“What do you think they’re doing down there?”
Aziraphale had been trying his very best to ignore the demon beside him, but really, some questions were impossible to ignore. After the incident with the tree and sealing the wall, he had hoped the fellow would… not hang around, but when he had set off after the humans himself, the demon had tagged along, pouring forth a litany of questions.
The demon – Crawly, was it? – was on his hands and knees on the edge of outcrop, overlooking the clearing where the humans had set up their makeshift home. He glanced up at the angel. “D’you think he’s trying to help her with her backache?” He wrinkled his nose. “Sounds she’s making, I don’t think it’s working.”
Aziraphale eyed him. It felt like a plot. Surely, it had to be a ploy. “You… really don’t know?”
The demon seemed nonplussed. “Do you?”
Oh, Aziraphale knew very well. There had been pamphlets with illustrations. As far as he could understand, it was not dissimilar to assembling furniture, whatever furniture was. A certain tab which could be placed in a slot. Interlocking parts, one might say.
“Yes,” he said.
At once, he had the demon’s full attention. “Ooh? What is it?”
The angel flapped a hand dismissively. “It’s… that’s how they procreate.”
“Make new people.”
Crawly’s golden eyes went wide as dinner plates. “They… make people?”
Aziraphale nodded authoritatively. The poor fellow couldn’t help it if he’d missed the briefings. Maybe Hell didn’t keep their people abreast of the situation. “That’s why her belly is round now. Adam contributed some of his genetic material to Eve’s and they combined to make the person growing inside her. It’ll come out when it’s big enough.”
The demon looked from him down at the humans and Aziraphale followed the line of his gaze.
The woman was on her hands and knees on the grass and the man was behind her. He was certainly being thorough, but not as vigorous as he usually was. Probably because of the life growing inside her. They were both making enthusiastic sounds, though, so it was nothing to worry about.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Crawly finally said.
Aziraphale puffed up, indignant. “I can assure you that’s what they do!”
The demon glanced up at him. “Yeah, but if she’s got a person already, why are they still doing it? I mean, I remember them in the garden. They were at it all the time. Makes sense if you want to make a person, but…” He waved a hand down at them. “I don’t think they’re doing it to make a person.”
The urgent sounds of rapture rang out in the air and Aziraphale’s ears pinked.
“Ah,” he said self-consciously. “There is an element of pleasure to it. Or so I’ve been told.”
Crawly cocked his head. “Pleasure?” He wrinkled his nose. “But they’re just… rubbing on each other.”
“That’s what I was told,” Aziraphale said, trying very hard to regain his decorum.
The demon leaned out over the edge of the outcrop, peering down. “Oh. Right. They have those bits we don’t have.”
“Mm.” Aziraphale nodded. “They’re compulsory for humans in some configuration. We’re lucky that they’re only optional for us.”
“They are?” The demon was staring at him again. “How do you know all this stuff? We got told bugger all!”
“Oh for Heaven’s sake…” Aziraphale miracled one of the pamphlets into his hand, then passed it down to the demon. The demonstration models would have been better, but someone was bound to notice if they went missing. “Look, it’s very simple.”
Crawly snatched the pamphlet, leafing through it. Once or twice, he tilted it, examining the etchings, then he looked up at Aziraphale. “Can we do stuff like that too?”
Aziraphale opened his mouth to scoff at the thought, but the words caught on his tongue. Could they? He hadn’t really considered it. They certainly couldn’t procreate, not the way humans did, but there was that element of pleasure and the cries of the humans had invoked the name of God, so surely, there was some kind of divine pleasure there.
“I suppose we could,” he said thoughtfully.
The demon frowned, tilting the pamphlet again. “Could you show me how it works?”
Aziraphale blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
The demon waved down at the supine humans, now sprawled out on the grass below, enfolded in one another’s limbs. “I can… technically, the mechanics of it make sense, but I don’t get it.” He pointed to Adam, who was considerably less tumescent than he was only moments earlier. “How does it–”
“Oh Lord…” Aziraphale pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, massaging them. “Must you know?”
