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Chapter Text

Rome

Aziraphale wound his way through the bodies in the rather too-rowdy tavern. As a man bumped into him, spilling a few drops of his ale onto his toga, he wondered if he should just give up and come back the next night, a good sight earlier.

But he was thirsty, and this tavern was the only one that served that delightful red wine.

He sighed, pressing forward through the hot bodies toward the bar.

All of a sudden, a beefy arm was thrown over his shoulders, and Aziraphale faltered slightly under the unexpected weight.

“I asked my friends,” a deep voice slurred in his ear. “Am I really that drunk, or did a vision of sunlight and softness just walk into this place?”

A clumsy hand was in his hair, tugging his short, blonde curls.

“I beg your- do you mind?” Aziraphale tried to pull away, looking at the man using him as a support. He was a young soldier, maybe 20? 25? Could be 30, Aziraphale was in fact hopeless at guessing human age. Strands of his dark hair were stuck to his face with sweat and his olive cheeks were flushed with pink from the drink. But overall, he was the human standard of quite handsome.

“An angel or a vision, I asked.” The young man continued, swaying closely enough that Aziraphale could smell the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath. “But if you are flesh and bone, I must have a taste and see what heaven savours of.”

Aziraphale’s screwed up expression of confusion fell into shock as the man pitched forward. His long, straight nose pressed into Aziraphale’s cheek and his wet lips pressed off-centre on Aziraphale’s own.

“Omphf-“ Aziraphale turned his cheek as what must have been the young man’s tongue pressed into his face, and brought up his hand to his chest. A tiny frission of heavenly power travelled through his fingers at his will, and the man slumped, unconscious.

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale grunted as he tried his best to catch the man, all while tilting his head away from the lax slide of the man’s mouth down his chin.

Just as his knees were about to give out, the weight reduced.

“Thank you-“ he said to the figure who had grabbed the other side of the soldier, hoisting his arm over his shoulders. The shock of red hair would have given him away if he hadn’t been able to take in his face a beat later.

“Oh! Crowley!”

“C’mon angel, let’s get you out from under this mountain.”

The angel and demon struggled together for a moment, dragging the soldier out of the walkway.

“Here, drop him.” Crowley grunted.

“Ah, are you sure? It-“

“Drop!”

Aziraphale tried to lower him gently, but Crowley let the soldier’s dead weight drop like a sack of potatoes. They stood in front of the slumped figure, looking down at him contemplatively.

“He’ll sleep it off. C’mon, let’s get a drink.” Crowley said, nudging Aziraphale away.

“What brings you here Crowley?” Aziraphale asked as they sat themselves at the bar, stools in the quieter end of things having been vacated just as they arrived.

“They have a rather excellent wine.” Crowley drawled, indicating two fingers to the attendant.

Aziraphale beamed at the side of Crowley’s face. “Indeed. I have ventured out for some of that wine myself.”

“Really? I thought you might have been in the market for something with a little more… body.”

“Don’t tease.” Aziraphale chided with a frown.

“Never. I can’t let it go unremarked upon though. Not in my nature. You appear to have made quite the fan. Rather a good-looking one in fact.”

“Your point?” Aziraphale asked, thankfully clasping the goblet the attendant had sat down in front of him.

“My point is to ask why you weren’t amenable to a little kiss? Maybe something more?”

“It would hardly be proper.”

Crowley chortled into his own drink after taking a sip. “It’s Rome angel. You probably passed three orgies on your way here. Not to mention this tavern…”

Aziraphale looked at him questioningly.

“Well, hadn’t you noticed?” Crowley finished mysteriously.

Aziraphale frowned and looked around for what Crowley could possibly mean. There were dozens of men in here, as he had previously noted. Musicians sat across the room playing a jolly dancing tune. Laughter and indistinguishable chatter threatened to drown out the music. Men were drinking and slapping each other on the back… two of them were arm wrestling, with a crowd of onlookers cheering their preferred contender on. And two more-

“Oh my.” Aziraphale averted his eyes at the men kissing in an alcove, the bigger one leaning over his partner and slipping a hand up his leg.

But where his eyes ended up were on three men near them at the bar. Two younger lads were fawning over a man with grey hair and stocky build. He wore expensive cloth, likely a General or something in Rome’s enormous army. Their hands were everywhere: tangled in his hair, running up his thighs, trailing suggestively down the line of their own naked chest.

He turned back to Crowley to find the demon grinning and his shoulders shaking lightly in silent laughter.

“I had not realised.” Aziraphale said, red-faced.

Crowley chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “So, when you’re in Rome, why not indulge? Your exotic looks have no shortage of admirers.”

Aziraphale frowned in disbelief, looking around again. Now he noticed how many people were looking back at him. Two men winked, and one raised a goblet with a smirk.

Good heavens. Was he really that unobservant that he had to get a demon to explain his surroundings to him?

“I- I am not interested.” Aziraphale said primly, taking a sip of wine and determinedly fixing his eyes on the shelves behind the bar instead of any of the leering men, or Crowley himself.

“Mmm, men not to your taste?” Crowley asked idly.

Aziraphale tsked but did not answer.

“Inexperienced with your own sex?” Crowley continued.

Aziraphale would later blame the blood running to the cheeks of his corporation instead of his brain for his response.

“Being ‘inexperienced with sex’ is entirely appropriate for an angel!” He squawked defensively.

Oh. Oh no.

“Wait, all sex?” Crowley asked incredulously.

There was nothing for it now. Aziraphale tilted his chin up to show Crowley he was not embarrassed and would not be goaded into being so by any amount of taunting.

“You’re a virgin?”

Aziraphale shushed Crowley sharply. “Quietly if you please, you’ll draw attention.”

Crowley looked around. “You’re right, they hear that and they’ll be clamouring over you like you’re a lamb to their hungry wolves…”

Crowley leaned in closer.

“Sorry angel, just… you love human indulgences. You can’t tell me that- that- that, eating oysters is better than-“ Crowley made a crude gesture, one that took Aziraphale a moment to understand.

His mouth dropped open, minorly scandalised, before he snapped it shut again.

“I would not know.” He said tightly.

“You don’t even know yourself?” The implication was heavy in his words.

“Crowley really, this is hardly the kind of conversation we should be having.”

“Please, please tell me that wasn’t your first kiss!” Crowley hissed gesturing at the man still sprawled next to the wall. He slumped over, face now resting on the dirty floor.

“As a matter of fact-“ Crowley let out a sound of disbelief. “- and it was nothing to write home about.”

Crowley choked on the start of his sentence as he tried to respond. “Oo- meh- well, yeah of course not!”

Crowley let out a frustrated huff before his shoulders slumped. “Your first time should have been better angel.”

Aziraphale was not sure how to respond. 

Crowley cleared his throat, though as a demon, he should have had no need. “All that romantic tosh, your first time being with someone special – it’s important to your lot, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale shot Crowley a look that said in no uncertain terms what he thought of that. “You think Gabriel to be a romantic sort?”

“Point taken. But you… you must have wanted your first kiss to be something better than that?”

He shifted on his stool uncomfortably. “It’s not as if I had imagined how I would… you know.”

Crowley looked at him over his dark, rounded spectacles. “Angels make horrible liars.”

With a huff, Aziraphale took a sip of his wine instead of replying, refusing to further incriminate himself.

In fact, it had crossed his mind before, this human intimacy business. How could it not? He had been there the very first time humans discovered the pleasure of kissing. And laying together. And against a tree. They really were quite creative in their arrangements.

So yes, Aziraphale had wondered what it might feel like. Often, he imagined it just as it had happened – a clumsy and wet sensation, a fleeting moment, as humans were, after all, very fleeting to him. Certainly, the encounter had been more on the unpleasant side, what with the man being a stranger and drunk to boot, but not deriving any pleasure from the act – the invasion – was predictable.

At other times, just sometimes… he had imagined it differently. He had seen lovers part, stars in their eyes and lingering in each other’s space, unable to help but catch just one more taste of the other’s lips. That look, that besotted, lovely look, like their lover’s lips were all they needed to sustain them… it was not without appeal.

What would it be like, to love someone like that? To kiss as an extension of that affection?

“Why don’t you…” Crowley made a complicated hand gesture around Aziraphale. “Go out an make a new memory? Replace this one with something more to your desires?

“What? Kiss someone else?” Aziraphale echoed in astonishment.

“Sure. I can lend you a hand.”

Aziraphale’s stomach swooped and his heart started galloping in his chest. A strange sensation. He had been nervous before – explaining the absence of his flaming sword to God herself was no walk in the park – but this felt different.

That blasted sensation of blood running to his cheeks and whooshing through his ears happened again, and he almost lost Crowley’s next words.

“Of course, my temptations are usually a great deal more saucy, but I can make an exception. Find a nice lad or lady for you, one with more manners.”

“Oh, oh no! Thank you, but no.” Aziraphale rushed, cursing the befuddling emotions that had made him think, for a moment…

“I would rather not, with a human. Especially one I do not know.”

“Well, there’s not that many alternatives.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley from the side of his eye. “No, I suppose not.”

Crowley scowled and looked at him suspiciously. “Unless you’re carrying a torch for Michael or some such?”

Aziraphale’s lip curled in disgust before he could help it.

“Thank Satan, wasn’t sure we could be friends if that were the case.” Crowley joked.

“We’re not friends.” Aziraphale reminded him, more for the form of the thing. Angels and demons could not be friends.

“We’ve certainly known each other a long time. And we get along. What else would you call it?”

He did not respond, as he had no answer.

“Look, this is obviously something you’re interested in, you old hedonist. Stop playing coy and tell me what you need from me to make it happen.” Crowley demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Nonsense. You want someone you know, not a human, not any of your moronic ‘brothers’-“

Crowley froze as he belatedly realised who that left.

“Aziraphale…”

He immediately detested the caution in his tone. Despised it. Crowley was not cautious with him.

“I did not ask you for anything.” He said firmly, his tone short.

“I’m a demon. I’m not who nice angels like you go to for… this kind of thing.” Crowley continued regardless.

“Again, I did not ‘go to you’ for this.”

“It’s not that I’m not interested-” Why was he still talking? “And I’d be lying if I said it had never occurred to me-“ What did that mean? “But it could make things rather messy.”

“I may not have experience in these matters, but it strikes me that ‘messy’ is a part of it all.” Aziraphale shot back, unsure whether he was agreeing or disagreeing with him.

Crowley scoffed. “Someone like you doesn’t want messy. It should be sweet and tender-“

“Despite how this evening has gone so far, I will remind you that I and I alone am the authority on what I want.”

“I know you angel-“

“Seems like you are finding out a lot of things about me for the first time tonight-“

“Be that as it may, what you deserve-“

“Who are you to judge what I deserve?!”

“Would you stop?”

Aziraphale slapped a palm on the bar top, though the too-light sound it made was terribly unsatisfactory.

