crowley keened. "Bless, Aziraphale, you can't just say things like that. You'll discorporate me."
"But it's true, Crowley," simpered Aziraphale, still the picture of innocence. "You're always taking me out to such lovely restaurants, helping me pick out the best things on the menu… If I'm torn between two things, encouraging me to get both… And your hands. How could I resist this? You do make it easy, Crowley. You wouldn't want me to lie, would you?"
Crowley made a strangled noise.
"Oh, yes, I suppose you would, actually. Lying is a sin, after all." Aziraphale shut his eyes. "Your hands really are wonderful, Crowley…"
"Bless, angel, come here." Crowley laid alongside the angel and held him close, hands still working his stomach. "You really are a bastard, you know that?"
"And you really are quite sweet, dear."
"Oh, shut up," said Crowley, smiling despite himself.