Aziraphale laid aside his ledger. Day was breaking outside the shop windows, and it was almost time for the morning’s first pot of tea. Time to be working out plans for the day. Plans that involved Crowley.
He smoothed his waistcoat, stroking the soft nap of the worn velvet. Crowley had spoiled him so wonderfully lately, fulfilling his every fantasy. Aziraphale shifted in his chair, reflecting on Crowley’s selfless pursuit of his pleasure, the playful yet commanding spirit with which he had reminded Aziraphale of the joys of surrender. Well, bless it, now he was hard. Aziraphale smiled and stroked himself idly through his trousers.
But Crowley had been too generous of late, he thought. Why, how long had it been since Aziraphale had sucked his cock? How long since he’d eaten his cunt? How long since he’d fucked him hard through several orgasms and left him with jelly legs and a glassy smile? “Mmh,” Aziraphale grunted softly at the image, biting his lip and palming himself a little more firmly.
No, no, this would never do. Aziraphale knew himself well, knew how easy it was for him to give over to greed — and Crowley indulged this, even seemed to crave it! But things had become unbalanced. He needed to set them right.
It was too early to call Crowley just yet. He should go make that tea. He could make plans and make tea at the same time. Multitasking, humans called it.
Or he could stay here and have a lovely long slow wank first.
Crowley’s phone buzzed. Only a handful of people on the planet had Crowley’s number (most of them lived in Tadfield), and only one of them ever actually called. Crowley lunged out of the solarium, dropping the tub of plant food in his haste. Why wasn’t the thing in his pocket? Oh, yeah, these were women’s trousers. No pockets. That was one of his. He blessed himself and raced to the bedroom, where the phone was vibrating right off the bedside table. He caught it in one dirty hand.
“Aziraphale.” He took a breath. “What’s up?”
“Hello, Crowley. Are you having a good day?”
“Middling.” He felt a smile crack over his face. “Better now. You?”
“Lovely. Do you have plans this afternoon?”
“Nothing I can’t cancel. Want me to —”
“I’ll be there in three-quarters of an hour.” There was something new in Aziraphale’s voice, all of a sudden. Something interestingly...decisive.
“Anything wrong, angel?”
“Not at all, my dear. Oh, and Crowley? I’d appreciate it very much if you were naked when I arrived.”
The line went dead before Crowley could turn his reaction — surprise and a rush of heat — into words.
Aziraphale was taking control again. Fuck, Crowley liked it. He liked the way his body responded to Aziraphale’s desires before his brain, prick already filling in his pants, skin flushed and sensitive. He liked the way Aziraphale didn’t order him around, but insinuated, the way he’d always done. He somehow managed to command with a velvet gentleness that left Crowley breathless, all light and warmth and under it the glint of steel: his undeniable strength, his implacable will, his merciless greed. Crowley’s knees went liquid. He had no idea what Aziraphale was going to ask of him, but that was just it: he’d ask. Or even more likely, he’d imply.
37 minutes to go. Aziraphale would be timely. What the Heaven was he going to do with himself for 37 minutes? He was hard as a rock but a wank wasn’t on the cards — whatever Aziraphale had planned, Crowley was sure he’d need every ounce of his stamina.
Naked. His angel wanted him naked. Crowley shivered, imagining the torrent of praise likely to fall from Aziraphale’s lips when he walked in. Crowley wasn’t vain about his corporation, but Aziraphale was effusive. Crowley could handle it these days, even enjoy it — okay, he really, really got off on it. He’d spent the last several weeks lavishing attention on Aziraphale and could’ve happily spent the next few thousand years doing the same. Nothing was better than pleasing his angel. But to be the focus of Aziraphale’s warm loving gaze, that radiant smile, those clever hands...it fucking destroyed him. It was pleasing his angel in a different way, really; not through anything he did for Aziraphale, but just by existing. Just by being himself and by being, well, Aziraphale’s.
No. No wanking. Not a good idea.
Just before leaving his shop, Aziraphale called Crowley again. He was feeling pleased with himself and warm all over, having worked out several exciting ideas, and he was hoping to get Crowley properly prepared and in a similar state.
“Hi,” Crowley said, his voice a bit high and tense. Oh, very nice.
“Hello, my dear. I’m just calling to make sure you’re ready for me.”
“Don’t need to do that. You know I will be.”
“I have complete confidence in you. But I thought I might suggest, if I’m not too late...that you don’t use a miracle.”
“To take off your clothes. It might be more interesting to do it the human way.” Aziraphale paused. “Slowly.”
“But — you won’t be here yet, angel. What’s the point?”
“Because it’s what I want, darling. That’s the point.”
There was a pause. Aziraphale thought he could hear Crowley swallow.
“I got you.” A breath. “Slowly.”
“Very good. See you soon.”
Delightful tingles flooded through Aziraphale as he hung up the telephone. His prick was already getting stiff again. After a moment’s thought, he replaced it with a cunt. He looked forward to many hours of pleasing Crowley and it wouldn’t do to get too distracted.
Aziraphale and his rules, Crowley thought with a smile. Couldn’t live without these games for very long. Crowley supposed that six thousand years of obedience while constantly smudging the lines — and denying he was doing it — would do that to a person. No rules any more, thank God and Satan and little Adam too, so now Aziraphale had to make them up for himself.
Because it’s what I want, darling. Crowley was rock hard and gagging for it already, and Aziraphale hadn’t even got here. Maybe that was the point. Aziraphale knew what he was doing.
He went to his bedroom, sat down, and took off his boots. Crossing his leg over his knee, he drew the sock carefully off his left foot, like a caress. He wiggled his toes. Could never get used to having toes, but it felt nice having them freed from their confines. As he took off the other sock he let his fingers drag along his instep, caressing lightly. Lovely. Oh, he’d never massaged Aziraphale’s feet yet. Aziraphale loved a massage. Hmm, would he like having his toes sucked, Crowley wondered. He imagined Aziraphale sprawled on the bed, half-dressed, tense and giggling and moaning, jerking his foot away at the tickles and then luxuriating in the intense sensations. Yeah, that was going on the bucket list.
Crowley caught sight of himself in the mirror, gazing off into space with a besotted look on his face, and shook his head. Aziraphale would be here soon and he was still dressed. Better hop to it.
He stood and removed his watch and other jewelry, his belt. He peeled his henley off over his head. He’d already kicked up the temperature in the flat, anticipating Aziraphale’s arrival, but his nipples were hard. He stroked down his chest, giving them a little attention. Mmm, that was good. Did Aziraphale want him to touch himself while he was getting undressed? He hadn’t specified. He hadn’t said not to, either. He pinched both nipples, thrust against nothing. Fuck.
The mirror showed him his hair was completely destroyed from taking his shirt off the human way, so he fixed it the human way, fingers combing through it. He wished they were Aziraphale’s fingers and shivered. They would be soon. He tugged the hair at the back of his head. Guh. Whatever Aziraphale had planned, he hoped it involved some of that.
He regarded his reflection frankly, bare-chested and barefoot, hard in his skinny jeans, hair restored to its usual coolness, and wondered why his angel couldn’t greet him this way, at his best. He looked hot. Confident. Comfortable. Naked, he just looked...naked.
He had no idea how Aziraphale would respond if he didn’t do as he was asked. He tried to think of any time, before their relationship had changed or since, that he had not done what Aziraphale wanted, and failed. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing his angel.
Getting out of skinny jeans the human way, particularly women’s skinny jeans, was an exercise in humiliation. When Crowley finally kicked the wretched things away, his pants coming along for the ride, he was flushed and sweaty and all his cool, confident comfort had evaporated. Crowley’d invented skinny jeans. No one to blame but himself.
