Chapter Text
After the feast, life went back to normal in the village. People returned to their farms, Crowley sowed seeds of discord, Aziraphale stopped a nasty illness before it could take out the flocks of hardy little sheep that kept the village in wool and meat, and the humans carried on being human.
Crowley flitted in and out, although he was never gone too long. He liked walking around the village with Aziraphale, showing him what was where and introducing him to people who could look after him. Aziraphale would bristle at that, but the customs here were so different from what he was used to, and his position in this society so tenuous, that he knew it was necessary. The kind lady from the feast invited him on her morning trips to the market with the unnamed girl, so he had companions for that, even if they couldn’t speak. He did manage to learn that her name was Ylva, although that was the extent of their understanding.
And the nights belonged to him and Crowley; they dined together without fail, and Crowley enjoyed the illuminations in Aziraphale’s beloved books. While the girl washed dishes, they sat close to the fire, admiring the fine artistry of the illustrations. Aziraphale should, perhaps, have felt guilty for keeping the books to himself rather than sharing their contents with the townspeople, but Crowley scoffed at the very suggestion, and so the books remained for their eyes alone.
It was...easy, for lack of a better word. If they were truly human, Aziraphale could readily imagine spending the rest of his natural life just like this, with Crowley beside him like a shadow. He turned to the demon without thinking, pointing out a new hair comb of iron and bone that would look striking in his red hair, or laughing as he allowed himself to be dressed as a proper Norseman in shades of white and cream, with just a touch of brilliant blue.
“Matches your eyes,” Crowley told him. “It’s called fashion, angel.”
And so the days slid into weeks, and Aziraphale settled into a steady orbit around Crowley. One would tempt, the other would bless, and life went on as usual. Aziraphale grew comfortable around the townspeople, even if the men did leer at him and call to him in a tone he understood as rude.
“Honestly, I don’t know what their problem is,” he sighed one night over a game of liubo. Crowley had revealed the set, brought with him from China, and Aziraphale was delighted to play with him over a few jugs of the Norse liquor. “As though sexual behavior has any effect on character!”
“At least some of them are bitter because they’re lusting after you themselves,” said Crowley idly; he tossed the jade dice and grinned at the number he rolled.
Aziraphale frowned; Crowley, he had learned, was a notorious cheat when it came to dice. “You put that fish back and roll again,” he ordered.
Crowley rolled his eyes but didn’t protest, a sure sign that he had in fact been cheating. He rolled again and groaned, moving his piece to a less advantageous spot on the board.
Aziraphale sniffed and took a sip. “And I seriously doubt I inspire lust. I’m an angel, after all.”
That made Crowley laugh. “Are you really that clueless, angel?” He shook his head and handed the dice to Aziraphale. “Ylva would leave her husband for you in a heartbeat if she thought you were interested. They’re drawn to you. They can sense the divinity in you, even if they don’t understand it.”
“But there’s a difference,” said Aziraphale. He rolled a three and made a face. “Being drawn to me doesn’t have to entail lust.”
“Wanting gets confused,” said Crowley sagely, scowling as Aziraphale outpaced him on the board. He took a messy gulp of liquor and sighed. “There’s loads of different ways to want someone, but most humans just filter it through their bits and decide that whatever it is they’re feeling means they want to shag.”
“Always seemed a messy business,” Aziraphale remarked, frowning as Crowley obtained a fish after all. One more and he’d gain enough tokens to win the game.
“What, fornication? Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “Sweaty. Sticky. Bit smelly too, honestly.”
“Have you done it?” Aziraphale asked, overcome by curiosity. He’d never have had the nerve to ask sober, but they’d been steadily drinking for a few hours, and the girl was nowhere to be found.
“Nah.” Crowley shook his head. “But I’ve watched enough of it to know.”
Aziraphale wrinkled his nose.
“Not for fun!” Crowley hastened to say. “Part of the job, isn’t it, making sure they’re actually led into temptation and don’t resist last minute.”
