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Saccharine (not even a whisper)

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Truth be told, Crowley had thought that dealing with his affliction would be easier once Aziraphale was aware of his feelings and he was free to act on them. He thought wrong.

At first, everything was fine. No, it was better than fine. It was like a dream. Crowley hadn't returned to his flat since he had received that strange call from Aziraphale, and he intended not to go back there for at least a month, if Aziraphale would let him. His plants knew better than to wilt, anyway.

That night, Aziraphale sat at his desk while Crowley poked around the shop. Searching through Aziraphale's record collection yielded the same, familiar results, and Crowley finally settled on a relatively new Best of Fred Astaire album he had gotten for Aziraphale just a few years ago on a whim. In a few short moments the bookshop was filled with upbeat music and Astaire's crooning.

Heaven, I'm in heaven. 

Crowley offered his hand out to Aziraphale, who readily took it with a warm smile.

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.

As Aziraphale began to stand, Crowley gave his hand a quick tug, sending the angel laughing and stumbling into his arms.

And I seem to find the happiness I seek.

Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphae's shoulder and began leading him in large circles around the room, keeping mindful of the precarious stacks of books laid out about the floor.

When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek.

The dance was not agile or graceful, the two of them trying to match completely different tempos to the one playing and Crowley's hips moving around far too much for a dance of this type, but it was also so them. They laughed as they stumbled around the room, tripping over each other's feet. The simplicity of just being here in this moment, together, felt so right, so perfect and Crowley's heart swelled to overflowing. He spun Aziraphale around in a quick, clumsy circle and Aziraphale gave a startled little yelp and gripped him tighter.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale said between chuckles as Crowley lowered him into a dip. "If you drop me, I swear-!" But his wide smile indicated his confidence that Crowley would never do such a thing.

"Don't worry, Angel," Crowley said, pulling him upright again. "I've got you."

"Two left feet is what you've got," Aziraphale replied, any possible sting from the words washed away by angel-soft lips pressing to Crowley's cheek. "You know," he said, casually changing the subject, "I knew Fred Astaire."

"Mmm?" Crowley intoned, not really all that interested. Astaire had been famous while he was still asleep. But the way Aziraphale was pressed against him, letting him feel every soft curve and the rumble of his voice within his chest made him desperate to keep him talking. They had slowed considerably, simply swaying together in a way that no longer even attempted to match the speed of the song.

"Mmhmm," Aziraphale hummed. "I taught him how to dance."

"How ni-" Wait . Crowley pulled back just enough to see twinkling eyes crinkled in mischief, and his favorite sweet-bastard grin playing on pink lips. Oh , how he loved this angel in his arms. "That is a bald-faced lie," he said with an air of faked sternness. 

Aziraphale's smile widened, making his cheeks perfectly round. "You almost believed it."

"Hmph," Crowley grunted, resting his chin back on Aziraphale's shoulder and tilting his head to press their cheeks together, as Astaire kept suggesting. "I did not."

"You did," Aziraphale, the First Liar, said gleefully. "You really did!"

"I did not," Crowley insisted. "You can't even dance." With their faces pressed so close, he could feel Aziraphale's mouth opening to protest. "The Gavotte doesn't count, it's out of style."

"Well, my dear…" Aziraphale adjusted the way he held him and before Crowley even knew what was happening, he was being lowered in a dramatic dip. "I can do this." 

It was nothing like the dip Crowley had done, where Aziraphale would have been able to catch himself if he should have fallen. Aziraphale held Crowley less than a foot off the ground, with no way to get his feet back under him. It was exhilarating. His arms, which had been clinging tightly to Aziraphale's neck at the sudden change in position, relaxed and he brought his hands around to smooth along the front of Aziraphale's waistcoat. This gesture of trust did not go unnoticed by Aziraphale, who smiled warmly.

He leaned down, blue eyes wide and full of excitement before fluttering shut as Crowley lifted his head and met him halfway, fingers tangled gently in Aziraphale's lapels. Their first kiss, and it was absolutely perfect.

Crowley's heart beat madly in his chest, so much love, so full. They broke apart, their lungs drawing in breaths out of need for the first time in their many millennia on earth. A slow smile spread across Crowley's face as Aziraphale lifted him with absolutely no effort and set him back on his feet. How wonderful. He felt warm and light, filled with so much love he felt he might burst.

He didn't even mean to say it, but, well… all that feeling had to go somewhere . He was looking at Aziraphale's brilliant smile, at his gorgeous eyes filled with an adoration that was entirely directed at Crowley and it bubbled up inside him, light and airy in his chest, a deceiving semblance of the thick, saccharine mess it would become.