He glanced at his watch. Two minutes. He sorted his hair out again, closing his eyes and imagining Aziraphale’s hands scraping down his scalp. He dropped one hand down to his prick, gave it a few quick strokes. Aziraphale said making sure you’re ready for me. He was ready all right.
He padded out to the lounge and slithered onto the sofa, remembering the day he’d brought it into existence, the day Aziraphale pinned him to the wall and fucked him everywhere at once and then, daft bugger, wanted a cuddle afterward. He hoped today was something like that. He picked up his phone from the side table. Almost time.
Crowley spent about thirty-seven seconds working out the most seductive-yet-nonchalant pose on the sofa, and then heard Aziraphale’s knock.
Aziraphale patted his jacket, straightened his tie, and adjusted his waistcoat as he exited the lift. There was no need for nerves, he told himself. But he wasn’t anxious, not exactly. He was excited. It was still new, to be able to let his imagination run to all the places it wanted to go, where Crowley was concerned. It was still new, and glorious, to be able to explore those places with Crowley, without restraint. His heart was thumping as he reached Crowley’s door and gave his customary knock.
A moment’s pause, and then he heard the bolt clunk open. The door swung ajar upon the empty corridor.
Aziraphale smiled at the sound of Crowley’s voice, and took a moment to collect himself. Crowley would need him steady, would respond better — would enjoy the whole experience more — if Aziraphale were calm and untroubled. He stepped with an easy stride into the lounge and discovered the bare, elegant sprawl of Crowley laid out like the most delectable meal on his white leather sofa, the fuzzy carmine throw providing a pleasing contrast beneath his pale thighs. His cock strained against his flat stomach.
“Oh, lovely,” Aziraphale breathed, as his gaze met Crowley’s golden eyes. “I am so pleased with you.”
The corner of Crowley’s mouth tipped up in the slightest smile. “I did it slowly. Like you said.” He lifted his hand and Aziraphale came to him and took it, then leant down to kiss him gently.
“Of course you did,” he said against Crowley’s soft lips, nibbling there, filling his lungs with the scent of him. “And what did you discover?”
“Got a few ideas,” Crowley said, his voice low. His mouth was warm and pliant, expectant. Aziraphale knew he wanted to open the kiss but he wasn’t taking the lead. So good. So very good.
“Oh? What sorts of ideas?”
Crowley chuckled. “Not telling ya.”
Aziraphale chuckled too, and then slid both hands into Crowley’s hair and tightened his hands into fists. Crowley gasped. Aziraphale jerked his head back by the hair and dragged his teeth down the long arc of his throat. “Angel!” Crowley hissed. “Fuck!”
“You may keep your ideas to yourself, my dear, if you insist,” Aziraphale murmured into his collarbone. “Today is all for you.”
“For me?” Crowley strained a little against Aziraphale’s grip in his hair, trying to make eye contact. Aziraphale held fast for a moment, then relented, stroking down the back of his neck. “What for?”
Aziraphale took a moment to lose himself in Crowley’s eyes, heart swelling. He caressed Crowley’s temple and breathed in Crowley’s curiosity, his playfulness, his arousal. His trust. Aziraphale flushed with warmth and happiness. “Because you have been so generous lately,” he said, curling his fingers in Crowley’s fiery hair again. “Because I love you so much, I can’t restrain myself.” He kissed Crowley’s lips lightly. “Because it pleases me to give you pleasure.” He raked his nails down Crowley’s scalp and watched his eyes flutter closed. Then he granted him the open kiss they were both aching for, licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together.
Crowley hummed and began to take Aziraphale in his arms, but Aziraphale quickly captured his wrists. Crowley whined a little, but he was smiling into Aziraphale’s mouth. Then he opened wider for Aziraphale’s tongue, and when Aziraphale deepened the kiss, sucked it and flickered against it with his own. Aziraphale sat down next to him to improve the angle and felt the heat of Crowley’s body rise up to meet him. Crowley arched and writhed against his hold, obviously not trying to break free, seemingly for the sheer delight of it. Aziraphale was hot in his clothes, tingling between his legs, and happy. So happy.
Eventually he broke the kiss so he could feast on the vision of Crowley more fully. Crowley’s eyes drifted open. “So. Gonna tell me your ideas, then? What’s going on in that wicked brain of yours?”
Aziraphale’s eyes were sea-green today, clear and vivid. Crowley felt as though he were bathing in them, bathing in Aziraphale’s warmth, his adoration — the love that belonged to Crowley alone, that he now knew how to accept, even revel in. He also saw the wheels turning, saw the sharp edge of the bastard underneath the soft angel, felt that bastard holding his wrists down with aethereal strength, and Crowley’s prick was as hard as a diamond.
“I thought we might see how you enjoy it if I bind you,” Aziraphale began.
“You already know I like that,” Crowley interrupted.
“And control your orgasms.”
A wave of heat rolled through Crowley, starting at his ears — which burned as they took in Aziraphale’s velvet voice — sweeping down his body and landing in his balls. They tightened and rose, and his prick jumped. “Fuck, angel.” He whispered.
Aziraphale gathered both wrists in one hand and stroked down Crowley’s heated face and chest with the other, but never broke the hold of his eyes. “What I have in mind, you see, is to give you as much pleasure as possible.” His strong, soft hand wrapped around Crowley’s prick, and Crowley bit his lip at the thrill of it. “But not to let you come until I say so.” He squeezed. “What do you think?”
Think? How could he think when Aziraphale touched him like this, when Aziraphale talked like this? All he ever wanted was to do what Aziraphale wanted. Aziraphale wanted to give him pleasure; it followed that he wanted to receive that pleasure. And why was not being allowed to come suddenly the hottest fucking thing he’d ever heard of?
“Sounds grand,” he said, his voice thick.
Aziraphale smiled at him, and anyone else would only see love in that smile, but Crowley could see the knife in it, and it made him breathless. “I’m so glad you think so, my love. I’m going to take such good care of you.”
Aziraphale rose from the sofa, and hauled Crowley up as well, until they were standing face to face, close, Aziraphale still clasping Crowley’s wrists in one hand. Crowley regarded him with hooded eyes.
Aziraphale stroked the side of his face, then took hold of his jaw and brought him in for a kiss. Again, Crowley’s lips parted softly under his, open and willing, and Aziraphale swept inside with a moan.
“Now,” he said, letting go of Crowley’s mouth and wrists, “go over and sit in that ridiculous throne of yours.”
“Sit?” Crowley asked, though he was walking to the chair, giving Aziraphale a marvelous view of his swaying backside and long legs. “Aren’t you going to fuck me, then?”
“I haven’t decided,” Aziraphale lied, following him and watching with approbation as Crowley draped himself over the chair. He always moved with such grace, posed with such elegance. It shouldn’t have worked — it was all awkward and higgledy-piggledy, poor posture, looked frightfully uncomfortable — but Crowley maneuvered his corporation to seduce, and Aziraphale had been seduced for thousands of years.
Aziraphale clicked his fingers and manifested several lengths of soft black rope, about as thick as his thumb, with a fine crimson thread braided through it. He knelt and began to secure Crowley’s ankles to the chair. “This will be more effective if you sit in a traditional way, my dear.”
Crowley shifted to sit upright, an unnatural position for him, and one Aziraphale thought he had never seen him assume. But he still seemed willing, his cock stiff, an amused smile on his lips. “Rope, angel? Really?” They had always used their powers for bondage before.