“I’m sure,” said Aziraphale soothingly.
“Still not sure what makes it so fun,” Crowley muttered.
“Well, neither am I, but that’s because I don’t feel lust,” said Aziraphale primly; he took another sip of the liquor. And then another. His lips were starting to tingle. “Do you?”
Crowley’s mouth dropped open. “Do I what?”
“Lust,” said Aziraphale. “Covet. Want. Crave. Is that a thing you do?”
Crowley closed his mouth, then opened it again. A strangled sort of noise came out of him, making him sound a bit like a disgruntled sheep Aziraphale had watched being herded last week.
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t—that’s—what the Heaven do you care about it?” Crowley finally managed to demand. “That’s personal, that is!”
“So yes,” said Aziraphale, nodding. “I’ve always wondered what it felt like, you know.”
“You what?” Crowley goggled at him.
“Lust.” Aziraphale shrugged. “I enjoy so many other things humans do, so it seems strange not to understand an urge of theirs that drives so many of their decisions.”
“I—I mean, yeah, that makes sense.” Crowley sat up, squinting at Aziraphale as though he hadn’t quite seen him before.
Aziraphale smiled. “Pity there’s no one to practice with.”
“Ngh?” was what it sounded like Crowley said.
“Well,” Aziraphale amended, “not practice, exactly. Experiment.” Yes, that was more precise.
“You want to experiment with lust?” Crowley asked stupidly.
Aziraphale shrugged noncommittally. “I just wonder sometimes. Don’t you ever wonder, Crowley? Or do you understand, since you can feel it?”
“I—” It was hard to tell in the firelight, but Crowley’s cheeks looked darker. “I understand some,” he mumbled.
“Oh?” Aziraphale was intrigued. “What does it feel like? Lusting after someone, I mean.” He leaned forward across the board, the game forgotten.
Crowley took a large gulp of his liquor. “It’s, erm, distracting,” he said, swallowing. He scrunched up his eyebrows. “It’s—you notice everything about them. How they move; what their mouth does. You can’t think about anything but what you want to do to them.”
“Sounds overwhelming,” said Aziraphale sympathetically.
“I—yeah.” Crowley licked his lips and looked away. “A bit like how you can’t focus on a word I say when there’s smoked salmon on the table.”
“Only instead of thinking about how the salmon will taste, you’re thinking about—”
“How your mouth would taste, yeah.” Crowley nodded.
Aziraphale blinked.
A moment went by, and then Crowley’s hand flew to his mouth. “A general you,” he said from behind his hand. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Aziraphale repeated.
Crowley nodded, looking almost afraid.
Aziraphale studied him. “Have you ever lusted after me, Crowley?”
Crowley began to make those incoherent noises that he always made when he didn’t know how to answer a question. Which told Aziraphale everything, really.
He smiled. “That’s terribly convenient! You ought to show me.”
Crowley’s eyes were in danger of popping out. “You what?” he croaked.
“Before I came with you I was living in a monastic order that warned constantly against the sins of the flesh. And now that I’m here in this village I’m constantly being berated for letting you have me. If I’m to be an object of scorn then let me deserve it!” His face felt quite warm, and it was possible that he was thinking of the disgusted little twist of Gabriel’s mouth when he saw Aziraphale eating something.
“Angel,” whispered Crowley, and it felt like it meant something, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Of course not, you’re my friend.” Aziraphale smiled. “Really, I’m not sure how anyone could object to this more than anything else we’ve done. It’s not as though I’m going to Fall just from touching you, or I’d have done it by now.”
Crowley shook his head, wide-eyed. “You can’t be serious,” he whispered again. “Angel, you can’t.”
Aziraphale’s smile started to slip. “Did...did you not want to?” he asked hesitantly.
“I—” Crowley closed his eyes. “Look, it’s not about that. It’s...what if you don’t like it? What if it’s weird after?” He gave Aziraphale a beseeching look. “If you haven’t got many friends, then I haven’t got any. I don’t—”
“Oh Crowley.” Aziraphale reached out, overcome with fondness. He took Crowley’s hand in his own and squeezed. “You’re so good to worry about me.”
