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A dear friend of mine

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Golden eyes narrowed as they peeked through the large window. The men inside who had been performing their ridiculous dance and now were congratulating each other with hugs and little pecks, were unaware of his presence. Crowley had made sure of this. The club members were very keen on their privacy – for understandable reasons – but Crowley had neither the time nor the patience to gain a high ranking member’s trust, appeal for membership and wait for approval.

After his fight with Aziraphale he had taken a little nap, only a few decades mind you, and awoke to the rumors that Mr. Fell was part of an illustrious group of “confirmed bachelors”.

This revelation had surprised him as much as his own reaction to it. His usually controllable demonic side had lifted its ugly head and released a furious roar that still echoed through his soul. And now that he saw Aziraphale between the handsome fellows of the club, Crowley’s blood began to boil again. The want that had taken seed in Eden and had grown over time was now in full bloom.

Determined, Crowley marched towards the main entrance and walked through the building unbothered, into the room he had observed from outside. Now that he pushed the double leaf door open, the veil hiding him fell and all eyes were on him. He was too angry to experience regret as he saw the fear in the younger men’s faces and too focused on his angel to care for the elders’ anger.

Aziraphale reacted fast, the surprise on his face fading within the fracture of a second.

“No need for panic, gentlemen,” he spoke in his soft and kind voice. A voice that usually put Crowley at ease, but now only made it harder to stop himself from grabbing Aziraphale and dragging him away from those humans.

“This is Mr. Crowley, a dear friend of mine,” Aziraphale continued and added with a mischievous smile:  “The only thing to be alarmed about him is his lack of manners.”

The club members relaxed, relief in their faces. But Crowley felt the wave of disappointment washing over several men when Aziraphale called Crowley his “dear friend”, even though he was sure that the naïve angel had no idea what message he was sending with that phrase. But he would gladly play along in the game Aziraphale did not know he had started.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said with a saccharine smile that showed too many teeth. “But I need to borrow the good Mr. Fell for… important business.”

The pointed look he cast into the group was understood by the men who unconsciously put some distance between themselves and Aziraphale. The angel visibly did not notice, but still gave Crowley an understanding nod, apparently convinced this was about their agreement. While Crowley was annoyed about Aziraphale’s cluelessness, he was also relieved that Aziraphale obviously did not consider the Arrangement obsolete after their fight.

Together they walked out of the room and Crowley reveled in the lust, the envy and the rage that followed them. His whole demeanor said “back off, he is mine” and every single man, except Aziraphale, saw and understood.

Crowley held the beast inside him in check as they walked to Aziraphale’s shop. But as soon as the door was locked behind them, he grabbed the angel’s shoulders, his fingers digging harshly into the soft flesh through the layers of elegant clothing.

“What the Heaven are you doing?” he hissed. “Telling me I’ll get you in trouble with Upstairs and then you join these people?”

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide in surprise, but there was no fear in the deep blue orbs.

“Really, Crowley,” he said in an indignant tone, looking at his attire. “My tailor put a lot of love, time and effort in these. Don’t ruin them.”

“He put love in these, huh?” Crowley grumbled, letting go reluctantly. “He a member of that club, too?”

With furrowed brows Aziraphale tried visibly hard to follow Crowley’s line of thought. And failed.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “Why were you so hostile at the club?”

Oh, so he had noticed.

“It’s not that they liked me very much,” Crowley said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure they hated me.”

“Whyever could that be?” Aziraphale said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “For some mysterious reason you seem to have that effect on people.”

Shaking his head, he turned his back to Crowley and went to his backroom, probably to get beverages. Crowley took the time to have a look around the shop. He had not seen it from the inside yet and had to admit it was very Aziraphale. Old-fashioned but charming, organized in an unfathomable but most likely smart way and full of knowledge.

When Aziraphale came back and handed him a drink, Crowley had almost calmed down. Now he had his angel all to himself. Had Aziraphale kept quiet, Crowley might have dropped the topic as well. But of course that did not happen.

“Maybe you should come with me next time,” Aziraphale smiled brightly. “I’m sure if you behave yourself, maybe apologise…”

“Apologissse?” Crowley hissed, stepping closer to Aziraphale again. “For what? Getting you out of their clutches? Spoiling whatever dirty plan they had?”

Aziraphale looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

“What are you talking about?” he asked once more. “These are very nice men. They have no clutches or dirty plans.”

“You know what kind of club that is, right, angel?” Crowley said. “Even you are not that dense.”

“Of course, I know this,” Aziraphale said sharply. “It’s a place where these men can be themselves for a while. A little haven of love, comfort and understanding in a society that shuns them for who they are. I thought you of all people would understand!”