He leapt away from Aziraphale as the twisted words erupted from his throat, making a distinct splat as they landed on the hardwood floor. 

Crowley stared at the mess he made, at the black sludge creeping slowly across the floorboards. His body moved on autopilot, backing him further and further away until he collided with one of Aziraphale's bookshelves. Some of the books jostled each other on the shelf, but luckily, none fell. 

Still, Aziraphale winced, more out of reflex than any actual fear for his books.

Crap. "I…" Two days, six hours. He hadn't even made it three whole days without breaking his promise to his angel, and then he had made a mess of his floor, he had made a mess of his bookshelves, he had made a mess of- Crap, crap, crap . He had made a mess of Aziraphale's waistcoat. Aziraphale' beloved waistcoat that he had worn since… since… Well, it hardly mattered now. It was destroyed. Just a single drop of corruption, small, yes, but unforgivable in Crowley's mind, marred the front of it, just below the breast pocket. 

"I… I'm so sorry," he croaked out. "I didn't mean to."

"Crowley, it's okay," Aziraphale said, stepping carefully around the puddle on the floor to approach him.

Crowley cringed. He hadn't noticed it, yet, then.  He inched slowly along the bookshelf. "I… I should…" He bolted, making his way out of the bookshop, hardly even hearing the little bell as it jingled upon his exit. He was a coward, but he couldn't bear to see Aziraphale's face once he realized what had happened.

The Bentley was parked outside the shop, and he scrambled inside, peeling away from the curb just as Aziraphale rushed out of the bookshop to try and stop him. A brief glance showed Aziraphale standing out on the pavement, looking upset.

"Idiot!" he shouted, hitting his hand on the top of the steering wheel. How stupid he had been to actually think he could make this work? A demon being allowed to love an angel? What a joke.

Before he even realized where he was going, he found himself pulled up along the curb outside his flat. He couldn't get out of the car, though, as he recalled his hope that he wouldn't return for a month and hating how absolutely silly it sounded now.

He didn't know how long he sat out there before a gentle tapping sounded against the passenger window. He looked up to see Aziraphale patiently waiting to be let in.Briefly, he considered just driving away again, but he did t want to spend the rest of his life hiding from Aziraphale. He leaned over and pulled up the lock.

Aziraphale climbed in and closed the door behind him.

There was silence for a few long minutes and eventually Crowley sighed and started the car. "Come on, Angel, I'll get you home."

The drive back to the book shop was silent, with out any of Azuraphale's usual anxious cries as Crowley sped through the streets. Soon enough, he parked outside the bookshop, staring at his steering wheel as he waited for Aziraphale to get out of the car.

Aziraphale didn't budge. "Please come back inside, Crowley."

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. He still hadn't noticed then.

"You don't know what I did," Crowley whispered "I ruined your-"

"Crowley, I'm well aware of what happened to the waistcoat," Aziraphale said gently. With an easy wave of his hand, the drop disappeared. "Is that better? Will you come in, now?"

It might have been. But Crowley remembered the paint ball. "But you'll always know it's there."

Aziraphale let out a huff of breath. "I hardly care about that. I'm not upset, Crowley. I promise. Come inside?"

Crowley looked at the bookshop in consideration. "You sure?" he mumbled. "Things spilling out of me, might mess up your books."

Aziraphale pretended to think about it.

"Then I'll simply have to egg your car so we'll be even," he answered with a smile that was not resting on his lips, but was dancing in his eyes and playing with his tone.

Ah . Right.

For all that Aziraphale was sweet and loving and good and kind, he was also a bastard.

Crowley’s bastard.

And this was the bastard he had fallen in love with.

Crowley’s lips quirked into a fragile smile. “You’re awful,” he said fondly as he climbed out of the car.

Aziraphale smirked. “You’re too kind, my darling.”

---

Crowley was more careful after that. The words still slipped out every once in a while, but he managed to keep them from spilling past his lips, keeping them contained in his mouth until he either swallowed them down or spat them out.

He was close to reaching his goal of staying away from his own flat for a month, and Aziraphale seemed more than happy to have him around, doting on him in a way Crowley had never received before.

It was everything Crowley could have ever hoped for and more.

Towards the end of the month, Crowley found himself on Aziraphale's bed (which he knew hadn't existed until roughly ten minutes ago,) with an eager angel straddling his lap.