“I did not ask you to kiss me. I would be loathe to inconvenience you, or-or-or grieve you with such a request.” Aziraphale huffed indignantly, pushing back his goblet and preparing to storm off.

“C’mon it’s not that, you know it’s not. I’m sure you’d be a lovely snog.”

“I suppose we shall never find out!” Aziraphale retorted crankily, jumping to his feet.

Crowley rolled his eyes, the movement so exaggerated he could see it over his specs.

“You fussy little… c’mere then-“

With that Crowley stood, brought his hand to the back of Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him.

It started firm, Aziraphale surprised and Crowley annoyed. But Crowley quickly melted it into something very appealing, his lips softening and moving against Aziraphale’s. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into it, shy but curious.

 The angle changed slightly, and Crowley gently, so gently, sucked on his fuller bottom lip. A tease of a tongue flicked out, the taste of wine from both their mouths meeting. Aziraphale didn’t know precisely how to respond, to give back to Crowley, so settled on hesitantly copying his movements. A low sound from Crowley vibrated against his lips as he pressed back, and Crowley’s other hand cupped the smooth skin of Aziraphale’s cheek.

Far too soon, Crowley eased back. Just an inch or two. Aziraphale sighed dreamily, his eyes slow to open. Crowley was still there, sharing his breath, and his amber eyes poured into Aziraphale’s, bright with an unnamed emotion.

There had been a number of times in Aziraphale’s existence when he had felt the world change. When the first storm happened, after Adam and Eve left the Garden. When God had spoken to Noah about the Great Flood. When Jesus breathed his final breath, and when he rose again. All moments with a heavy importance, what humans might call ‘fate’, affected angels.

But this, this moment was tilting his long existence on its axis. The world was rearranged as he looked into Crowley’s eyes. Oddly, he was reminded of starlight. Not as humans knew it, the delicate twinkling of white light, but of the roiling, melting flames of a burning star up close, when you could feel the heat.

Magnificent.

“There.” Crowley asked huskily, stepping back and flopping onto his stool. Aziraphale clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing Crowley and not letting any polite distance separate them again.

Aziraphale exhaled, sitting somewhat shakily back down himself. He picked up his mostly empty goblet, prepared to drain the last few mouthfuls. He hesitated at the last minute. He didn’t want to wash away the lingering trace of Crowley on his lips.

“Indeed. I can see why humans do that.” Aziraphale agreed faintly.

Oh dear. He hoped this didn’t awaken anything in him.

Chapter Text

The Kingdom of Wessex

Aziraphale found that stomping away from Crowley, which he had done more than a handful of times before, was significantly more difficult in a suit of armour. He paused just before he reached his horse and spun back around, which was also no small feat.

“Wait! Crowley…”

The sound of their armour cut through the fog before they were face to face again.

“I did promise King Arthur some negotiation.” He admitted.

Crowley heaved a sigh. “Right. Come back to my tent then.”

When they arrived, Aziraphale thought that ‘tent’ didn’t really do this structure justice. It was generous in size, with solid furniture, furs and rugs on the ground. It was dripping in demonic miracles to make the space warm, dry and comfortable. He felt a pang of longing. He had been restricted from such luxuries on the road, as his companions took pride in their rough living.

Aziraphale tsked slightly at the huge four poster bed, topped with a high mattress and all manner of snuggly blankets and pillows. The picture of decadence.

“Really Crowley…”

“Wha’?”

“I understand creature comforts better than the average angel, but there is a limit to the luxuries we should allow ourselves when your human compatriots are about.”

“Right, right... so you’re saying I shouldn’t have sent for a selection of statues to fill the empty space in that corner?” Crowley asked.

“I do hope you’re joking.”

“Don’t worry angel, it’s a modest selection. Nothing over six foot.” Crowley grinned and with a wave of his hand, the black armour he was wearing melted away, appearing upright several paces away. Crowley was left in black clothing, the tunic having a rather deep V that would have looked sloppy and ridiculous on anyone else. Not on the demon though.

Crowley collapsed in one of the chairs by the roaring but well-ventilated fireplace, in that unique way that was not unlike a puppet having its strings cut but still somehow graceful. He gestured at the companion chair.

“I cannot-“ Aziraphale gestured his metal suit.

“Just miracle out of it.” Crowley dismissed.

“I shouldn’t. There is a limit on the amount of miracles one should use for personal reasons, and getting this off and on daily quickly adds up.”

“You’re telling me you get into that armour, like a human, every day?” Crowley asked incredulously.

“I usually have help.” Aziraphale sniffed.

Crowley rolled his eyes, looking instead to the glass of wine on the table next to his chair.

“Can’t bear it, all that fluffing about. Here.”

Another wave of his hand and Aziraphale was blessedly free of the armour, a weight literally lifting off his shoulders.

“Wine?” Crowley asked, already pouring a second glass.

“Ah yes, thank you.”

Aziraphale settled down on the companion chair, running his hands over the soft material and thinking he could happily stay right here for several days, with Crowley or a book.

“Aside from the damp, what’s been going on your side?” Crowley asked.

He puffed up with a bit of pride. “Well, I’m a knight. Of the round table.”

“Impressive.” Crowley drawled with a smirk.

“It’s good fun. They’re fine lads, and everything in the kingdom is going swimmingly. Except for you of course my dear.”

Crowley chuckled. “All sweetness and light is it?”

“All very good.”

After a sip of wine, Aziraphale gave in to Crowley’s sceptical look.

“Not necessarily pious.” he allowed. “There’s something of a, well a... a sordid underbelly.” He finished with a scandalised whisper.  

“Meaning?”

“Everyone is... you know, laying together.”

Crowley barked a laugh.

“I can hardly keep track! They bounce from bed to bed so often. It’s a wonder they even know who, or how many people, they’ll be waking up with.”

“I’d watch that angel, if I were you. Sex is a powerful motivator. Kingdom-ruining even.”

Aziraphale frowned. “No, I wouldn’t think so. They all get along famously.”

Aziraphale thought about the King and all the Knights. Arthur was kind and friendly with all his Knights, though admittedly not to the same level as with his sorcerer Merlin. Kind Tristian, funny Percival, Bedivere who liked books almost as much as himself. Goodness, even Queen Gwenivere was friends with the Knights, especially Lancelot!

But Crowley shrugged. “I’m telling you, that’s what I’d be stoking from the inside to ferment discord. Lucky for you, I already have a schtick.”

“And doesn’t it suit you well.” Aziraphale toasted him with a smile.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Aziraphale realised Crowley was looking at him thoughtfully.

“Anyone stoked your interest?”

“Hmmm?”

“Have you found any of your fellow Knights worthy? Done some ‘fornication under command of the King’ perhaps?”

“I have not pursued pleasures of the flesh.” Aziraphale said shortly. It was dangerous ground to tread on. It had taken decades for the memory of Crowley’s lips to fade enough that he did not think of them daily. “I told you, humans hold little appeal to me.”

“Yessss, I’d forgot.” Crowley murmured, though the intensity of his look sharpened.

Aziraphale fought the urge to squirm.

“You know, you don’t need a partner for some things.” He suggested silkily.

It took Aziraphale a moment to realise what he meant. Onanism.

“Oh! Oh I... I couldn’t.” Aziraphale demurred.

“Course you could. Feels great. Terrific stress relief.”

Aziraphale tried not to think about Crowley’s worldly experience with such things. Doing so made his cheeks flush.

“It’s not difficult, promise.” Crowley continued to goad. “Assuming you’ve made an Effort consistent with the male form?”

He hesitated a moment before giving a tentative nod.

“Too easy. Up and down darling, you’ll get it.”

Aziraphale spluttered a short, nervous laugh. More like a trill really.

“I- this type of thing does not come easily to me Crowley.”

Not the action. Aziraphale might be slow with some things, like human emotions, but he was a rather intelligent being. ‘Up and down’ he could handle. The complexity of an angel knowing Earthly pleasure... there was no precedent. Pushing boundaries was not in his nature.

Crowley was scrutinising him, effectively pinning Aziraphale in place. Aziraphale’s chin was dipped practically to his chest as he timidly took another sip from his goblet.

“Would it help you to see it?”

“See it?” Aziraphale squawked. He hoped that none of their attendants were hovering close enough to the canvas to be listening in. “Surely you’re not suggesting I attend some kind of peep show?”

He hissed the last bit. It was one thing to know what humans got up to, but to join in on that kind of voyeurism...

“I’m saying I’ll have a wank and you can watch me, and copy what I do.”

Crowley said it frankly, at least partly to shock Aziraphale. But there was a tension around his mouth and force in his gaze that said his offer was not just for a laugh.

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat and his tongue suddenly felt too clumsy to form words.

“... would you?”

It came out breathless and far too desperately interested.

“I mean, for the sake of curiosity.” It was a poor recovery, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset because Crowley was smiling. Not a smirk, or a grin, but the rare, genuine smile Crowley let slip sometimes.

“Sure angel.” Crowley got up, grabbing something out of a decorative box on a small table next to the bed. He shifted the chair so it was facing Aziraphale instead of the fire. Aziraphale awkwardly shifted his direction too, though the leg got tangled in one of the furs and made him seem rather graceless.

Crowley was sitting again, his legs spread salaciously wide. It was a lot more confronting to sit head-on to the demon, especially when he started to rub his groin over his pants.

“Do I need to talk you through arousal, or do you get that part?” he asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual.

Aziraphale swallowed hard as memories of that kiss and many times he had admired the sinuous, serpentine sway of Crowley’s hips hit him. That, along with the stimulus of seeing Crowley teasing himself specifically for Aziraphale, made his blood run hotter and a hot feeling coil in his tummy.

Arousal was not an issue.

Aziraphale guiltily shook his head.

“I’ve only got one vial, so we’ll have to sit closer.” Crowley said, indicating the small glass bottle in his hand.

He stood, pulling his chair forward. Crowley did the same. When they righted, he realised they were standing only inches apart. He held his breath, wondering if a kiss would be part of a onanism demonstration.

But they did not kiss. Instead, Crowley dropped his trousers.

He sat back like his chair was a throne, and Aziraphale dropped back like a rock.

He was helplessly entranced by the image of Crowley’s long fingers wrapped around his erect penis. Cock? Prick? Shaft? So many words for it, and now he thought he might finally understand the preoccupation humans had with the organ.

Crowley’s member was long, flushed pink and the head peaked out from his foreskin. His fingers pulled back the skin to Aziraphale’s gaze, the mushroom crown shimmering ever so slightly in the firelight.

The spell broke as Crowley released his grip. Aziraphale cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away to instead watch Crowley drop a splash of what looked like oil into his palm. He spread it over his shaft, so it glowed with a warm sheen.

“It helps to slick the way.” Crowley purred.

“Yes, I see...” Aziraphale replied faintly. It also meant that he could hear Crowley’s movements as well as see them, the gentle schlick as he moved his hand up and down his length, spreading the oil.