“I’ve given the matter considerable thought, and decided that I want to focus all my attention on your pleasure today. I don’t want to spare a thought for keeping you bound.”
Crowley squirmed, and Aziraphale observed a blush starting across his cheekbones. Oh, lovely. “Yeah, but. You know I can miracle myself out of these. Or break ‘em.”
Unlike Aziraphale’s aethereal bonds or the grip of his hands, Crowley meant. Aziraphale was stronger than Crowley, physically and metaphysically, and he had an idea that Crowley was interested, perhaps even deeply interested, in this point of difference between them. Aziraphale was only beginning to allow himself to consider how such a thing might be used.
He moved to tie up the other ankle and did not make eye contact. “You’d never do such a thing. Not if I didn’t wish it.”
Crowley shifted in his seat and Aziraphale noted the heat rising from him, the movement of his cock against his belly as the blood pulsed there. Aziraphale’s mouth watered. Soon. He began securing Crowley’s wrists and elbows to the arms of the chair, gently encouraging him to clasp the lionhead handrests.
“Angel, I have to ask. Why keep me from coming? I mean…” Crowley’s voice was rough. Aziraphale, listening keenly, heard Crowley’s usual approach to negotiation: implacable logic, a whiff of temptation, the tiniest undercurrent of wheedling. Aziraphale had been failing to resist the combination for thousands of years but he was not going to give in today. “This isn’t a one and done situation. I’ve got demonic stamina. I can stay hard as long as I like, through as many orgasms as I like.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale said, checking the knots and moving to the other arm. “But I want you to stay hard as long as I like through as many orgasms as I like.”
“Ngk,” Crowley swallowed and his cock bounced deliciously.
“And today,” Aziraphale continued, “that might mean just one. Or twenty. Or maybe none. We’ll see.” He passed the rope around Crowley’s chest, above and below his nipples, and could not resist taking one of them in his teeth as Crowley whined.
“What if — what if I don’t make it? What if I can’t hold off?” Oh, the dear, he looked genuinely concerned, and Aziraphale hadn’t even properly touched him yet.
Aziraphale met his eyes, stroking his cheek. “You’ll do brilliantly. You always do.”
Crowley swallowed, taking in the praise as he had learnt to. Then the corner of his mouth twisted up in the faintest hint of a smile. “And what if I just decide to come because I want to?”
Aziraphale tutted and stepped away from him, turning his back and removing his coat. “Then you will not get the lovely reward I have planned for you.”
“Reward, huh. What kind of reward.”
“That would be telling.” Aziraphale removed his bow tie and hung it with his coat over the spare chair in the corner. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and began rolling up his sleeves. He listened to Crowley’s accelerating breathing. “You will like it. I’m confident you will like it very, very much.”
“Bastard,” Crowley said, his voice rough as Aziraphale finally turned to face him. Crowley was flushed all down his chest now and up to the tips of his ears. His cock was straining against his belly and dribbling at the tip. Aziraphale simply couldn’t wait any longer.
"You look delicious, my dear," Aziraphale murmured, moving close to Crowley, close enough that Crowley could smell his fresh rain scent and the heat of arousal rapidly eclipsing it. "How do you feel?"
Aziraphale chuckled and ran a hand lightly down his shoulder. "Comfortable? Anything too tight?"
Crowley squirmed a little, mostly for show, and felt the ropes dig in just that bit against his skin, somehow both hard and soft. Like Aziraphale himself. The ropes were, he realized, an extension of Aziraphale: his strength binding Crowley, his gentleness tending him. Always just what he needed. His prick flared. "Get on with it, angel."
Gratefully, Crowley felt Aziraphale's fingers in his hair again, tightening there to tip his head back for an unhurried kiss as his other hand drew down Crowley’s neck. The sharp drag of Aziraphale's nails there pulled a gasp out of him. Aziraphale smiled against his mouth and then sucked his lower lip, nibbling it gently. Then he gave Crowley his tongue, wet and deep and fierce as Crowley felt the burn of Aziraphale's grip against his scalp and nails digging into his shoulder and fuck, the glory of it, all the weight of his angel's desire. All Crowley had done was sit there being a smartarse and Aziraphale wanted him like this. He could live on this feeling for weeks.
Aziraphale broke the kiss to stroke down his body with both hands, light enough to raise gooseflesh, making Crowley's skin seem to strain toward his hands the way, in private moments, he felt his soul did. Aziraphale's soft, knowledgeable fingers found the tenderest places — inner arms, sides, inside of the elbow — and every caress brought his body further to life. Every glide of Aziraphale's hands, moving more firmly now, stirred sensation toward Crowley’s center, to his tingling prick.
Aziraphale paused at Crowley's chest to adjust the ropes until they framed Crowley's nipples to his liking. Then he ran his fingertips over them and Crowley gasped, trying to arch into the touch, but the ropes would not give.
"You are so beautiful," Aziraphale murmured, with featherlight touches to each nipple. It was like a live wire connecting his chest to the tip of his prick. Crowley squirmed as much as the ropes would let him.
"Do you like that, my dear?" Aziraphale paused, his hands hovering over Crowley's sensitized flesh.
Oh, shit. Did Aziraphale expect him to talk?
"Yeah," Crowley growled. "'S good."
"I am going to be very interested to know how you feel today." Aziraphale's sparkling eyes, steel-blue just now, met his own. "I mean, I do very much enjoy the sounds you've been making and I certainly don't want you to stop those! But I find that when bondage is involved, verbal communication is ever so important. Don't you agree?"
“Nnnnnyeeaahhhh,” Crowley managed, a sort of whine. Aziraphale could talk and curse a blue streak even through an orgasm, and Crowley adored that about him, but words were not Crowley’s friends where sex was concerned. It wasn’t that Aziraphale was wrong, exactly. But it was not going to make this easy. He closed his eyes, surprised himself at what he was about to say, what he could not have said even a week ago. “Thought this was meant to be for me.”
“Oh, it is. Darling, it is!” Aziraphale drew his hand through Crowley’s hair again, kissed his eyelids. “And thank you for mentioning it.” Crowley opened his eyes, met Aziraphale’s shining smile. “I need your words so that I know what pleases you best. You see that, don’t you?”
And Crowley did see that, bless it. "You please me best," he murmured, trying for a light romantical flair. Aziraphale had stopped playing with his nipples some time ago. He wanted those clever fingers back. Aziraphale smiled inquiringly at him, brows lifted, not moving. Sexy bastard. "Touch me."
Aziraphale brightened and trailed his hands down the back of Crowley's neck, over his shoulders, then to where the rope bit into his chest. "Like this?"
"Yeah," Crowley sighed. His skin felt tight and super-sensitive, so that even the lightest brush of Aziraphale's fingers had him buzzing all over. Aziraphale made soft circles with his thumbs, and then pinched gently. Crowley gasped.
Crowley's cock jumped helplessly at the sound of Aziraphale's voice, the tender pressure on his tense flesh. "Perfect." He felt warm all over, every nerve alive and craving Aziraphale's touch. He felt the rope, gentle and unyielding, against his ankles, knees, wrists, elbows — implacable, caressing as he moved. Crowley wasn't struggling, he wasn't trying to escape. He could have wished the bonds away at any time. But he liked the way they felt, tugging against him, a reminder of Aziraphale's eternal hold on him. Nowhere else he'd rather be.
Then Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his soft, hot mouth to Crowley's nipple.
