Chapter Text
Giving into temptation was so easy once he started.
Letting himself have little treats here and there. Indulging in a night at the opera. Seeking out the very best of literature, music, dining, art. Once he had a taste of something fine, it was all too easy to go back for more, to sate his desires for the things he loved best. He enjoyed trying a new fascination in every permutation it could be experienced until he was satisfied he knew all the minute differences, savoring subtle changes in flavour and mood and depth, comparing them endlessly against each other until these little luxuries were as comfortable and worn as his dependable waistcoat.
After the apocalypse had come and gone with nothing more than a whimper, Aziraphale was at last free to indulge in the temptation and the luxury that was Crowley. They had made love at least twice a day in the months since, trying out every possible configuration that their bodies could join and climaxes could be reached. Yet discovering physical expressions of love wasn't reserved to just experimenting with sex; there were countless ways for them to delight in each other's bodies. They held hands in the park and snuggled on the sofa and played with each other's hair. Aziraphale once spent an entire afternoon (3 days, 12 hours, 46 minutes, and 3 seconds to be precise) simply kissing Crowley. It had all been quite good fun.
But Aziraphale was beginning to — not worry, exactly — but there was a hint of concern at the back of his mind that sooner than later they would have covered every position in every combination of efforts and presentations. While he was certain that he would enjoy sex with Crowley even once they had settled down into comfortable routines and it was no longer new and surprising, he couldn't entirely suppress a bit of sadness at moving past the most exciting stages.
Crowley, perhaps sensing Aziraphale's line of thought, or perhaps simply wanting to continue having new experiences himself, suggested that the two of them go on holiday.
That was how they found themselves in a large park on the outskirts of Paris, having shortly finished up a picnic of pastries and fruit and champagne. They were almost entirely isolated in the wild setting of the park. The natural area was large and it was easy enough to find a spot far from other hikers and picnickers, if one was willing to walk a ways. Aziraphale had insisted they select a site well out of listening distance from anyone with whiny children or boisterous drunks. Crowley had grumbled about walking so far from the Bentley, but in the end he'd insisted on carrying the picnic basket for Aziraphale the entire way despite his dramatics.
Crowley flopped backwards on the blanket spread on the grass, pronouncing himself too full to move, and soon enough the warmth of the afternoon lulled him to sleep. Aziraphale attempted to lose himself in a novel he brought on the trip (one of twenty or so; Crowley had to talk him out of bringing multiple trunks of reading material, insisting they would have more than enough sightseeing to do to have time for many books), but he found himself distracted by the sight of Crowley sleeping beside him. The rays of sun peeking between tree leaves left shifting dappled spots of shadow and light on him, illuminating him in new ways. The cut of his jawline, the softness of his relaxed expression, the tussled mess of his hair. All of it mesmerising, pulling Aziraphale in closer.
Setting the book aside, Aziraphale trailed a hand along Crowley's arm, the hair beneath his fingertips standing on end as his skin goosepimpled. A glance at Crowley's face confirmed he was asleep, and Aziraphale decided to continue his little game. For long moments he kept his touch light, brushing up and down the length of Crowley's arm, from the sharp bones of his wrist up to the smooth curve of his shoulder.
Crowley's dress was a thin, sleeveless thing. A little ghost of fabric wrapped around his body and held up with small straps. So much of his skin was on display and Aziraphale let himself look his fill, drinking in the sight of his lover spread out on the tartan blanket. The dress was a deep blue, a departure from his usual color scheme, but it contrasted with his red curls so well, like a fiery sunset over a deep sea.
He wasn't wearing a bra underneath, a fact he'd ensured Aziraphale noticed by being almost overtly lewd throughout the day, bending over to let Aziraphale glance down the front, brushing his chest against Aziraphale's arm when reaching for something. His nipples had been peaked all day, poking through the fabric. Two hard points capping his small curves, and Aziraphale doubted their shape was due to any chill, given the summer heat. He enjoyed the view and the teasing, content to let Crowley amuse himself with his wretched flirting. It was unnecessary to vie for Aziraphale's attention, as if Crowley didn't have Aziraphale's attention endlessly, but it still made something pleased burn in him, to be so obviously the center of Crowley's desire.