Crowley gasped as Aziraphale focused his attention on his clavicle while deftly working the buttons of his shirt open with the hand that wasn't tangled in Crowley's hair. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've done this before."

Aziraphale chuckled against him. "I'll try not to take offense to that, dearest. And while I think it should go without saying, I assure you that I never felt for any of my past lovers the way I do for you."

After six thousand years, it did go without saying, but it was still nice to hear, and… wait.

"You have done this before?" He didn't know why he was surprised. Aziraphale always did have an unquenchable curiosity when it came to earthly pleasures.

Aziraphale pulled back warily. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh." Crowley would have been lying if he had said that he wasn't a little jealous. But that didn't mean he ever wanted to make Aziraphale feel bad about enjoying himself. "No!" he rushed to reassure. "No, Angel, of course not. It was just… unexpected, is all."

Aziraphale sniffed primly. "I don't see why."

Crowley let out a huff of laughter. "Well, yes, in hindsight it seems like it should have been obvious, given what you like and how you look."

Aziraphale raised his brows skeptically. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Crowley leaned in to give Aziraphale a small peck on his pouting lips. "Only that you've never been shy about your indulgences and that it's unsurprising that you've had offers, given how handsome you look."

Aziraphale blushed. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Of course," Crowley responded easily. "I've got eyes, don't I?"

Aziraphale smiled gently and reached up to gently brush his fingers across the slightly swollen mark he had left at the dip in Crowley's collarbone. "You hopeless romantic," he said idly, merely laughing at Crowley's sputters of protest before apparently deciding that Crowley's neck needed more attention and reapplying his lips to the love bite to put more work into it. "And what about you?"

"Wh-" How was he meant to hold a conversation when Aziraphale was doing that with his teeth? "What 'bout me?"

Aziraphale let out an exasperatedly fond huff of breath against Crowley's neck, causing  the demon to shiver. “We need to get these clothes off,” he said decisively, as he worked open the last button on Crowley’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Removing his pants, however, proved to be quite a bit more difficult, and a few seconds of useless tugging, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and they were both completely naked. He never was one to wait for his cocoa to cool before taking a sip.

“Fuck, Angel!” Crowley cried, completely overwhelmed at this new sensation of being skin to skin in their most intimate areas.

Aziraphale gently lay Crowley on his back as he mouthed along Crowley shoulder. “I assume you’ve done this before?"

“Done what?” Crowley gasped out, finding it incredibly unfair that Aziraphale could apparently maintain a conversation while he, meanwhile, was hopelessly lost to all these sensations.

Aziraphale pulled back to look down at him with an amused smile. “Good heavens, dear, but you’re dense when you're aroused.”

Crowley gave only a token cry of protest, trying to tug Aziraphale back down to meet his lips. When the angel didn’t budge he let out a helpless whine.

This! I’m asking if you’ve done this before,” Aziraphale explained getsuring between them.

Aziraphale still wasn’t kissing him and there was something so wrong about that. “With you?” Crowley asked in confusion.

Aziraphale gave him a flat look. “No, sweetheart, I should think I wouldn’t need to ask if I’ve done it with you. With anyone.” 

Aziraphale’s fingers began idly playing with Crowley’s nipples as he waited for a response, and judging by the glint in his eye, he was well aware that he wasn’t making Crowley’s task of answering any easier. He gave one a small pinch when he began to take too long and Crowley keened.

“N-no,” Crowley gasped out. “Would’ve been no point without you.”

Aziraphale’s attention to Crowley’s chest stilled.

"You mean-" Aziraphale swallowed and licked his lips as his cheeks grew flaming red. "You mean I'm the first one to have the privilege of having you…" His eyes roamed up and down Crowley's body hungrily and Crowley's cock twitched at the the attention, a fact that definitely did not go unnoticed by Aziraphale whose eyes instantly snapped to it with a sharp inhale. "...Having you like this?"

How absolutely ridiculous that he could look so embarrassed while simultaneously looking at Crowley like he was the last pastry in the case and he was willing to beat the woman in line in front of them with her own handbag if she even thought about ordering it (a true story, one that Crowley would never let him live down,) but that was Aziraphale for you.

Crowley nodded against the mattress. 

Aziraphale’s eyes burned as he licked his lips again. “Well,” he said, leaning down to finally recapture Crowley’s mouth. “We’ll start simple, then.”

“Sssimple?”

Aziraphale nodded. “If it’s alright with you, I should very much like to taste you.”

Crowley’s brain short circuited at that. “Uh…”

“Is that okay?” Aziraphale asked, angling his head to look Crowley in the eyes.