Damn, there it was. That fire in Aziraphale’s heart that was so easily forgotten due to the soft exterior, but could burn so high and hot in the face of cruelty and injustice. For a moment shame overshadowed the rage inside Crowley.

“Of course, I understand,” he said softly. “And I’m glad these men have a place to be themselves for a while. It’s just... if you know that… I mean… you must have noticed… You must see how they look at you. What they want.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale chuckled, primly sipping his drink. “You are imagining things.”

Crowley’s blood ran hot again in anger, jealousy and desire. It was that mixture of arrogance, obliviousness and kindness that was so very Aziraphale that had tamed Crowley a long time ago and now drove him wild.

“Imagining?” he repeated between gritted teeth.

“Indeed,” Aziraphale nodded, casting Crowley a fond yet condescending look. “What would they want with me?”

“I think I explained that when Cain was born, Aziraphale.”

Satisfied, Crowley reveled in the flustered expression and the light bloom of red that appeared on the angel’s face after he had spoken. But Aziraphale caught himself fast.

“Well, no need to make fun of me, Crowley,” he said, trying and failing to conceal the hurt in his voice. “I’m well aware that such handsome men have no need to keep someone like me around for their… activities unconnected to dancing,” he smiled sadly. “All the nicer of them to indulge me by socializing with me.”

For long seconds Crowley could only gape. His mouth opened and closed it again. Then he made a quick step forward and had a surprised Aziraphale pressed against one of the shelves. A deep blush painted Aziraphale’s cheeks at the sudden proximity. His hands found their way to Crowley’s chest, but the weak push lacked any and all credibility and so Crowley did not budge. Instead, he leant down until their noses brushed and studied Aziraphale’s face.

“You don’t know,” he finally stated. “You really don’t know.”

“I don’t even know what I don’t know, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s shaking voice betrayed his haughty expression. Crowley could see that he was flustered, breathless and completely at wit’s end. Crowley loved it.

He smirked down at Aziraphale and brought his lips to his captive’s ear.

“You don’t know what you do to people,” he whispered. “To humans and demons alike. All the craving you cause, the hunger, the lust.”

“I do no such things, Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly and full of righteous confidence. “I am an angel. I make humans feel safe, warm, maybe more generous, a little more lenient.”

“Desire, want, greed, envy,” Crowley continued, unfazed.

“Stop it!”

“What? Telling the truth?” Crowley chuckled. “That they all wanted a piece of that?” Lightning-fast his hands were at Aziraphale’s arse, harshly grabbing both cheeks, making Aziraphale squeal. “Or that they did not hate me because of my manners?” Crowley started nipping along Aziraphale’s neckline. “That they hated me because they thought I get what they wanted? You know what they wanted, don’t you, angel?”

He made some room to look down at Aziraphale who had fallen completely silent by now. When the angel did not answer, Crowley rose a brow and grinned.

“Don’t you?” he repeated.

Hesitantly, Aziraphale shook his head and Crowley chuckled.

“Oh really?” he asked teasingly while his hands wandered from Aziraphale’s plush butt to his generous hips. “You want me to show you?”

Crowley kept his confident attitude up, but inwardly he held his breath as he waited for Aziraphale’s response. It came silently in the form of a small and shy nod.

Biting his lip to ground himself did not work out for Crowley. With a growl. he grabbed the back of Aziraphale’s head and pulled him into a kiss. His demonic side asked for it to be hot, wet, devouring and rough, but at the last second Crowley reminded himself that this might very well be Aziraphale’s first kiss. And so he held back.

It still was by no means a shy or careful kiss, but nonetheless tender in its passion. It was Crowley who let his tongue flick along Aziraphale’s bottom lip to demand entrance, but it was Aziraphale who granted it immediately. Smirking at that, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s arse again, enjoying the adorable shriek that was muffled by his lips.

Finally Crowley broke the kiss to let his mouth wander along the angel’s jawline towards his ear. Nibbling on the lobe, he purred: “Oh yes, they wanted to do that. And more. You want to know what else they wanted, angel?”

“Yes, please,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “Show me.”

With a dark chuckle Crowley snapped his fingers, closing the curtains of the shop’s windows with his will, leaving the room in the mild orange glow falling through the door to the backroom.

I would show you for all the world to see,” he said with a smirk. “But I thought you would appreciate some privacy.”

Not waiting for a response, Crowley claimed the angel’s lips again. This time he was more demanding and rougher, but always checking for any signs of discomfort – signs that never came. By now Aziraphale was relaxed, sunken into Crowley’s embrace, happily allowing the demon to lead.

