he’d forgotten how fun it is to run, especially when you’ve got something to run away from. being chased, as it seems, is aziraphale’s prime motivation for breaking into his harried sprint. scrambling through the heavy greenery, down the shrouded paths stacked with walls upon walls of crowley’s plants. really, they’ve made the perfect hideaway for nefarious activities, such as the ones they're about to partake in now. aziraphale can't keep running forever. with his foot catching on a particularly crooked rock, he stumbles over, falling to the ground in a complete daze. his vision blurred, head dizzy, everything around him looks a bit too similar. hard to tell what path he's taken, which path he's on, what's forwards and backwards, left and right. it all looks the same, that dark, sprawling wash of green. flower buds cupped in on themselves, flushing with an urgency to burst open, yet still nubile, unawoken.
aziraphale hears footsteps clammering in the distance, the sounds of heavy, panting breath, and he tries to rise to his feet. his hands slip on the loose grass, only succeeding in ripping out strands, dirtying his rosy knuckles. coming just around the corner, crowley reaches him first. and what a sight he is, pretending to be some sort of malevolent force, the hungry wolf to aziraphale’s prey. he falls upon him, grunting and mouthing at aziraphale’s neck, sharp teeth like fangs pricking at his jugular, sucking at the warmth there, the heat of his blood, proof of life. aziraphale yelps and moans, trying to twist away, his strained efforts failing as he eventually only succeeds in kicking up dirt. crowley sinks his teeth into him, and that’s the final blow that he can take. he goes still, stiff, not yet limp - yet accepting his fate. whimpering, he squirms when crowley laps at his wounds. his tongue a hot, coarse drag against sensitive flesh.
“please don't hurt me,” he whines, though the fear is histrionic, fake as school theatre. “don't - i don't - are you going to eat me?”
“better,” crowley grumbles, deep in his chest, where aziraphale can feel it rumble. “poor little rabbit, with nowhere to go.”
his claws scrape over aziraphale’s wrists as he pins them down, threatening to do a lot worse. “can’t run away from me now.”
and though aziraphale finds crowley rather puppylike with his chosen assortment - soft, arrowhead ears, and a tail that's wagging with fevered excitement - he does have to admit, it's a good show. he bucks against him, crying out, “what are you going to do to me?”
crowley leans down, his tongue flitting over aziraphale’s pink, pouting lips, and says, “i want to devour you whole.”
his hips are an urgent force between aziraphale’s legs now, rutting hard against him, his cock viable even through rough denim. aziraphale trembles, though he isn't very good at seeming scared. beyond the base matters of keening, watering his pretty, round eyes, and pleading under his breath, (’don’t hurt me, don't hurt me, please, don't hurt me,’) he’s obviously riled up. his poor cunt swollen against the reign of crowley’s firm erection, feeling it press ever so delightfully right where he wants it most, and then being taken away - how cruel! - at the last minute.
finally, having made it a solid five minutes after crowley, (probably having gotten lost in the maze, poor dear) comes gabriel in equal ferocity. wearing his joggers, because of course he couldn't possibly bear the thought of roughhousing in one of his nice suits. still, he's got the whole gist of this down. he growls aloud - which, though cliche, does make something white hot and fearful sink in flutter aziraphale’s stomach - and shoves crowley aside, taking over aziraphale as if he truly were a selfish beast. demanding only for himself, and enjoying the spoils of another hunt’s kill.
his mouth crashes into aziraphale’s, teeth and tongue an errant march forwards as he licks into him, biting and nipping as he goes. aziraphale can't help moaning - it's only natural, with a strong, broad man atop him, tugging his curls and pulling his head back, biting his throat to show him his place. his mark of claiming is only inches away from crowley’s, some bruising overlaps. admittedly, aziraphale dwells in the romance of such a gesture. the reminder of safety, who he’s with, who’s taking care of him, at a time like this.
“hey!” crowley barks out, pushing at gabriel’s shoulder, and offsetting him just enough that they can both stay hovering over aziraphale. “we share,” he bristles, popping the first button of aziraphale’s waistcoat open. and that - that's almost too much. being talked about, discussed like he's an object, a trophy to be won. the grand prize, sought after by two starving mouths. crowley tears into his undershirt, ripping it open with the slightest hint of an apologetic glare in his eyes. (he’ll miracle it back together later, the look promises.) his mouth suckles at aziraphale’s heavy breast, teeth clawing against the supple flesh, sucking skin between his fangs and biting down to bruise. gabriel takes the other breast, aiming straight for his nipple. he pinches with his teeth, tongue flicking down to sooth over what’s gone sore and inflamed.
“monsters,” aziraphale gasps, swallowing down his pleas for harder, rougher, meaner. ”you’re monsters.”
at that, gabriel takes both breasts, and squeezes harshly. his grip firm and overbearing, turning skin milky pale. aziraphale sobs, his bubbling tears now bobbing like the lump in his throat, softly tracking down his cheeks as he starts to get a proper cry going. crowley coos at the display, his thin, serpentine tongue - because who could deny him that when the whole point is to be animalistic -blotting his tears, licking them up. slipping between his thighs, he tugs down aziraphale’s trousers. there’s nothing but wet to guide his tongue along, encircling and wrapping around aziraphale’s clit, as he hums softly. aziraphale gasps as his lips move over him, sucking at the chubby labia, the slick, small hole. gabriel manages to get behind him, dragging aziraphale up by his shirt collar, chest to back while he settles him into his lap.
