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It felt like he’d been on edge for hours. Every pass of Crowley’s slick, hot tongue against his hole sent a tremor throughout Aziraphale’s body. And while he was certain that somewhere in the thick of his own cries and plaintive moans, the creature he really was still existed, for now, he was only this — he was only pleasure, and only love, and the gentle caress of Crowley’s hands on his thighs served as a reminder.

Between Aziraphale’s legs, Crowley seemed happy. He laughed when Aziraphale swore, moaned and rolled his own hips against the bed, flexed his fingers against the warm skin of Aziraphale’s legs. If he had any desire to stop driving Aziraphale absolutely mad, he didn’t say.

Eventually though, he raised his head, bringing a hand to his spit-slick chin and wiping it clean. “Doing alright?” he asked. Aziraphale answered with a moan, missing the heat of Crowley’s mouth. He ran so hot, so much hotter than one creature should have been allowed, and it never ceased to amaze Aziraphale how much he could want it. “Gorgeous thing,” Crowley murmured, kissing Aziraphale’s inner thigh, nipping gently at the skin. “What do you want from me?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “M-more,” he said, voice cracking with desire. “More.

“More,” Crowley mused, and laughed. “You always want more.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Like you don’t.”

“No, I do. Demon, you know. More, more, more, all that nonsense.” Crowley sighed, resting his head on Aziraphale leg and reaching up to lazily stroke his hip. “You know, for someone who’s always wanting more, you seem to forget one very important thing.” He flashed Aziraphale a grin. “There’s only one of me.”

“Not that I, ah—” Aziraphale stopped as Crowley’s hand drifted toward his cock, clever fingers curling around the base. “N-not that I wish to cast any doubt on your sexual or demonic prowess, but something tells me that’s a problem have a solution to.”

Crowley raised a brow. “Well. Now that you mention it…” He trailed off, glancing out the bedroom window. “What time is it?”

Aziraphale sat up on his elbows. “What on earth does that matter?”

“I was just curious.” Crowley removed his hand from Aziraphale’s cock and pushed himself up. “Hungry, angel?”

“Well, I...I mean yes, but—”

“Fancy a snack?” Crowley asked, though it was not the Crowley between Aziraphale’s knees. It was a different Crowley, a far more dressed Crowley, standing in the doorway of their room, holding a plate of cheese and fruit. Aziraphale raised a brow and looked between them.

“...Really?” he asked.

“Really,” they both said.

Aziraphale cringed. “Oh, don’t do that. I don’t like that.”

Crowley between his legs laughed. “Don’t you worry. You won’t even be thinking about that in a few minutes.”


“No,” said Crowley, only this time it came from Aziraphale’s left, from the navy blue armchair in the corner of the room. This Crowley was shirtless, and wearing a pair of loose, black pants. He poured water into a cup and stood, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed and stroke Aziraphale’s pale, damp curls. “Thirsty, angel?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale angled his faced toward him and was rewarded with a cool drink, and then a kiss. From his right, the other Crowley came and sat beside him. Aziraphale turned and was given a plump, green grape. He chewed, the sour juice bursting over his tongue just as his Crowley lowered himself once again, and began to lick at him in earnest. “Oh, my dear—”

“That’s it,” the Crowley on his left purred. “You just lie back, angel, and let us take care of you.” He kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, then his temple and cheek, trailing his lips down until he reached his neck. One hand slide over Aziraphale chest, fingers carding through the hair there until they reached his nipple and gave it a sharp tweak.


“Eat,” the other one said, and pressed a berry against Aziraphale’s lips. He took it, forcing himself to chew through the pleasure. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, and he heard the plate touched the bedside table, feeling a second hand moving down his chest until it skirted over his stomach and reached the wet head of his cock. “So ready, aren’t you?”

Yes, yes—”

“Haven’t come all day, have you angel?”

“I haven’t, I’ve been good, oh I’ve been good.”

“Yes,” this Crowley said. There was movement and then there were lips, touching Aziraphale’s, a hot tongue pressing a cold raspberry into Aziraphale’s mouth. He chewed, just as the hand on his cock began to slowly stroke him, just as Crowley’s tongue at his hole began to work more frantically, just as the Crowley at his neck began to moan, grinding his hips into Aziraphale’s side.