"Nnngggaahh," Crowley managed, and now he did struggle a bit, because every impulse was clamoring to get his hands on Aziraphale's head, his fingers in those sweet silky curls, and pull him closer. Aziraphale's tongue traced a delicate circle, another, and then rubbed wetly back and forth as Crowley tried to arch into the sensation. Then he felt the scrape of Aziraphale's teeth. "Stars," he hissed, and felt Aziraphale smile against his chest, felt Aziraphale's warm, soft, strong hand pet down his belly and cradle his balls. He closed his eyes to savour it, the blunt hardness of teeth at his nipple and the heat of Aziraphale’s breath there, the warm gentleness stroking him in such a vulnerable place. And the ropes, there for him to twist against.
“Is it good, my dear?” Aziraphale asked quietly. Crowley could hear confidence in his voice, but the question was genuine. Crowley felt bloody amazing, he just wasn’t used to talking about it. But then Aziraphale wasn’t used to asking questions. Crowley liked that Aziraphale was asking.
“Lovely,” he said, and hummed as Aziraphale applied his tongue again to his tight, tingling nipple, and offered the tenderest of squeezes to his tight, aching balls. Crowley felt a jet of pre-come splash his stomach and wished fervently for Aziraphale’s hand on his prick. Aziraphale merely moved his mouth to the other nipple. Crowley shivered as Aziraphale’s thumb moved behind his balls. He definitely wanted to encourage this. “Mmm, yeah.”
“Crowley, you’re doing just what I asked. What a delight you are.” Aziraphale moved up to kiss him glancingly on the lips, eyes sparkling, and then slid down. One hand stroked his perineum, pressing at his prostate from the outside, the other continued to fondle his balls. Crowley looked down to see Aziraphale’s blond lashes dusting his cheek as he took his prick into his mouth.
Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley’s eyes turning up, mouth dropping open in pleasure, and he thought, in spite of himself, of Saint Sebastian. But Crowley deserved this joy, not the suffering of a saint. Crowley would receive every drop of bliss Aziraphale could lavish upon him.
Crowley was slick with pre-ejaculate, savoury and rich with umami, and Aziraphale flared his nostrils and rolled Crowley over his tongue and wondered why on earth he didn’t do this every day. The hot, silky skin slid slowly past his lips and Aziraphale moved his head lovingly, at a leisurely pace. Crowley moaned, undulating against his bonds as much as they would admit, and Aziraphale thought for perhaps the millionth time in his existence how beautiful he was, not merely his corporation but his soul. A soul that deserved every moment of happiness Aziraphale could give him. And he’d barely started. Aziraphale swiped his tongue along Crowley’s frenulum, eliciting a whimper, then took him deeper. He continued to cradle the slight weight of Crowley’s balls in one hand while pressing against his perineum with the other. Crowley’s breath was speeding up, and his hips were shifting minutely, leaning into Aziraphale’s hands and mouth, trying to set his own rhythm. Crowley’s want was overtaking him. Aziraphale’s chest bloomed with love and pride.
Such a rare thing, for Crowley to seek his own pleasure at all, except insofar as it came along with Aziraphale’s. But now Crowley was opening up beneath him, asking for what he wanted with his body and with words. Aziraphale opened his throat and let the head of Crowley’s cock press past the ring of muscle there once, twice, three times.
Aziraphale stilled, hands and mouth still embracing Crowley, unmoving. He waited several seconds for Crowley’s breath to slow, for some of the tension to ebb out of his thighs, his abdomen. Saliva pooled in Aziraphale’s mouth. Then he swallowed, right around Crowley’s cock, and to Crowley’s stifled gasp he began moving again. This time he made a tight ring with thumb and third finger around Crowley’s cock behind his balls, enough pressure to prevent an orgasm while keeping him delightfully hard and tight in his throat. Aziraphale imagined what Crowley would be feeling now and shuddered happily. With his other hand he caressed Crowley’s sweet flat belly and chest, skating up to pinch a nipple. He moved his throat down on Crowley’s cock again, as far as he could, until his nose pressed the rough copper curls, and back. And down. And back. Luxuriating in Crowley’s scent and in the joy he felt in being able to do this for him. The tight muscle of his throat popping against the head of Crowley’s cock, Crowley’s stomach tensing under his hand, Crowley’s hips rocking into him the tiny thrusts that the ropes allowed. Crowley’s breath came in ragged gasps.
“Don’t stop,” he choked out.
Azirpahale pulled off his cock slowly, keeping his hand in a tight ring around the base of it, and smiled against the tip while Crowley whined.
“Did you really think that would work?” he asked.
“Had to try,” Crowley said shakily, trying for insouciance but missing by a mile. “You — you like it when I ask for things.”
“Mmm, I do,” said Aziraphale, licking all over the head while Crowley hissed at the sensitivity. “I like it even more when you beg for things.” He moved both of his hands to cover Crowley’s, slid them up Crowley’s arms to his shoulders, got a fistful of that irresistible hair and tugged again while Crowley grunted and tried to thrust against nothing. Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s eyes, his cheek, his throat, finally his ripe and ruddy mouth, Crowley splitting apart under his tongue like a plum. Aziraphale moaned into his mouth, felt his cunt swelling and soaking his pants. His own desire flamed, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.
“How I love you,” he murmured against Crowley’s lips. “What a gift it is, to show you how much.”
Crowley, who was already flushed, went even redder, but he was smiling. “Make me come. That’ll show me.”
Aziraphale chuckled. “Now now. You can’t negotiate your way out of this.”
“Who’s negotiating? This is straight-up groveling.”
Aziraphale dragged his teeth down Crowley’s neck and wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock. Crowley gasped. “My dear, you have not yet begun to grovel.”
“Oh, fuck. Aaanngh, angel…”
Aziraphale gave Crowley the firm, torturously slow strokes that drove him mad, sliding his foreskin back, skating his thumb over the crown each time. “Yes, dearest? You like this?”
“You — oh, you bastard — you know I do. Love your hands. Fucking perfect.” Aziraphale maintained his rhythm, bringing his other hand back behind Crowley’s balls, this time teasing his arsehole. “Ungh, Aziraphale! I won’t last —”
“You let me worry about that. Now tell me, is this good?” He circled Crowley’s hole lightly. Crowley pressed back against him.
“Oh, darling, thank you for asking for what you want.” Aziraphale miracled a little slickness and pushed gently into Crowley, who went slack under his fingers instantly and shoved his arse against his hand. “My goodness, how hungry you are.” Aziraphale slicked up Crowley’s cock as well, tempering the rough drag of his hand, sweetening it all, drawing it out and making it ever so slightly more frustrating. His heart was full as he watched Crowley shove himself forward and back as much as he could. Aziraphale gave a quick glance at his skin under the ropes. No chafing yet, but he’d have to watch for that if Crowley continued to writhe like this. Oh, he did hope Crowley would continue to writhe.
Crowley thrust his hips as much as he could into the slick slide of Aziraphale’s beautiful hand on his cock, achingly slow, tender yet so strong. Aziraphale’s fingers were gentle but relentless inside him, rocking, pressing against his prostate, an internal caress so intimate Crowley whimpered with it. There was no better place to be than in his angel’s hands. Crowley adored every blessed thing about sex with Aziraphale, but being loved this way tore him apart more effectively than any torment Aziraphale could ever devise. And Aziraphale knew it.
Aziraphale’s hot mouth on his prick was a rare treat, but he loved being able to see Aziraphale’s smile as he worked him over. The deep ocean eyes sparkled at him, the pretty pink lips turned up, and although Aziraphale was all about determined Crowley-indulgence today, Crowley could see the effect it was having on him, could catch it in the tilt of his head, the breath quickened across parted lips revealing a hint of upper teeth, the flush on his cheeks, the pulse beating at his throat. Nothing better than his angel hot for him, unless it was those hands, moving just that bit faster now. Crowley ground back and forth against them as much as the ropes would let him.
