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Crowley was not noticing. 

This was, Aziraphale thought, rather unfair for him to be upset about, but Crowley always noticed when Aziraphale was wanting for something, and now he wasn’t.  

He’d become truly spoilt over the past few millennia. Half a frown, a put-out sigh, and Crowley appeared before him, spent a moment or three on gentle mocking, and then always, always read between the lines and provided him with the favor he wanted. 

Well. He couldn’t expect his (dear, beloved) demon to do everything for him, especially not now. Not when the world had almost ended and he’d given up on hiding and dissembling. Not when no one was watching. 

Of course, he would have to find a delicate way to broach the subject. 



“Crowley,” he said, during the next suitable lull in conversation. “I’d very much like for you to give me an orgasm.” 

They weren’t even drunk, which in hindsight might have been a good idea. Crowley, who was seated beside him on his old leather sofa, opened his mouth. Closed it again. Opened it. 

“...Sorry?” he managed after a moment. 

“An orgasm. I’d like to have one.” 

“Right, yeah. That’s what I thought you said.” There was a remarkable flush spreading up along his neck and at the tips of his ears. (It was endearing, though he wouldn’t say it aloud. Aziraphale did love him so.) “Er. Why? Well not why, I just - no, actually, let’s start with that. Why?” 

Aziraphale sat up a bit straighter, which was not easy to do. “Well, you see - I’m very curious, Crowley! About... carnal pleasures, I always have been, but, well - you know how Heaven used to be. Always appearing without any sort of warning at all, and watching surreptitiously half the time even when they weren’t physically present, and, ah, I’m afraid I’ve never quite dared to risk it.” 

Crowley blew out a long breath. Aziraphale waited patiently.

When he spoke, his voice was almost back to its normal tone. “Isn’t it all just one big conglomeration of sin with that lot? One as bad as the other? I know for a fact Gabriel caught you eating at least twelve times. Walking in on you -” he cleared his throat. “Walking in on you wanking? Probably wouldn’t even register, to him.” 

Ah. That was the sticking point. Aziraphale realized he was flushing a bit now, too, and willed his corporation to stop its disobedience immediately. “Of course, you’re right. But all the reading I’ve done on the subject -” 

“‘Course you’ve been doing reading on the subject. ‘Course. Why not.” 

Aziraphale ignored this. “But all the reading I’ve done on the subject, well, it seems to suggest a state of… defenselessness, as it were, in the face of that level of pleasure.” His face was definitely red, now. “A sort of… loss of control. And I’ve seen enough of that state in humans, towards the beginning, to corroborate it. Like I said, I didn’t want to risk it.” 

Crowley chewed this over. After a long moment, he slipped his glasses off and, folding them, set them on the side table. “All right then, fair enough. But what you said at the beginning… that you wanted me to...” 

When the rest of the sentence didn’t seem to be forthcoming, Aziraphale took pity on him. “Crowley, dear. Who else?” 

The spike of love from the demon at that moment was almost overwhelming. 

Neither of them spoke, though they both felt it. (Another lovely side effect of their new freedom. They didn’t have to pretend it away, not anymore.) 

Then Crowley half-smiled. “Didn’t think you went in for that. Very human of you. If I’d known -” 

“I was hoping you’d pick up on it. I kept rolling up my sleeves.” 

“Thought you were just finding new seams to fuss with until they unravelled.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“You’re a fiend.” 

“You love me.” 

“I do, yes.” 

For a long moment, they just smiled, staring at each other. Aziraphale was loath to break the silence, but eventually Crowley spoke again. 

“‘S nice,” he said, somewhat abrupt. “Especially if you’ve never done it before. You’ll like it, I think. Lots of pleasure-y chemical-y things and the corporation always fucking loves it.” 

“Oh.” He was probably beaming. “Thank you.” 

“Do you want… now? I mean, doesn’t have to be now, obviously. Just if you were feeling up for it.” 

There was a bubbling feeling of affection - and no little bit of excitement - in Aziraphale’s chest. Curiosity, of course, and love, but also a feeling of rightness. This was just them, after all, doing human things for the sheer joy of being together. “My dear, truly I have never been so expertly seduced.”

“Shut it.”  

So Aziraphale closed his eyes and, with very little fanfare for all of his previous imaginings, made a change to his corporation. A proper Effort, not just decorative genitalia - new hormones and neurotransmitters and oh so many nerve endings. 

Everything changed, and nothing did. Most physical sensations - the leather under him, the warmth of the bookshop, the feel of his clothes on his skin - were the same. Emotionally speaking, he still felt affection, excitement, curiosity, love. 

Except that Crowley was still a bit red along his neck and ears, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. 

Aziraphale wanted to kiss him there and nip at his skin, leave darker marks and love bites that pulled the blood up to the surface. He wanted to pull Crowley onto his lap and press together until they blurred at the edges. He wanted long, messy kisses and Crowley’s hands on his bare skin. He wanted everything he had ever read about and several things he hadn’t, and he wanted them immediately. 

It was quite a lot. 

What came out when he opened his mouth, however, was - “Do you… go around like this all the time?” 