“‘M not good,” Crowley muttered.
“You’re good to me,” said Aziraphale.
“Yeah well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Crowley was staring at their hands. “Are you really sure about this? I don’t—” he swallowed. “I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Aziraphale beamed at him. “If I do, they’ll be my own. You’re so kind, Crowley, you’d only be doing as I asked. I want to know what the humans feel. I want to—” He stopped and blushed, stunned by his own boldness.
“You want to what?” Crowley sat up a bit straighter, looking intrigued.
“I want to feel adored in the human way,” Aziraphale admitted; he was drunk, he could say what he liked. “You remember Heaven. It’s so...sterile and cold. I want to—oh, not pretend to be human, but to feel like they do. Do you see?”
“I think so.” Crowley squinted. “Better to understand them, right? Or is that just what you’ll tell the head office if they ask?”
Aziraphale bit his lip. If the head office asked, he’d have to spin a story about Crowley tempting him and him pretending to agree to it for the sake of showing the Almighty’s love. The truth was more along the lines of Aziraphale being both curious and a sensualist who had just discovered an opportunity for a new sensation. He acknowledged this about himself, but Heaven wouldn’t see it as the harmless thing he did. “I suppose I just want to,” he admitted, letting go of Crowley’s hand. “It must be good if they pursue it so intently.”
“Must be.” Crowley was staring at him.
“How can it be any more transgressive than eating or drinking?” Aziraphale shrugged, taking another large swallow of liquor. He very much needed to remain a bit drunk for this.
“Suppose it can’t,” said Crowley cautiously.
“Do you want to?” Aziraphale asked him breathlessly. He set his cup down and tried to look winning. “Oh, please say you want to. I do.”
Crowley made an odd sort of honking noise. “Ah,” he finally managed. “I—yeah, alright.” He drained his cup and set it down. “We should probably put this away.”
Aziraphale snapped his fingers, reassembling the board and returning it to the corner where it was usually stored. “There. Let’s go upstairs.”
Crowley goggled. “Right.”
Aziraphale pushed to his feet, less steady than he would have preferred, but steady enough to haul Crowley up by the hand. He was a bit too enthusiastic, and wound up with a demon pulled tight against his chest.
“Oh,” breathed Crowley, looking surprised. “You’re a bit stronger than you look, angel.”
“Thank you,” said Aziraphale, who had worked hard to cultivate a soft and approachable image. “Should we kiss, do you think?”
This question reduced Crowley to several incoherent noises that seemed positive. Aziraphale took it as a yes and leaned forward, pursing his lips like he’d seen humans do when they wanted a kiss.
It took Crowley a moment to calm down, but when he did, he pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s own. He retreated a moment later, blinking.
Aziraphale blinked too. “I think we’re supposed to move our mouths,” he said after a moment to consider. “They move when they do it.”
“Yeah,” Crowley said stupidly. “Right. Okay.”
When Crowley kissed him again, he opened his mouth a little, moving his lips against Aziraphale’s, and it was nice. Bit wet, but Aziraphale had expected that.
“Did I do it right?” asked Crowley. “I mean, did you like it?”
“I think so.” Aziraphale considered. “Maybe we ought to do it again to be sure.”
“Okay,” Crowley said again, and kissed him harder.
Now that had some appeals. It felt wonderfully out of control, and something went hot and tight in Aziraphale’s abdomen at the thought of Crowley wanting this from him. He recalled all the writhing, naked humans he’d seen crying out in ecstasy, and then imagined making Crowley do that, and oh, that was as delicious as a fresh pastry.
“We should take our clothes off,” he said when they broke the kiss. “I can kiss other parts of you too.”
“Oh lord,” Crowley muttered. “That’s—If we're gonna do that we should go upstairs.”
Aziraphale brightened. “You’re quite right,” he said. “Then we can lie down together while we touch.”
