Aziraphale had suggested Crowley go out for the day. Go water his plants, see the ducks, go for a drive, whatever he wanted. Crowley had raised an eyebrow, wondering why the angel wanted to get rid of him. “I might, uhm, I might have a surprise for you, when you return.” Aziraphale smoothed his hands over his waistcoat before he continued, “But you have to leave first!” Crowley hadn’t asked anymore questions. He’d kissed his angel farewell and had a nice day yelling at his plants and terrifying pedestrians in his Bentley. He walks into the shop and up the stairs to the little flat above. Aziraphale startles when he sees him, apparently not having heard him come in.
“Angel.” Crowley greets, leaning against the door frame. Aziraphale springs upright, wrings his hands together.
“Crowley! You’re home a bit sooner than I’d anticipated.” Aziraphale is fidgeting nervously, making Crowley more and more curious about what this ‘surprise’ could be.
“Well, I’m here. Now, are you going to tell me what’s got you all worked up?”
“I, ahem—well,” Aziraphale pauses, weighing his words. “I thought I’d like to try something a bit…erm, well—different.” He gestures with his hands, waving them around, not knowing what else to do with them. Aziraphale flushes and casts his dusty blue orbs towards something behind Crowley. The pink on his cheeks is fetching and now Crowley’s curiosity is peaked. He stalks forward, caging Aziraphale in against a wall. He watches Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows down his nerves. Crowley runs his hands up and down the plush hips he loves so much and darts his tongue out to taste the place where the little knob had just moved. Aziraphale’s head falls back against the wall with a quiet thud. He exhales a gasp as Crowley seals lips around a patch of pale throat and starts sucking a mark there. Love notes written into skin, Crowley thinks, moving his mouth a centimeter over and suckling the skin there, too. Crowley works Aziraphale’s thighs apart with his knee, seeking to press his thigh against Aziraphale’s hard cock, only when his thigh is pressed between the angel’s legs, he doesn’t find the familiar pulse of his erection.
Crowley licks his lips as the dizzying realization takes shape. He can feel the warmth radiating from between Aziraphale’s legs, an intense heat he can feel through the denim of his jeans. He presses his thigh upwards, testing his theory. He gives an experimental rub against Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s hands scrabble at the sleeves of Crowley’s shirt and he moans. He grinds himself down against Crowley’s thigh, seeking more of the sensation. Crowley kisses a line along his jaw to his ear.
“Oh, angel.” Crowley sucks the lobe into his mouth, works it between his teeth. He pushes Aziraphale back into the wall, pinning him, as he uses his thigh to rub against him again in a purposefully slow drag. Aziraphale whimpers and winds his arms around Crowley, pulling him closer. He hides his wicked smile in the angel’s neck, sucking and nibbling down to the hollow of his throat. Crowley knows exactly what he’s going to do to the angel. He’s sure Aziraphale will enjoy it. He’s surprised Aziraphale hasn’t tried out this particular kind of effort before now, hedonist that he is. He paws at the front of Aziraphale’s trousers, fingers deftly finding the button and opening them. He wants to feel it for himself, feel the heat, the velvet-smooth skin, wants to run his hand through the slick folds and bring it away dripping.
Crowley sinks to his knees. He pushes the trousers down to Aziraphale’s knees, revealing a pair of silky-soft pants. He holds Aziraphale’s gaze and kneads the flesh of the thighs he adores under his fingers.
“Remind me,” he begins, mouthing along the newly exposed skin, “Have you ever, erm…tested, this model out before?” Aziraphale shakes his head.
Crowley noses as the front of Aziraphale’s pants, feeling the thatch of white blond curls shifting underneath. He inhales, taking in the heady smell of Aziraphale’s arousal, lets it tick his up several notches. His cock is hard and leaking in his jeans. Heat radiates from Aziraphale’s cunt. This may be Aziraphale’s first time with this kind of equipment, but Crowley’s tried it dozens of times, he knows what will feel good. He moves his mouth lower between Aziraphale’s legs, mouths at him through the already damp fabric. Aziraphale squirms and wails above him. The taste, the smell is intoxicating—salty and sweet, earthy, and just a little bitter. He wants more. He pulls his head away and replaces his lips with his fingers. He teases at the source of the wetness and moves his hand to circle around the sensitive nub. Aziraphale tangles takes handfuls of his hair, moans echoing into the room. Aziraphale’s eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth agape, moans spilling sweetly from it. Crowley dips his head forward, puts his mouth on Aziraphale, his lips around the button-bundle of nerves, hollows his cheeks and sucks. Aziraphale tugs sharply on his hair.
“Oh! Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale keens, and the noise shoots straight down Crowley’s spine and makes his cock pulse.
Crowley pulls away, smirking when Aziraphale whines in protest. He divests the angel of his shoes, pulling them off one by one, taking his time, before pulling the trousers off. Crowley slides a hand up Aziraphale’s thigh, delighting in the shudder that wracks through him. He slips both hands into the waistband of the pants and presses his cheek to the soft skin of Aziraphale’s stomach.
“What do you want, angel?”
Aziraphale releases an uneven breath. “Whatever you’ll give me.”