“Yep!” Crowley squeaked. “That would be…” Language was very hard with Aziraphale looking at him from under his gorgeous blond eyelashes like that. “Tickety… boo…?”

Aziraphale smiled, and began kissing his way down Crowley’s body without any further preamble before taking Crowley entirely in his mouth with one smooth motion.

It was an embarrassingly short amount of time before Crowley was a mewling mess.

"A-Aziraphale," he whimpered. "Aziraphale."

Aziraphale slipped Crowley out of his mouth and took him in his hand. "It's okay," he said,l grinding down against the bed. "It's okay, you can come." He gasped. "I'm close, too.

"N-no, that's not- fuck- that's not it." He flat out refused to come until, "C-can you- Az-Aziraphale, ca-can you- nghh- inside m-me?"

Aziraphale let out a long moan at that. "Are you sure?"

Crowley let out a broken 'fuck' at the desperation in Aziraphale's voice. "Yes! Inside me, please, p-please, please." He whined deep in his throat as Aziraphale reached down and rubbed a slick finger around his hole. “Just miracle it!”

Aziraphale chuckled. “My, my. You’re usually much more patient than this.”

Aziraphale!

Crowley thought he might explode if Aziraphale wasn’t inside him within the next minute. Lucking, Aziraphale was apparently lacking in patience, too and with a snap of his fingers Crowley found himself wet and much more relaxed in a place that had never been before.

Aziraphale lifted Crowley by the hips and very carefully lowered him onto his lap so that he was sitting on his cock while still facing him. “J-Just-” Aziraphale moaned. “Just give me a minute.” 

It was seeing Aziraphale like this that did it. Crowley stared at Aziraphale, at his eyelids gently closed in pleasure, at his parted lips red from use, at the sweat coating his brow and clinging to disheveled curls. He looked completely undone.

It fell out in a whispered moan, the slick oily substance escaping past his lips instead of the words he wanted to say. It splashed down his front, dripping from his chin to his chest and onto the sheets. Onto Aziraphale, too, he realized, who was already stroking his cheek and telling him it was alright. 

Shame boiled up hot within his gut as his dick softened. He at least had the presence of mind to be careful as he slid Aziraphale out of him before he crossed the room to the bathroom and shut the door, ignoring Aziraphale’s desperate ‘Crowley, wait!’ as he went. 

He pressed his back to the wood and slid to the floor, the tile a cold shock on his bare, flushed skin. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, even as more of his hideous love dripped past his lips and down his front. 

He wouldn’t cry. Somebody-damn-it-all, but he wouldn’t cry.

A gentle knock sounded from the other side of the door, followed by Aziraphale’s voice. “Crowley? Can I come in?”

Of course. He’d made a mess of his angel, spat his hideous feelings all over him, and then selfishly barricaded himself in the bathroom. Aziraphale probably wanted to get that crap off of him as quickly as possible, and here he was feeling sorry for himself in the room with the washing facilities.

When Aziraphale got no answer right away, he tried again. “Crowley?”

Crowley wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands in a futile attempt to hide his tears. He scooted to the side so that he was no longer blocking the door and cleared his throat. “It’s open.”

Aziraphale opened the door slowly, his eyes casting round the room until he finally looked behind where the door opened and found him. He stepped into the small room still completely nude and shut the door behind him with a soft click. Instead of going straight for the sink or the bath as Crowley had expected, he just stood his hands half-extended as if he couldn’t decide whether to reach for Crowley or wring them together in his typical way.

Now that Crowley had a good look, he realized that he had gotten more of the slick substance on Aziraphale than he had thought. It was smeared down his chest, across that gorgeous round belly, besmirching his beautiful form. The pained sound that escaped him was involuntary, and he slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to contain it. 

Aziraphale’s face crumpled. “Oh, Crowley.” He knelt down in front of him. 

Crowley couldn’t even look him in the eye, and his gaze drifted down, accidentally landing on Aziraphale’s Effort which he was surprised to find was still mostly hard. How was that even possible after what had just happened?

Aziraphale noticed him looking and cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling a hand towel down from the counter to cover himself.

"How are you not disgusted?" Crowley asked miserably.

"Why would I be?" Aziraphale asked.

"Because!" Crowley cried out raising his hand to his head and burying his face in his knees. "Because- because i-it's hideous! It's- it's- it's filthy, it's grotesque, it's-"

"Don't say that!" Aziraphale said it so sharply that Crowley couldn't help but look up. Aziraphale looked furious, angry tears falling down his cheeks. "It's your love , Crowley!" Aziraphale wiped the back of his hand across his face to get rid of the tears, then raised his fingers to Crowley's cheek to begin wiping those away, too. "It's your love, and it doesn't matter how it comes out looking, it's still your love. How could I possibly be disgusted by that?"