“Yeah,” came Crowley’s strangled response.
So they climbed the stairs, and Aziraphale sat on the bed to unlace his jerkin. “Do we need oil?” he asked suddenly. “The Greeks and Romans were always mad for oil.”
Crowley tripped over a spare shirt. “Uh,” he said intelligently, “I think we need oil, yeah. Unless you can make your—” he broke off, looking embarrassed.
Aziraphale scrunched up his lips thoughtfully, pulling his shirt over his head. “If we’re going to do this like humans, then we should actually do it like humans,” he decided, and a bottle of olive oil found itself (to its—and its owner’s—surprise) not in its previous spot in the south of Greece, but on a bedside table on the coast of what would someday be Sweden.
“There,” said Aziraphale, satisfied, and pushed his leggings down, wiggling until they were off his legs. “I wish the trousers weren’t so tight,” he said with a sigh.
“They make your arse look good,” said Crowley, hopping around to get his own leggings off.
Aziraphale watched him for a moment, amused. “But at what cost?”
Crowley nearly fell over and righted himself against the wall. “You have no sense of fashion, angel.”
“Just now I want your clothes gone, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him loftily. “Oh, this is going to be exciting. I never use my cock for anything.” He looked down at it and smiled at the way it was beginning to stiffen and fill. Such a strange feeling, but he thought he might like it. He had the oddest urge to rub it on something. “Does yours feel like this when it gets hard?”
“Of course it does. Everyone’s does.” Crowley flopped down next to him, finally rid of his too-tight leggings. He craned his neck to study Aziraphale’s cock and said, “it looks nice,” in a soft voice.
Aziraphale smiled. “You like it?” he asked. “I tried to make it like they did on all those Greek statues. Well-proportioned, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Crowley quietly, “I know.”
Aziraphale glanced at Crowley’s face and thought, quite out of nowhere, that he’d rather like to rub his cock on it. The thought made him blink, stunned. “I think I just felt lust!” he told Crowley excitedly. “I was looking at you, and I wanted to do things.”
Crowley gaped at him. “I—like what?”
And that made Aziraphale blush. “Er,” he hedged, “nothing in particular.”
Crowley squinted at him suspiciously. “No, you’ve got to say. I’ve gone and admitted to feeling it, so you’ve got to as well.”
“You never said anything specific!” Aziraphale protested.
“Well, one of us has to tell the other what we want to do!” Crowley looked exasperated.
“I thought we were going to put your cock up my bum,” said Aziraphale blankly. “Didn’t we agree?”
Crowley made a series of overwhelmed noises and fell onto his back in apparent dismay.
“That will do nicely,” Aziraphale said, and swung a leg over his hips to straddle him.
Crowley stared up at him, lips parting. His hair was spilled out on the pillow beneath him like fire, and once again Aziraphale found him so beautiful it made him ache.
So he decided to say it. “Crowley, you’re lovely.”
That made him squirm. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbled. His cock rubbed against Aziraphale’s thigh, and that was very nice, in a strange sort of way.
“I like that,” Aziraphale told him softly, shifting so that they rubbed together a bit more. “Goodness, this is a lot, isn’t it?”
Crowley nodded with a little helpless noise.
Aziraphale smiled. “Here,” he said, reaching for the oil. “I suppose we should start.”
Crowley swallowed with an audible click. “Angel,” he croaked, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it in.”
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale blinked down at him.
Crowley bit his lip. “I mean I—that is—” He swallowed again. “Oh, bless it, I can’t promise I won’t pop off the minute I try.”
“Well, that’s very flattering, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, “but I confess I was really looking forward to trying this. Is there anything for it?”
Crowley looked wretched. “Suppose I could come first,” he mumbled. “Then I could—I dunno, do something you liked until it gets hard again.”
Aziraphale considered. “That’s very sensible,” he decided. “Alright. How should I make you come?”
“Er, however you like.” Crowley gulped.