“Angel, oh fuck, please…” So good, it was all so good.
“Please what, my darling?” the bastard asked, though of course he knew.
“Please let me come.”
“No, I don’t think so.” The gorgeous hot pressure disappeared from Crowley’s cock, and he moaned as the intensity ramped down. Aziraphale’s fingers continued to work inside him, building the ache, spreading it through his pelvis. His cock burned for the contact it was no longer getting, and yet as he whimpered, Crowley was smiling. From the minute he’d suggested it, the idea of Aziraphale controlling his orgasms had flamed up his lust like anything, and now Crowley was living it: Aziraphale was teasing him, giving him everything he wanted, everything he craved, and he would not let him come. It could go on for hours, days, weeks. And it was fucking terrific.
Aziraphale’s attention was totally focused on him; he could see it, hear it, and feel it. Every slightest change in his breathing, the tension in his body, the hardness of his cock was noticed and accounted for — was of the utmost importance. Crowley had never felt so naked. He had never felt so wanted, not even when he was fulfilling every wish of Aziraphale’s heart.
Hell, maybe that’s what he was doing right now. A rush of heat burned his cheeks as Crowley saw the tell-tale orange flicker of his halo spark into being at the edges of his vision.
Aziraphale greeted it with his warmest smile as he continued to work his fingers inside Crowley. The suggestion of a massive prostate orgasm hovered like a question mark somewhere behind Crowley’s balls. But he needed more. “Aziraphale. Your hand’s so good on my prick. Can I have it back?”
“Certainly.” Aziraphale’s lips pressed together in a prim upward twist as he took hold of Crowley’s prick...and withdrew his fingers from his arse.
“Oh, come on!” Crowley moaned, bereft, but still smiling at Aziraphale’s attention, control, and general depravity. He thrust as much as he could into Aziraphale’s perfect grip. The question mark faded away, slowly being replaced by an exclamation point. “Nnng.”
“Is it good, Crowley?”
“It’s very good, Aziraphale,” he panted. He was climbing fast, freewheeling, soaring in the luxury of Aziraphale’s love. “Maybe too good.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we.” Aziraphale slid off his prick again and slipped back into his arse. Crowley’s incipient climax fluttered away, leaving him shaking and happy.
“Fuck,” Crowley grinned. “You’re amazing, you villain.”
“You inspire me, dearest. If only you could understand how you move me, how I feel, seeing you like this.” Aziraphale rolled his fingers firmly over Crowley’s prostate, over and over, and pre-come jetted down his prick. “You are the most desirable creature ever made.”
Crowley pushed back into Aziraphale’s hand as much as he could, wallowing in the praise, drinking in the glow of Aziraphale’s eyes, the shine on his lips where he’d licked them. Oh, Satan, Crowley wanted to touch him right now.
“Nnngh, angel, will you fuck me? Please.”
“Hmmm.” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked over him. “I’m not sure yet.” He pulled his fingers away again, and Crowley bit his lip and actually whimpered at the loss. “I think while we’re stopped here, I should like to change the way you’re tied.” He clicked his fingers and released Crowley’s legs and feet. Crowley rolled his ankles and briefly considered what to do with this new freedom before tossing the idea aside. He was already as free as he could ever hope to be.
“How do you want me?” he said, flexing his knees.
Aziraphale, perversely, pinked up all over and kissed him. “Oh, my darling, I want you every way imaginable! But — here, move toward the edge of the chair.”
Crowley slid his arse down the chair, and under Aziraphale’s gentle hands, folded his legs so that his knees were up at his chest. As Aziraphale bound his shins to his thighs, Crowley began to receive certain ideas about what might be forthcoming, and the ache behind his balls reawakened.
It was at that moment that Aziraphale said, “Talking of wanting you in every way...I’d thought, if you wouldn’t mind it, how nice it would be to eat your cunt.”
Crowley’s prick dumped a load of pre-come all over his belly. “Aah, Aziraphale, you really are trying to ruin me.”
“Oh my, yes.”
Aziraphale laid his watch on the ornate marble-topped table and removed his waistcoat. When he looked up, Crowley’s rampant cock had been replaced by his cunt, swollen, pink, and glistening with desire. Aziraphale licked his lips. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth there — couldn’t wait for the taste of Crowley, the delicate slippery folds under his tongue, and above all the way Crowley went utterly self-interested and directive when Aziraphale did this for him.
Aziraphale’s own cunt was burning in his trousers. Still not very experienced with this sort of equipment, he had thought it might be easier to manage his arousal this way, since he planned to focus wholly on Crowley today. He now knew how foolish he had been. He was soaking, had been almost from the moment he’d arrived; he rubbed against himself in an infuriating way every time he moved; and the whole business positively ached, both outside and inside, in a way that was a new and exquisite torture to him. He was not certain he would be able to bear it for very long.
As usual, Crowley was watching him as he unbuttoned his shirt, staring hungrily as he removed his vest and walked over to the corner stripped to the waist to drape both over the spare chair. Crowley’s desire for his corporation had nourished a vanity that had lain dormant in Aziraphale since his form had last been in fashion, hundreds of years ago. He smiled as he turned back to see Crowley craning his neck to keep his eyes on him, keen and alert — and felt a rush of power that tingled in every nerve. That Crowley wanted him so much, trusted him so much; that Crowley was willing to make himself so vulnerable — and yet there was still this wonderful sharp edge between them. They could still keep one another on their toes.
He strode back to Crowley and petted down his head, neck, and chest, inhaling his intoxicating fragrance. He settled himself on the floor at the foot of the chair, pressing soft open kisses to the sensitive insides of Crowley’s thighs, now taut and exposed in their bondage. Crowley’s muscles flexed and jumped under his lips and hands. The smell of his cunt made Aziraphale’s mouth water.
“Come on,” Crowley growled.
Aziraphale laid a line of kisses up Crowley’s naked labia. He still didn’t quite understand the modern fashion for denuding them of hair, but he liked the tender skin against his mouth, liked the way Crowley pressed against his face to get more sensation. Crowley was dripping onto the chair already, and Aziraphale pushed out his tongue and licked him from stem to stern, gathering up that precious succulence, briny and savoury. They both moaned quietly.
“You taste sublime,” Aziraphale murmured.
“Lick me,” Crowley ordered roughly.
Aziraphale smiled against him and acceded to Crowley’s demand, toying with his labia minora while Crowley squirmed and tried to maneuver his clit onto Aziraphale’s tongue, and finally scrubbing slowly up and down over it while Crowley went boneless for a moment.
“Oh, yeah. Ungh. Keep doing that.”
Though he had Crowley’s assurance that he had done this rather well from the start, Aziraphale’s lack of experience with matters of the cunt had led Crowley into the driver’s seat whenever either of them manifested one, no matter their supposed roles for the day’s play. Aziraphale hummed happily against the unimaginable softness of Crowley’s cunt, the hardness of Crowley’s clit pressing back assertively against his tongue. Crowley was already expressing his preferences, just as Aziraphale had planned.
Flattening his tongue, Aziraphale slightly increased his speed and pressure as he observed the tension building in Crowley’s thighs and stomach. Crowley was pressing down toward his mouth, and when Aziraphale flicked up his eyes, he saw Crowley’s hands straining toward him against the ropes. Crowley was generally holding his head at this stage.