Crowley's opposite arm was laying above his head, his hair spread out beneath him. As Aziraphale continued his teasing touch, Crowley turned slightly towards him, his face angling towards the source of the ticklish sensation. His over-large sunglasses made contact with the ground and poked into the side of his face, making him wince in his sleep.
"That won't do," Aziraphale murmured to himself. Crowley looked far too peaceful a moment ago in his sun-powered nap, and he was loathe to see Crowley wake up in discomfort. Moving slowly, Aziraphale eased the glasses off of Crowley's face and watched the tilt of his head fall to the side even more without the glasses propping his cheek up. The wrinkle in his brow smoothed and Aziraphale nodded, satisfied that Crowley was comfortable once more.
He reached for his book again, but as he opened it to the right page, a little hiccup of wind surprised him, catching the hem of Crowley's dress and flipping it up. The dress, already short to the point of distraction on Crowley's long legs, now laid indecently high on Crowley's thighs. An inch or two more and Aziraphale would have a clear view of Crowley's panties. Wasn't that a delightful little thought — imagining what Crowley might be wearing underneath. Aziraphale hadn't seen Crowley get dressed for their picnic so he wasn't sure what would be there, were he to lift the hem a bit higher. Perhaps Crowley's trademark black. He did have a great many lovely black pairs of pants, some lacy, some sleek and smooth. Or perhaps Crowley had matched his underwear to his outerwear and had a rich blue piece under the dress, of a silky material.
Aziraphale ached to know. Crowley was laid out in the warm sunshine dressed like a gift and Aziraphale's fingers itched to unwrap him. There was no one close by. No one around to witness Crowley's immodesty if Aziraphale hitched the dress higher up and took a peek at his sleeping lover.
Aziraphale's hand moved almost without his input and he held his breath as he ever so carefully pinched the edge of the dress between his thumb and forefinger. He slid it up until it draped over the jut of Crowley's hip bones and nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight. Crowley had foregone underthings altogether and nestled between his legs was a full bush of bright red curls. Crowley had been walking around for the full day with nothing on below, letting the wind tease his pubic hair every time it danced under his skirt. Had it made him wet? Had he been aroused and aching all this time, with the knowledge that he was one gust away from being exposed? Had he gotten dressed that day thinking ahead to when he'd take the dress off for Aziraphale and let him run his hands over all of Crowley's skin?
The whole thing appeared more and more to be a temptation. The pretty sundress, the isolated location, napping in the sun, wearing nothing beneath his clothes — perhaps Crowley was tempting Aziraphale into taking what he desired. Aziraphale merely had to give in.
And, oh, how easy it was to give in. How simple but right it felt to slip his fingers into course curls and down Crowley's full labia. How sweet and ready Crowley's body was for him as his fingers parted folds and delved deeper into slick hot flesh. Crowley was wet. Deliciously so. Crowley's body could get wet so easily, turned on with a touch or a gaze from Aziraphale. This afternoon was no exception. The lower curls at his center were damp. Aziraphale's thick fingers stroked between Crowley's lips spreading his slick around, bringing some upwards to lube his clit and ease his movement.
Aziraphale's fingers were deft and sure. He was accustomed to handling delicate materials, ancient papers and crumbling covers, that needed a gentle touch while he restored them. It came to him by instinct now, the ability to use his hands with gentle precision. He nudged Crowley's thighs apart, exerting only enough pressure to encourage Crowley's relaxed limbs to move of their own volition, falling to the side, opening him up for Aziraphale to play.
A low moan escaped Crowley's mouth. And while his breathing was slightly faster than before, he still appeared fully asleep. Aziraphale was gratified to see Crowley feeling aroused from his actions, even if he wasn't conscious of it. He knew Crowley's body well now, knew exactly how to feed Crowley's pleasure. He ran his fingers up and down, grazing Crowley's clit occasionally, sometimes sweeping up higher to circle the hood once or twice. Light, easy touches that would have Crowley whining that he was being teased if he was awake. But he wasn't awake to urge Aziraphale to go faster, harder, focus on his clit more, so Aziraphale took his time, letting himself move as slowly as a puddle of treacle spreading under a tipped jar.