Aziraphale considered. “What would you like, Crowley?” he asked softly.
Crowley’s eyes were very wide in the dim light. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Just—kiss me again?”
So Aziraphale did, setting the oil aside to cup Crowley’s face between his hands. It was better this way; he could tip Crowley’s face up to better claim his mouth, and they both moaned when tongues were introduced. Aziraphale couldn’t be sure who’d first brought them into the proceedings, but it was quite clever. From there he could kiss all the other parts of Crowley that appealed to him—his sharp cheekbones, his sweet mouth, the tip of his nose and the tender place below his ear that made him tremble.
Crowley’s hips moved restlessly under Aziraphale, rubbing his cock against Aziraphale’s thigh. He didn’t seem to notice he was doing it, which was fine, since Aziraphale much preferred his attention on their kissing anyway.
It was when Crowley’s cock twitched noticeably that Aziraphale paused in sucking kisses to Crowley’s neck to whisper, “you should rub it against mine.”
“What?” Crowley’s eyes were closed and his thin chest was heaving. It really was too delightful to see him like this.
“Here.” Aziraphale shifted, getting their cocks more into alignment. Seemed silly, that they hadn’t introduced them before. “Like this.” And he rolled his hips, thrusting his cock against Crowley’s.
They slid together, slick at the tips, and Crowley made a noise that raised the hairs on Aziraphale’s arms. “Angel,” he gasped, jerking like a landed fish. “Fuck, that’s good, do it again, please do it again.”
Aziraphale rolled his hips again, letting out a low pleased sound at the way it sent lightning through his veins. Crowley tossed his head beneath him, beautiful and needing, and when Aziraphale did it again he went a bit frantic.
“Gonna—Aziraphale—shit!” Crowley bit off his words as he began to thrust jerkily against Aziraphale. It was quick, almost rabbit-like, and after about a minute he let out a high little squeak and came all over the pair of them.
“Oh!” Aziraphale peered down in fascination. “I’ve never actually seen that part before. Did it feel nice?”
Crowley let out a muzzy sound and flapped a hand weakly.
Aziraphale reached out and ran a finger through the mess. It was roughly the consistency of egg white, with a similar appearance and a smoky, musky smell. He wondered if that was all semen, or just Crowley’s. It didn’t burn. He’d been a little afraid it might.
But since it didn’t...
The noise Crowley made when he sucked his finger clean made Aziraphale shake. “Sweet God above,” Crowley breathed. “Your fucking mouth, angel.”
Aziraphale gave him a deliberately innocent look and smeared a bit of semen across his lower lip. Being saucy was a sure way to deprive Crowley of his ability to speak, and that felt a bit like winning.
Crowley moaned despairingly and went limp under him.
“How long does it take you to get hard again?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley grunted and shrugged. “Dunno. Not too long if you keep doing that.”
“What, this?” Aziraphale swiped another finger through Crowley’s spend and popped it into his mouth. “You like watching me eat this? Shall I tell you how good it tastes? Does it make you think about fucking my mouth?”
Crowley squeaked.
Aziraphale smiled. Sex was proving to be extremely diverting. “I suppose the humans already think I let you do that,” he mused. “Or do they think you force me? I remember several very naughty vases from Greece showing men holding other men’s heads while they used their mouths. Should we try?”
Crowley made a garbled sort of sound, eyes wide.
“Do you like it when I talk to you like this?” Aziraphale’s smile widened. There was power in this, in making the demon beneath him moan and shake, and he felt like the most indulgent, benevolent creature in the face of it. He’d enjoyed watching Crowley come. He wanted to see how much pleasure he could bring him now.
Crowley swallowed, then slowly nodded.
“Then I shall simply have to keep doing it,” Aziraphale decided. “Now on the subject of cocks and mouths, I feel compelled to confess that earlier I was rather taken with the notion of putting mine close to yours.”
“My—what?” Crowley frowned. “I’m confused. My what with your what?”
“Oh! Was I not being clear? My cock and your mouth.”