That startled a laugh out of Crowley. “You get used to it. Can’t be worked up all the time, if you don’t do anything with it it goes away eventually. Or you could, well.” He made an ambiguous hand gesture. If it was meant to imply masturbation, it was not implying masturbation with any of the typical human configurations. Probably. It was true that Aziraphale had never tried.

Still, Aziraphale didn’t call him on his anatomical inaccuracy. He was too busy realizing that Crowley’s beautiful eyes were very dilated, the gold spreading to the edges. He was reflected in them, and oh - were his own eyes that dark? Was that something humans did? 

“I want to kiss you,” he said, and Crowley made a noise that was mostly consonants, but somehow contained something like a groan, and before Aziraphale could move, he had lunged forward and - 

Oh. Well that was really very nice. 

They’d kissed before, in greeting when it was the fashion. And then once they were free, when Aziraphale felt particularly overwhelmed with love, he would press kisses to Crowley’s head or cheek. (Crowley typically turned red and made incomprehensible noises, but allowed this.) 

This was completely different. Crowley’s mouth was moving over his, his hand was cupped around the back of his neck, they were pressed together chest to chest, and Aziraphale’s heart was pounding as though it had forgotten it didn’t need to. 

He didn’t even stop to think about it before wrapping his arms around Crowley’s torso to pull him yet closer, and Crowley groaned against his mouth. And then Crowley’s tongue was in his mouth, and really that should have been less pleasant than it was, but oh, it was. He opened his lips further, fisted his hand in the back of Crowley’s jacket, and pulled them both back until they were suddenly horizontal on the sofa. A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up in his chest. 

“Y - All right, angel?” He had to pull away to speak. Aziraphale leaned up after him, crushing their lips together again with less art than previously, but a vast amount of enthusiasm. 

“Yes. Yes,” he said, once they broke apart again. “Crowley.” 

Crowley shuddered at something in the tone of his voice, but Aziraphale couldn’t seem to stop running his hands up and down his back, pulling at his shirt and jacket in short little jerks. 

“Crowley, it aches,” he said. It was the truth. He had made himself a vulva after some consideration - for the sole reason that orgasms with those apparently lasted longer, though accounts varied on whether or not they were more intense - and he could feel it with every beat of his heart, a throbbing emptiness. He wanted touch, he wanted friction, and he wanted it with an intensity that was almost alarming. 

Crowley swallowed. “S’all right, angel. Do you want -” 

“Yes.” Whatever it was, Aziraphale wanted. 

And then Crowley was undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, sliding his shirt off of his shoulders, pulling at the buttons on his trouser fly, and his hands on Aziraphale’s bare skin were an exquisite burn of heat. Aziraphale was making an odd, breathy moaning sound before he could stop himself, but that just made Crowley work faster, muttering fuck, angel under his breath. 

Once Aziraphale was entirely nude, spread out below him, he went back to kissing. The feel of Crowley’s clothes - was he still entirely dressed? - against his bare skin was making him feel odd. Shivery and pleasant, and dear lord, was he actually dripping? Was that something to be expected?

“Crowley,” he said, “Are we going to - Are you going to -” he kept losing his train of thought, as he realized that he could grind his hips down where Crowley’s thigh was tangled between his. It was almost unnerving, how easily he could lose track of himself, fall into the urgent demands his corporation was making. 

It shone through in his tone, making the question sound suddenly more nervous than desperate. “What are we going to do?” 

Crowley pulled back, brow furrowing immediately. “Nothing you don’t want. Swear. Do you need to stop? Because we can stop if you -” 


That at least seemed to assuage some of Crowley’s concern. “All right, all right. Probably a bit much for your first time is all.” And suddenly they were sitting up again, Aziraphale having been pulled up without warning. “How about we just…” 

He arranged them so that they were sitting, Aziraphale’s back to Crowley’s front. Aziraphale hummed, frowning. “Dearest, I can’t see you this way.” 

“‘M right here, though,” he said, directly into his ear, and Aziraphale couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him. He was, all around him, his warmth and the smell of his cologne and the brush of his clothes, the sound of his well-loved voice. “All right if I touch you like this?” 

“What will you get out of -” Crowley was now running long fingers over Aziraphale’s chest and stomach - firm enough not to be ticklish, but gentle enough that he was losing his thought again. 

“Mm, worry about me later, yeah? Let me take care of it, angel.” 

Ah. Apparently, the frission of joy that came from hearing those words in any context now came with a spike of heat directly between his legs. That was new. 

“Yes,” he said, and spread his legs a bit wider, feeling Crowley duck down to smile against his neck. “Dear. Dearest. Please.” 

So Crowley delivered. 

It started with longer caresses, a flick of nails against his nipple, a long, sucking kiss to the side of his throat. Aziraphale was definitely dripping, now, and he clutched at Crowley’s jeans-clad thigh with one hand. Crowley was still smiling, he could hear it in his voice as the hands moved to his own thighs, then the crease where thigh met body. 

“Feel good?” 