Crowley’s right hand wandered down the pliant body until it found the hollow of Aziraphale’s left knee. He lifted the strong leg to entwine their bodies even more. The very moment the angel’s ankle locked at Crowley’s hips, every ounce of fabric between them disappeared. Crowley could not tell whether he had done this or Aziraphale or if it was some sort of united miracle. But either way he did not complain. As their naked bodies met, their erections brushed against each other and skin touched skin, they both simultaneously let out a gasp. Aziraphale’s gripped Crowley’s shoulder and pressed his forehead against the demon’s chest, Crowley buried his nose in the slope of Aziraphale’s neck.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed out while his fingers wandered back to Aziraphale’s butt to spread the plump cheeks.

“Crowley, I…” Aziraphale said with a hint of fear in his voice and immediately one of Crowley’s hands tenderly grabbed the angel’s chin and lifted it up.

“Trust me,” he said gently, looking into his friend’s blue eyes. “I will not hurt you. Never. We will go as slow as needed.”

“I trust you,” Aziraphale nodded with a smile that appeared to brighten up the darkened room.

Crowley swallowed hard and allowed himself a small miracle to slick his fingers in oil before reaching between Aziraphale’s arse cheeks again. To make his intentions clear, he circled around the puckered entrance for a while, studying the angel’s face. When Aziraphale nodded again, Crowley pressed a first finger in.

A man of less self-control might have cum then and there from the combined sensations: the sound of Aziraphale’s helpless moan, the sight of the pleasure on his beautiful face and the tight feeling of his inner walls gripping Crowley’s finger. But Crowley bit his lip and composed himself.

The demon took his time to prepare his lover. For one he enjoyed seeing Aziraphale like this, head thrown back in bliss, writhing under Crowley’s touch, silently asking for more. And for two he wanted to make good on his word, to make absolutely sure Aziraphale would not be hurt.

So even when Aziraphale began to beg and plead, insisting he was ready, swearing he would not mind a little sting, repeating over and over how much he needed Crowley, Crowley did not stop. Relentlessly he worked his lover open and by the time he deemed Aziraphale ready, the angel was no longer pleading with words, but with half-lidded eyes, ragged breath and less than subtle movements of his hips.

Crowley enjoyed Aziraphale’s enthusiasm, but still put on a strict face as he lined himself up. His tip played along the angel’s entrance as he addressed him.

“You feel any pain, you tell me. Immediately. Understood?” he said sternly.

He chuckled at the frantic answering nod and kissed his eager lover one more time. Then he pushed in. Nothing he had ever felt compared to this. All dalliances, affairs or one-night-stands he had had faded from Crowley’s memory as he entered Aziraphale. He forced himself to search the angel’s face for any sign of pain, but when he found none, he started thrusting.

“Finally,” he moaned. “I waited so long.”

Aziraphale desperately clung to Crowley, trying to ground himself, but still he managed to breathe out, “How long?”

“What?” Crowley asked between two tender bites to Aziraphale’s throat.

“How long have you been waiting?”

Crowley chuckled into Aziraphale’s neck.

“Not sure, angel,” he answered, breathless. “Don’t make me think.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare to make you of all people think,” Aziraphale gave back.

Crowley lifted his head to look into the angel’s face. For the fracture of a second he saw the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth twitch into a little smirk.

“Sweet little minx,” Crowley admonished with a fond expression as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. A loud moan escaped Aziraphale when Crowley’s movements became faster and went deeper.

“I wanted you so long,” Crowley growled while he circled a hand around Aziraphale’s erection. “I wanted you so badly. I was so close to tearing off your clothes in that club, bend you over a table and take you right in front of that men so they would know,“ he started stroking Aziraphale’s length in time with his thrusts. “But that won’t be necessary now.”

With that he placed another harsh bite into Aziraphale sensitive skin, making sure to leave a mark. A cry of lust and pain escaped the angel as his nails dug into Crowley’s shoulders.

“See? Left my signature,” Crowley smirked. “You’re mine.”

As soon as he had spoken, he felt Aziraphale clench around him. The angel threw his head back and whimpered helplessly as he climaxed, the feeling and the sight milking Crowley’s own orgasm from him. The demon pulled Aziraphale into another kiss while he spilled himself inside the tight channel.

Coming down from their height, they just clung to each other, breathing heavily. When finally Crowley pulled out, Aziraphale all put collapsed in his arms, exhausted.

“I got you, angel,” Crowley promised as he held his lover up. With another snap of his fingers a nest of warm blankets appeared on the ground between the bookshelves.

Carefully he lowered Aziraphale on the new soft underground, wrapping himself around the angel, covering them both with one of the blankets. Content with himself and the world, Crowley was ready to sink into another decade long sleep. But suddenly Aziraphale spoke.

“I was before.”

“You were what, angel?”

“Yours,” Aziraphale said, smiling tiredly.

With a smirk Crowley traced the bite mark he had left on Aziraphale’s throat.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “Better to make it official.”