“That’s it, angel,” Crowley said, and it didn’t matter which one because Aziraphale was coming, striping his chest and crying out, three pairs of hands on him, three tongues on him, three bodies pressed against him.

He didn’t have time to come down. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the feeling of being slick and stretched overwhelmed and Aziraphale nearly came again, gasping and arching his back. Crowley’s cock was inside him a second later, bottoming out on the first stroke, filling him completely. The other two kept touching him, working him, feeding and caressing him. Another grape, this time with a piece of perfectly paired cheese. There was water and there was wine and there was water that had perhaps been turned into wine and Aziraphale would have to admonish Crowley for that later — later.

“Next time I’ll take an hour opening you up, angel. Take all bloody day getting you ready for me.” Crowley fucked him hard, every thrust punctuated with the resounding slap of skin on skin. “So fucking good, so fucking beautiful.”

“Crowley, please—”

“What do you want? What can I give you?”

Fill me, I want—”

“Oh, angel. Angel, angel, I intend to. More than once.” Crowley slowed his thrusts and leaned down, licking the berry juice from Aziraphale’s lips and laughing into his mouth. “Someone’s being indulged, isn’t he?”

“You’re so good to me.”

“Am I not?” one of the other Crowley’s asked. Aziraphale turned, and was kissed. He turned another way and was kissed again. A hand slid into his hair and pulled his head back, baring his throat. Two pairs of lips nipped and suckled at the skin, while Crowley continued to fuck him, every thrust harder than the one before, striking Aziraphale like a bell. The ring was his own voice, high and loud, Crowley’s name on his tongue as he felt an orgasm cresting over him again, only this time he was not alone. Crowley came with a shout, holding on to Aziraphale’s legs and pressing himself in deep as he filled Aziraphale with his spend.

Fuck—” Crowley fell forward, bracing himself on the bed. The other two Crowley’s seemed to flicker, for a moment, as he pulled out. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s come slipping from him. “...You wanted it like that, angel?”

“I did.”

Crowley laughed, kissing Aziraphale’s knee before he leaned forward to pull his tongue through the mess on Aziraphale’s chest. “So good,” he murmured. Aziraphale laughed and let his head fall back against the pillows. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of hands everywhere.

“C’mere, angel.” Crowley pulled at him, and Aziraphale groaned.

“But I—”

Crowley chuckled. “Sit up and I’ll make it worth your while,” he murmured, and Aziraphale sighed, pushing himself up until he was on his knees. Crowley reached for his own cock, which was hard again, and gave it a few strokes. He wrapped one arm around Aziraphale waist and, holding his cock, guided it back inside. Aziraphale moaned, fully seated in Crowley’s lap.

He sighed. “You feel so good inside me,” Aziraphale said. “And you’ve been so good to me all afternoon. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“Nothing,” Crowley said, panted. “S’how good you are. Don’t...don’t even have to try. Fuck, Aziraphale. You want more?”

“God, yes.”

Crowley grinned. “I mean more, angel.”


And then he felt another body behind him, hands on his shoulders and lips on the back of his neck.


Aziraphale turned his head and found another Crowley there, lips parted in a smile. He was naked, and his stiff cock pressed insistently against Aziraphale’s back.


“You want it like this? Want me twice? Filling you up?”

“Yes, yes—”

Crowley sighed happily and Aziraphale pushed himself up on his knees. He felt even more stretched out than before and moaned at the sensation. Of course he wanted this, of course. The Crowley behind him took his cock and, maneuvering it beside the other, slowly began to press into Aziraphale, who gasped as he was filled, as he was filled, as he was suddenly full.

Oh, oh, oh

“Good?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale had no idea which.

“Fuck me,” Aziraphale managed. “Both of you, fuck me.

Crowley moaned. “Oh, with pleasure, angel.” And then — they began to move.

Aziraphale understood that he and Crowley were different, and they could do more than most humans could manage. He was never happier about that than this moment, when he felt Crowley moving inside him not as one being, but two, thrusting into his come-slick, fucked out hole, using him. But also — loving him. There wasn’t a single second where he felt unappreciated, where he didn’t feel adored. The third Crowley was still there, on Aziraphale’s left now, kissing his neck reaching down to stroke his cock. Each one murmured of their own accord, little things that spurred Aziraphale closer and closer to his finish.

