After rescuing Aziraphale (and his books) from his hopeless attempts at subterfuge just last year, Crowley was pleased to find that the angel didn’t seem to be upset with him any longer. Aziraphale had even cheerfully agreed to travel to France on Crowley’s behalf, jumping back into the Arrangement without hesitation. Something to do with a major temptation, a fashion designer in need of inspiration or something to that effect. Crowley rolled his eyes at the mundane assignment. Humans had been scandalizing themselves and each other by raising and lowering hemlines and necklines for millennia. It seemed only moments ago that a mere glimpse of ankle was shocking, but just a few hundred years ago women had their entire bosoms on display and no one batted an eye. He’d always written it into his reports, of course, but he hardly found it cause for a personal intervention.
That didn’t stop him from being curious, however. A handful of blessings hadn’t taken much time at all, and soon he found himself tucked away on a balcony at the Hôtel Molitor, overlooking the glittering swimming pool where it seemed that some kind of fashion shoot was about to take place. Aziraphale had sent him a card with nothing but the date and location, and he’d been surprised to find the place teeming with reporters and photographers. A quick miracle sorted out the matter of a room and guaranteed him a front-row seat to whatever Aziraphale had accomplished on his behalf.
Aziraphale was beside herself. She’d taken on a feminine corporation and had spent the last month establishing herself as a designer’s assistant. Monsieur Réard, or Louis, s'il te plaît, as he had insisted, was sorely in need of some inspiration. So were the people of France, she had to agree, after long, dreary years of war. Hell was looking for a big temptation, and inviting women to feel empowered and attractive was always a sore point in Heaven’s eyes. Aziraphale disagreed, albeit very secretly.
Designing the outfit itself was simple — drawing on the costume of ancient Roman sportswomen — the real challenge was finding a model. All the high fashion models they’d spoken to had refused to wear such a scandalously abbreviated garment, for the sake of their career prospects. She’d finally found one young lady, a dancer who was willing to try her hand at modeling, but the poor dear had just come down with an awful case of food poisoning.
Aziraphale blessed in her head. Even if she used a miracle to heal her, it was going to be obvious what she’d done. How could I have let this happen?
She looked down at the garment on the counter, then back over at the young woman lying in the bed, green around the gills. The crowd is waiting, someone has to go out there. I wonder if there’s anyone else — Aziraphale shook her head. Finding one model had already taken a miracle, another one and she’d certainly attract unwanted attention.
I just wanted to repay Crowley for his assistance. If I fail, I’m sure Hell will have it out for him. Aziraphale fretted quietly, twisting the ring on her finger. We were just reacquainted. If he got reassigned, I’d...
The young woman groaned in discomfort, and Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as she realized what she had to do.
“Please rest, my dear. I…" Aziraphale sighed inwardly, but needs must. "I will take your place.”
“Oh… but your career—” she began to protest, but Aziraphale cut her off with a shake of her head.
“I will make sure you are compensated for your time, regardless.”
“Mme. Fell…” the young woman looked up at her with a weak smile, too tired to argue further. “Thank you.”
Aziraphale looked down at the abbreviated garment again, the filmy yellow fabric taunting her with its many pale dots. Here goes nothing.
She dressed quickly, carefully tying the bathing suit so it fit snugly over her generous hips and across her bosom. She slipped on her pumps and quickly glanced at the mirror to check her lipstick. The bathing suit was definitely designed with a slimmer model in mind, but the fabric fortunately had plenty of stretch, emphasizing her soft curves and exposing her navel. It really is quite lovely. It’s too bad that humans are so ashamed of their bodies this century. Shrugging on a gauzy sheer robe, she thought of why she was doing this and smiled at the thought that she might see Crowley in the crowd.
She picked up the matching parasol, took a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door. The first few steps were easy, but the moment she stepped out of the lift and into the hotel lobby, she was gripped with a sudden case of nerves. The lobby fell quiet as she passed.