Crowley's clit gradually stood taller and firmer, the tip of it beginning to poke free of its hood. Aziraphale wanted to catch it in his mouth. If he dipped his head down low between Crowley's legs, and ran his tongue from Crowley's entrance, tasting his slick, up to the peak of his clit, licking at the underside before sucking the nub into his mouth, would that wake Crowley at last? Would that take his faint moans and slightly hitching breath and make them fuller, more desperate, until Crowley was gasping awake, his startled gold eyes connecting with Aziraphale at the apex of his thighs? He would probably smirk once his mind caught up to what was going on, and make a quip about Aziraphale enjoying his meal. Then he'd pull Aziraphale's head in closer, riding his face as he bucked his hips and chased his pleasure to a rough, messy end.
It would be fun. Crowley often liked fast and hard and taking what he wanted, and he knew how to make sex thrilling. But Aziraphale didn't want fast today. The lazy afternoon sunshine whispered to him to go slow, to savour this moment with his speed-demon at rest. Aziraphale was going to make this last, to go so slow even he would find it torturous.
Aziraphale let his fingers slide lower again and circled two fingertips around the entrance of Crowley's hole, not dipping in yet, merely playing. More slick dripped out over his hand, proof of how Aziraphale could please Crowley. He pushed even lower, to dance his fingertips over Crowley's perineum, the little stretch of skin so sensitive that Crowley's quim fluttered for a moment. Then lower still as he eased between Crowley's cheeks to graze the back hole. He ghosted his fingers over that tight furl of skin and muscle, lubing him up there as well simply for the joy of feeling Crowley hot and wet everywhere.
Crowley's body was so welcoming to him, even in sleep. It was an invitation, a temptation, to carry on. He slipped his fingers into Crowley's pussy and the glide of it was so easy. He took his time, pumping in and out lazily, twisting his fingers now and then for new stimulation. Crowley's face was peaceful, as content as if Aziraphale were brushing his hair or reading him a novel. But then Aziraphale curled his fingers up, stroking Crowley's G spot. Crowley's hips jolted, his torso arcing up to meet Aziraphale's thrusts and Aziraphale immediately eased up on the pressure.
"Shh, stay asleep," he said. He pet Crowley's hip with his free hand, encouraging his body to relax against the blanket. "You're having a lovely dream. Don't wake up just yet."
Crowley settled again, his lax face trusting.
Aziraphale shuffled over, easing Crowley's legs farther apart to settle between them. There was a little dark spot on the blanket under Crowley's arse. A tongue darted out of Aziraphale's mouth, wetting his lips, torn between the need to taste Crowley right away and the desire to play with him until the spot grew larger, until the blanket was soaked. He settled for licking his wet fingers clean, enjoying the salt tang of Crowley's arousal where it clung to him.
Another whisper of wind blew past, tossing Crowley's curls and toying with the fabric rumpled around his waist. Aziraphale was reminded again that they were in a public park; despite how exclusive their little spot in the woods was, anyone could walk along and see Aziraphale kneeling above Crowley with his long limbs splayed around Aziraphale, perhaps even catch a glimpse of Crowley's bared sex. He was so open, so vulnerable, his soft folds spread apart for Aziraphale's gaze. It sent an illicit thrill through him, a shivery naughty feeling at treating Crowley so carelessly.
Aziraphale had never been so daring. Public displays of affection they'd shared in the past had only gone as far as quick kisses. Well, except for one occasion, when he had purchased them ice cream (on a mild day without any kidnappings) and a drip had melted down Crowley's wrist. Aziraphale caught Crowley's hand in his own, drew it to his mouth, and proceeded to lick his skin clean. He'd been slow then too. Vanilla ice cream wasn't his favourite but he could appreciate the flavour for its rich history. Yet what he appreciated the most was watching a deep red flush spread across Crowley's cheeks and neck. Aziraphale had been thorough, letting his tongue run along the inside of Crowley's wrist where his frivolous pulse was speeding up, then up over the meat of Crowley's thumb, until he reached Crowley's cone where a white sugary trail was still leaking down. Crowley had made a strangled sound in his throat when Aziraphale's tongue flicked up the side of the cone before he made a show of swallowing. It had almost been foreplay.