And then there was a hand cupping over the mound of him, and Crowley could certainly feel how wet he was, he would know - but Aziraphale was pushing his hips up anyway, trying to grind against his fingers, needy with pleasure and wanting. 

“I’m sorry, I -” 

“It’s all right, angel, here.” Those fingers were spreading him open, one settling on either side of his clit, providing just enough pressure to offer relief without giving in. He nearly moaned again, but bit down on it before it could escape. “Tell me. Tell me what you feel, focus on that for me.” 

Aziraphale panted for a moment, trying to put the sensations swirling in him to words. 

“I. Ah. I feel… warm, so warm. I want you to keep touching me, I want you in me, I want you to press - mm - press down.” 

“Demanding,” said Crowley, though with great amounts of love. Aziraphale felt it like another wash of warmth as he brought his other hand around, fingers dipping at his entrance but stopping short of actually penetrating him. As he did, his other hand began a gentle rhythm on Aziraphale’s clit.

The moan that that precipitated was a lost cause for stifling. 

“Aaahh. Everything is so - I can feel it all there, even when you’re not touching it, even just your voice. Oh, Crowley, that’s good, that’s so good, I -” 

“Just breathe with it, angel, it’s all right.” Crowley’s voice was rough, but only slightly. “Keep talking.” 

Aziraphale shivered, and shifted his hips from side to side. Then did it again when he discovered how good it felt, and then kept doing it as he spoke, shoving up against Crowley’s hands. “I - I feel like I can’t think. Like it’s all just, mmmh, warm and -” 

Crowley chose that moment to slip a finger inside of him, and the newly odd sensation had him squirming, pushing down with a gasp. He withdrew and came back with two, this time, steadily pumping in and out. 

“And, ah! Crowley, please don’t stop, I couldn’t bear it if you stopped -” 

“I won’t,” he promised, and his voice was definitely rough now. “Won’t stop. Wouldn’t do that to you, angel. It’s all right, just feel it.” 

And he was speeding up, now, an insistent press against his clit and easy slide in and out of him, and there was just so much to feel. 

“I, I can feel you moving, I want to, I want to clench down on you, I - It’s so good, it’s so much, I want -” He wasn’t even sure what words were coming out of his mouth, now. There was heat in him that would not be ignored, couldn’t be. “I want to - to pull my legs up? I don’t - I can’t - it keeps getting better, how does it keep getting better?” 

Crowley’s fingers twisted sharply inside him, and that wasn’t a moan, it was a shout. “Crowley! Please!” 

His thighs were creeping up despite himself, an instinct to almost curl into a ball with pleasure, as he leaned back into Crowley’s familiar, lovely warmth - and then there was a twinge that felt like a warning, and his heart was racing still faster, and - 

“Crowley - Crowley, something’s happening, I feel - I’m - It’s all going to just - oh! Crowley, please, I need, I’m going to - ” 

“That’s it, love, that’s it, I’ve got you,” and Crowley was panting, too, but his clever hands didn’t stop, didn’t slow, and the warning feeling was only increasing, pushing past some point of no return, and - 

And Aziraphale came. 

He was shaking, shouting, his head thrown back on Crowley’s shoulder, shivering through shock after shock of pleasure, realizing dimly that he was clenching around Crowley’s fingers, slick all over his hand. And it didn’t stop, kept rushing through him as the thumb on his clit slowed, but never ceased. 

He realized he was gasping something that sounded quite a bit like Crowley’s name as another clenching shock rolled over him, weaker than before. And then Crowley was murmuring to him, or else he’d never stopped - “That’s it, angel, there, you did so well, told you I’d take care of you, fuck, you’re so -” 

Finally, finally, it did run its course. The last sparkling rush of pleasure left him shaky, all the tension draining out of his limbs as he sank into Crowley’s lap.

“Oh,” he said, unable to find better words. 

“Yeah,” said Crowley. There was a smile in his tone. “Told you you’d like it.” 

With a good deal more effort than it should have been, Aziraphale managed to turn, settling astride him. He was flushed, eyes wide, breaths coming fast. He was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen. 

He told him so, and Crowley groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Angel, fuck, can I - you don’t mind if I -” 

It took Aziraphale’s orgasm-drunk mind a moment to parse what he was saying, but then he almost laughed. 

“Dearest. Dearheart. That was exquisite and I would like nothing more than for you to feel it as many times as your heart desires.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Crowley snapped his clothes away with a sigh. He was flushed all the way down, across his chest and over his too-thin belly where a trail of red hair led to an equally soaked, red cunt. 

“‘S what you had,” said Crowley, as though Aziraphale would ever ask him to justify any piece of himself. “Was thinking about what I was doing to you and I just -” 

“Can I?” 

“Of course, fuck, anything you want, just -” 

It took only seven strokes of Aziraphale’s fingers around Crowley’s clit for him to come, eyes clenched shut, gasping out in relief, head falling forward into Aziraphale’s chest. 

Aziraphale held him, and soothed him, and pressed kisses to his hair, and Elsewhere, he mantled his wings around the two of them. So that he could watch over Crowley in his pleasure unconcerned. 

If Crowley noticed, he didn’t let on.