This is the answer Crowley had been hoping for. He tugs Aziraphale’s pants down, pulls them off. He undoes the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt, smoothing his hands over the plush roundness of his stomach. He presses several hot kisses there while sliding a hand between his thighs. Aziraphale groans as he inches his hand ever higher. He spreads his legs wider in invitation and Crowley could never refuse Aziraphale, especially not an invitation so enticing. Crowley drags his fingers through the folds, gathering the wetness, keeping his touch frustratingly light. He brings his fingers to his mouth, wanting so badly to taste. He laps at his fingers. Aziraphale watches him open-mouthed with half-lidded eyes. His angel tastes like perfection; he has to stop himself from surging forward to chase the taste. Crowley knows how to do this. He’s tempted a few humans this way over the years. He’s had it done to him a few times as well. Aziraphale has done this to him. Aziraphale’s good at doing this to him. Crowley will make absolutely certain it’s good for his angel.
Crowley’s fingers explore the folds, he spreads the fluid around, smearing a healthy amount over the clitoris. He takes two of his fingers, presses against it lightly, moves them in slow circles. Aziraphale’s sweet little sounds of pleasure and fingers tugging in his hair are making his cock leak. Crowley presses his lips to the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh, licking as he switches the movements of his hand to strokes. Aziraphale sags against the wall. Crowley strokes him for a while before sliding two of his fingers over the entrance and pressing in ever so slightly. Aziraphale moans wildly above him.
“Please, Crowley, please, let me feel you.” Aziraphale undulates his hips, trying to move Crowley’s fingers deeper within himself. Crowley slides the fingers in. Aziraphale is warm and sopping. Crowley works his fingers in and out, slowly at first. He waits until Aziraphale is begging, both with his hips and his words.
“Crowley, please more, I need more.” Aziraphale’s nails dig into Crowley’s scalp and his nerves sing. Crowley adds a third finger, moves his hand faster. He angles his hand so his thumb can rub circles over Aziraphale’s clit while he fucks him on his fingers. Aziraphale wails.
Crowley smirks up at him, “Like that, angel?”
“Mmmm, Crowley, ooohhh.” Aziraphale’s eyes are shut, his brows furrowed together, mouth open and panting. Aziraphale’s juices are dripping down Crowley’s hand and wrist. Crowley licks a drop off his wrist and Aziraphale throws his head back and moans brokenly.
“Fuck. Crowley, ooohh that feels so--- mmm! So good.”
Crowley pulls his hand carefully away. Aziraphale whimpers and then shouts as the hand is replaced with a mouth. Crowley gives Aziraphale a few teasing licks before slinging one of his thighs over his shoulder and lapping at the folds more intently. He focuses on the sensitive bud, laving over it with his tongue. He lets his tongue go a bit snakey, uses the fork of it to cradle the little nub between the two points and flick at it repeatedly. He switches to firmer, broader strokes with the flat of his tongue, reducing Aziraphale to a whimpering, writhing mess above him. His thigh is trembling over Crowley’s shoulder. He dips his tongue into Aziraphale’s core, moaning at the taste of him. He swirls his tongue around, opens his mouth wide and using his lips to stimulate around the entrance, keeping his tongue buried inside.
Aziraphale thrusts against his face, using the hands buried in his hair to push his tongue deeper. Crowley removes his tongue, sets his mouth to work on the clit again. He replaces his tongue with two fingers, thrusting at a steady pace. He seals his lips around the nub and sucks. Aziraphale’s thigh quakes against his shoulder.
“Oh my darling, oh that’s just—oh that feels just perfect!”
Crowley’s always liked being on his knees, in service to his angel, but there’s something about this that feels so reverential, so much like worship. And Crowley would spend, days, months on his knees worshipping Aziraphale if that’s what he desired. Crowley mouths over the nub, alternating firm strokes with suction.
“Oh, dear, your mouth.” Aziraphale moves a hand to the back of his neck, keeping him firmly in place. “Oh, you’re so good, oh you feel—AH—you feel, so good.”
Aziraphale’s whole body is trembling and Crowley can tell he’s getting close. Crowley adds a third finger and quickens the pace of his hand and mouth, tonguing more insistently against the nub, never breaking contact, making sure his angel gets what he needs. Aziraphale’s quaking thigh grows heavy on his shoulder as Aziraphale uses him for support. His moans have reached a fever pitch and Crowley pushes him closer and closer to that knife’s edge.
“Crowley, Crowley!” Aziraphale’s cries and broken moans fill the room until Aziraphale’s climax rips through him. He opens his mouth in a silent scream as his whole body quakes. Crowley helps him through it, helping to support him against the wall. He licks at Aziraphale gently until the angel pushes his head away, over sensitized. Crowley rises from his knees, wipes the back of his hand across his glistening face. Crowley scatters kisses across Aziraphale’s smiling and flushed face. Aziraphale is humming happily, making Crowley’s heart settle in his chest, deeply satisfied with himself.
“My dear, do you think we could lie down for a bit?” Aziraphale asks, voice cracking and soft like the worn velvet on his waist coat.
“Of course, angel.” Crowley guides him to the couch, lays down first, makes room for Aziraphale between his legs, and then pulls Aziraphale down to lay against him.
Aziraphale looks up at him, eyes tired and shining. Crowley pets his hair.
“Did you enjoy yourself, angel?”
Aziraphale nods, eyes half open.
“Yes. Oh yes. We’re going to have to do that again.” Aziraphale nuzzles into Crowley’s neck.
“And I’m going to have to do that for you more. I knew you enjoyed it, but I had no idea it felt like—well, that it felt like that.”
Crowley has no problems with that. “’M glad you liked it.” He kisses the top of the blond curls, watching as Aziraphale’s chest begins to rise and fall in the slow and telltale pattern of sleep, a smile still plastered on his face. Crowley smiles to himself, immensely proud of the sated and exhausted state of his angel. He watches him for a few moments more before allowing his own eyes to fall shut, succumbing to the warm wash of being content, in love, and getting to hold his angel close.