“Your cock will be most sensitive here...” Crowley cradled the head, thumbing over it. “You can play with it. Let me see angel.”

His palms were sweaty, his stomach doing flips and his heart was pounding. Aziraphale had never felt so much happening inside his corporation, but it all paled in comparison with the hot, tight feeling of his own Effort responding.

He shakily stood, just enough to tug down his own trousers. He had given very little thought to his cock. He didn’t even see it every day, there was little reason for an angel to be undressed. Especially in this damp environment.

In comparison, his cock was shorter but a touch thicker. He too had a slip of skin that was drawn back slightly as his appendage had filled with blood. He had never seen it turgid before.

He tentatively touched it, a little surprised as to the warmth of it. It was a strange combination of hard but with the softness of skin over it. Curious.

“Here.”

Aziraphale jolted slightly as he realised Crowley was offering the bottle, indicating for Aziraphale to hold out his hand. He thrust it out far too quickly.

Crowley decanted a small pool into Aziraphale’s palm before he leaned back.

Aziraphale did as he had seen Crowley do, tentatively spreading the oil over his shaft.

“Oh! It’s warm...” he noted in a low voice.

“My own sssspecial reccccipe.” Crowley replied. Aziraphale looked back up and flushed even deeper at the way Crowley’s eyes hungrily took in his movements, but flicked up over his body and even his face, as though he couldn’t decide what to focus on.

“Move your hand angel, figure out what you like.”

He did as instructed with a gulp, with one slow, long stroke from the base to the tip.

“Yesssss, just like that...” he heard Crowley murmur.

Aziraphale knew his eyes were hooded and his mouth was open as his breathing grew heavy. He probably looked ridiculous, but when it felt so good to touch himself, he didn’t think it worth the energy to focus on.

Crowley’s pace picked up. He watched in rapt fascination as he twisted his wrist as though his palm was polishing the head. His breath hissed as he rubbed.

It seemed like a good idea to copy, so he rubbed over his own slit.

“Ah!” Aziraphale gasped, his hips twitching forward. It was so much, so sensitive and sent sharp arrows of pleasure through his body. “Heavens!”

A growl punched out of Crowley’s chest, and he propped his right foot up on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair. The view was even more intimate.

Aziraphale was stroking himself, too overwhelmed by the sensations that came from swiping around the crown of his erection to try it again too quickly. He found himself unable to keep pace with Crowley though, whose movements were far too aggressive. Crowley’s other hand dipped down to fondle his testicles.

A whine escaped Aziraphale’s throat. He was so hot and overwhelmed. He couldn’t take his eyes off Crowley and his frantic rubbing, except for the quick glances he dared to sneak of his face. His teeth were bared and his glowing eyes were still fixed on Aziraphale.

“Are you close?” Crowley grunted.

“I- I...” Aziraphale feebly stuttered. It was too much. Surely it was dangerous, to overwhelm a body like this? He looked down at his hard length. It was red and almost aching. The tip was leaking clear fluid. He swiped his thumb instinctively, to spread it, and cried out at the feeling.

“It’s ok angel. Watch me. Watch me.”

Aziraphale was panting as he looked back at Crowley. He was leaking too. He did not stop his own movements, even as the feelings scared him. He suspected there was very little that could stop him from stroking and shivering in pleasure.

Crowley’s hand was moving so quick. Above the wet sound, he was chanting lowly “watch, watch me” He devolved into a final trail of grunts and then-

Aziraphale’s chair creaked as Crowley’s foot pressed down hard. His hips arched off the chair by inches as his cock spurted white. It was messy but hypnotically beautiful to see his crescendo, the tangible evidence of Crowley’s pleasure. He didn’t think he had seen anything more tantalising in his long existence, until he looked up. Crowley’s head was thrown back, his mouth open and eyes screwed shut as his body seized.

Crowley had no problem being expressive- he sneered and snarked and rolled his eyes – he had no problem letting his anger or disgust show. But happiness, pleasure? Was rare, like his soft smile.

Aziraphale treasured it.

In any other circumstance, he would be wrestling his own smile, trying not to let Crowley know how much his happiness made Aziraphale happy, for fear of the demon growing embarrassed. But in this carnal position, it had a different effect.

“Ohhh, ah!” Aziraphale worked himself furiously, compelled by something greater than conscious thought. Crowley flopped back down, somehow even more languid than his usual posture, his expression melted into sated peace. He was a vision.

“Crow- nnghh!” Aziraphale cried out as the building pleasure peaked and crashed over him like a tsunami. All of his muscles went tight and his erection pulsed as he released his own seed. The intensity was like nothing he’d ever felt before, possessing him. It spread through his veins and into his Grace. If he had not snapped his eyes shut, he would have seen himself flare and glow.

Finally, blessedly and remorsefully, it subsided into trickles and shivers, his body still tingling with the aftershocks of his first orgasm.

He blinked his eyes open and finally released his softened member, absently noting the filthy mess he’d made of himself. He felt as if he were shaking, or maybe it was just something thrumming under his skin. His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

His eyes connected with Crowley’s, but there was no witty or cutting comment forthcoming. He did note that Crowley’s penis looked hardly less erect than it had been before his own eruption.

“How do you feel angel?”

“... I hardly know.” His voice was rough.

Crowley frowned. “Well, that’s not ideal. Have I traumatised your angelic sensibilities? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“Oh, it was definitely good. Rather extraordinary in fact.” Aziraphale quickly reassured him. “Thank you for showing me, dear.”

“Any time.”

Crowley wiped his hand on his pants, and a second later the mess disappeared. He stood up to right himself, and Aziraphale followed, though his knees felt weak.

As they stood facing each other, he once again yearned for Crowley to take a single step forward, to cup his neck like he had last time and-

He found himself swaying forward, and quickly stepped back, knocking into his chair. These human hormones were powerful. He would have to watch out for them next time.

“Finish the wine before you go?” Crowley asked casually, repositioning his chair so they weren’t facing each other but were closer than before.

“Thank you, yes.”

He would think of something to tell King Arthur about the Black Knight on the way back, which would decidedly not be that they masturbated together then got sloshed on a lovely red.

Chapter Text

  Oxford

It was very late as Aziraphale wandered through the aisles by candlelight, humming as he went. He was the last scholar left awake, and never had he been more grateful for his lack of need to sleep.

Oxford University had opened just days ago, and the library had been packed since. Now he was getting the chance to look through the books alone, not having to worry about being shushed, or shushing others. He would get to know the wonderful tomes this way. Hopefully there was no heavenly business for a few months to call him away.

“Ah.” He pulled a book off the shelves, something he had never read (which was rare) and took it back with him to his table. He carefully placed the book and candle he was carrying down, wary of all the open flames lighting this area around the paper.

 He flexed his fingers, practically giddy as he made to open the book.

But before he could, all the flames flickered at once, as another presence entered the room.

“Knew I’d find you here.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Aziraphale agreed with a grin as Crowley walked into view, leaning against the solid mahogany table next to where Aziraphale was seated.

“It’s like a rule of the universe; if more than a dozen books are gathered, you manifest.”

He chuckled heartily, pleased by the playful grin Crowley was shooting him.

“Have you seen any of the campus?” he asked.

“Not yet. Dipped in here first.” Crowley told him.

“You must stick around for the daylight. It really is quite extraordinary. One of the greatest centres for learning. Just think Crowley, great minds having a place to think, to read, to discuss grand ideas. I’ve always loved that about humans, and they’ve created a beautiful place for it.”

Crowley just watched him enthuse.

“Oh, I do hope you’re not here for a temptation! It would be a shame to have the opening soured.” Aziraphale tutted.

“No temptations. Just wanted to drop in and see whether or not you’d creamed your robes at first sight of the library.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called, scandalised. He looked around, though he knew there was no one else present. “There is no need to be so crude.”

Crowley chuckled. “Weren’t you just talking about the idea of ‘great minds’ and a ‘centre for learning’ getting you hot and bothered?”

“I find completely virtuous joy in such things!” Aziraphale protested.

“I’m teasing angel.” Crowley soothed.

Aziraphale huffed, blushing. Truthfully, carnal urges had been interrupting his thoughts more often lately. Not about the university! But since that day with Crowley... well, he was sure he would not have been as affected by Crowley’s crude teasing sixty years ago.

As ever, Crowley seemed to instinctively know when he had stumbled on a sore point, and pressed.

“My, one might think that all that onanism has made you defensive.”

“All that-!” Aziraphale spluttered, outraged. He turned more in his chair, ready to give Crowley a good dressing down, but thought better of it, based on his smirk. He pursed his lips instead.

“It is hardly a frequent occurrence.”

“But it does occur?” Crowley arched an eyebrow.

Aziraphale fought down his blush. He had nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Every now and then, when the mood strikes.” He said stiffly, looking down and primly straightening the books on the table.

“Enjoying it?”

He looked at Aziraphale over the lens of his round reading spectacles. “It scratches an itch.”

“That’s it? Hmmm.”

Aziraphale waited for him to continue, exactly as Crowley wanted. And just like he had designed, Aziraphale had to ask.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just, breaks my little black heart to know you’re not experiencing the full potential of physical pleasures available to you.”

Available to him?

“Available?”

“Available. I admit, I’ve been feeling a little... excitable. Been amusing myself thinking about how you might be shocked and delighted. And since you don’t want to do it with humans...”

Crowley made a ‘ah-mmm’ sound instead of finishing his sentence and made a pointing gesture between the two of them.

Aziraphale’s heart jumped into his throat.

“I... I am amenable to more teachings...” Aziraphale croaked, though a significant part of him wanted to jump up in celebration or throw himself into Crowley’s arms.

“Excccccellent.” Crowley hissed.

Then he sank to his knees.

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley wrapped his hands around the arms of his chair to spin him away from the desk. His hands smoothed down to Aziraphale’s thighs, gently pushing them apart.

“There’s something to be said for worshipping on your knees.” Crowley said lowly with a grin, as he started to bunch up the light robes Aziraphale wore.

“Don’t blaspheme.” Aziraphale chastised breathlessly.

He had been rapidly hardening since Crowley started talking about ‘physical pleasure’, but seeing him like this... He didn’t think it was the supplication of the position. Crowley certainly didn’t look like he was submitting. He looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. That was getting Aziraphale’s blood pumping.

Aziraphale scooted forward, to help Crowley banish the folds of material preventing him from getting to Aziraphale’s cock.

He shivered as the chilly air of the library finally hit his swollen flesh, but a second later, Crowley had him wrapped in his warm grip.

“Oh heavens!” Aziraphale gasped. It certainly felt different to his own hand. Crowley’s clever fingers rubbed his hard flesh, tugging down his foreskin and rubbing a thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves under the tip. It took mere moments for him to achieve full hardness.

“Try not to choke me angel.” Crowley said with a wink. Aziraphale just looked at him dumbly, his mouth open, as Crowley ducked down and he realised what was about to happen.