“Oh,” managed Crowley, who looked quite in danger of floating away if Aziraphale crawled off him.
“You have rather pretty lips, after all.” Aziraphale traced Crowley’s lower lip with the same finger he’d sucked a moment ago, and that made Crowley groan and take it into his mouth. It was shameless and depraved, and Aziraphale could watch him suck on it all day. “So very pretty,” he whispered.
Crowley whined, reaching up to take Aziraphale’s wrist. “Get the oil, angel,” he whispered. “I’ll be ready for it shortly.”
Aziraphale smiled and reached for it with his free hand. “Here,” he said, offering it to Crowley. “How does one prepare?”
“Like this,” Crowley said roughly, and took it, pouring some into his hand. It dripped down his fingers, gleaming in the candlelight. “Can I put one inside you?”
“Ooh, yes.” Aziraphale shifted, trying to present his arse for easy access. “Can you reach, or should I move?”
“Stay like this,” Crowley told him. “I’ve got it.” The first touch of his fingers was strange; nothing had ever touched Aziraphale there before, and it was sensitive. At first it seemed like a rather delicious tickle, slick fingers sliding against his hole, but then Crowley pressed the tip of one finger inside, and it changed abruptly.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh, I like that.”
“Yeah?” Crowley stared up at him, enraptured. He pushed a little deeper, and it made Aziraphale groan softly. “This is okay?”
“More than okay,” Aziraphale moaned. “Just perfect.” He rocked back, pushing Crowley’s finger in deeper, and gasped when it brushed against a spot which felt absolutely delicious. “Oh, do that again, Crowley! Touch me there again!”
“Where?” Crowley demanded, but was already wiggling his finger trying to find that sweet spot again. “Aziraphale, what—?”
But he never finished the question, because he located it again and made Aziraphale shout for how lovely it was. Something in his expression went sharp and hungry, and then he was rubbing it over and over, drawing ecstatic cries from Aziraphale’s lips.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, riding those long, graceful fingers, “something’s happening, something’s building—”
“Not yet,” growled Crowley, kissing him hard and pulling his finger out. Aziraphale wanted to weep from the loss, but then there were hands on his hips, and something hot and blunt was pressing against his hole, and then with a stretch and a wail of pleasure Crowley was inside, thick and slippery and perfect.
“Oh fuck,” Aziraphale groaned, leaning back to seat himself properly.
“I cheated,” Crowley gasped, chest heaving. “Sorry, angel, I cheated. We didn’t need the oil. I just couldn’t wait.”
“It’s fine,” Aziraphale panted. He shut his eyes tightly, focusing on the intensity of the stretch. “That feels...”
“Yeah,” Crowley agreed.
Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip. He took a deep, shaky breath. “And now, according to these human laws, I’ve debased myself for you.” He opened his eyes and looked down. “I’ve submitted.”
Crowley gulped. “They’re idiots,” he rasped. “There’s nothing shameful about this, angel. You couldn’t debase yourself if you tried.”
Aziraphale smiled softly. “So you don’t feel particularly dominant right now? You’ve put your cock in me. Aren’t you supposed to feel like a man?”
“I’m not a man,” Crowley said softly.
“No, I suppose not.” Aziraphale considered, and then clenched his arse.
Crowley choked on his tongue.
“I don’t feel terribly submissive either,” Aziraphale remarked.
Crowley made a noise that could have been agreement, but it was difficult to be certain.
Aziraphale began to move, rolling his hips to ensure Crowley’s cock rubbed that wonderful spot inside him again. “I think,” he said breathlessly, “that there’s a great deal of nuance they’re missing here. Surely there are other factors besides position in play when one considers power dynamics. Don’t you think?”
Crowley nodded mindlessly, eyes falling shut.
Aziraphale smiled. “In fact, I think it quite likely that I could pin your hands and use you for my pleasure if I wanted to do so. How could anyone call that submission?”