“You got pamphlets!” The demon waved it emphatically. “Bet you got demonstrations as well.” He gave Aziraphale a hopeful look. “Beginners class, maybe? Just the basics, so I know what to look out for?”
Aziraphale sighed. It was unfair to unleash the poor chap on a world with so little knowledge of how it all worked. And privately, he had to admit he had some rather pressing queries regarding the way everything worked. The models had been simple and straightforward, but certainly didn’t demonstrate why the humans seemed to enjoy it all so much.
“We ought to move beneath the trees if you insist on this,” he said. “I’d rather not be caught out in plain sight teaching Heavenly knowledge to a demon, if you don’t mind.”
Crawly scrambled up with a grin. “Lead on, then.”
There was another smaller clearing not too far from the one the humans currently occupied with a thick turf of lush grass under the canopy of swaying branches. Sunlight was diluted by the leaves, tinting the world in hues of green.
Aziraphale knelt, patting the grass in front of him. “Have you changed your form before?”
“You mean apart from the snake thing?”
The angel gave him a look. “Yes. Apart from that.” He tapped the pamphlet in Crawly’s hand. “Do you think you could form one of the human parts?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” The demon tossed the pamphlet aside and hiked up his robes. A new part rested against his thighs. He gave Aziraphale a smug grin. “See? Easy.”
All at once, Aziraphale had the distinct feeling that he was pushing the bounds of the divine guidance he was allowed to provide. The part looked so very human, even if Crawly was a demon. And yet, curiosity got the better of him and he reached out and took it in his hand.
“Now,” he began, intending to give the fellow the same lecture he had been given when they had been trained in the adoption and adaption of human parts.
He didn’t manage, for the moment he touched Crawly, the demon gave a sharp gasp, and all at once, Aziraphale was very, very aware of the heat and change in density of the object in his hand. The demon looked from Aziraphale’s hand to his face and back.
“Is– are you doing that?” the demon asked, his hands fisted in his robes.
“It’s a-a-a natural reaction,” Aziraphale gabbled, mentally riffling through his notes. Ah, that made sense now. Thought they hadn’t suggested it would be so instantaneous. It certainly hadn’t been when he and his brethren were standing in ranks, demonstrating their newest accoutrements. There had been no touching then. Now, he was beginning to see why. “It needs to be more solid to fit its purpose.” He moved his hand again and Crawly shuddered. “It’s not painful, is it?”
Crawly shook his head, kneading at his robes. He shifted and in doing so, pushed himself hard against Aziraphale’s hand. That made everything much better and worse at once, for the demon gasped and Aziraphale felt some wetness on his skin.
“Ah.” He grasped onto the knowledge he remembered. He stroked his thumb across the tip. “Lubrication. You see, Crawly…” And one look at Crawly and his words dried up in his mouth.
The demon’s head was bowed, his cheeks flushing. Mutely, he pushed his hips forward and moved against Aziraphale’s hand again. He made another of those low, urgent sounds and it seemed to surge through every fibre of Aziraphale’s body. It was a good sound and Aziraphale had a sudden mad rush of desire to see what other sounds he could draw from the demon.
And well… he had offered to teach him about how it worked with the humans.
If Crowley had Adam’s part, then best for him to begin simply and introduce him to the way it fitted into Eve’s part. Simple, really.
A miracle changed his form into an appropriate interlocking shape.
“Would you like to see how they fit together?” he offered.
The demon nodded, tongue pressing to his teeth. He hissed when Aziraphale withdrew his hand, then leaned forward, eyes wide and curious, as Aziraphale drew aside his own robes.
Strange, Aziraphale thought with a rush of giddy heat, that the demon’s stare could make odd pulses flicker in those new places. In drill class, it had not been half as interesting. And oh! It seemed that Eve’s parts were producing lubrication of their own as well. He reached down, curious, and instantly both regretted and rejoiced that he had.
“Oh. Oh my.”
“What does it feel like?” Crawly asked hoarsely.
Certainly nothing like Heaven, and yet far, far better. It was probably a little too hands-on for Heaven’s teaching style, but he reached out and took Crawly’s hand and pressed it between his thighs. “Like that,” he said, startled by how changed his voice was.