“Look at me,” his Crowley said. “Feel everything, but look at me.

Aziraphale looked. And in bright yellow eyes he found his own love reflected back at him. Two creatures who should not have been able to feel this, and here they were. And even though he could feel everything, it all fell away. And Aziraphale looked at Crowley, and Crowley looked at Aziraphale —

The force of his climax was astounding. He pitched forward and clung to Crowley, who held him back in a bruising grip as he came along with him. They trembled in one another’s arms, the entire world focusing on this single moment. Aziraphale reached out for one of the other bodies around him, but they were gone. Crowley’s eyes were blown wide and yellow, and his doubles had vanished.

“Oh, my dear.”

Crowley swallowed. “Lost focus.”

Aziraphale smiled, pushing the hair from his forehead. “That’s alright. I’m quite happy when it’s just the two of us.”

“Are you?” Crowley asked, and tumbled forward, until Aziraphale fell flat on his back again. Crowley moved, and he was hard again. “How about just us? Can you come once more for me?”

Aziraphale moaned softly. “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“You can,” Crowley said, and kissed him. “You can and so can I and it’ll be so good.”

“I know, you’re always so good.”

“Will you? Can you?”

“Yes, Crowley, yes—”

Crowley moaned and began to fuck him again, thrusting like mad, every stroke deep and intentional. Aziraphale felt it, felt love and desperation and desire and lust and none of it was wasted. Aziraphale’s cock was hard again and he felt impossibly close to another orgasm, to making a mess of himself all over again. His chest was sticky with his own spend, he could feel Crowley’s come on his thighs. They smeared their lips together, panting into the shared heat of the room.

“So close,” Crowley said, “so close.

“Come for me,” Aziraphale begged, “let me feel you, I want all of you.”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale wound his legs around his waist and pressed Crowley tighter. Crowley pinned Aziraphale’s wrists to the bed and fucked him, bottoming out with every thrust until they were nothing but a brutal rhythm of skin on skin, lips on throat, hands on wrist and pulses thrumming. Aziraphale was close to sobbing, or maybe he was, maybe the wetness on cheeks was his tears, blessed and blissed and Crowley, Crowley, Crowley, please

He came. Against everything, he came. He shouted and begged and Crowley came after him, filling him up, spilling inside him, bearing down on Aziraphale until it would have been quite possible for them to be one thing. One feeling.

At some point, Crowley wasn’t inside him. Crowley was around him, kissing him, urging him out of bed and into the bathroom. There was a tub, and the water was hot. Aziraphale sank into it and the steam smelled of lavender, sea salt, and jasmine. Crowley was elbow deep in it, cleaning Aziraphale’s chest, kissing his temple, murmuring softly in his ear.

“How good you were,” he whispered. “How strong.

“Always, for you.” Crowley laughed. “Won’t you get in?”

“Nah, I’m alright. Wanted to take care of you,” Crowley said. He started to wash Aziraphale’s hair, and Aziraphale tipped his head back so Crowley could rinse it, enjoying the rivulets of hot water that slid over his scalp and down his neck and face. He was sore, but it was fade. He was tired, but he would rest.

Eventually, Crowley drained the bath water, and helped Aziraphale out and to his feet. By the time they were back in bed, the sheets were clean, Aziraphale was dry, and he was ready for a very long nap.

“Grape?” Crowley asked, biting one in half. Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley pushed the other half past Aziraphale’s lips. “Did you like that? Earlier. What we did?”


“I don’t know if I’d do it too often. I’m no good at sharing.”

“...Crowley, they were you.

“Well. Yeah. But I don’t want to share you with anyone,” Crowley murmured, kissing Aziraphale’s forehead and pulling him close. “...Not even myself.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Oh, my love.” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Feeling alright, angel?”

“I am so very tired,” he murmured.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and the room grew dark. “Rest up,” he said, “and I’ll make you something nice for dinner.”

“You mean you’ll get takeaway from the Indian spot ‘round the corner.”

Crowley sighed. “Well, angel. If you insist.”