Oh. "Well, when you put it that way…" Crowley mumbled, then trailed off.

Aziraphale placed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up," he said, climbing to his feet and pulling Crowley up with him. 

"What about you?" Crowley asked, still not quite able to make eye contact.

"Oh, I'll happily join you, my dear," Aziraphale said as he began to fill the bathtub. Crowley's eyes finally snapped to Aziraphale's to find the angel smirking seductively at him. "If that's what you want, that is."

" Yesss ," Crowley hissed out, suddenly desperate for it as he felt his blood once again rushing down. "Yes, I want."

Aziraphale chuckled merrily as he suddenly found himself with a very eager demon pressed to his side. "Just a second. Let me-" Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the tub was filled. He finally dropped the hand towel he was covering himself with, revealing a completely different set of genitals.

"Now that's a magic trick I can agree with." Crowley looked down at himself. "Should I switch, too?" he asked.

"Only if you want to, darling," Aziraphale replied easily as he settled in the tub.

It took a little more concentration than usual, and Crowley wasn't sure that he'd done it exactly right, but pretty soon he was climbing into the tub with Aziraphale, letting the angel arrange them so that his back was pressed against Aziraphale's chest.

Crowley groaned in frustration when Aziraphale actually started washing them, using a soft sponge to rub soap all over their bodies instead of just the places covered with Crowley's love. 

"Patience, my dear," Aziraphale said teasingly, gently massaging the soap into Crowley's skin until he was satisfied. 

It did feel nice, so Crowley calmly waited until Aziraphale rinsed them both off before he tried to turn in the Angel's lap to get to the good part. However, Aziraphale's arm around his waist unexpectedly held him still. "Ah, ah, dearest," he chided gently. "Allow me." And finally, finally Crowley let out a hushed moan as Aziraphale's fingers gently ran through his folds.

Soon enough, he was able to slide one finger in while his thumb worked at Crowley's clitoris. Behind him, Crowley could feel Aziraphale doing the same to himself as he moved slowly against him.

"See?" Aziraphale said huskily into his ear as some of the water sloshed over the side of the tub. "I don't mind making a mess."

"Oh, my God," Crowley moaned out, both mortified by the joke and excited by the implications.

"Hmm," Aziraphale intoned with a bit of disappointment. "I would have hoped that it should be 'oh, my Angel.'"

"Ffffu-" Crowley let out a broken cry that was half-sob and Aziraphale shushed him comfortingly, offering words of reassurance that were made that much sweeter when they broke with sounds of pleasure. “Shh, you’re okay, d- ahh -arling. I-I’ve got you. Just let yo- ohh -urself relax and feel. Can you- oh! Can you do that for me?”

His hand continued to move at that same unhurried, steady pace and Crowley nodded, melting even further in Aziraphale’s embrace as he let himself be brought slowly but surely closer and closer towards some still-distant peak. He closed his eyes and Aziraphale’s gentle and constant rocking against him carried him into a serene, pleasure-filled haze, the angel’s sweet little ‘mm’s and ‘ahh’s the only thing grounding him in reality. 

A few more minutes in, his legs began to shake just so, and Crowley could tell that he was almost there, until Aziraphale started trembling behind him, gasping as he curled against his back. Aziraphale's hand stilled as he cried out, but it hardly mattered. Just hearing Aziraphale fall apart sent Crowley's arousal surging so that he followed Aziraphale right to that edge.

When he came, clenching around Aziraphale's fingers with rhythmic spasms, it was to the sound of Aziraphale's voice in his ear, sweeter than any heavenly choir.

---

It was soon decided that they should move in together, to their own place. After months of searching, they finally settled on a sweet little cottage along the coast that included several built-in bookshelves and a large garden area just waiting for someone to come along and put it to good use.

But as they unpacked their boxes, something changed. Aziraphale stopped saying the words. It was especially strange because he introduced Crowley to all their neighbors as his spouse, giving off a little happy wiggle and pleased grin as he did so.

But still. Everytime he looked like he wanted to tell Crowley that he loved him, he would change the subject instead. His eyes still held the same warmth and live, but his lips said a different story.

He'd lean in like he wanted to kiss him but divert at the last second, placing it on Crowley's cheek instead.

Crowley didn't know what to do.