“Uunnnh, wanna touch you,” Crowley said, echoing his thoughts. Aziraphale slid one hand up to the chair’s arm, under Crowley’s. Crowley gripped his fingers. Crowley grunted in acknowledgement. Not really what he’d meant, Aziraphale knew, but he’d take it.
Crowley was pressing down harder now, thighs shaking with stress. Aziraphale slipped his tongue off his clit and into his vestibule, tasting inside for a moment, the more piquant flavor flooding his senses. Crowley whined. Then Aziraphale pulled his face away and replaced his tongue with the tip of a finger.
“Intolerable tease,” Crowley panted. “Shouldn’t be allowed.” He shoved his hips down the inch or so they would move under the ropes and took Aziraphale’s finger to the second knuckle. “More.”
Aziraphale complied, crooking his finger to press against Crowley’s upper wall as he slid slowly up and in, then out. Crowley was open wide, thoroughly wet, and Aziraphale knew this would not satisfy him one jot. But it would be deliciously maddening.
Crowley, he had learned, loved to be frustrated. When it came to sexual matters, he craved Aziraphale’s satisfaction more than his own, yes, but even more than that he sought out opportunities to deny himself fulfillment, and relished it when Aziraphale denied him. Aziraphale supposed that six thousand years of being told “no” by the one you loved — and then continuing to look after them selflessly anyway — would do that to a person. Now there was no need for Crowley ever to be less than completely fulfilled, but he could never go very long without these little games. Aziraphale was only too happy to provide them for him.
Crowley was rocking on his finger, rosy cunt glistening with juices and Aziraphale’s spit, chest flushed, breath coming fast. “Aziraphale, please. Your tongue.”
“Of course.” Aziraphale withdrew his finger and brought his mouth happily back to Crowley’s clit, sucking on it gently for a moment before going back to the quick strokes that would ramp up Crowley’s arousal again.
“Augh, bastard! Ungh, so good. Can I please, please, have your finger back? Maybe two?”
Aziraphale lifted his mouth away and gave Crowley two fingers. Crowley groaned and bore down on them, and Aziraphale relished the squeeze as he rubbed slowly against Crowley’s upper wall.
“I — I see what you’re doing here.”
“You think I’ll come if I have your fingers and your tongue at the same time.”
“Oh, my dear, I know you won’t come unless I wish it.” Aziraphale believed this, and yet he knew it would be very, very difficult to control things once Crowley received all the stimulation he had planned for him.
“Then why —”
“It’s more fun this way.”
Aziraphale smiled, removed his fingers from Crowley’s clutching cunt, and applied his tongue with vigor.
Crowley ground down helplessly on nothing, his empty pussy aching even as Aziraphale’s fat, juicy tongue gave him just what he needed all over his clit.
Aziraphale was so fucking smart. The way he’d started things off today, this alternating between penetration and the most perfect strokes of his cock and now his clit, it was the most magnificent torment. Now neither thing alone was enough. Now, he wanted more of everything everywhere.
Crowley clenched his thigh muscles and shoved as hard as he could against Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale’s tongue went even faster now, but still thick and sloppy, wet noises accompanying his soft sounds of pleasure. Knowing Aziraphale got off on doing this, sometimes literally, was almost more than Crowley could bear right now.
“Aaah, aah, angel, please. I need —”
Aziraphale took his gorgeous mouth away and slipped three fingers inside this time, firm and slow, a great hard slippery pressure rubbing mercilessly against his entrance and upper wall. Crowley wailed and gripped Aziraphale’s hand where it still lay under his.
“I know what you need, my dear. You need to be loved as you deserve.” Aziraphale worked his fingers harder and leant to press a kiss to Crowley’s desperate clit before pulling away again. Crowley tried to chase his mouth but the ropes held, and for the first time today he thought seriously of miracling them away to get what he wanted.
No. Aziraphale wanted him to talk.
“I need your tongue on my clit, your fingers in my cunt. Wouldn’t say no to your thumb in my arse while you’re at it.”
Aziraphale chuckled. “I do enjoy it when you’re bossy. Very well, then, since you have made your wishes plain.” He squeezed Crowley’s hand and then pulled his own away, and Crowley watched in a daze as he sucked two fingers into his mouth and then nudged them into Crowley’s arse. The friction, the sensation of fullness was glorious, Aziraphale’s clever fingers grinding and pumping slowly inside his cunt and his arse in alternating rhythm.
“Fuck, fuck,” Crowley grunted.
And then Aziraphale pressed his smile against Crowley’s clit and let his tongue flicker there, once, lightly. Every nerve in Crowley’s cunt lit up and he suddenly knew he was seconds from an orgasm. A big one.
“Angel!” he gasped, “I’m close!”
Aziraphale drew back immediately and his beautiful hands went still. Crowley’s pussy and arsehole fluttered helplessly, his clit issued mute but irate protests. “There, you see? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
Crowley took a deep breath, another. Willed his muscles to relax. Then Aziraphale’s tongue was back, teasing, the softest possible sensation, slippery and keen. His hands thrust slowly inside Crowley, just once. Oh, fuck, it was so good. He was right on the edge, and Aziraphale could probably keep him here for hours, and he’d just have to lie here and take it.
“All right, Crowley?”
“I’m —” Crowley swallowed. “Fucking fantastic. But — aaahhh —” as Aziraphale began to work his hands again, building the rhythm, everything wet and hard and full and wonderful. “— if you don’t want me to come, you’re — oh, fuck — gonna have to — “
Aziraphale’s hands stilled again. “Leave everything to me, my dear. Just enjoy yourself.”
Crowley’s clit rejoiced to feel Aziraphale’s tongue sweeping slowly and lazily up and down it. Crowley shook all over and tightened around Aziraphale’s lovely hard hands. And fuck it, he wanted to come. He wanted to come now, right now. Aziraphale should make him come. That was what should happen.
He would probably have to beg for it.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice was shaking like the rest of him. “May I come now, please?”
“Not quite yet,” Aziraphale lifted his head to say. He thrust his hands a little quicker, just that bit more forcefully, and Crowley ground down on him and almost wept for it. His clit was screaming for attention.
“Please, please, please let me come.”
Aziraphale licked across his clit once, twice. Two tender thrusts to his cunt, one to his arse. “Be patient, dearest.”
“Please, please. I’m begging you, angel. I’ll do anything you like.”
Aziraphale’s heart was overflowing with happiness. Crowley was undone before him, bound and begging, flowing with words and juice and the joy of surrender, an instant from orgasm but restrained: waiting for permission. Aziraphale glowed with power.
He tilted his head as he lapped languidly at Crowley’s succulent cunt, to see Crowley’s eyes amber to their edges, his pupils almost round with desire, red mouth gone rectangular, body splayed and flushed and shaking, hands gripping the chair. And oh, his pretty cunt sucking Aziraphale’s fingers down, so hot inside. Aziraphale rubbed his own thighs together and sighed against the flaming want between them.
“Anything I like? Really?”
Aziraphale had begun the day highly motivated to reward Crowley for past indulgences. When he had first taken action to change their relationship, Aziraphale had been awash in everything he had wanted to give to Crowley, everything he had wanted to do to him, with him, for him, to show Crowley that he was loved — how very loved he was. Since then, every day he tried to show Crowley how much he was owed.
“Anything! I — I’ll let you practice your magic tricks on me. I’ll stop making fun of you for not having a mobile. I’ll — I’ll drive the speed limit!”