Aziraphale smiled to himself, remembering how Crowley had pounced on him when they'd finally gotten home, pushing Aziraphale against the door and undoing Aziraphale's bowtie as fast as he could to suck hickeys at the base of his throat. There had been quite a lot more licking and sucking that day.
Bold as he had been thus far, exposing Crowley like this, Aziraphale decided to take it even further. After all, Crowley was still soundly asleep and no one had discovered them. Surely it was safe to see what else he could get away with.
Aziraphale slipped one of the straps of the dress down Crowley's shoulder and tugged the neckline down below one of his breasts. A pinkish brown nipple stood up, calling for attention. Aziraphale swiped his thumb over the bud a couple times before cupping the breast in his palm. He massaged in gentle circles, feeling Crowley's chest heave in slow breaths. Part of him seemed to be leaning up into the caress, however, as if he craved Aziraphale's touch.
Bracing himself on one elbow to the side of Crowley, Aziraphale leaned down and sucked the nipple into his mouth. Crowley moaned, low and soft. Aziraphale smiled internally and flicked his tongue over the nipple. Quick, fluttering licks at first before switching to laving in long flat-tongued strokes. He let drool build up in his mouth and drip down over Crowley's skin. When he pulled back Crowley's nipple was reddened and glistening with saliva trickling down the curve of his breast towards his side. The sight was enticing, pulling Aziraphale back down to lick and suck some more.
Slipping two fingers back inside Crowley's entrance, Aziraphale thrust with an easy rhythm, this time avoiding his G spot. He let the meat of his palm just barely brush Crowley's clit, gradually bringing Crowley back to the edge with his teasing.
Oh how intoxicating it was, feeling Crowley's body strain for more stimulation, unaware but aching for more of Aziraphale's touch. Aziraphale closed his eyes and drank in the moment, the quiet squelch of his fingers fucking Crowley, the heartbeat beneath Crowley's ribcage pounding just for him, the cool breeze slinking over their hot sweaty bodies, the soft beauty of Crowley's trusting body at rest, letting himself be pleasured and teased.
When another low moan came, this one turning into a desperate whine, Aziraphale drew back again. He admired the red flush on Crowley's face and brushed a few strands of hair back where they stuck to his damp forehead.
"So beautiful, my dearest. So good for me."
Aziraphale leaned back on his haunches to undo his trousers. He pulled his clothes down below his arse, giving himself just enough freedom to work with. His cock strained up, so hard it hurt and leaking precome from the tip. Aziraphale spread the drops down his shaft before withdrawing his fingers from Crowley and using Crowley's wetness to lube his cock as well.
Then he lined himself up, pausing for a moment to savour the image of the crown his cock nestled between Crowley's plump labia.
Crowley whimpered, a needy, broken sound, as Aziraphale pressed the head of his cock inside.
"Oh, you sweet thing," Aziraphale reached up and pet Crowley's cheek, "Is that what you needed? A nice, thick cock to fill you up? Don't worry, I have you. I'll take care of you, darling."
He braced himself over Crowley with both hands on the blanket and began rocking his hips in shallow thrusts. He kept his motions slow and steady, working Crowley open far slower than he would need to on a usual day or if Crowley were awake. Normally by now, Crowley would be grabbing Aziraphale's hips, urging him on faster, deeper, harder, begging to fucked like he deserved.
But Crowley deserved this too, this gentle lovemaking. The Serpent of Eden was a kind soul, underneath all the posturing and smirking and fast fashion and fancy appliances. Sometimes he needed a soothing embrace, a caring touch.