The sound he let out when the heat of Crowley’s mouth enveloped him was a first. He gripped the arms of the chair til his knuckles were white.

This was... indescribable. Unbearable. Dirty, unspeakably intimate. It was better than anything he’d ever experienced; his own hand, the smell of fresh baked bread, the sight of an unexplored library and the taste of crepes combined.

He gurgled as Crowley employed his clever tongue around his tip, before bobbing his head and taking an impressive amount of length into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed and the velvet feel was overwhelming. When Crowley started literally sucking on him, he lost control for a blinding minute and thrust his hips up into the sensation.

The hand that was not gripping the base of Aziraphale’s shaft scrambled to his hip, pushing him down.

“S-sorry!” he gasped, understanding now what Crowley meant about ‘choking him’.

Crowley made some kind of noise in response, but the sound was lost around the length in his mouth. The vibrations weren’t though. The buzz made his eyes roll back. His orgasm was rapidly approaching, and he was equally looking forward to and dreading it. It was simply too short a time for it to be over already.

He kept his eyes closed, trying to use deep breathing techniques to calm himself. Watching Crowley’s red head bobbing in his lap was not going to help him put off the inevitable.

Suddenly Crowley pulled off with a wet pop. He snapped open his eyes, but before he could protest, Crowley was growling at him.

“Watch.” He ordered.

Aziraphale nodded shakily. He doubted there was anything he could deny Crowley right now. He was lucky his request was as simple and appealing as watching him suck his cock.

With Aziraphale’s eyes on him, Crowley tilted back his head and flicked out his tongue. It looked rather more forked than a typical human tongue. He dipped it into his slit, licking up the tendrils of precum that were leaking out.

“Crowley...” he whimpered. His resilience was worn out. Time was up.

“I know angel.” His voice was rough. He supposed that having an erect penis butting the back of your throat probably made for an altered voice. It was extremely attractive.

Crowley swallowed him down. He gasped again at the sheer depth he achieved in an instant, and at the enthusiastic suction.

“Gah-uh!” Aziraphale frantically tapped Crowley on the shoulder, to warn him.

Crowley pulled back slightly but kept Aziraphale resting on his tongue.

He couldn’t hold it back. With a final rub of Crowley’s tongue, he was coming.

His vision whited out for a moment as pleasure consumed him. It assailed him, beat down all his boundaries and just kept going as Crowley cradled him. His leg spasmed and he fancied he could feel his testicles emptying, if such a thing were possible.

The demon would have taken a mouthful of seed, but seemed unbothered by it.

Crowley suckled until Aziraphale was unbearably sensitive, and realising he had taken a fierce grip on Crowley’s shoulder, he weakly and reluctantly pushed him back.

His ears stopped ringing and he realised that within his panting was contained a reedy whining, not terribly attractive but surely understandable given what he’d just experienced for the first time.

Finally, Crowley released his member, though his hand remained lightly holding the shaft. He shivered at the feeling.

The hand holding his hip drew back, and Crowley spit a load of white into it. It disappeared quickly into Crowley’s own robes and the sound of what he was doing could not be mistaken.

A shiver of arousal sizzled through Aziraphale’s exhausted form. How unfair. Perhaps if he were a bit more worldly, a bit more clever about this kind of thing, he could figure out the words to ask Crowley to let him try some of what Crowley had done to him on the demon.

As it was, he could barely force his tongue to twist around English words.

Crowley turned his head, mouthing at Aziraphale’s bare thigh as the slick sounds sped up.

He could feel the puffs of breath against his skin, and he shivered again. After only a beat of hesitation, he raised his hand from Crowley’s shoulder to cup the back of his neck, exactly where he could still feel Crowley’s hand branded on him.

“My dear...” he whispered. He was living second to second. Maybe the next thing he was going to say would be an invitation to switch places, or even for Crowley to crawl into his lap and save Aziraphale’s weak limbs from needing to reconfigure themselves. But as he stroked the corner of Crowley’s jaw with his thumb-

“Ah- ahhhh...” Crowley groaned into his skin and his form jerked. He panted into his thigh as he shuddered to satisfaction.

They remained suspended in the moment for a few beats, Crowley breathing deeply in Aziraphale’s lap. Crowley licked his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed Aziraphale’s skin. His cock, still lightly held by Crowley, twitched at the sensation.

With a ragged sigh, Crowley withdrew, covering Aziraphale’s lap modestly as he did.

“There you are angel, another experience to add to your growing collection.” Crowley said roughly.

“Indeed. You were... very generous, thank you.” It was grossly inadequate, but bedroom talk was not something Crowley had taught him, yet.

“My pleasure.”

Crowley stood, and in a jerky movement, ducked in to kiss Aziraphale on the cheek. He drew back quickly, looking unsure.

“Right. Bye then. Do try to pace yourself with those books.”

“I- Crowley-“

But he was already gone.

Aziraphale sat stunned for a good half hour, trying to sort out his thoughts about the events of the night. But doing so for too long would drive him up the wall. He sighed, turning back to the books he had spread over the table. He moved to tidy them up. He would be useless at this table – he likely wouldn’t be able to enter this part of the library again without getting aroused – so he would take a couple back to his lodging.

There was a small volume he didn’t remember pulling off a shelf. He picked it up, turning it over, realising it was not in English or Latin. It was Sanskrit.

“Karma Sutra”.

He flipped through some pages, slamming the book shut immediately as the graphic images registered.

Ah. A little parting gift from Crowley.

He tucked the book between two volumes he was taking home.

Chapter Text

Nottingham

He tucked in the corner of the cloth so the small loaf of bread was tightly wrapped and would not grow stale in the air before it was eaten.

“Here, take this.” Aziraphale said, pressing the bundle into the arms of the woman.

“Oh, but your dinner Friar.” She protested weakly.

“Nonsense.” He said, making sure she had a grip.

She didn’t protest again. She had hungry children at home.

It was indeed his dinner, but Aziraphale did not need to eat. Knowing that people were literally starving soured his appetite anyhow.

“Bless you Friar, bless you.”

“Thank you my dear. Now you get back home safely, and do come back in a few days.”

Aziraphale sighed as he closed the door to the church, without locking it. It was not uncommon for some poor soul to sneak in during the night for somewhere warm to sleep. He always made sure there was some water and bread or oatmeal waiting for them in the morning.

It was difficult to find much joy or hope these days. The enormous taxes were draining the life out of people. There was no sympathy, no reprieve, just a terribly greedy Regent King set on taking everything he could.

Aziraphale wanted to do more, but he was under orders from Gabriel to not interfere. Strictly speaking, he should not even be here. But one kind Friar, with a slightly suspicious amount of food to give away, would make no impression on the beings who were focused only on Royal business.

He knew things would change, they always did. But it was difficult to sit by and wait the decades as humans – children – without that kind of time lived and ended their lives in misery.

He sighed again, and wondered if he might actually sleep tonight. He felt weary enough in his bones to do so.

Then suddenly, the doors burst open.

“Heavens!” he cried at the sudden influx of male bodies pouring into the church.

“Friar?” the one in front called out.

“Here, here – Robin? What’s happening?” It was Robin Hood leading the rag-tag bunch of bodies into his church. Robin was rather a favourite of his. A nice man with a kind face, who risked life, limb and imprisonment to take excess from the wealthy to feed the poor.

“I have an injured man in need of your care Friar.” He said, clasping Aziraphale on the shoulder.

“Oi!” He saw now that there was a figure being held up on an ad-hoc litter, one end held by Little John, the other by two other ‘merry men’. The figure didn’t seem happy to be injured.

“Quickly now, bring him back here.”

Aziraphale ushered Robin and the men carrying the injured one into the rectory, his own rooms.

“Now let’s see-“

There was an arrow sticking out of the stomach of the prone and protesting man. No, not a man-

“Oh!”

Crowley was looking up at him in surprise. And tights. Very tight tights.

He tried to sit up, but his face contorted in pain.

“What are you- oh bugger.”

“You... know each other?” Robin asked, looking between the two.

“We’ve met.” Crowley ground out through the pain.

“Oh good, that makes things a little easier. We can’t take proper care of him Friar, not on the road. Can you hide him? We’ll be back through these parts in three days.”

“Certainly, yes, he is most welcome. I’ll uh, I’ll get you something for the pain.” Aziraphale busied himself in the cupboard for the medicinal liquor. Of course, he didn’t plan on using much on Crowley.

“Thank you Friar. Take care Will, don’t push yourself too much.” Robin and the men each farewelled Crowley fondly, and nodded at Aziraphale before they disappeared once again into the night.

“Bout bloody time.” Crowley grumbled, sitting up with a grunt. Aziraphale looked away as he wrenched the arrow out of himself with a cry.

“Oh dear, do you need-“

“Nah, I got it angel.”

He turned back to see the dark stain on his shirt disappear and Crowley’s shoulders relax.

“That’s better.” He said with levity, swinging up from the narrow bed the men had laid him on.

“Why did you let them cart you around in such a state?” Aziraphale asked, replacing the liquor in the cupboard and grabbing a bottle of wine instead.

“They bloody saw it go in, didn’t they? Didn’t want to blow my cover. Good stroke of luck you were here, otherwise I might have had to heal like a human.” Crowley shuddered.

“What on Earth are you doing with Robin Hood?” Aziraphale asked, gesturing for Crowley to sit at the simple wooden table. “Few too many good deeds for your superiors, surely?”

“They’re rebels, aren’t they? Spreading discord and rebellion against the Crown, violent clashes with the Guard...” he indicated his newly-healed torso.

Aziraphale was not convinced. “They steal from the rich to give to the poor.”

Crowley just shrugged. “I focus on the stealing.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly at his demon logic. “Well, I am glad to see you. I’ve been saving this for a happy occasion. None have been forthcoming I’m afraid, not til now.”

He poured each of them a glass of wine, and they silently cheers-ed before taking a long sip each.

“Hang on!” Aziraphale suddenly cried. “You’re in a church!”

Crowley raised his eyebrows, looking idly around.

“I guess the rectory is not terribly holy? Maybe enough religious men have sinned in this room to make it safe for a demon.” Crowley mused, waggling his brows at Aziraphale.

They finished the bottle of wine, catching up over the past decade or two since they’d last seen each other. Aziraphale was amused to note that he had indeed heard tell of ‘Will Scarlett’, Crowley’s non-de-plume. Crowley teased that he should have realised ‘Friar Tuck’ was Aziraphale, a fussy, kind man of God with a penchant for books, food and helping people.

As he drained the last drops of the goblet, Crowley stood up and stretched. “I’m rather tired actually, all that bleeding. Mind if I take a kip?” he asked, nodding to the bed.

“Certainly,” Aziraphale consented, suddenly not feeling so weary. “I’ve got some things to attend to in the church. Knock if you need me.”

“Will do angel.” Crowley said through a yawn, before collapsing on the bed. He was asleep in seconds.