Older ladies that would hardly be seen in anything less than a full-skirted maillot bathing suit raised eyebrows and whispered amongst each other. Young girls watched her in amazement, and their brothers no less so. Married women scowled at husbands who stopped to stare with wonder at her body, veiled only by a thin layer of silk. Aziraphale knew Crowley would be proud of her for stirring up so many sins so efficiently, but she could feel the eyes on her. They’re just humans , she reminded herself, but the feeling was reminiscent of Heaven’s performance reviews, cold and judgmental. She shivered under their stares and picked up her pace, making a beeline for the door
This is it , she thought, clutching her robe closed so tightly her fingers shook. Aziraphale had modelled nude before, but that was hundreds of years ago in a formal studio. This setup felt far more voyeuristic. Dozens of strange men with cameras, capable of immediately capturing each unflattering moment, each imperfection. Such is the nature of sin , she supposed. If she stumbled, it would be for the whole world to see. Aziraphale suddenly wanted desperately to hide, but she reminded herself that this was work. I can't let Crowley down. Aziraphale took a deep breath, willing her traitorous heart to calm. I can do this. I must.
"Ready, Mlle. Fell?" Louis smiled warmly at her, his eyes lingering on her bosom.
When she exhaled, it was with a bright, cheery smile for the cameras. "Ready as ever."
She stepped out onto the wooden poolside deck and doffed her robe with a confidence she definitely didn't feel.
Crowley watched with astonishment as the young woman walked with dainty steps out to the pool deck. The woman turned, revealing the majority of her lovely figure. She was statuesque curves for days, crowned with a familiar fluff of curled white-blonde hair. Aziraphale?! Crowley stared, his eyes so wide he thought for a moment they might fall out of his head. He willed his face back into a neutral submission, closing his jaw with a snap.
It’s not as if he’d never seen Aziraphale’s body before — they had known each other since clothing was more of an option than a requirement — but never in such an outfit as this, and certainly not in the last millennium. A man, presumably the designer, spoke over a loudspeaker to the assembled crowd of photographers and reporters, but Crowley didn’t hear a single word.
Aziraphale smiled boldly at the camera, doing her best to embrace her brief stint as a model. Her skin glowed in the mid-day sun, a rosy blush painted across her cheeks. She smiled and wiggled her hips, posing for shot after shot. Crowley felt faint as his blood rushed straight to his groin. He shifted uncomfortably. As if the motion had caught her eye, she looked right at him with eyes as blue as the cloudless sky and winked. “Fuck.”
Fuck, Aziraphale is good at this.
Aziraphale mouthed the word later , her red lips forming shapes that Crowley felt against his skin, sending a shiver through his whole body. She turned away with a final glance, smiling over her shoulder. The click of shutters and grind of advancing film was a constant drone in his head as her backside came into view. Crowley swallowed hard, the way the triangle of fabric accentuated the roundness of her bottom making his mouth water. Time passed in a blur as she walked and posed, smiled and waved, and eventually sashayed back into the hotel.
Crowley stared after her in a daze, and it wasn’t until she completely disappeared from view that he pulled himself together and staggered in through the narrow door of his hotel room. His blood ran hot, his cock straining against his trousers as images of Aziraphale in a skimpy bathing suit played through his memory. He bit his lip painfully, gripping himself through his slacks. Minutes later, there was a tap at the door.
“Yeah, ‘s me.”
The doorknob opened, and Aziraphale let herself in. To Crowley’s dismay, she was fully clothed in blouse and skirt, the bathing suit no more than a memory. Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley’s lap then back up at his eyes, a smirk blooming across her face.
“Nuh, no, of course not.” Crowley was acutely aware of his erection, tenting obviously in his trousers. He attempted to cover himself with a hand, but it was a pointless endeavor.
“Well, I could hardly walk all the way here dressed like that ,” Aziraphale sniffed. “But I take it you liked my bikini?”
“Is— is that what it’s called?”
“Louis insisted. Said it was topical.”
“Mhm. So how did you end up as a model? It doesn’t really seem your style.”
Aziraphale sighed. “The young lady who was supposed to model became quite ill. No one else could do it, so I was… a last minute replacement.” She bit her lip, fretful. “Oh, I do hope it worked.”