Aziraphale closed his eyes again and sank a bit deeper inside. Crowley was hot and wet all around him. He was so slick and soft, yet gripped his cock tight. Every time, no matter which configuration Crowley wore, Aziraphale marveled at how well they fit together. He always wanted it again, craving the beauty of it all, with all the physicality and mess of human sex. Crowley was better than any partner he'd ever had. Their love and lust blended like a perfect white paired with dessert.
Tilting his head back to catch a ray of sun, Aziraphale sighed. The forest around felt peaceful. The quiet was nearly undisturbed, save for his hushed breaths and Crowley's occasional moan. The wind played softly enough it made barely a whisper in the tree branches. Far in the distance a bird chirped, calling to its mate perhaps.
If anyone were to come walking along the half-overgrown path, they might hear before they saw. Maybe it would make them hesitate and turn back, unwilling to disturb the couple. Or maybe they would approach even slower, keeping to where the trees were thicker and staying hidden as they listened and watched. It would be obvious what was going on, even with Aziraphale nearly fully dressed. His position above Crowley, his rhythmic thrusting, their sounds, Crowley's dress pulled down and hiked up, all of it painting an obscene picture.
Someone stumbling across them likely wouldn't be as titillating as he fantasised but the indecency of it all thrilled him. Let someone watch. Let Heaven themselves watch and see his claim on Crowley, see their burning love for each other! The angels would find it profane but Aziraphale knew there was nothing as holy as their hard-won humanity. Aziraphale and Crowley were determined to fully enjoy their lives as free agents on Earth, including every expression of the very carnality Heaven found so distasteful.
Well even if no one else could appreciate what they had, Aziraphale could. He looked back down at Crowley. His dear sleeping face was displaying more and more how affected he was, his lips parted and eyes shifting beneath his eyelids.
Aziraphale adjusted his weight to one arm and slipped the other one between them to rub at Crowley's clit once more. The extra stimulation made Crowley's hips jerk minutely, seeking more. Aziraphale didn't speed up his motions, however, his hips moving with indulgent lazy thrusts and his fingers working with steady pressure.
It only took a few minutes for Crowley to clench down around Aziraphale's cock as an orgasm rocked through him. His body tensed at the peak before he sank back, more relaxed than before, into the blanket. Aziraphale paused for a moment, fighting off his own climax as Crowley's pussy pulsed, the heat and tightness sending him higher, nearly making him lose his grip on himself.
When Aziraphale had firm control of himself once more he picked up the same gentle pace. Only the sound of his thrusts were louder now; Crowley was so wet Aziraphale nearly slipped out each time he pulled back. The little damp spot on the blanket was growing, Aziraphale knew, it would probably begin soaking through and his own clothing might be in danger. He couldn't bring himself to care about the mess though. Not with Crowley looking and feeling more gorgeous every moment, his body a priceless artwork for Aziraphale to delight in.
"Darling," Aziraphale whispered, "If you could see yourself right now. You take my breath away? Do you feel good? You feel so wonderful to me."
Crowley didn't respond but another little shivery wave of pleasure washed through him. Aziraphale could feel it in Crowley's muscles.
He shifted position again, until he was propped on his other hand, and used his clean hand to cup Crowley's face. Then he leaned down and captured Crowley's mouth with his in a long, deep kiss. It was strange to kiss lips that didn't kiss back, Crowley's mouth slack and unresponsive. He simply took what Aziraphale offered without reacting.
But then he did, and Aziraphale startled to feel lips close over his lower lip, sucking lightly. Aziraphale drew back and saw Crowley blinking up at him, a dazed expression in his eyes. The gold irises spread to the edges, no white visible. His brow wrinkled, as if dismayed to feel the kiss end and he angled upwards to catch Aziraphale's mouth again. It was all Aziraphale could do to hold back his laughter at seeing Crowley so affected, but he dipped his head and traded another languid kiss.
Eventually Crowley squirmed from where he was pinned beneath Aziraphale. Aziraphale had stopped his thrusts once Crowley began waking, but he hadn't withdrawn, and Crowley was quickly becoming aware of the fact.
"Angel," he murmured against Aziraphale's mouth.
"Mm?"
"You're not gonna believe the dream I was having."