Aziraphale tutted, redirecting his steps to the bed so he could carefully pull out the rumpled blanket and cover Crowley with it. Silly, brave, kind demon he thought.

Maybe he would linger just a few moments before attending his chores.

**

Crowley slept for a solid twelve hours. He woke to Aziraphale divvying portions of flour into smaller bags to distribute to the people who would be knocking at the door after the morning’s harvest work was done.

“You’re keeping a lot of people afloat.” Crowley said softly from behind him.

“But it’s not enough.” Aziraphale sighed.

“I’d wager it’s more than the church is able to allocate for rations.” He said, with a pointed look.

“I do use some small miracles.” Aziraphale admitted. “Double the bread, that kind of thing. Gabriel isn’t keen on me changing the tide too much though.”

His lips thinned as he willed down the ill-thoughts that inspired.

“Wary of pissing off Death?” Crowley asked darkly.

“Something like that.”

Crowley made a sound of acknowledgment, walking up behind Aziraphale. In the next moment, the rather meagre pile of food on his table and bench tripled. He even spied some luxuries like refined sugar and apples, and some blankets and bolts of heavy cloth.

He turned in shock to Crowley.

“A little from both sides will go unnoticed. But they sum to make something, don’t they?” Crowley noted with forced carelessness.

Aziraphale tilted his head, positively beaming at Crowley. Being rather soft himself, he did so love when the demon showed his softer side.

It seemed Crowley’s charitable mood was lasting, because he finished distributing the food evenly and even came out to the churches’ front yard to watch the children while their parents stepped inside to get their rations and shed some private tears of gratitude.

He came back to the rectory to find Crowley tying up a slingshot he instinctively knew was for one of the young lads.

“Not very demonic of you.” Aziraphale said lightly. They both knew he was talking about more than the toy.

“Yeah well, I’m all about the fun side of evil. Not much fun in kids starving, is there?”

“No, indeed there is not.” Aziraphale agreed softly.

“Much more fun to steal from that wretched old King. I’ve been working on Robin to get him to pull a grand heist soon. Wouldn’t miss it.”

It was a rare occasion when it was Crowley prattling on about something instead of Aziraphale, and he happily let the sound of his plans wash over him.

He was having such a lovely time, the loneliness and melancholy dashed away from Crowley’s presence in his little quarters. His cheeks started to hurt from smiling and an accidental look in the tiny mirror on the wall revealed that the rosy glow was back in his cheeks too. The persistent ache that had been in his belly, that was like hunger but not, was filled with joy and amusement and not a small amount of wine.

It emboldened him to look up at Crowley through his lashes late that night, take a deep breath and ask, “My dear, I wonder... how are you feeling?”

“Fighting fit. You’re a wonderful nurse.” The demon replied congenially.

“Good, good...” Aziraphale said distractedly. Say it now, or you won’t do it and you’ll regret it!

“I wonder... might you be- be interested in some, well- some ‘stress relief’?”

Crowley’s head snapped to him instantly. Shock was quickly replaced by pleasure, before he adopted a more purposefully seductive expression, complete with lecherous grin.

“You want to watch me again?” he purred.

Aziraphale was immensely thankful Crowley immediately understood his meaning. He doubted he could have got out the words to ask Crowley for another carnal rendezvous without proper encouragement.

“Ah, no. Lovely and informative as that was, and something I would not be opposed to doing again... well, I understand that sexual favours are usually done in balance? We are at a deficit, you and I. And it’s hardly a well-rounded education to only receive...”

He had more reasons, but he bit his tongue.

“You don’t have to convince me angel. I’m in.” Crowley rumbled.

“Splendid!” Aziraphale said brightly, hoping his bubbliness would disguise his nervous desire.

Both stood, and with silent agreement, walked to the bed. With a click of Crowley’s fingers it grew wider and taller, the mattress more visibly plush.

“Bit more privacy this time. What say we get properly comfortable? And by that, I do mean naked.” Crowley asked, flicking his eyes over Aziraphale’s unflattering brown robes.

“Ah, of course, course...” Aziraphale fiddled with his fastenings. There were far too many yards of fabric draped over him, in his opinion, and it took far too long to remove them and the thin, white cotton underthings he was wearing beneath.

Crowley had made much quicker work of his clothing. Curious, as his pants looked like they were painted on – Aziraphale would not have been surprised if he’d needed to wash instead of strip them off. He sat on the edge of the bed, one arm propping up his reclining frame, the other playing with his cock, growing rapidly more interested.

“You got a plan angel?” Crowley asked.

“I have given it some thought, yes.” Aziraphale said. He grabbed one of the new pillows behind Crowley and dropped it on the floor, kneeling on the soft surface.

He heard Crowley roughly exhale, and his erection further filled out in front of Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Do tell me, won’t you, if I do anything too wrong? I certainly don’t want you to just grin and bear it if it’s dreadful.” Aziraphale implored with a bit of worry.

“I’m sure it’ll be great.“ Crowley choked out. “Just... watch your teeth and we’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale nodded, refocussing on the cock Crowley still held in his hand. Aziraphale gently nudged him away, taking up the light grip at the base to look directly in the eye of the beast, so to speak.

He stroked, probably too gently, up and down. It didn’t feel very different from his. It was hot, hard but with a soft surface. He trailed his thumb down one of the larger veins on the underside and was pleased to hear Crowley puff.

With a tiny shuffle forward, he leaned in a couple of inches. He licked his lips, wondering if he should just go for it and start suckling on the head.

Crowley twitched in his hand, and he blinked, retreating slightly at the unexpected movement.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Crowley said, the words strained.

“Not at all.” Aziraphale said distractedly. He leaned back in, giving the underside of the head a broad lick. Crowley inhaled sharply, and Aziraphale ventured up to lick around the crown, where the flesh was already shiny. He scrunched his nose a little. The taste was rather bitter.

But he could see the muscles in Crowley’s thighs bunching tight with anticipation, and feel the swelling and pulse in his stiff prick, which was heady enough for him to dive back in.

Aziraphale wrapped his lips around the tip, tentatively moving up and down. He guarded his teeth as Crowley said, and it took a belated moment or two before he remembered the key ingredients of pressed-in cheeks and a curious tongue that had made his first experience with Crowley so exquisite.

“Angel, yesssss. Fuck.” He heard Crowley groan. The sound made his stomach clench, and his own arousal throb. He frowned around his full mouth, wondering how to keep up this complicated process while ignoring his own body’s distracting responses. It was not for the faint of heart.

As bad luck would have it, as he tried to find a rhythm and adjust his angle simultaneously, his lip faltered and his teeth lightly grazed Crowley as he bobbed down.

Crowley hissed.

“So sorry my boy-“ Aziraphale rushed, pulling off. “Should I-“

Crowley gave a broken unggff sound before shaking his head violently.

“No, that was good, it’s so good, just... keep going, pleasssse.”

Aziraphale flushed at the praise, his briefly faltered confidence rebuilt.

He went back to work, pulling back only to try that clever little tongue move Crowley had done to him that he still lost time thinking about.

“Gah!” Crowley cried, his hand shooting down and burying itself in Aziraphale’s blonde curls. “Clever minx...”

Aziraphale ‘mmm’d as a thank you, the resulting vibration making Crowley’s fingers clench and pull at the strands.

He finally found his rhythm, sucking and licking up and down as his hand rubbed in sync over the remainder of the shaft he wasn’t able to fit in his mouth.

“You sweet fucking thing... give me... yeah, just like that...” a garbled string of words were pouring out of Crowley’s mouth. He couldn’t make them all out over the sounds he was generating himself, but he dearly wished he could.

“Angel, angel pull off!” Crowley grunted.

He pulled back with a gasp, a line of spit trailing from Crowley’s cock to his lips. How very messy and human-like.

“Hungh- unbelievable....” Crowley’s hand quickly replaced Aziraphale’s mouth, yanking much more meanly on himself than Aziraphale would be able to bring himself to do. His other hand remained buried in Aziraphale’s hair even as his torso crunched forward, tight with tension.

Mere seconds later, Crowley curved the head of his cock away from Aziraphale and exploded over his own abdomen.

Aziraphale gasped at the ropes of cum that splattered over the demon. His groans were like a symphony, striking Aziraphale right at his core. He blinked rapidly, his eyes hot and almost blurring from the wanton display. His own hips jerked forward. He was so on edge, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

With a garbled moan, Crowley flopped down onto his back. He hungrily drank in the display of pale, naked flesh, even as he wanted to cry and beg Crowley to come back to him and do something about the way he ached.

“Angel, I’ll never look at your mouth the same way again.” Crowley said roughly.

He heaved himself up so he was reclined on his elbows, looking down at Aziraphale with a lascivious grin. But what he saw must have shocked him, because his face dropped into a look of concern and he sat up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to tip back Aziraphale’s chin to examine him carefully.

He didn’t think, he just reached up, wound his hands around Crowley’s neck and pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aziraphale’s franticness and lack of skill made for a messy affair of teeth clashing, and likely would have resulted in bloodshed if Crowley hadn’t cupped the nape of his neck and squeezed. Aziraphale immediately froze, feeling his own erection twitch against the end of the bedsheets. Crowley used the moment to take over, sucking on his bottom lip before pressing his warm tongue insistently into his mouth.

Aziraphale moaned as the tongue explored, rubbing solicitously against his own, which felt lax and entirely stupid compared to Crowley’s clever little movements.

“Come up here.” Crowley whispered against his lips, wrapping his hands around Aziraphale’s shoulders to haul him up and push him down on his back on the bed.

Crowley slithered gracefully so one of his thin legs was twined over Aziraphale’s, hovering over him. He grabbed his jaw firmly, tilting Aziraphale’s face up so he could once again plunder his mouth, to Aziraphale’s rapturous approval.

He felt the tickle of Crowley’s hand sliding down his neck and his chest, nails grazing over his soft belly until-

“Ngg-ahhh!” Aziraphale cried out, wrenching his mouth away from the demon to look down and cherish the sight of Crowley’s long fingers wrapped around his throbbing arousal.

“Is this what you want, angel?”

“My- my- my dear, yes! Please!” he stuttered, thrusting his hips up to get that darned hand to move already!

It did, with relish. Crowley did not have any of his special, warm oil. He didn’t need it, Aziraphale had been leaking for almost as long as he had been on his knees. He smoothed the pearly liquid down, then set an exquisite pace.

Aziraphale sobbed with relief. Crowley tried to capture his lips again, but he couldn’t stop the sounds pouring out of him, nor find the coordination to do anything but cry out nonsense.

Crowley instead nuzzled his neck, licking and sucking over the flesh there. Good Lord, had his neck always been so sensitive? His hands bunched in the sheets, threatening to tear through the material.

He had barely any warning before it happened. Or perhaps, the warning had been the feeling of spine-melting arousal and desperate over-stimulation that had Crowley arranging him on the bed to take care of him.