Crowley was grinding most deliciously against his hands, his face a desperate mask of desire. And Aziraphale felt something blooming inside himself, opening even further to the love he had thought he could not feel any more deeply. He realized that he wanted to give Crowley absolutely everything — anything and everything — not because Aziraphale owed it to him, not because Crowley had earned it, but for the pure joy of it. Because he loved Crowley. Because he could. Because he could.
Aziraphale flicked his tongue lightly across Crowley’s clit again, and felt him grip around his hands. “My love, you don’t have to give me any of those things.” He licked again, and Crowley moaned. “Not one blessed thing more than you have already given me, from this day until the stars turn cold.” He worked his fingers in Crowley’s arse, then his cunt, then his arse again. “You already give me more than I could ever hope for, just by being you.” A long, slow lick up Crowley’s clit, and down, and up. Crowley had started shaking again. Oh, so delicious. “I’m going to make you come now.”
Aziraphale moved both hands together now, still slowly, but forcefully. His right hand pressed against Crowley’s upper wall on the downstroke while his left hand rubbed against his prostate. He pressed his mouth over Crowley’s clit and ran his tongue up and down its succulent length, building speed as Crowley panted and strove and moaned.
“Oh fuck, oh angel —”
His own cunt was burning, he was close himself, but all Aziraphale wanted in this moment was to love Crowley. He went deeper with his fingers, just that little bit deeper while flicking his tongue that little bit faster, and felt Crowley seize around him as his wordless groans split the air, loud and resonant.
Yes, my love, Aziraphale thought as he continued to work his sweet sopping cunt. Yes, you gorgeous creature. Just for you. Just because it’s you. Just because.
Aziraphale pressed his face into Crowley, licked fervently as Crowley’s cunt and arse clenched his fingers over and over. His groans went on and on, and Aziraphale moaned into him in sympathetic joy, his own cunt throbbing. As Crowley was beginning to taper off, Aziraphale sucked his ripe clit and Crowley cried out anew. He didn’t stop moving until Crowley’s voice was spent, until Crowley’s body had stopped its crushing waves against his hands. Then he laid gentle kisses against the insides of Crowley’s trembling thighs, and slowly slid his fingers out.
He looked up to see Crowley’s eyes glazed with pleasure, chest heaving, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Aziraphale rose to stand next to Crowley and, making sure he had eye contact, slowly and deliberately enjoyed sucking Crowley’s juices off his fingers. He watched Crowley’s throat work. They’d never discussed it yet, the way Crowley liked watching him eat, and he wasn’t sure Crowley knew that he liked watching Crowley watching him eat. Well, they had all the time in the world for such revelations.
“I do hope that was worth waiting for, my dear.”
“Angel, I swear, if you don’t kiss me right now —”
Aziraphale obliged him, and this time Crowley was ravenous, more desperate now in his post-orgasmic state than he had been just moments before, it seemed. Gone was the soft, pliant mouth; now he was all straining neck and probing tongue, even teeth. Aziraphale’s knees went just a touch wobbly and he felt a fresh gush from his cunt. Oh, good lord, he was going to have to be seen to, and soon.
Crowley was in no mood to break the kiss. His whole body was corded with the effort of trying to get closer to Aziraphale, and oh, he was beautiful this way, but Aziraphale just couldn’t bear it any longer. He nudged out of the kiss but laid his lips along Crowley’s jaw, up to his ear.
“I can see you want me, dearest.” He clicked his fingers and the rope fell from Crowley’s thighs, which immediately dropped down to the seat of the chair. Crowley shifted his knees, his arse. Aziraphale knew his wet cunt was pressing against the seat in a beguiling way, and felt an answering clutch in his own.
“And I want you to see how much I want you.” He clicked his fingers and sent the rest of his clothes to a neat pile across the room. “I want you to see what a mess you’ve made of me.”
Crowley thundered with gratitude as Aziraphale climbed into his lap. Aziraphale’s thighs were glossy with juice, his pubic hair absolutely soaking with it, his whole body rosy, nipples hard, mouth open in a smile somewhere between “coconut panna cotta with passionfruit gelee” and “new arrivals from Sotheby’s auction”. And Aziraphale, hot all over, rubbed against him everywhere, dragging his whole brilliantly nude body all over Crowley, and everything was soft and warm and damp and sticky and smelled of sex. If Crowley could have got his arms around his angel right now, he would have been perfectly happy.
"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale moaned, straddling Crowley's right thigh, "you are an absolute wonder."
Crowley tightened his thigh to give Aziraphale something more satisfying to grind on, and the angel purred and sucked at his throat.
"I'm a wonder? I just sat here and looked pretty. You did all the work."
"Work? What—" grind — gasp — "nonsense. The most glorious — oh, heaven — glorious pleasure. Oh, you feel so good…"
"Like to be feeling a little better than this," Crowley said into Aziraphale's silky curls. "Let me get my hands on you, angel."
“Not yet, not yet,” Aziraphale gasped, his voice rising as his hips moved urgently. Crowley thought his thigh might burst into flame, Aziraphale was so hot against it. Crowley throbbed gently with contentment and endorphins as Aziraphale wrapped his own arms around him, working one hand between his back and the chair. Aziraphale laid his head down on Crowley’s chest, cheek rubbing with every thrust of his hips. “Oh, you gorgeous thing, you’ve made me so utterly wanton,” he panted. “I never knew I could be so wet.”
Crowley strained briefly against the ropes again and decided that, with a lapful of squirming, moaning angel, the frustration was tolerable. He hooked his left ankle around Aziraphale’s leg — the one that was between his — and dragged it a little higher, pressing his own cunt to Aziraphale’s thigh.
“You wily — o-ohh — old serpent,” Aziraphale laughed around a moan, pushing firmly against Crowley, the blunt pressure perfect against his sensitized clit. Aziraphale picked up the pace, breathing fast into Crowley’s chest. “I have so many more — oh my — delights planned for you — ahh —”
“You’re going to come,” Crowley said, what began as a statement of fact sliding into a command. He rocked against the sweaty mess of his angel, his voice raw and as sexy as he could make it. “You’re gonna come. Right now.”
“Aah, fuck!” Aziraphale cried, as he did just that, “Yes! Yes, yes!” Wriggling back and forth and squeezing Crowley’s leg and pushing his sweet fat thigh into Crowley’s aching cunt. Crowley’s cunt pulsed in delight, and his heart pulsed too. “Oh! Oh! Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale panted into his chest. “I didn’t — ha — I didn’t expect that to happen.”
"So, still controlling my orgasms, then, even if you can't control yours?" Crowley grinned at the breathy pout he received in reply, Aziraphale's laughing eyes twinkling through it. Crowley kissed his hair, his forehead, his temple as Aziraphale’s breath began to slow. "Or do I get to find out about this mysterious reward?"
"Ah, the reward, yes." Aziraphale looked thoughtful for a moment, and then his expression cleared and he climbed up to sit properly on Crowley's lap, taking his face in his hands. Crowley's cunt, which had been very interested in Aziraphale's orgasm, throbbed sadly at the loss of contact with his thigh. "You have done so well, my dear. You took so much pleasure, you told me what you liked, and you didn't come until I said you could. You were wonderful. So good. And you saw how much it pleased me, to please you."
Crowley had thought he couldn’t possibly blush any more today but apparently there were no limits to how hot Aziraphale could make him. He should expect it by now, but that was the thing: Aziraphale still kept him on his toes. Stars, Crowley loved him.
Aziraphale kissed him, slow and deep, and Crowley went slack under it and let Aziraphale once again lead the way. Aziraphale's tongue was tender, his lips nipping gently as they pulled away. "Anytime, angel," Crowley murmured. "Now tell me whatever mad erotic scheme you've worked out."