Crawly pressed his hand flat, which was… rather nice, and then… then he did something with his fingers that was considerably nicer. Aziraphale made a sound. A vague, urgent, and greedy sound. Oh, oh dear. This was certainly getting out of hand.
“Now…” He pushed Crawly back a way. “L-lie down, would you? I’ll show you how the parts fit.”
The demon sprawled out on the grass, pulling his robes up high above his skinny waist. His part stood up eagerly, not quite as large or thick as Adam’s, but Aziraphale couldn’t help admiring it, the shape and colour and the delicacy of the veins beneath the skin. He reached out to stroke it again and the demon shuddered.
This was… good. They had the necessary parts and they simply needed to interlock them and the demonstration would be finished and… and…
Aziraphale wet his lips, then lifted his robes and knelt, knees on either side of Crawly’s hips.
“They don’t do it like this very often,” Crawly said, staring at him unblinking. His fingers were curled in the grass, his body taut as a wire. “I mean, the humans. The one with this part is usually–”
“No,” Aziraphale agreed, “but I– you want to see how it works, don’t you?”
The demon’s long tongue curled along his lips and in so doing made something delicious and hot curl deep in Aziraphale’s body. Oh Lord, the thoughts racing through his mind were… it was… they needed to finish the lesson and be done with it.
“Y-you see,” he said, slipping his hand downwards, between his thighs. “There is– we have parts that will fit together.”
Crawly was braced on his elbows, staring down greedily. “Mm.”
Lord, Aziraphale thought raggedly. The heat in his eyes. It was… inappropriate. So very, very inappropriate. It ought to have been simple and practical. Slot A, tab b, and done, yet the parts were warm and thrumming against his fingers and as he lowered himself, he could feel the matching throbbing heat in the demon.
When flesh met scorching flesh, Aziraphale forget everything.
“Oh,” he breathed. He met the demon’s eyes and saw the hunger there, the want, the eagerness, all for him. Crawly brought one grass-stained hand up to Aziraphale’s hip, licked his lips again, and nodded.
In for a penny, Aziraphale thought, and thrust himself downwards.
There was pain, yes, but oh, it was exquisite and hot and the demon moaned under him, hips stuttering. His hips were jerking, short, urgent bursts, and Aziraphale could only gather his thoughts and try to match them.
Crawly gave a small shuddering gasp and there was more warmth and heat and he flushed scarlet.
“Oh! Bugger!” he croaked.
Aziraphale didn’t move at once. The stuttering rubs of Crowley’s body against his had been… it had begun something, a low, pleasant throb, to the front. Cautiously, he lifted himself and let his fingers explore until he found the part that send charges of energy skitter through him. “Oh…”
A second hand covered his. “Th-there?” Crawly demanded, pushing himself up to sit.
Aziraphale ought to have protested. No place for hands in these arrangements. Heaven had been very particular about that. Parts interlocked. Anything else was… not Heavenly mandated behaviour. But the demon’s spend was trickling down Aziraphale’s thighs, hot and wet, and his hand was already there and–
“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed, raising himself on his knees, the demon’s part slipping free, wet and soft now. Instead, there were fingers in its place, slick and warm and curious. They explored and Aziraphale found his body moving quite of its own volition, urging them on and, when they met the place where Crawly’s part had been, the demon met his eyes and pushed one in. “Oh!”
Crawly’s face lit up and he moved his hand as he’d moved his hips. Aziraphale found himself bobbing on his knees, meeting it, and Lord… Lord, the press-rub of the heel of his hand further forward was doing something quite… quite lovely.
Another push, another press and Aziraphale bit his lip to stifle a sound as a second finger joined the first.
“S’that right, angel?” Crawly asked, unblinking, drinking in his expressions. He looked as rapt and awed as Aziraphale felt and Aziraphale could only clutch at his shoulder and nod.
Crawly’s tongue curled along his lips again and Aziraphale groaned at the sight of it, some hidden place in him flaring in response. It was wrong to think of that, to think of any of this, but Lord, the need was fluttering through him like ripples of tsunami and if he stopped now, would he ever have the… gall to ask again.