"Oh?" Aziraphale pulled back from their kisses far enough to look Crowley in the eye again.
"Mhmm, I dreamed you were fucking me in a public park without a care in the world."
Crowley raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale didn't try very hard not to appear smug.
"How strange," Aziraphale said.
He rolled his hips, stroking Crowley's G spot with precision. With Crowley cognizant now, Aziraphale caught every tiny movement of Crowley's eyelashes as his eyes fluttered with the sudden stimulation, along with the little hitch to his breath and the way his belly tensed.
"And you were being a horrible tease," Crowley said, fixing his face with an exaggerated pout.
Aziraphale smiled serenely. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean. You had a lovely orgasm not ten minutes ago."
Crowley tried to growl his disapproval but Aziraphale bestowed him with more kisses. Crowley accepted, tilting his head to deepen them, tangling their tongues and using his own with his devilish dexterity.
When Crowley began squirming again, attempting to get more leverage to fuck himself faster on Aziraphale’s cock, Aziraphale held him dowm against the ground with both hands.
"C'mon, angel. Give it to me harder."
"No, I don't think I will," Aziraphale said. He ground down in small circles before switching back to the rolling thrusts that pressed against Crowley's walls just right. "I want you to come again, like this."
"I can't," Crowley pleaded, "I need more."
"Shh, be good now. You can do it."
Crowley chewed on his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut. His head flopped back to the blanket as he voiced a dramatic groan.
Aziraphale felt as if he needed to bite his own lip, trying to stave off his finish until he made Crowley come a second time. It was hard to resist speeding up as he neared the edge. He'd let his own lust and pleasure build gradually and now it was threatening to unravel all his control.
Precision. That was what he needed. Aziraphale wrapped his hands around Crowley's hips, repositioning until his hips were tilted to the best angle. He moved smooth and slow but with more force now, driving into Crowley with single minded determination to see Crowley come undone.
Soon enough Crowley was panting, gasping in lungfuls of air as Aziraphale pushed him higher. As thrilling as it had been to play with Crowley's sweet, passive body, this would never cease to excite Aziraphale. Crowley was reacting with such vivid passion, crying out "Angel!" when Aziraphale hit the perfect spot. Loud and messy and begging for more was exactly how Aziraphale wanted Crowley.
Aziraphale knew he couldn't hold himself back for much longer while watching Crowley be so desperate for him.
"Go on, then. You've been so good. Come for me."
Crowley shuddered and as the first pulses of his pussy clenched down on Aziraphale’s cock, Aziraphale began rubbing Crowley's clit. A strangled yell erupted from Crowley as it overwhelmed his senses. Aziraphale watched, awe-struck, as small but strong streams of clear fluid squirted from Crowley with each press against his G spot. It was lewd, all the moaning and shaking and squirting. Crowley's face contorted. His pleasure so great it looked like pain. He grabbed fistfuls of the blanket below him, as if it would ground him from flying away, even as his legs spasmed. The splashes from his squirting pussy were noisy, adding to the filthy cacophony of sounds their game produced, a finer music under the canopy of trees than any opera in a great performing hall. Aziraphale's front was soaked in a matter of moments along with the blanket, before Crowley finally started coming down from his climax.
Aziraphale eased up the pressure on Crowley's clit, opting instead for light circles around the hood instead of direct contact, attempting to pull any last threads of pleasure from him without overstimulating the poor dear too badly. Tiny dribbles of clear come continued to leak from him, weaker with each pass. At last Crowley heaved a shuddery sigh and his strained muscles unlocked. His thighs splayed open with jelly-like weakness. He was sopping wet — everything was beyond wet at that point.
"You astound me," Aziraphale said.
Crowley opened his eyes with some difficulty, his gaze watery and unfocused at first. Then he settled on Aziraphale’s face and smiled dopily.
"You've a good cock," he slurred and it wrenched a startled laugh out of Aziraphale's chest.
"I'm glad you think so, darling." Aziraphale kissed his sweaty brow.
He pulled back and sank back into Crowley's heat, as slow as he could handle. Crowley's pussy was buttery soft, slippery and silken.