“Shit,” breathed Crowley, and he opened his eyes to stare pitifully up at Aziraphale. Slowly, without blinking, he raised his hands above his head and left them there.
Aziraphale’s breath caught. “Crowley—”
Crowley nodded once, licking his lips nervously.
Aziraphale felt the atmosphere shift subtly; he couldn’t pinpoint what felt different, exactly, only that it did. If he spoke the fragile thing between them would shatter, so he kept silent as he leaned forward cautiously and wrapped his hands around Crowley’s wrists. He looked down at Crowley. Checking.
Crowley nodded again, docile under him.
It was Aziraphale’s turn to lick his lips. His heart was pounding. He didn’t understand what was happening here, but it was momentous. Crowley was so dear, looking up at him with those wide yellow eyes, and Aziraphale wanted to ruin him with love.
He began to move again, with intent this time.
They didn’t speak, letting the thing between them swell and grow. Crowley’s eyes kept fluttering shut, but he always forced them open again, better to watch Aziraphale.
And Aziraphale let himself voice every sensation, every wonderful, glorious feeling Crowley’s cock brought him. Not with words, but with sighs and grunts and occasionally gasping cries. It was perfect. He could dine on this feeling forever.
“Angel,” Crowley finally gasped after what felt like a delicious eternity, “angel, I can’t—I’m going to—”
“Not yet,” panted Aziraphale. “Oh, not yet, I’m not ready.”
Crowley moaned like he was in pain, closing his eyes tightly. “Shit,” he breathed, biting his lip. “I’ll try. Aziraphale, I’ll try.”
“You can do it,” Aziraphale whispered; he was bouncing properly on Crowley’s cock now, having mastered the angle and rise necessary to sustain it without slipping out. “I know you can, Crowley. For me.”
Crowley groaned again, shaking his head wordlessly. He looked utterly ruined, just as Aziraphale wanted him.
“Just a little longer,” Aziraphale whispered, leaning forward just a bit for some better friction. He was going to come just like this, just from how perfectly Crowley’s cock filled him. “Not long, my dear, you feel so wonderful...”
Crowley let out a gutted noise, surging up to catch Aziraphale’s mouth with his own. He kissed messily, with a flattering desperation that lit a fire under Aziraphale’s skin.
He sped up, kissing Crowley hard, and let that feeling inside him build and build until he burst with a soft cry, splattering Crowley’s stomach and both their thighs. He trembled, shutting his eyes tightly as it washed over him. Such a human sort of bliss, as good as Heaven but somehow nothing like it at all. He adored it.
“Angel,” Crowley whined, sounding pitiful and needing.
Aziraphale opened his eyes and smiled down at him. “Oh, thank you for waiting, Crowley. Please, go ahead.”
Crowley made another incoherent noise and thrust up. It still felt wonderful, edging on too much, but Aziraphale had never been one to shrink away from the possibility of overdoing things. He picked up that desperate, rabbity pace that Aziraphale remembered from earlier, and cried out softly when he finally filled Aziraphale with his own release.
“I can see why they enjoy this so much,” Aziraphale said a bit breathlessly. “It’s great fun.”
“Angel,” whispered Crowley, blinking open his lovely eyes and gazing at Aziraphale with something like wonder. “That was...”
“It was, rather, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale beamed at him and clambered off his hips, making a face at the feel of Crowley’s cock slipping out and the resulting mess. A little miracle took care of that, and the bedding, and Aziraphale bent over to retrieve his clothing. It was getting chilly, after all, now that they weren’t moving.
“I—yeah.” Crowley sat up slowly, watching Aziraphale get dressed.
Aziraphale paused once he’d gotten his shirt over his head. “Are you alright, Crowley?”
“Come here,” said Crowley in a soft, strange voice.
Aziraphale sat down beside him, politely puzzled, and gasped when Crowley grabbed him around the back of the neck to pull him in for another kiss. He nearly fell, knocked off balance by the force of it, and caught himself with a hand on the bed. “Crowley, what—?”