One evening, as Aziraphale was leaning in to place yet another kiss on his cheek, Crowley turned his head and captured Aziraphale's lips in a searing kiss. "Is this-" He landed another kiss that Aziraphale leaned into desperately. "-Okay?"

This time, it was Aziraphale who initiated,  grabbing the back of Crowley's head to slip his fingers through his hair and pull him forward. "Yes," he breathed out on a sigh of relief.

Crowley melted under Aziraphale's touch. His angel did still want him, then. That was okay. They could figure this out. But first…

He broke away with a gasp that turned to a soft whimper when Aziraphale instead preoccupied his mouth with Crowley's neck. "Bedroom?"

Aziraphale paused, and for a brief, horrifying moment, Crowley thought he would say 'no,' but Aziraphale nodded and begin tugging him towards the stairs while kissing along Crowley's jaw and down his throat.

As soon as they made it upstairs (Crowley's shirt somehow having gotten lost somewhere along the way,) and inside their shared bedroom, Crowley took charge and gently wrapped his fingers around Aziraphale's upper arms and carefully maneuvered him to the bed. When his knees hit the mattress, Aziraphale's eyes shot open and a surprised sound escaped him as he sat down heavily. Despite the change in position, Crowley refused to relinquish his claim on Aziraphale's lips, moving with him so that he was leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of him on the bed.

He stayed there a moment, just revelling in the movement of Aziraphale’s lips against his own and the sweet musical notes of delight that spilled from Aziraphale’s mouth into his. With his leg between Aziraphale’s knees he could feel the angel’s erection straining through his pants. Crowley shifted slightly, providing some barely-there friction to the place Aziraphale wanted it most and Aziraphale raised his hips to grind against him desperately. 

If Crowley could not pray his devotion to Aziraphale out loud, he would worship him on his knees, instead. He gave Aziraphale one last kiss, tugging his bottom lip gently between his teeth before he slithered to the floor.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered as Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale’s still-clothed cock with his nose, and, oh, that was the sound he wanted to hear, even though it didn’t come with the words. It was a balm to his aching soul, a sweet sense of relief and Crowley would take what he could get.

He had wanted to take his time, unwrap Aziraphale slowly like a present, but he needed to hear more of that love, want, and adoration spilling from angel lips, and at that moment, his desire-addled brain could come up with only one surefire way to make that happen.

His fingers moved to the buttons of Aziraphale’s pants, floundering in his eagerness. Aziraphale’s hands came to rest over his own, stilling them. Crowley looked up to find Aziraphale looking down at him, the most beautiful flush spread across his face.

“Dearest,” he said gently. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to pleasure me to show me how much you care, I already know.”

“But, I want to,” Crowley said, and he did. This was about more than needing to show Aziraphale that he loved him, this was about making Aziraphale feel as happy as he made Crowley every day. Crowley needed, wanted desperately to give that to him, to try to convey to Aziraphale that his love for him was not dependent on Aziraphale loving him back. That it would be given freely, without expectation of reciprocation, just like this pleasure he was about to give him. "Please let me, I want to."

If it came with Aziraphale’s whispered words of affection, that was merely a bonus.

Finally, after what felt like ages to Crowley’s anxious mind, Aziraphale nodded, giving him permission to continue, and Crowley resumed his efforts at opening Aziraphale’s trousers. After a few more moments of Crowley fumbling with the buttons, Aziraphale gently moved his hands away and opened them himself. The angel’s eyes were shining with anticipation as he adjusted himself in his boxers and pulled out his swollen and flushed cock without even lowering his pants. Crowley hadn't gotten a good look at it before, their lovemaking sessions usually going fast and needy before he inevitably ruined them, and he rectified that now, taking a moment to just admire how round and thick and perfect it was, just like his angel.

There was something about this level of dress, with only Aziraphale’s desire fully exposed while the rest of him remained perfectly prim and proper that made Crowley tremble with need. But this was not about him. This was about his angel.

Crowley took in a deep breath to steady himself, and when he exhaled, Aziraphale let out a soft whimper as Crowley’s breath ghosted over his bare flesh and a bit of pre-cum beaded at the tip. Seeing Aziraphale react to something so simple as a breath sent a bolt of desire directly to his groin and he formed a delicate ‘o’ with his lips and gently blew on the head of Aziraphale’s member, deliberately this time. A low moan grew deep in Aziraphale’s chest, rising to a throaty hum as Crowley followed it up with a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip. Oh, what a sound. Crowley would gladly die for that sound.