“Are you kidding, angel? I expect I’ll be getting a special commendation for this one.” Crowley cocked a grin. “Just wish I could get my hands one one of those photos, y’know?” He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously and Aziraphale felt her cheeks flush with heat.
Aziraphale giggled. “I could— oh! Oh no.” Her eyes suddenly went wide, her smile disappearing.
“What’s the matter?”
“A-all those photographers! Oh no, Heaven’s bound to find out, how will I explain this?”
“Oh, if that’s all.” Crowley rolled his eyes.
“Don’t patronize me, Crowley, this is terrible!” She gasped, her face going pale. “Gabriel will see—”
“Just a human in strange knickers,” Crowley interrupted, leaping to his feet and snapping his fingers. “Don’t worry about it, angel.”
Aziraphale took a step back at the sudden movement. “Oh?”
“Yup. The girl’s all healed up, and somehow the cameramen all remember her instead of you.”
Aziraphale felt the majority of her worries dissolve, her mouth turning up in a pleased little smile.
“Don’t.”Crowley scowled in an attempt to hide his flustered state.
“Well, I am grateful. There must be some way I can show—”
“My treat, on account of your rousing success.”
“Oh yes, my rousing success,” Aziraphale thought, casting her gaze down to Crowley’s hips. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten about his very obvious reaction to her appearance. She stepped closer to him with a coy smile. “I can’t get a photograph for you, but… maybe this will do.”
She snapped her fingers and her modest blouse and skirt were instantly replaced with her bikini from before. Crowley’s mouth fell open, all protest gone from his mind. “I know I’m no model, but…” Here, she felt safe — no cameras, and she trusted Crowley. Aziraphale shifted her weight to one hip and lifted her hands up behind her head, imitating one of the many poses she’d studied during her stint as a designer. She held the pose with an innocent smile, and the light streaming in through the window bathed her in golden light. Crowley stared at her, dark glasses slipping down his nose to reveal the precious gold behind them. His eyes traced slowly down her body, staring with barely-concealed desire.
“Do you like it?” Aziraphale was thrilled to be so obviously wanted, and the feeling sent a shiver up her spine.
Crowley nodded, his senses slowly returning to him. “Yeah, it’s…” He trailed off. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to touch her. He shouldn’t, and yet— she stood there watching, waiting for him to make a move. She’s doing this on purpose. “Couldn't have done it better myself.”
Aziraphale half-turned away, then looked back at him over her shoulder with a little smile. “I did so hope you would like it.” Her hair barely kissed her shoulders, drawing his eye to the line of her back with its curves and dimples, and her soft, round bum showed to incredible advantage, the thin yellow material with its many white dots perfectly contrasting with her peachy pink cheeks. “What do you think?” Her voice hinted at a deeper question.
Crowley took a single step forward and caught himself. He took a deep breath. “Incredible. You look incredible.”
Emboldened by his reaction, Aziraphale completed her turn and stepped closer, well within arm’s reach. She smiled up at him expectantly, clasping her hands in front of her. The action had the pleasing effect of pressing her breasts together, enhancing her already ample cleavage.
“Shouldn’t I have a reward for my hard work?”
Crowley leaned closer, taking in the warmth of her body, the bloom of pink in her cheeks, the subtle hitch in her breathing. He was sure his trousers had never felt so tight in his life. “Oh, yes. Definitely. Anything you like,” Crowley rambled, his head swimming with lust. Aziraphale glanced down at the obvious tent in his trousers, then looked up at him through lowered lashes with a look of triumph. “Anything?”
At her knowing look, Crowley couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He surged forward, claiming her lips with his own. Aziraphale giggled against his mouth as his fingers traced her sides, then sighed as he pulled her flush against him. “Mmm, Crowley.”
“Anything. You don’t know what you do to me, Aziraphale.”
She kissed him again, and as she pulled away he could see a mischievous glint in her eye. Aziraphale took hold of his tie in one soft, manicured hand. “Don’t I? No more than you do to me, I’m sure.”