And more worryingly, the opportunity.
“C-Crawly,” he panted, reaching down and catching the demon’s wrist and pushing his hand away. “I-I have a suggestion.”
The demon nodded expectantly.
Aziraphale hesitated, then slipped his hand lower, stroking his fingers until they were good and wet. He stared down at them, shimmering in the half-light, then offered them to the demon. “Do you want to taste?”
Golden eyes stared, stared for so long the heat of shame rose up the back of his neck.
Wrong, he thought, to assume. Stupid. Risky. Da–
Crawly’s tongue curled around one of his fingers and the heat surged like wildfire in him. Nothing even touching him aside from that tongue, but Aziraphale gasped out, hips leaping, twitching helplessly. The demon had closed his eyes in pleasure and his mouth closed around one of Aziraphale’s fingers, then another, sucking in a way that elicited that glorious, peculiar, aching pulse.
If the touch of it on his fingers was so delightful…
Wordlessly, he lifted his knee to move off Crawly’s body. The demon tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s wrist, tongue curling against his palm, and Aziraphale whined, fist bunching in his robe.
“C-Crawly,” he panted.
Those golden eyes were on his face again. He met them, stared into them, then… then…
He sprawled back, hand over his face and spread his knees.
For several unbearable, aching seconds, Crawly didn’t move. Aziraphale’s heart was thunder in his ears and pressed his eyes shut. Too far. Too much. Nothing to do with a lesson anymore, not at all.
Then warm hands were on his knees, pushing his robes up, higher, down his thighs, bunching them over his belly.
He dared a glance between trembling fingers and saw Crawly lick his lips like a starving man offered a feast. He couldn’t look away, not as that burnished head sank lower, not as his legs were nudged wider and he had to throw them over the demon’s shoulders to give him room.
The first touch was cautious, barely a tease of contact. Aziraphale whimpered into his palm.
The second was not. That long, wicked, tempter’s tongue uncurled against him, licking from the back to the very front in a greedy, devouring stroke that had Aziraphale biting into the meat of his hand. He felt more than heard the low greedy groan from the demon, a hum against his skin, and had a heartbeat to realise what a mistake he might have made before Crawly devoured him.
That wicked, wonderful tongue lashed at him and he keened as desperately as Eve had in the garden. It explored him, finding that pulsing throbbing knot of fire, flickering and teasing, and Aziraphale could scarcely breathe. Crawly’s robes rucked under his heels as he pushed his hips upwards, demandingly, wordlessly, and Crawly took him at his command. That tongue delved deeper, as deep as his Adam’s part, lapping at him, and uncurling, stroking and teasing along skin that burned and ached, until the angel was quivering and whining.
Crawly lifted his head, his face flushed, his eyes bright. “Angel,” he panted out. “My part is ready again.”
Aziraphale reached down, catching his by the hair. “Yes,” he pleaded. “Lord, yes…” He pulled the demon up over him, their robes a tangled mess between their bodies. Oh, it was too much, too many layers. It was far simpler when the humans had nothing. Impatiently, he snapped his fingers and oh Lord have mercy, that was so much better and worse, as skin pressed to throbbing, needing, wanting skin.
Crawly laughed, looking down between them and wriggled until he was pressing so close there could be no mistaking his intent. “Now we can both see,” he said, then gave the angel such a smile, Aziraphale – for a brief flicker of a moment – forgot all about what they were doing. The demon moved over him, then braced his hands on either side of Aziraphale’s head. “Do I…”
Aziraphale remembered the first time, the way arms and legs had come into play, and wrapped his legs around the demon’s hips and pulled. Crawly slid into him as if they were made to fit together, his arms giving way, his body flush against Aziraphale’s, their faces a breath apart.
“O-oh,” he said hoarsely. “That… yeah…”
Aziraphale took a shaking breath, trying to gather his wits. One hand was lost in the demon’s curls – they were soft and heavy as silk between his fingers. He could feel every inch, every point of contact, the thunder of the demon’s heart against his own.