His hips arched off the mattress when he came, and black spots danced in his vision. He cried out wordlessly. It was never this sharp or intense when he did this to himself. As he came down, equal amounts of relief were woven into the pleasure, and he sank into the bliss.

His head flopped to the side so he was facing Crowley, looking up at him with slow-blinking eyes. His golden gaze was watchful and with painful caution, he leaned down. It was as though he thought Aziraphale would reject a kiss now the ‘main event’ was done.

Uncoordinated and heavy as his arm felt, he raised his hand to cup Crowley’s jaw and draw him down.

The kiss was sweet, like the first time. Their lips pressed together softly and Aziraphale wanted to cry about how tender it was, how precious the moment felt. Crowley slowly withdrew, though his lips lingered over Aziraphale’s for one last nip.

“Ok?” Crowley asked.

“Perfect.”

***

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley had meant to teach him about cuddling and the way your world could shrink to just one bed and one, special person in it. It seemed out of character for the demon, but given the night was punctuated by even more sexual acts, maybe the soft interludes were more palatable.

Selfishly, once dawn broke, he found himself wishing he had no responsibilities to attend to. He could stay right here with Crowley for days.

But people in need of help would be shuffling in to the church soon, and he could not forsake the duty he had taken up. Operating in the shadows was so much easier.

Aziraphale distractedly put his robes back on as Crowley laid stretched out naked, watching him fondly.

“You might want to work on looking a touch less debauched before you face the masses.” Crowley drawled smugly.

He smoothed down his hair with a frown, crossing over to his little mirror. His hair was askew, but he thought his curls hid it. His lips were a bit swollen and there was a purple-red blemish on his neck. He poked it curiously.

“Is this what you kept touching? What is it?” It hurt a little to press on, but otherwise it felt fine.

“It’s... like a bruise.” Crowley replied.

“What? From kissing?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale poked it again.

“It’s called a love bite angel. You might not know about them, but I guarantee you, the rest of the citizenry will. They will be highly scandalised that their Friar has been interfered with by the visiting scoundrel.”

Aziraphale tilted his head. Love bite. He rather liked that name. And there was a feeling deep in his belly that said he very much liked the idea of Crowley marking him with something called a love bite. He was reluctant to banish it, though it was indeed for the best.

***

When they tipped back into bed again that evening, there was no dancing around ‘demonstrations’ or ‘lessons’. How quickly Crowley worked him into a frenzy might have caused him some embarrassment if he weren’t so preoccupied with the lips kissing and biting their way across his corporation.

The demon was being a dreadful tease though. He arranged himself on the pillows, which he had conjured more of during the day, like an Emperor. He touched himself in the most sensual, tormenting way. He again pulled his leg up, but this time it was not mere leverage.

Aziraphale gaped as Crowley fed one long finger into himself, the little furled hole opening up once it was slicked with oil. He seemed to enjoy it very much. Aziraphale was itching to offer his assistance, but it seemed such a delicate thing. Best to learn more about it before venturing forth.

And it was no hardship to observe. He certainly did not need Crowley’s hissed orders to watch him – he couldn’t have torn his eyes away if he’d tried.

After, when Crowley had banished all fluids from the bedding, they lay side by side, looking at each other.

“I must admit, I had not realized the athleticism required for these... bedroom pursuits. Nor the variety. There seems so much still to try.” Aziraphale noted as he caught his breath.

“What happened to all this being something angels should not even think of?” Crowley asked playfully.

“What happened to ‘demons like you’ not being for ‘angels like me’?” countered Aziraphale.

Crowley dropped his gaze, some of his mischievousness dulled. But he rallied, grinning at Aziraphale.

“You said it darling- I’m a demon. I take all the advantages presented to me.”

Aziraphale gave an indulgent smile at the half-truth. “But you give back so generously my dear.”

“It’s not altruism,” Crowley growled, fearing his demonic reputation was on the line. “I get quite a bit out of it. Shall I prove it to you?”

He rolled Aziraphale onto his back and proceeded to, vocally and explicitly, demonstrate all the enjoyment he found in Aziraphale’s body and reactions.

***

The next morning, Robin and Little John returned to the church to fetch Crowley.

“I do hope he hasn’t been too vexing!” Robin joked, clapping Crowley on the shoulder, clearly pleased to see his friend well.

“No, not at all.” Aziraphale smiled weakly.

“And he’s healed well enough to travel? Only I don’t trust his opinion.” Robin asked Aziraphale.

The horrible, desperate urge to lie came over him. “Oh- oh well, he-he is...”

“Uh, still a bit tender actually.” Crowley cut in. “It was all quite a messy business, wasn’t it Friar?”

“But you seem well enough to ride a horse a short distance? We wouldn’t want to impose on the Friar’s hospitality much longer, he has a whole flock to worry about.” Robin said, turning back to Aziraphale. “Is he well enough to travel?”

Guilt wracked Aziraphale. He did have other people to care for. And legal or not, Crowley had people relying on him. How much more time could they neglect these responsibilities? How long could the humans they had promised their assistance to wait, while he was building mental lists of all the carnal delights he could explore with the demon, that they may try even greater intimacies?

“I think he is up for it, yes.”

Crowley looked at him in surprise, and not a small amount of hurt.

“Of course, I do hope you will drop in again Cr- Will. I fear I will miss the company, of an evening.”

It was not goodbye. It was never goodbye for the two of them. But Aziraphale rather hoped that Crowley would find his way back to him, without a measure of decades in-between.

Crowley nodded, but all too soon they were gone.

After a day of his old routine, of hungry and hopeless faces and not enough food to go around, the weariness set once again into Aziraphale’s bones. He lay down that evening and inhaled the scent of charcoal-and-spice that was uniquely Crowley from the pillows.

He resolved to be more bold, and perhaps strategic, in his miracles. Dash Gabriel, he would influence things from the sidelines to resolve this whole royal mess. Then he might be off in peace, as would Crowley.

Chapter Text

London

Aziraphale puffed up proudly, feeling inordinately fond of Crowley. He couldn’t even get into the Globe standing room only! Hamlet was an absolute sell-out. He could imagine how chuffed William must be.

Also, truth be told, it was something of a relief. He had just arrived back from Edinburgh, fulfilling his part of the Arrangement (blessing and tempting both). He was somewhat tired, and seeing Hamlet again so soon... well, it was rather gloomy. He had shown up due to a sense of loyalty, and could not do more.

With a whistle and a bounce in his step, Aziraphale strolled away from the theatre. He set out in the direction of Crowley’s apartment. After all, he owed him an update about the surprisingly hospitable clan leader and the stolen sheep.

***

The door swung open, revealing Crowley in a loose undershirt and linen shorts. His long red hair tumbled over his shoulders and he had thankfully gotten rid of that long tuft of chin hair.

“Angel! How did everything go?” he asked, inviting Aziraphale in.

“Swimmingly,” Aziraphale chirped. “All to plan.”

He perched on the deep maroon couch, humming at the plushness of the cushion.

“I just came from the Globe Theatre.” He said pointedly.

“Ah, yeah, it picked up rather well.” He acknowledged, entirely too nonchalant.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale beamed. “Thank you my dear. I’m sure our playwright is most grateful, have you seen him?”

“Nah. I’ll go back when he writes a funny one.” Crowley bared his teeth in a sarcastic grin.

“Of course. And what else have you been doing in my weeks away?”

“Meh, took a rather nice nap.” Crowley shrugged.

“... that’s all?”

“A couple of minor temptations for a bit of fun,” Crowley waved his hand. “But there’s less to entertain in London when you’re away angel.”

Aziraphale tsched, even as his cheeks flushed with his quiet delight. 

Crowley watched him with a growing smirk.

“C’mon, give us a kiss then.” Crowley waved him over to his end of the couch.

Ever since they’d finally abandoned their silent ‘no kissing’ rule, kissing had punctuated the start, middle and end of all their encounters. Aziraphale fancied himself decently skilled at it now, at least where Crowley was concerned. He had catalogued all types of their kisses, of which there were fifteen. Right now they were doing number four – teasing, tongues playful, and leading somewhere but not in a hurry.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale said as he pulled back, only for Crowley to crowd back over him and take his lips again. Kissing type seven then.

“There’s an- mmfff.” Crowley was leaning over him now, chasing his lips for kiss type twelve. It was extremely tempting to go with it – another temptation accomplished for the demon – but Aziraphale had rehearsed throughout his travels what he wanted to say and he didn’t want to lose his nerve now.

He put a hand on Crowley’s chest, easing him back. The demon went immediately, looking at Aziraphale with thinly veiled concern.

“Just a moment dear,” Aziraphale soothed him, a bit breathless. “I have been thinking. And there’s another thing we haven’t tried.”

Crowley relaxed minutely. “What’s that angel?”

“Uh…” It seemed so simple and factual when he had practiced! But now all the doubts were swarming in. Why hadn’t Crowley suggested it? Did Crowley like it? Would Crowley tell him no? Would this make things awkward between them to the point where they stopped sharing their corporations and eventually spiralled into cancelling the Arrangement and avoiding each other for the rest of eternity?

“Penetration!” he squawked.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up, about into his hairline.

“We haven’t tried penetration.” he said at a much more reasonable volume.

Crowley’s mouth opened and closed a few times before a sound came out.

“Ah… w- ah, mm, no…”

“Might you- will you show me?” Aziraphale rushed out, eyes wide in askance.

Crowley stuttered a little more, and with every aborted sound, Aziraphale’s anxiety ratcheted up.

“Are- are you sure? You know what that means, for two men-“

“I’ll remind you that I spent some time in Sodom before it all got so out of hand.”

“Right, exactly! Sodom. You won’t get in trouble…?”

Suddenly Crowley’s reaction didn’t seem so much like reluctance as worry. Aziraphale blinked.

“No. No more than if they found out what we’ve already been doing.”

Aziraphale had been reflecting on this for some time. He knew what Gabriel and Michael and Uriel and all of them would say about his actions with Crowley. But God? Surely if it were so wrong, She would… he didn’t know. God did work in mysterious, ineffable ways. Would She respond in any way to his actions? He hadn’t Fallen, not when he kissed Crowley, not when he touched him or put him in his mouth. Why would this logistically small extension to their undertakings be different?

Crowley looked close to shell-shocked, shifting and fidgeting like he just did not know what to do with himself.

“But… that is to say… well, it was just an idea. If it makes you uncomfortable, or you’re not interested-“

“Yes!” Crowley cut in harshly. “Yes, I’m very interested in it.”

He waited, unsure if he was getting consent or a sarcastic snark leading into a decisive rejection.

“Here, just- you, come here.”

Crowley firmly grabbed his hand, tugging him insistently to the bedroom.

Wherever he went, the demon always made himself a sumptuous bed, soft and inviting, the very picture of seduction. Aziraphale had been in this bed a handful of times and knew it to be quite a treat, almost as lovely to the touch as Crowley was.