“You—” Crowley opened his mouth, closed it, then swallowed hard.
Aziraphale tugged gently on his tie with a thoughtful look. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, my dear.” She loosened his tie and had started in on the buttons of his shirt when Crowley waved his hand, stripping down to his briefs and leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.
“Oh!” Aziraphale blushed, “Well.” She leaned up to kiss him again, and felt his cock pressing against her belly. She flushed again, this time with need, and pushed against Crowley’s chest until he tumbled backwards onto the bed. With a delighted laugh she followed after him, straddling his narrow hips and kissing him into the soft mattress. She plucked at the ties of her bikini and tugged it away, revealing every inch of creamy skin. Crowley groaned, his hands roaming her body grasping and squeezing with abandon. He cupped her breasts in his hands, fingers sinking into soft flesh, and his fingers caught a nipple, peaked with arousal. He rolled it in his fingers, plucking at it until she squirmed.
“Mmh!” Aziraphale moaned, rolling her hips down against Crowley’s. Aziraphale knew she couldn’t say it, but she wanted to show Crowley just what she felt, how much she appreciated what he’d done to save her and her books, more than just a favor. As it was, she’d worked herself up far too much to draw this out much longer.
“Crowley, I need you.”
“You have me.”
She made quick work of his briefs and seated herself over his hips, grinding down against him with a sigh. She was absolutely drenched, and Crowley groaned at the sensation of her slick, hot folds sliding against him. “Fuck, Aziraphale.”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale moved her hips, another long, slow glide against him.
Crowley’s eyes rolled back as his hips jerked up against her. “You’re too good at this.”
Aziraphale’s smile was wicked as she took Crowley’s cock in her hand, giving it a firm stroke and spreading her own wetness over its length, admiring the tiny groan that forced itself out of Crowley’s throat. “Oh, I don’t know if there’s such a thing as too good .” She patted his wrist with her free hand. “Hands on me, please.”
Crowley’s breath caught in his throat as he obeyed immediately without a thought. He stroked his hands down her sides and belly, admiring the way her soft flesh yielded beneath his fingers. “Always the hedonist.”
“W-what can I say?” Aziraphale’s attempt at nonchalance failed as she shivered at the return of warm hands on her skin. She arched forward, lining the head of his cock up with her entrance. “You set an excellent example.” She sank down slowly, savoring the stretch of being so thoroughly filled. With a wiggle of her hips to settle completely, his full length sheathed within her, she sighed at the exquisite feeling of intimacy, of connection.
After just a moment, she began to roll her hips, her breasts swaying with the movement. Crowley almost couldn’t breathe for the tight, wet heat engulfing him. “Wha—?”
“Ohh— you know.” She rolled her hips up and snapped them back down, her breasts swaying with the movement, and Crowley gasped. “A-always swaggering about, with your fuck me hips.”
“My hipss?” Crowley’s eyes rolled back as Aziraphale increased her pace, driving down hard and fast, the bed beginning to protest as he lay dazed by her charms.
“Don’t—hah—pretend you don’t know. The way you walk, it’s—it’s absolutely sinful .” She abruptly grabbed Crowley’s wrist, tugging his hand to the place where they were joined. “Touch me, Crowley. I-I need more.”
His thumb found her clit and began circling, pressing up against the sensitive nub with firm, circular strokes. Aziraphale tossed her head back, her hair blazing in the sun like a golden halo behind her as the pleasure built, tingling in her fingers and toes, and she came, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. She moaned, clenching down on him as her rhythm faltered, and Crowley came inside her with a muffled cry as she claimed his mouth in a desperate kiss.
Aziraphale lay back on the bed, stretching luxuriantly as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting an orange glow over the both of them. Crowley rolled onto his side, curling against her and settling a gentle hand on her hip.
“Shall we go to the beach tomorrow, my dear?”
“We could both use a holiday, don’t you think?”
“Not many beaches in Paris though, angel.”
“I was thinking something a bit more Mediterranean. After all, I do have a brand new bikini.”