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Aziraphale held onto the edges of the wooden table for dear life. Roughly, Crowley entered his hot wet channel up to the hilt with a greedy growl. He slid home with one smooth move, angling his hips just so that his cock hit the angel’s sweet spot exactly and his loin area perfectly rubbed over the sensitive swollen clit.
“Aziraphale,” he moaned as he snapped his hips. “You’re so tight, so wet, so perfect!”
“Oh, Crowley!” was all Aziraphale could say when the demon above him moved in and out, dancing on the thin line between brutal and passionate so elegantly.
The demon used his left hand to pin Aziraphale’s wrists above his head. With the other he grabbed the white blond curls to pull the angel’s head back and bare his throat. Through lust hazed eyes he stared possessively at the dark red bite mark he had left there and leaned down to let his forked tongue swirl around the bruised area.
With a few more vicious thrusts aimed at that special spot, Crowley made sure that Aziraphale would be pliant. Then let go of his wrists and hair. Using his newly freed hands, he roamed over the soft body, grabbing, scratching, bruising, claiming.
“Say it, angel!” he demanded, pushing in as hard and deep as he could.
“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed, pursing his lips to hide the smirk that threatened to form on his face.
“Say it!” Crowley repeated, his nostrils flared, teeth bared, golden irises nothing but small fiery rings around blown-out pupils.
“Whatever…ah… do you… mean, daaarling?” Aziraphale pressed out breathlessly, still fighting the smug grin playing around the corners of his mouth.
“Who’s in charge here, angel?” Crowley demanded, coming to a halt and staring at the angel with a dark expression.
“Well, my dear, I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said in his sweetest voice. “But if you have to ask, it’s probably not you.”
With an angry snarl, Crowley dug one hand deep into the pale flesh of Aziraphale’s ass while the other found its way in his hair again. Draping his body over the angel’s, the demon buried his face in the bruised throat and started to suck.
The burning and stinging sensation felt exquisite and Aziraphale moaned loudly while squirming helplessly under his lover. Crowley let go of the sensitive flesh to whisper in the angel’s ear.
“Who is in charge?” he asked again in a low tone, his breath tickling along Aziraphale’s skin. “Who do you belong to?”
Aziraphale, breath ragged and face flushed, bit his lip and remained silent. But one particularly hard thrust had him gasping for air. Smirking, Crowley grabbed the broad hips of his lover and pulled them towards his own, pushing up at the same time. He increased his speed until he reached a punishing pace that he knew was no punishment at all.
Once again, Crowley had Aziraphale walking on the tightrope between ‘just right’ and ‘too much’. Adjusting the angle once more, the demon made his partner keen and wail.
He repeated, “Who?”
“You!” Aziraphale cried out. “Only you! You are in charge and I belong to you!”
“Yesssss!” Crowley hissed after hearing the words.
The possessive noises coming from his demonic lover, combined with the now frantic movements, pushed Aziraphale over the edge. Crowley was not far behind. Crying out his angel’s name, he spilled his essence deep inside the tight channel that kept clenching around him through his climax.
Catching their breath, Aziraphale and Crowley still clung to each other for a moment before disentangling. The demon gently kissed the marks he had left, causing content sighs to escape the angel’s lips.
“We definitely should do this more often,” he purred.
“As lovely as this was, I’d prefer the bed next time, dear,” Aziraphale smiled. “My back is killing me.”
“Oh, sorry!” Crowley scrambled up and gently helped the angel to his feet. “Right now I’m not even sure how we ended up here…”
Both scratched their heads. Through the fog of the afterglow, they tried to remember what had led to them having sex in the middle of the day on the kitchen table. Spotting the grocery bags, standing neglected on the corner, Aziraphale’s face lit up.
“Right!” he said. “We were talking, you grabbed me and bit me and then…one thing led to another.”
“Yeees,” Crowley grinned. “I had to shut you up because you wouldn’t stop whining.”
Aziraphale huffed with indignation.
“I was not ‘whining’, dearest,” he insisted. “I tried – in vain of course – to enlighten you about the advantages of following the laws of traffic, particularly the speed limits. That old lady you almost ran over might very well report you to the police. Not that this would be necessary since you cut out the middle man by almost ramming a police car while overtaking it! One really might think you WANT to…”
Crowley drowned Aziraphale out. He still heard the sweet voice chattering on in the background, but he no longer listened to the words. Proudly and possessively, he let his eyes wander over the various red and purple bruises he had left on his angel’s light skin with teeth and hands. Finally his gaze landed on the especially prominent bite mark on the right side of the milky white throat. Only vaguely aware of the fact that Aziraphale kept talking, Crowley raised his brow as he realized that the skin on the left side of said throat was still unscarred and flawless. Grinning, he stepped closer.
“…us no longer miracling but buying the things we need only makes sense if you don’t break half of it on the drive home and… Crowley! Are you even listening?” Tone and look as condescending as possible, Aziraphale put his hands on his hips. He raised them in defense as soon as he saw Crowley’s predatory stare aimed at the unharmed side of his throat.
“Oh no!” he said, slowly stepping back while the demon sauntered closer. “You are going to listen! Like adults we…oops!”
Aziraphale hit the kitchen counter. Crowley lost no time and pushed the broad legs apart to stand between them. Pressing his body against Aziraphale’s, he forced the angel to lean back and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. Then he brought his lips to Aziraphale’s ear.
“Sorry, angel,” he whispered. “Looks like I missed a spot.”
When the hot breath rushed over his skin, a shudder went through Aziraphale’s body.
“I really must insist that you…,” he began, almost managing to sound authoritative, unfortunately having the effect destroyed by his knees giving out.
Crowley caught him.
“Hmm?” he just hummed with a smirk.
“We’re not going to discuss this now, are we?” Aziraphale asked in resignation as he saw Crowley staring at the unmarked spot of skin on his throat.
Crowley did not answer. He just licked his lips.
The End