Crowley was efficiently stripping, nodding to Aziraphale to do the same. He cautiously started, jumping when Crowley’s impatient hands started on the buttons at the bottom of his coat, meeting his in the middle.

“Oh bugger it, all these stupid-“ Crowley muttered, and with a wave, disappeared Aziraphale’s clothes.

“Oh my.” Typically they tried to stay away from too many minor miracles when they were together.

“Up there, c’mon, and I’ll-“ Crowley manhandled him onto the bed so they were side by side, and grabbed Aziraphale’s chin to press a hard kiss to his lips. Kiss type nine.

He relaxed now, knowing Crowley was on board with his request, even if he had forgot to say it aloud.

By the time the kiss ended and his eyes had fluttered open, Crowley was already fishing out the vial of oil that never emptied from his bedside table.

Aziraphale let out a rather rough exhale. “My dear, how would you like me?”. His voice came out lower than normal.

“Ah, weh – just there is fine.” Crowley said with a slightly puzzled tone.

He frowned slightly. He had imagined this act would come with some more prescribed need for well, access.

Crowley leaned back on the pillows, spread his legs wide, and answered Aziraphale’s silent question.

With a dexterous and ambitious tilt of his hips, Crowley was reaching down, spreading oil over his own rim. By the time Aziraphale found control over his tongue, his middle finger had pressed inside to the second knuckle.

“Oh, I thought- I mean, it was my request. If you’d prefer to… switch?” He had assumed the requestor would be the receiver. After all, it was presumably the less comfortable role. He didn’t think Crowley should have to compromise his own comfort based on Aziraphale’s wants.

Crowley froze, staring at him dumbly.

“Ahh… first time, angel.” His voice was rough and strained. “Might be easier to see it done?”

“Hmmm, yes, I suppose you are right.” Aziraphale agreed. Crowley would tell him if he didn’t want to do this. He had no problem telling Aziraphale when he didn’t want to do something! Though now he was thinking of it, usually that applied to ‘work’. He couldn’t remember a time Crowley had said no to him on matters of fornication, off the top of his head…

“Though I have seen you do this much.” He noted.

“Hate to bore you with a repeat viewing.” Crowley grunted.

“No!! Oh no, not at all! It’s an absolute pleasure dear-“

“Just teasing angel.” Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale huffed, but the joking mood subsided as he watched Crowley move his finger in and out of his hole.

“Perhaps… it seems rude to ask you to do all the work. How might I assist?” Aziraphale asked.

The same dumb look, slack jaw and wide yellow eyes met his question.

“Gahhh… you could, um- you could finger me?” Crowley croaked.

“Right!” Aziraphale nodded, shifting down.

“You go- no, here, in between- that’s, yes. Let me get my leg-“ with a bit of manoeuvring, Aziraphale was on his knees between Crowley’s legs, one of the long limbs flung over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

He slicked his finger with oil and took a deep breath as he took in the state of Crowley. The demon was already hard, cock laying against his stomach. Aziraphale wasn’t satisfied with the view though.

“Do you mind if I…?” Aziraphale grabbed a pillow, indicating it would go under Crowley’s hips. “I’d like to better see.”

“Mmmnngh, yeah, be my guest.” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale pressed just the tip of his oiled finger into him. But then he hesitated, realising just how small the opening was.

“It’s alright darling, keep going, just do it slow.” Crowley soothed.

He nodded, and pushed in. There still felt like there was a little resistance, but…

Oh. Tight was his first thought. Hot was the second. The walls hugged his finger snugly. As he dragged his digit back out, it felt like his finger was being pulled back slightly, like Crowley’s body didn’t want to let him go.

“Yes, that’s it. You’ve got to stretch me, so you can fit that thick cock in.” Crowley groaned.

It felt like the breath was punched out of his lungs. His neck and face flushed, as well as his erection. He couldn’t quite imagine it actually fitting, though there was little else in the world he wanted more in this moment.

“Two fingers now.”

“But-“

“Give me two.” Crowley ordered.

He pressed in carefully, watching Crowley. The demon tipped his head back with a hiss, his chest rising and falling visibly and his shoulders rolling. It reminded Aziraphale of his serpent form.

“Ssssscissor them.” He hissed.

Aziraphale swallowed hard, doing as he was asked. His channel did feel a little more accommodating.

“Now, do thissss.” Crowley said, crooking his own fingers in demonstration. Aziraphale carefully replicated the move.

“Just a bit, more that- ah, there! There! Fuck.” Crowley writhed as Aziraphale found a little bump inside him. That special little place inside a man, one Aziraphale himself was rather interested in discovering.

He rubbed again, feeling its shape and watching the reaction ripple through Crowley.

“Easy, easy angel.” Crowley urged, flinching a little.

Aziraphale stopped immediately, wanting to flay himself. Clumsy clot.

“So, so sorry dear-“

“No, it’s ok, it’s just… fuck, it’s sensitive, it’s a lot. Don’t want to come too early.” Crowley gave him a weak grin but couldn’t hide his desperation.

Aziraphale was silent, just his heavy breathing audible to his ears, as he resumed his precious work. He snuck in one extra crook of his fingers.

“Ok, three now. Feed me three. More oil first, get me dripping.”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly, realising his eyes were dry and stinging from staring so blatantly. Some of the oil fell on the bed as he disbursed more, and he hissed under his breath as he pressed back in, the squeeze even tighter now.

Crowley let out a broken groan, bringing up one hand to grip his cock, squeezing the base. Aziraphale pushed his fingers in and out a few more times before Crowley spoke again.

“Ok, that’s enough, we’re doing it now.” Crowley demanded impatiently.

He withdrew but even as his hardness throbbed, he hesitated.

“Are- are you sure? You still feel, well… awfully tight.”

Crowley clamoured up, unhooking his leg and grabbing Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“That’s rather the point angel. You don’t want to fuck into a tight hole?” He crooned, licking a long, broad stripe up Aziraphale’s neck.

His mind went blank, and Crowley used his bewilderment to move him down so he was laying on his back.

Finally he found his words again. “I….ah, no. Not if it hurts you!”

“Sweet angel, it won’t hurt.” Crowley smiled seductively down at him as he swung his leg over Aziraphale so he was straddling his lap. Aziraphale cradled his hips, to steady him and greedily feel the soft skin over sharp hipbones.

Crowley had the vial in his hand, messily splashing oil on his palm and reaching back to slick up Aziraphale. He kept his eyes pinned on him even as he ran his hand over Aziraphale’s prick. He gripped Crowley’s hips tighter at the feeling.

Suddenly his slippery hand gripped the base of Aziraphale’s cock and Crowley shifted back so he was hovering right over the tip.

He wasn’t sure if he was teasing on purpose or just blindly finding his way, but the way Crowley ran the tip of him over his skin before it caught on Crowley’s rim was delicious torture.

With the lights overhead, his flaming red hair and glowing eyes fixed on him, Crowley had never looked so occult, so dangerous yet angelic as he did now, sinking slowly onto Aziraphale’s cock.

Aziraphale’s eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head, but he blinked and focused the best he could. He did not want to miss a second.

Finally, Crowley settled onto his lap, his full length buried in the demon’s tight heat.

“How’s that feel angel?” Crowley asked lowly, a tiny hitch in his voice.

Aziraphale breathed out slowly. “Like… Like… pleasure beyond words. Oh, Crowley.”

It was a barrage of feelings. It consumed him physically, the snug, slick hold. But more than that, and what caused a tear to leak out of the corner of Aziraphale’s eye, was the knowledge that Crowley had opened his body to him. In a technical sense, he had been inside Crowley before, his clever mouth, but this… was different. This was the ultimate intimacy and it made a heat coil in his belly and a feeling like no other flutter in his chest.

Crowley leaned forward, cupping his cheek and whispered directly into his ear.

“Just wait. It gets better.”

He twisted his hips, grinding on Aziraphale. He garbled out a sound, clenching his hold on Crowley’s hips. The demon moved back, resting his hands on Aziraphale’s chest for leverage as he started to rock up and down.

Mouth hanging open, Aziraphale desperately took it all in. This did not feel wrong, did not feel like a sin. His hips started to twitch up.

Crowley growled. “Yessss.”

Because it pleased him, Aziraphale pulled the frayed scraps of his mind together and set to work rolling his hips in sync with Crowley. With the right rhythm, Crowley started to almost bounce on his cock.

“Good angel, good… that’s it…” Crowley gasped sharply as he angled up, ever so slightly, the special little spot inside Crowley his goal. “Do you have any idea how often I’ve thought of this?”

The words seemed wrenched from somewhere deep inside him

“You inside me? Me riding you?” Crowley panted.

Aziraphale moaned, high and reedy. He may actually be close to hyperventilating.

“Later, I’m going to get on my knees, and you can pound into me. You’d like that? Think I can make you lose control and fuck me really hard?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. The filth coming out of his mouth was liquifying what was left of his brain, spine and willpower.

And Crowley seemed to know it.

He started jerking his cock, which Aziraphale belatedly realised he could have been doing.

“Let go. Fill me up-“ Crowley growled, riding him hard.

Aziraphale obeyed.

His hips arched powerfully off the bed, lifting Crowley up. Crowley’s channel squeezing his member made the pleasure so intense his vision went white. No, not quite. His vision partially left him, but it was also the glow of his Grace rejoicing at the sensation and reaching toward his lover.

He worried for a moment, what that would do to a demon, even as he reeled at the idea of knowing him on a metaphysical level too.

Crowley called out, illuminated by Aziraphale. He slammed down to the hilt and came too.

Aziraphale gasped desperately for oxygen as the feeling doubled-down on his pleasure. Crowley was pulsing around him, grinding down greedily to ride out the feeling and like the snake he was, he appeared to be basking in the warm light presented to him.

Aziraphale wheezed and whimpered as his strength left him, leaving him a twitching, loose mess under the demon. Crowley, similarly weakened, slumped forward so they were chest to chest, a mess of sweat and cum between them, and Aziraphale still buried in Crowley.

He thought he could hear his bones creak as he released his tight grip from Crowley’s hips, clumsily smoothing up Crowley’s back and taking him in an embrace before the muscles in his arms could give out entirely.

The closeness, the feeling of his Grace heating his skin and Crowley burrowing into it, made him tear up again. He wasn’t sure if it would leave a mark. He hoped it didn’t, for Crowley’s safety, but also wished it would.

When their breathing calmed, Aziraphale whispered, “My dear, that was extraordinary.”

Crowley wriggled slightly on top of him. “Sorry, I got a bit… carried away there.”

He imagined that if the demon were showing his face, it would be blushing.

“Not at all. It was most gratifying to know you desire a repeat performance.”

He sighed. This was a Bad Thing. Heaven and Hell would both pitch a fit if they got a hint of their Arrangement, let alone… this. This thing that Aziraphale did not want to stop. Just the idea of stopping made him hold just a bit tighter to Crowley. And he knew he would ask for more, tip further into Lust and Greed. He simply had to know what it was like on the other side of things.