He placed a delicate kiss on the shaft where it met Aziraphale’s curls, then another right above it. He pressed all of the things he felt but couldn’t say into soft, velvety skin, and Aziraphale shuddered above him, his hands moving to tangle in Crowley’s hair as he finally, mercifully placed a kiss on the tip before enveloping it with his mouth.

Aziraphale sang.

Crowley tried to remember what all Aziraphale had done to him, and folded his lips over his teeth as he took Aziraphale’s cock deeper in his mouth, hoping he was doing it right.

He seemed to be doing well enough, if the noises Aziraphale was making were any indication, and as he bobbed his head up and down, take Aziraphale deeper each time, he put his lips and tongue to work trying to discover what made Aziraphale make the sweetest sounds.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley hollowed his cheeks. His eyes fluttered shut as he tipped his head back and let the praises fall from his tongue without abandon. “Oh, Crowley. Ohh, you’re amazing, my dearest, so, so good to me,” Aziraphale was becoming less coherent, babbling in disjointed sentences, and Crowley adored it. Aziraphale was close, Crowley could tell, and he swallowed, letting the muscles in his throat push Aziraphale farther along. “Oh- heavens, Crowley. I-I love you.”

And there it was. That was what Crowley needed, those words falling from those lips, and oh, but it was even more perfect than he remembered. Crowley moaned happily and moved his head back and forth in shallow thrusts, getting in one, two, three, until suddenly he felt hands pushing at his head and he pulled off of Aziraphale with an audible ‘pop.’ 

“I'm sorry,” Aziraphale wailed, burying his face in his hands as Crowley sat up. “I didn't mean to!”

“Wh-” Crowley coughed. His throat hurt. “Wha-What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to say it, my darling, I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale lowered his hands, looking absolutely ashamed. "Please forgive me."

Crowley was still lost. “Didn’t mean-” Oh. The words. “...You didn’t?” So Aziraphale had been avoiding them. “...Why-" His voice cracked. Was he crying? Fuck, he was crying. "Why won’t you say them?”

Aziraphale looked confused. “I… You can’t say them, so I thought- I- I thought-”

“You thought what?!” Crowley said, his voice coming out high and hysterical.

“I thought you didn't want me to, either,” Aziraphale answered weakly. “Whenever I said it, you looked like you were in so much pain.”

He had been in pain. Crowley remembered each time he had wanted to say 'I love you, too,' but had to bite his tongue to stem the words. It had hurt so much. How was he supposed to know that not hearing them at all would be even worse?

But that was it? That was the only reason? Did that mean that Aziraphale still… That he still… “I- I thought- I thought you- I thought you didn’t-” He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing the few errant tears that slipped through until he felt soft, warm hands on his face, wiping them away.

“Oh, Crowley-” Aziraphale’s face was anguished when he opened his eyes again. “Crowley, no! Of course I still love you. How could I do anything but love you? Oh, I've made an awful mess of this, haven't I?"

"And the kissing?"

Aziraphale pressed his lips gently to Crowley's. "You have a tendency to say it after we kiss, darling. I just didn't want to upset you. I'm sorry."

"Then you still…?"

"I still love you, Crowley. So , so much."

“Please say it?” Crowley was ashamed to realize he was begging. “You don’t have to say it a lot, just every once and awhile, please .”

“Oh, Crowley, I-”

“I know it’s not fair for me to ask, I know it’s selfish, I know I don’t deserve to hear it when I can’t even repeat it, but-”

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley!” Aziraphale cut him off and held Crowley’s face between his hands. “Crowley, dearest, no! It’s not selfish to ask for things you want, it’s not unfair to want to hear it. This isn’t your fault, Crowley, and I promise you, that you deserve to be loved, you deserve to feel loved, and Crowley, I love you, I do, and I will say it as many times as you want me to.”

“But I can’t-”

Aziraphale placed a finger on his lips. “You make me feel loved, Crowley. You’ve made me feel loved since Eden, with everything you do, everything you are.”

Crowley let out a deep breath. “Then…?"

Aziraphale smiled. “Crowley, I love you.”

Crowley surged forward to pepper kiss after kiss after kiss on Aziraphale's cheeks, his forehead, his hair, his nose, his chin until Aziraphale was laughing, joyful, bright, and beautiful. 

"Are we okay, then?" Aziraphale asked, grabbing Crowley's face to still it so he could return the favor.

Of course they were okay. They were always okay. "On one condition," Crowley said.

"Anything," Aziraphale breathed out.