Crowley hissed. "Ssensitive."
"My apologies," Aziraphale said. He stopped grazing Crowley's clit and pulled his cock free, gritting his teeth. Crowley shivered again, more affected than he was.
It only took a few quick pumps of his fist over his cock before he was coming in fat spurts. Aziraphale groaned, too overcome to hold back. His spend landed in streaks across Crowley's vulva, adding to the mess, a few drops spilling on the hem of his dress. When he was done he stayed hunched over Crowley for a moment, catching his breath and enjoying the last spikes of pleasure radiating through his bloodstream.
He opened his eyes, only realising then that he'd closed them, and saw the mess he'd made of his partner. Crowley was grinning again, entirely too smug. Aziraphale pushed his half hard cock back in, fucking his come into Crowley with a few short thrusts until his erection was too soft to continue. Crowley laughed even as he protested, half-heartedly trying to squirm away. Aziraphale caught his mouth in another kiss, this one surprisingly sweet. Neither of them wanted to pull from the embrace, chasing each other's mouths with little nipping kisses, slight presses of lips and tongues.
"Okay," Crowley sighed eventually, hardly able to separate them long enough to speak, "it's getting too sticky now."
Aziraphale hummed his agreement. They extricated themselves with care, sitting up slowly. Aziraphale snapped the blanket and his clothes into pristine shape. Crowley cocked an eyebrow at his own still disheveled state. He'd adjusted his dress to cover himself again but it was wrinkled and a bit of come stained the hem.
Aziraphale chuckled at his bemused expression. "I like the look of you like that."
Crowley rolled his eyes at him and ran his fingers through his curls. His attempt to tame them partially succeeded but everything about his appearance announced he'd just been fucked. Something in Aziraphale's belly warmed with that familiar glow of satisfaction and longing.
"If it's too much, of course I'll fix your appearance too. The game is up now in any case." Aziraphale added.
A faint blush dusted Crowley's cheeks. "No," he said slowly, "it's okay. Although I'd rather avoid meeting anyone else still."
"Of course." Aziraphale kissed his cheekbone next to his snake tattoo. "Back to the car then?"
Crowley nodded and took his hand. Aziraphale picked up their basket, the remains of their picnic and the blanket having made their way nicely inside, and they began down the path.
"How was it? Was that what you were looking for?"
"Yeah, 'twas good, angel. Thanks."
Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "I'm glad. I'd be amenable to playing these sorts of games again."
Crowley licked his lips. They ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and stepped over gnarled roots. There were still birds chirping in the distance, though they stayed out of sight. Aziraphale was thankful for the leisurely hike back to the Bentley and civilisation. Crowley needed space to gather his thoughts, and he often preferred to have sex talks while otherwise occupied. Aziraphale noted that Crowley hadn't retrieved his ubiquitous glasses, however, letting his full-gold eyes show even if they were pointed at the obstacles in their way.
After a few more paces of silence, Crowley said, "Yeah, I'd like that too." He glanced at Aziraphale from the corner of his eye, so quick Aziraphale almost missed it.
Then he added in a lower tone, "I could wear a dress that buttoned up the front next time."
Aziraphale smiled and squeezed his hand again. He let his mind draw up an image of Crowley fully bared to him and the sky, his dress open and shoved away to the sides while Aziraphale played with him.
"You wouldn't find it too exposing?"
Crowley blushed more. "I would, but that's the point, that I'm not telling you no."
Aziraphale nodded and drew Crowley's hand up to his face to kiss the back of his hand. "You delight me endlessly. The trust you give me, my dear, is more precious to me than anything."
Crowley was bright red. "Shut up, don't get all poetic on me."
Aziraphale laughed. "As you wish. I'll save the poetry for the next time I have you pinned and you can't wiggle free."
Crowley groaned and bumped his shoulder, knocking them both a little off balance and nearly into the underbrush. Aziraphale straightened them out and they walked on. Their conversation turned to discussing the remainder of their holiday in Paris, a bubble of contentment surrounding them as they made their plans.