Crowley was an enthusiastic lover, hard and fast. But with Aziraphale, he had always been gentle and patient too. He longed to see how Crowley would open him up, gently readying him and sliding into him. There would be soft kisses, clasped hands, their entire bodies pressed together…

But then, pushing pack into the tantalising warmth of Crowley’s corporation and really making a good go of it sounded like an awful lot of fun too.

Aziraphale kissed the side of Crowley’s face. He would not solve the problems of Heaven and Hell tonight. But lov- being with Crowley, he could do. Effortlessly, joyfully.

Chapter Text

London

The dress was terribly pretty, but it did not make for easy getting around. The full skirt required more spatial awareness when going through doors, climbing into coaches and passing others on the street.

Aziraphale patted down the layers of cream and gold, smoothing down the ruffles around the top that barely brushed her shoulders. A bit inconvenient perhaps, but beautiful, and it made her feel very pretty indeed.  

She sighed happily as she continued to amble down the street in the hack. Most of the time, Aziraphale identified with the male form, but every now and again, she felt feminine. And nowadays, there were just so many pretty things about, she thought why not?

There was in fact evidence of her infrequent preference for a female form, painted in the Vatican. Crowley loved to tease her about it, on the rare occassions he saw her in this corporation.

“Beautiful angel, very tasteful.” He would say. “Did they get the colour of your nipples right?” or “was it a live model painting? I imagine that a bounty like yours could have even gotten Michelangelo’s interest.”

While she was an appreciator of art, modelling was not usually her thing, but one might consider it their Heavenly duty in such a circumstance.

She found herself uncharacteristically nervous as she arrived for dinner, where Crowley was already waiting at their table.

His eyebrows went up in surprise.

“You look lovely, angel.” He said, standing to give her a kiss on the cheek and pull out her chair for her, as was customary manners for a lady.

“Thank you my dear. You… don’t mind…?”

“Not at all. I believe you have made me the envy of the dining room. And I do so love making humans sin.” He smiled wickedly.

Aziraphale tittered but was immediately put at ease. The few changes there were to how Crowley treated her were all what would be expected of a gentleman dining with a lady, like pouring her wine and standing when she did. Truth be told, these gestures made her feel a little fussed over, in a good way. Combined with the delectable food and exquisite cake for dessert, she felt very content.

“Can I escort you home angel?” Crowley asked, offering her his arm as they left the dining room.

Aziraphale ducked her head with a secret little smile. They both knew what he was asking. It sent a thrill through her, to try something new.

“Yes please, my dear.”

***

An hour later, Aziraphale was gripping the headboard of Crowley’s bed, letting out high-pitched moans with every breath. Beneath her, Crowley was lavishing her clit with attention.

His arms were wrapped around her shapely thighs, pulling her down onto his mouth. She had been worried about sitting on his face when he’d asked, but he didn’t strictly need oxygen, and the angle really was superb.

She half-screamed her way through an orgasm, sharper than a man’s. More complex, as she wanted for something inside her, even while her concentrated little button of nerves sang.

It was a struggle against her own shaking limbs and Crowley’s hold to lift herself up.

“Cr- Crowley…” she panted shakily, peering down and noticing how wet his chin and even his nose were between her legs.

“Angel, sit back down.” Crowley ordered, pulling at her.

“I- but, Crowley…”

“We’re not done, you have at least two more in you. Now, do me the great favour of sitting back down on my face love.”

Aziraphale giggled breathily. “If you insist dear.”

Crowley yanked her back down and his tongue went straight back to work.

Eventually, shaking, she had to dismount. She swung her leg over, collapsing on her rear end. Her thighs felt like jelly.

The demon made a noise of protest, his expression bereft.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot possibly go again. Not without a break.” Her parts felt rather sensitive and swollen.

Speaking of, she looked down at Crowley and saw his cock was rock hard, leaking and looked in desperate need of attention. She made a noise of sympathy and feeling rather loose, her brain soaked in those wonderful sex hormones humans generated, she pressed her hand to her centre to gather some of the copious amounts of slick and took hold of his shaft.

“Shit angel!” Crowley’s hips jack-knifed off the bed and he bared his teeth, watching with savage hunger as her smaller hand set a fast, firm pace, just how he liked it.

He struggled to his elbows, not dislodging her hand, and once he was upright, grabbed the back of her neck over her now long, blonde hair. She’d never asked, and he’d never confirmed, but she thought he suspected the knee-weakening power that particular touch had on Aziraphale. And now, with Crowley’s masculinity being a point of difference between them, it felt even more heady.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale roughly, the taste of her strong on his lips.

He lasted next to no time, groaning against her mouth as he came over her hand and his own lap. He flopped back down and she followed, falling into a familiar loose embrace, despite the change in her form and proportions.

“Give it a bit,” Crowley breathed, turning his head toward her. “And then, if you like, we can rid you of your female virginity.”

Aziraphale giggled. “I hardly think there’s anything virginal about me anymore.”

She looked up at Crowley, admiring the strong profile of his nose and quirk of his lips as he smiled contentedly.

“Do you like this form?” she asked.

“Mmmm?” He turned his body now, so they were face to face, his hand running lightly up and down her side in a gentle tickle. “It’s lovely angel.”

“Do you… prefer it?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Compared to when you’re a man?”

Aziraphale nodded, rather nervous. While it was fun to play a woman, most of the time she felt like a man. And if that disappointed Crowley, now he’d had her like this…

“No angel, I have no preference.” He told her decisively.

“Ah well, that’s not strictly true,” he continued. “I prefer you. You in any form.”

He dropped a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose, a little dusting of pink over his cheeks. She knew it was difficult for Crowley to say these lovely things, his every demonic instinct telling him not to be vulnerable. It made it all the sweeter.

She smiled and snuggled down a little, pleased.

“You know, you can still sit on my face when you’re a man.”

Aziraphale frowned, puzzled. “But…”

“I’ll show you another time. Now, lay back – I want to get a good look at these. I’ve only properly studied them in painting form.” Crowley urged with a grin.

Chapter Text

London, post the world NOT ending

They were upstairs, in the flat above the bookshop, where they’d taken to spending many of their evenings. Now they had the total freedom to be together without paranoia, they spent just about every moment in each other’s presence.

Aziraphale treasured these times, their being quietly together. Crowley was playing one of those dreadful mobile phone games, though as a small mercy, he had relented to Aziraphale’s request and turned off the sound effects.

With a sigh, Crowley dropped the device, heaving himself up to look at Aziraphale over the back of the couch, resting his chin on his folded arms.

“What do you say to dinner angel? That French place finally opened, you want to try it?”

There was nothing particularly special about the moment. They had been here before, made countless meal plans. But there was something that hit Aziraphale in this instant.

Crowley, without glasses, shoes or a coat, just a ‘henley’. Crowley, who didn’t particularly love food, much less French food, but suggested it anyway. Crowley, who lazed about the book shop and made himself a nuisance until Aziraphale truly had to concentrate. Crowley, who he could list another thousand things about that made him swell with affection.

“You know,” Aziraphale said, rather seriously. “I do love you, my dear.”

Crowley scoffed, though a hint of a pleased smile showed. “But?” he queried.

Aziraphale blinked. “But nothing. I love you, ever so much. I’ve never said it and, with everything… well, I wanted you to know.”

“You think I didn’t know that you love me?” Crowley asked, face twisting in confusion.

“Having never said it, I don’t see how you could have determined it.”

“Really? You think there have been no clues?” Crowley queried sarcastically.

He huffed. “Yes well, clues to the fact that I cared for you, certainly. But I think this declaration comes with a bit more gravity than a kiss or a- well, anything else.”

Crowley tilted his head rather cutely. “I thought that forming our own side, teaming up against Heaven and Hell both, was a sign of your affections. Plus, all the sex. And there has been rather a lot of it.”

“Yes, but even so, it will bother me not to say it. I love you.”

He softened his voice, realising that love declarations probably didn’t normally take a lecture-style format.

Crowley pursed his lips, resting his chin back on his arms.

“Loveyoutoo.” He mumbled.

“Sorry?” Aziraphale asked archly, smile tugging at his lips.

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. “I love you too, you great bloody git. Now, stop being soppy and come here so I can give you a good seeing to before I ply you full of crepes and wine and bring you home to satisfy you all over again.”

“Yes, yes, in a minute. Can you not give me a moment to savour the news that you do in fact love me?”

“You didn’t know?” Crowley asked.

Here we go again. “Know? Didn’t we just- how would I know that?”

“How could you not know?” Crowley countered incredulously. “What about when we kissed in Rome? Practically told you I was mad for you.”

“You didn’t!” Aziraphale protested.

“Well, what about all the times I wanked for you? Did you think it was perfectly normal for someone to pull out their cock and show you their asshole in the hopes you’d ask ‘please sir, may I venture inside?’”

Crowley sat up properly, bringing up a hand to count out his points.

“I’ve sucked your cock more times than I’ve eaten dinner. There was the time with Genghis Khan, which may I remind you, came with no insignificant amount of risk to my person. Nottingham, the business with the Crusades, Dante’s ‘Divine Bloody Comedy’ – I got a letter of reprimand over that one.”

Aziraphale blinked and Crowley brought up another hand to count more fingers.

“Shakespeare, the Revolution, saved you from randy Hamilton’s libido, the Blitz, bloody Prohibition where I got you a great deal of wine while you were in town and let you fuck me on the brand-new leather in my car, even though you weren’t talking to me.”

Having run out of fingers, he threw his hands up in outrage.

“I asked you to run away with me to the stars last bloody Tuesday!”

Crowley huffed a long, agitated sigh.

“When you paint it like that…” Aziraphale said quietly, looking at Crowley with great concern. “If you- why did…”

Crowley shrugged, suddenly feeling a lot smaller and less bold than in his angry tirade.

“For a long time, I thought you were letting me down easy. Letting me have some of you, but not all.”

“Oh. Oh dear, I have been intolerably thick.” Aziraphale said regretfully, coming to the sofa and crouching behind it so he could stroke Crowley’s hair. It soothed the demon, not unlike a cat.

“I’m so sorry my love.”

Crowley nuzzled into his hand. “Mmm, ‘s ok.”

Aziraphale sighed. He had some making up to do. “You know, I think I would rather stay in tonight.”

“Hmm?”

“Yes. And make love.”

Crowley hoisted himself over the sofa, pressing their lips together.  

“What shall it be tonight angel?”

“How about a bit of everything?”

“Ambitioussss.”

“We have the time. In fact, for the first time…” Aziraphale gave him a chaste but lingering kiss. “We have all the time we could possibly want.”

Crowley gifted him that genuine, sweet smile. “Soft.”

“But you love me anyway.” Aziraphale responded tenderly.

“And you love me.” Rather than teasing, it was timid, trying out how the words felt. He seemed tentatively pleased with the result.

“Always.”