"Crowley!" Aziraphale laughed. "It's not a — well, I suppose I have been scheming, a bit. I've been thinking a good deal lately about how to give you all the things you like best —"
"I'm looking at 'em."
"And I've had an idea I think you'll like very much." He wound his arms around Crowley's neck. "I think we should try aethereal union and corporeal union at the same time."
It took a moment for Crowley to get a mental picture of what Aziraphale was talking about. Then the penny dropped. "Holy fuck."
"Well, yes, that's the idea," Aziraphale said dryly.
They had only met in aethereal union once. Crowley had begged for it. Aziraphale had been a different creature, after. For Crowley, it had been the deepest ecstasy he had ever known, a celebration of their love beyond anything the mortal plane could offer (and they were both big fans of the mortal plane). To do that while their bodies were locked together in pleasure? He had to have it. "But...don't we leave our corporations when we enter the aether? How…?"
"Yes, true simultaneity might not be possible. But we can —"
"Alternate." Crowley realized, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "You clever bastard."
Aziraphale smiled his clever bastard smile and Crowley's cunt throbbed. “I’m so glad you think so,” He slid one hand up Crowley’s neck into his hair and tugged gently, biting a rough kiss into his throat, “I did plan it all specially for you.”
Crowley’s skin fired up anew as Aziraphale’s hands wandered down to adjust the ropes, plucking at his nipples on the way. I’m the luckiest being that ever lived, Crowley thought to himself. And we haven’t even started yet. “Fuck me,” he said.
Aziraphale slid off his lap to stand in front of him, and without preamble he tossed Crowley’s legs over his shoulders, planted his hands under Crowley’s arse, and lifted his hips. Crowley’s chest and arms were still bound to the chair, but Aziraphale bore all the rest of his weight as easily as if he were a dinner plate. Crowley tended to forget how strong Aziraphale was, and then his angel would casually display it like this, almost always for erotic purposes, and Crowley would fall apart instantly.
“I have wanted this all day,” Aziraphale sighed, his cock manifesting hard and slick. He brought his hand to it, holding Crowley up on one splayed palm, and stroked Crowley’s clit with the fat tip. The gentle pressure made Crowley desperate. Nowhere near enough.
“Then give it to me.” Crowley swallowed. “Please.”
“If I were really the bastard you accuse me of being, I’d make you wait for it,” Aziraphale said, sliding his cock down to tease the entrance of Crowley’s cunt, “but I just can’t stand it any longer.” The thick heat of him pressed inside, pushing Crowley open, the perfect slick embrace forcing a moan out of both of them as he slid in to the hilt. Aziraphale’s fat cock made him ache the glorious ache of fullness, pressing against him firm and tender. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s eyes flutter shut, his head tip back and his face go slack with bliss. Then he felt Aziraphale’s fingers on his clit and slammed his own eyes shut.
“Gnuh,” he managed, and then “yessss,” as Aziraphale began to thrust.
“Oh, I love this. I love — uuhh — being inside you. It’s hard to want to go — aah — anywhere else.”
Crowley couldn’t go anywhere else; tied to the chair, his legs over Aziraphale’s shoulders, his arse gripped firmly in Aziraphale’s hand, and Aziraphale’s fucking majestic cock nailing his cunt over and over, he could barely move and didn’t want to. “Feel — so — good —”
“But I did — oh — promise you — divine ecstasy —”
“Fuck, angel —”
“And this way — aah — you can — be inside me, too —”
Point. In the aether, angels could open themselves to receive one another, to merge in bliss beyond any physical intimacy. The one time they’d done it, Aziraphale had taken Crowley wholly inside himself.
“Yes, yes, do it, do it!”
The ropes weren’t biting into him anymore. The gorgeous sensation of Aziraphale’s cock was gone, the pressure of his fingers, the grip of his hand. But Aziraphale was, and Crowley was, in non-space and non-time. They were, knowing one another.
They were already joined, Aziraphale’s wings wrapped around Crowley and the shimmering essence of him open, beating all around Crowley as he sang and shone and throbbed. He heard/saw/felt/knew all that Aziraphale was, all at once: his generosity and his greed, his compassion and his pettiness, his passion and his lust and his humor and his intelligence and his love of magic and people and cake and wine and music and art and literature and theater and Crowley Crowley Crowley beating back at him, love love love bright and dark shining into him —
Aziraphale thrust raggedly into his cunt as Crowley snapped back into the here and now of space and time, heart full. “Ah, my dearest!” Aziraphale cried, his fingers dancing on Crowley’s clit.
“Stars! Oh, angel —”
“You gorgeous creature!” Aziraphale fucked him slowly but with an unbelievable intensity, his cock harder than Crowley had ever felt it. Crowley bore down, clenching with all his strength.
“Do it again!”
The chiming glowing shadowplay that was Aziraphale opened further to Crowley as he keened and writhed against and inside him. Yes yes yes my love come to me be in me, Aziraphale uttered, beyond utterance. No words here, thought was one with the soul, with the purity of existence, action, connection. Yours yours yours always in you always in me, Crowley gave back, burrowing deep. Aziraphale clanged like a bell, great peals of joy.
“Yes, yes, yours, all of me, always!” Aziraphale shouted, thrusting faster as Crowley gripped the chair and felt the euphoria rising to an unbelievable peak, his clit burning with bliss under Aziraphale’s touch, his cunt gripping and desperate, open and wet and hungry and so, so gorgeously full of Aziraphale.
Aziraphale enclosed him completely. He was held, encompassed, safe and wanted and beloved. Crowley vibrated with adoration and delirium, cresting higher and higher until he screamed in rapture.
“My love! My love!” Aziraphale cried, as Crowley came like an electrical storm, wailing, thrashing, and trembling. Aziraphale’s cock swelled inside him as he sobbed out his own release. They hovered there a moment, panting. Then, shuddering, Aziraphale withdrew and lowered Crowley back to the chair.
Aziraphale felt weak and dazzled. Crowley took him in his arms instantly, miracling the ropes away. Aziraphale was shaking so badly that he let Crowley help him into the chair. Crowley got straight into his lap and kissed him thoroughly.
“I can bring the ropes back, if you’d like a turn,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale laughed breathlessly. “Perhaps some other time.” The idea had merit, certainly, although he would have to see about a more comfortable chair. “I’m a bit done in at the moment.” He drew his hand through Crowley’s hair and Crowley leant into it, then plucked Aziraphale’s hand off his head and kissed it. Then Crowley began to pet his hair. Which was rather nice, actually.
“That was…” Crowley began.
They breathed into the silence for a few minutes, Crowley with one arm around his shoulders, the other scrubbing at his scalp. Aziraphale let his heart rate begin to slow and the tension went out of his body as Crowley soothed him. "Don't need rewards, you know. You're my reward."
Aziraphale’s heart bloomed. Crowley proved every day in a thousand ways how much he loved and wanted Aziraphale, and then every once in a while he would say things like this, and Aziraphale could barely contain all he felt. "Always two steps ahead of me, my love. I realized today that I don't really want to reward you for being good to me. It's too" — he wrinkled his nose "transactional. What I want, and I hope you'll agree, is to go on loving you as much as I can, in as many ways as I can. Forever."
Aziraphale searched Crowley’s eyes and was surprised to find the shine of tears there. "Oh, is that what you want," Crowley said thickly.
"If it's all right with you, of course," Aziraphale returned, aching with devotion.
"I'll allow it," Crowley murmured, smiling just a bit as he tilted his head for a kiss.