“You okay, angel?” Crawly nudged the tip of Aziraphale’s nose with his own.
Aziraphale wanted to give words. Encouragement. Reassurance. Education. Something. His words were elsewhere. Busy. All he could see was the demon’s face and those golden eyes and he remembered another way the humans communicated without words.
Gently, he nudged Crawly’s head down and brushed his mouth against the demon’s.
His lips were still wet and his breath hitched, his lips parting enough for Aziraphale to dart his tongue, tasting him. Tasting both of them. And the demon took it as invitation and all at once, that wonderful tongue curled around Aziraphale’s, dragging Aziraphale’s tongue fully between his lips.
And in the same languid moment, Crawly began to move.
It wasn’t like Adam. It wasn’t even human. His whole body undulated, ripples of unnaturally powerful muscle driving him, and Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in a ragged gasp as the demon ploughed into him, as if trying to bury himself utterly in him.
The Almighty’s name tripped of Aziraphale’s tongue before he could stop it, his body arching demandingly, urgently, against Crawly’s. Shared breaths panted over their lips, mouths crushing and bruising and licking and biting.
The roll of Crawly’s body against his was surging unbearably, magnificently over his, and the pulsing heat that had been skittering through him was crescendoing. He couldn’t keep a cry from rising in his throat, his legs locked around the demon’s hips, his fingers sinking into Crawly’s curls, as Crawly gulped down every strangled cry.
It was a wave of… of something, washing thought, reason, words away. He could only hold on, ride it out, shuddering and gasping.
Over him, Crawly lifted his head, breaking their lips apart, staring down at him. He was still moving, still, but slower, worry in his face.
“Pain?” he asked hoarsely.
Aziraphale only shook his head and dug his fingers in, his hips lifting demandingly.
The demon flashed a brilliant smile and, slipping a hand beneath Aziraphale’s head, pulled him up to press their mouths together again. “I like this,” he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips. “You. This. All feels… it feels so bloody good, angel…”
Every word was an eddy threatening another of those waves. If they didn’t stop, if they didn’t do… something soon to slow it all down, would they ever be able to do anything but this? Would they ever want to?
“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped out, pulling Crawly’s head down, burying his face in that beautiful hair, and… and for some reason he could never understand, he bit the demon hard on the neck.
Crawly cried out as loud as Aziraphale, but from the stutter of his hips, it was as good a cry, and Aziraphale felt the heat and the wetness and the shuddering moan of the demon releasing his seed again.
They were both breathing hard and Crawly’s body was slumped, warm and deliciously heavy on Aziraphale’s. They– parts were still… interlocked. Aziraphale shivered pleasantly as the demon shifted his hips, moving them both together.
And little by little, Aziraphale became aware of the cool grass against his skin, the scent of torn dirt and wind-tossed leaves, the sound of the birds in the nearby trees. And of the fact that he was naked and intimately entwined with the enemy, a demon, one of the opposition.
Who was licking at his neck, delicate, fluttering little touches of a forked tongue.
“What are you doing?” he asked, because – of all the questions flooding his mind – it seemed like the sensible thing to ask.
“Y’smell nice,” the demon murmured. He sounded sleepy and satisfied and Aziraphale bit his lip to stifle a shivering moan as Crawly pushed his hips close once more. “Mm.” His smile rubbed against Aziraphale’s throat. “Good lesson.”
Right. That was exactly what they had been doing. That was definitely and absolutely all.
He patted the demon carefully on the back. “Glad to be of assistance.”
Crawly lifted his head. His hair was in disarray and his eyes seemed unusually dark. “You all right, angel?”
Aziraphale gave him a careful smile. “Of course, dear fellow.” He patted Crawly’s shoulder again. “But we really ought to go our separate ways, don’t you think? Just in case. Better to avoid any trouble, isn’t it?”
The demon pushed himself back and Aziraphale’s breath hitched as their bodies came apart. He was suddenly and dreadfully aware of how bare he was, and how damp and – admittedly pleasantly – tender he was between his thighs.