"Let me finish what I started." When Aziraphale pulled back in confusion, Crowley gave a pointed look down at his groin.

Aziraphale blushed. "O-oh!"

"Only if you want to," Crowley hurried to add. He didn't want Aziraphale to feel pressured to accept.

"Oh, my love," Aziraphale sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. " Please ."

A low noise filled the room, which Crowley realized was coming from him. Aziraphale begging. That was something he had never even thought about. "Say it again."

"I love you," Aziraphale said with a gentle smile. "I love you so much."

Crowley shook his head. "I mean yes, that, but also…"

"Please?" Aziraphale clarified and then moaned as Crowley slipped back to his knees. "Please." It only took a few swipes of his tongue before Aziraphale was fully hard again. "Please, Crowley, please, I love you, please," he continued to beg, dissolving into a long drawn out moan as Crowley swallowed him down.

“I love you, I love you, Crowley! I love you, ” Aziraphale chanted, making up for all the times in the past week and a half that he hadn’t said it, and then, once that was settled, every time in the past six thousand years.

As he pulled his head back, pressing his tongue against the underside of the shaft, Aziraphale bucked his hips, shoving himself deep into Crowley's throat. He immediately pulled back with half a dozen apologies already forming on his lips, but Crowley grabbed him by the hips to pull him back forward, indicating what he wanted Aziraphale to do.

Aziraphale hesitated, then slowly thrust into his mouth again. Crowley's deep moan of pleasure seemed to decide it for him, and he carefully held Crowley's head in place. "Tap my hip twice if you want to stop. Promise me."

Crowley managed an earnest nod, and Aziraphale's fingers curled into his hair as he began moving.

Aziraphale fucked his face hard and fast but cradled Crowley's head in his hands with the utmost gentleness, like Crowley was something precious. Crowley knew he could probably finish like this, with Aziraphale taking his pleasure from him while also managing to make him feel cherished, but his cock was straining too tight in his jeans and needed to be released. Once he got one hand around himself, he moaned deeply and didn't want to let go. 

Aziraphale let out a string of unintelligible syllables as Crowley's voice rumbled around him, and seeing Aziraphale so unhinged (while still fully dressed, and fuck that was hot,) made Crowley thrust inelegantly into his own fist.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stopped. Crowley looked up to find him staring down, not at his face, but at his cock hanging flushed and full between his legs. Aziraphale gave an involuntary outwards flex of his fingers and Crowley realized that, no, he wasn't looking at his cock. He was looking at the hand wrapped around it. Crowley tested this theory by giving himself a languid, twisting pull, maintaining eye contact with Aziraphale all the while. 

Aziraphale let out a suppressed whimper, and the next thing Crowley knew he was being tugged to his feet and into Aziraphale's lap. Aziraphale wrapped one miraculously slick hand around them both, pumping his fist up and down with just the right precision to make Crowley see stars.

Just as Crowley was beginning to worry that he might say the words, Aziraphale kissed him hard, greedily drinking down all sounds before they passed Crowley's lips. With Aziraphale holding his mouth's attention there was no chance of any accidental love confessions, and the full-body wave of relief that washed through Crowley was enough to make him come.

Aziraphale followed shortly after, and Crowley felt oddly pleased as both of their releases dropped down his stomach.

After a few long moments of being slumped together trying to catch their breath, Aziraphale pressed a cool glass to Crowley's lip. "Drink."

As he swallowed the cold water down gratefully, it didn't escape his notice that Aziraphale's outfit remained spotless. He snorted. "Nice use of a miracle, there," he croaked.

'Well, it's hardly like I'm audited on them anymore," Aziraphale said defensively.

Crowley grimaced. "I hope not. I'd really hate for some kind of 'loosened the demon Crowley's butthole with a miracle' memo to pass across the 'Archangel fucking Gabriel's' desk.

Aziraphale looked suspiciously thoughtful. "I don't know. I think I should quite like to see the look on his face."

Crowley snickered. "How about 'miracled angel jizz off of the demon Crowley?'"

"Please don't call it that," Aziraphale said primly. He waved a hand and sent the entire mess away.

"'Love juice?'" Crowley offered.

Aziraphale hit him with a pillow.

Crowley laughed, even as his eyelids grew heavy and he tucked the pillow beneath his head. "Stay with me?" he mumbled with a yawn.

He needn't have asked though, as Aziraphale, now clad in tartan pajamas, was already settling in next to him. Throwing an arm over Crowley's waist, he pulled the demon closer so that he could whisper into his ear. "Always, my dear. I love you."