“fuck him,” gabriel demands, the grit in his voice making aziraphale’s cunt twitch.
“you first,” crowley snickers, pressing aziraphale’s legs back, and holding them there - a generous offer, an act of service for gabriel. groveling, like the beta wolf seeking favor from his alpha. keeping their prey in one place, just for gabriel to use, for gabriel to take.
“what are you doing to me?” aziraphale whimpers, trying oh so desperately to seem innocent, coy, despite the way gabriel’s cock sinks into him without so much as the slightest buffer, the wet sounds of their coupling proof enough of how much aziraphale likes this, wants this.
“tha-at feels, aa-ahn!” aziraphale pants heavily, his breath carrying weight, coming out in short puffs as he strains to keep himself from wiggling in crowley’s grip. gabriel is rough - of course, one could only expect him to be, and there's nothing holding him back, no barriers at the gates. but aziraphale is still shaking from the hard, jumpy thrusts. his body jolting with each and every one, with crowley leaning in, mouthing at his tits, nibbling and grinding a nipple between his teeth. he tugs, sucking it into his mouth, and aziraphale pulls against him, incidentally sliding gabriel deeper inside. the thick bulb of his cockhead is pressing firm over his g-spot, making him squirm and rutch around, rutting hopelessly.
gabriel’s thrusts pause, but only to reposition. laying aziraphale face down, tummy to the ground, with his hips propped up - only the best parts of him on display. it’s the most humiliating way to be fucked, and he loves it, he churns with it deep in his belly as gabriel pounds into him, his pace roaring like a freight train.
crowley, having fallen for the twitchy nose, and soft, velveteen ears aziraphale’s sporting, can’t help giving him a few comforting strokes through his curls. petting, like petting a wild animal, forcing it into obedience, and hoping it’ll calm down. aziraphale whines loudly, rather considering abandoning his plans to keep talking to a minimum, and begging instead. he keeps himself in check, if only for gabriel’s cock ramming inside him, melting any words in his sloppy, drooling mouth before they can be rendered.
“you’ve had your turn,” crowley grumbles - ah, that's another thing aziraphale likes, being fought over - “i want him now.”
“use his mouth,” gabriel orders, gruff and careless, parsing out what parts of aziraphale he’s willing to share, and what parts he only wants for himself, and would fight to keep it that way.
playing his role, crowley grabs and twists aziraphale’s curls, tugging him up with brute force. the bright spark of pain in his scalp is nothing compared to how hot it has him. he feels like he's boiling over. when crowley unzips his jeans, lets his cock bob free - hard, thick, skinnier than gabriel’s, but longer, too - aziraphale mouths for it in earnest. letting crowley pump the whole thing in at once, holding his head with hands on both temples, and fucking into him. without caution, he's ruthless. aziraphale’s lips are sore within seconds, swollen and aching, though that pales in comparison to his jaw. he feels forced open at both ends, gabriel’s thrusts still making him whine and splutter, noisy around crowley.
with his anticipation running high, aziraphale can feel it building, the width at gabriel’s base - (’are you sure you really want that, sunshine? i don't want it to be too much for you.’) - and he keens for it. writhing restlessly, and eventually needing to be pinned down with a hand at the center of his back, gabriel’s hand. his knot, his knot, the source of aziraphale’s shame, aching to be fucked like a dog, like a dog, - it’s pressing heavy at his entrance now. crowley’s own is steadily gathering as well, aziraphale can't even fit it all in his mouth, and he can't, he can't -
gabriel’s knot pops inside, a glorious release of tension, and he’s cumming, he's cumming - aziraphale can't stop pulsing around him. his cunt aflutter, clenching rapidly as he’s fucked full, white heat spilling overboard, and down onto his thighs, the dirty ground, getting everywhere. there's so much of it, aziraphale truly feels like he could be bred like this. this endless, sinking warmth that fills him up, settles somewhere far, far inside him. he sucks at crowley with whatever limp, weak strength he has left, and that's all it takes. there's so much more, it seems, when aziraphale can hardly take crowley’s cock as it is. he’s never been skilled at deepthroating, preferring the role of a shallow cockwarmer instead. but now, with crowley’s spend pouring down his throat, making him gulp and gag and choke, he can't swallow it all. there's too much, too much for him to handle. it runs down his chin, dribbling and mixing with slick saliva, and aziraphale mourns the loss when crowley pulls out, lapping at his cockhead in search of more.
with one last solid thrust, aziraphale’s cumming, too. jerking at crowley’s cock as more of a comfort than anything else, his fist loose, pitifully soft. he gasps and ruts and writhes through it. his eyes aglow with fresh, bursting tears, turning pink at the rims from all his crying. even so, he looks pleasantly exhausted. as one might after a long run, or a good nap. he yawns when the aftershocks break, his thighs still twitching as he lays in the dirt, resisting the urge to sleep right there.
“tired, doll?” crowley helps gather him into gabriel’s arms, moving him as effortlessly as a parent carries their child. aziraphale nods, yawning once more, and nuzzling his head into gabriel's chest, blissed out beyond compare. gabriel starts up the garden path with crowley leading the way, heading back to their cottage. and if aziraphale pretends to be asleep the whole time, just so he can enjoy his fleeting moments of being held, then that's his secret to cherish - nobody has to know.
(though, considering the twinkle in crowley's eye as he peers at him, he's pretty sure he already does.)