Crawly was gazing down at him and instinct made him want to close his thighs, but the demon put a hand on his knee before he could. “Can I–” He nodded down. “Once more? To clean you up? I mean, it’s my mess, isn’t it?”
The lesson was over. It was definitely absolutely over. No reason to…
“Once more, then we’re finished here,” he said as sternly as he could.
That sun-bright smile dazzled him again and the demon slithered down onto his belly and buried his face between Aziraphale’s thighs again. Aziraphale pressed his head back against the grass, his heels digging into Crowley’s spine and somehow, utterly without his consent, his hands buried themselves in the demon’s hair, guiding him, pushing him to the places where that mouth really ought to be.
“Lord…” Aziraphale keened, as hot licks stroked deeper into him, then traced every part of him, and finally, finally, finally, those lips pressed to that delicious terrible wonderful point that made everything contract into starlight. He cried out something. It might have been the demon’s name.
Little by little, the world drifted back into focus. The licks were on his thighs now. Demon was as good as his word. Not a trace left, not a smear, nothing but the smudges around the demon’s glistening mouth.
Finally, Crawly sat back on his heels and glanced down at himself. “Well,” he said, giving his part a gentle pat. “Definitely learned a thing or two.”
Aziraphale nodded, sitting up. His limbs felt rather shaky, but in a pleasant, overused way. No wonder the humans enjoyed their occupation so much. He hastily moved his hand in a gesture that smoothed the planes of his body back to their more familiar shape. Better to resist the impulse to… fiddle around with them and see what else they might do.
Crawly hadn’t done the same, but Aziraphale had self-control. He certainly did. Enough to miracle his own clothing back in place. A subtle and firm hint that lessons ought to be over and they ought to be… well… not here where they had rather churned up the ground and left each other panting and squirming about like… like humans.
“So…” Crawly cocked his head, his hair sliding over his bare shoulder. His lips were still glistening and wet and Aziraphale had the peculiar longing to taste them, to see what they tasted like together. “D’you think that’s everything I need to know?”
“Hm?” Aziraphale nodded. “Yes! Yes. Everything.” He got to his rebellious legs, managing – with effort – to keep to his feet. And then, despite the fact the demon had finally stopped asking questions, he opened his mouth and said, “If you ever have any more questions…”
You’d think he’d set the stars the way the demon’s face lit up.
Oh dear, Aziraphale thought.
“I… er…” He pointed back in the direction of the outcrop. “I’m just– I ought to be going. Over there.”
The demon nodded, still grinning. He was idly stroking a hand down his chest and glanced thoughtfully down at his part. It was… there was certainly something stirring. Did it work, Aziraphale found himself wonder, if someone used their mouth on it as Crowley had used his mouth. He darted his tongue along his lip at the thought of Crawly’s fingers twisting in his hair and the demon calling his name.
Crawly wrapped his hand around it and gave it a squeeze and – oh Heavens – it was swelling again.
“D’you think we can have one all the time?” Crawly said.
Aziraphale tore his hand away from the fascinating piece of flesh. “I– er– that’s rather up to you.” Aziraphale bobbed in a flustered bow and turned and hurried away. He tried not to listen, but only a dozen paces away, he could hear the demon… getting better acquainted with his new accoutrement, judging by the sounds he was making.
Well, that just meant he’d taught the lesson well, didn’t it?
He hurried a bit further, out of earshot, and sat down on a rock, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
At least he was an angel. He had some sense of moderation and proportion, unlike the humans and – now – a certain demon. Heaven had been very clear that they were far superior to the humans and hands and flesh were not to be considered. And he could restrain himself to follow Heaven’s rules. He really could. It was only a little bit of physical pleasure. One could get that from a sweet piece of fruit. Or from the song of a bird. Or–
The demon’s shout of pleasure carried on the air.
Aziraphale’s knuckles were very white and he…
He had given away his holy sword. He had lied to the Almighty’s face about it. What was a little bit of touching his own – his own – body compared to that? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. And it was purely an experiment in understanding humanity and he didn’t need to give any excuses for it and…
“Damn it,” he swore as he shoved his hand under his robe again.