“Don’t say anything,” Crowley whispered, pulling Aziraphale tight against him and nuzzling his ear. “Not yet, alright? Just—”
Aziraphale softened, reaching up to stroke the nape of Crowley’s neck. He felt the demon shiver under his fingers. “Of course,” he murmured. In the quiet dark, reality was threatening to creep back in, and Aziraphale didn’t want to face it anymore than Crowley did. “Let’s just lay down.”
Crowley nodded, pressing his cheek tight against Aziraphale’s. “No one’s watching,” he whispered. “I checked. We can do as we like for now.”
Sweet, thoughtful Crowley! Aziraphale smiled. “You’re too good to me,” he said warmly, tugging Crowley down with him to snuggle under the blankets.
Crowley didn’t answer. All he did was pull Aziraphale close and wind around him like the serpent he was. He tucked his face neatly into the curve of Aziraphale’s neck, which was very sweet.
Aziraphale decided not to mention it. Crowley was still a demon, after all. He was bound to have some pride.
It was so very hard to remember that he was a demon, though, when he was snuffling softly against Aziraphale’s skin and stroking his back as though he were something precious. Aziraphale felt decidedly cherished, lying here in the circle of Crowley’s arms.
It was really a shame things couldn’t be different. Aziraphale tipped his head back, staring vacantly at the beams of the ceiling. Crowley was so kind and thoughtful, it was difficult to think of him as an enemy. But they were enemies, even if they were pretending very hard right now that this wasn’t so. If Aziraphale’s side learned of their association, Aziraphale would Fall. The thought terrified him. He tried to picture himself with dark wings and animalistic eyes, covered in pus and rotting things like all the other demons he’d seen. Maybe that was why he found it so hard to group Crowley in with that lot; Crowley was clean and lovely and smelled not of sulfur, but of smoke. It reminded Aziraphale of a warm hearth, something cozy. Like a home.
He could make a home here, with Crowley, if they were anyone except themselves.
If only Crowley were still an angel. Then the gnawing gaping pit that was slowly opening in Aziraphale’s chest wouldn’t exist. If Crowley were an angel, they could spend all of eternity together, grooming one another’s wings and touching in public, and no one would think anything of it. They wouldn’t mate, of course; that was a very human activity. And they wouldn’t get lunch either. Aziraphale frowned, considering the fact that these were all his favorite things to do. If Crowley was an angel they’d never do any of them. That seemed very wrong, somehow.
But they could spend time together openly, and that sounded nearly good enough to give up fresh bread with butter and smoked salmon, or the feel of Crowley’s sweat-slick skin. Nearly. Aziraphale got a very strange, hollow feeling in his chest when he thought about Crowley as an angel. Did he look the same? Had they ever met, before the Fall? Aziraphale thought not, but he’d never be sure, and it would torment him.
Not that it mattered. The being in his arms, the one tracing long fingers in delicate runes over his skin, was a demon. He couldn’t change that about Crowley, and he wasn’t convinced he wanted to. Perhaps that was a blasphemous thought, but he quite liked Crowley just as he was. He was so dear, after all, with his small acts of kindness and his compassion for the downtrodden. Aziraphale loved him for it.
And part of loving someone was willingness to protect them. This friendship endangered them both. If Aziraphale had to worry about Falling, then the stakes for Crowley were even higher. There was nowhere further to Fall for Crowley; if he was ever found in the arms of an angel, they would destroy him completely.
Aziraphale couldn’t let that happen. He just couldn’t. Something inside him howled like a storm when he thought about life without Crowley in it. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to keep this demon safe!
If they kept doing this, they would get sloppy. They’d get comfortable. They would make mistakes and get caught. Then Crowley would be destroyed and Aziraphale would be cast down to face Hell without him. The thought sent chills up his arms.
And he knew it was inevitable, because they already took risks, inventing intricate rituals that allowed them to see one another, devising stories to tell the head office if anyone were to catch them. Creating excuses to be together when they knew it was forbidden. A few lunches could be excused. Falling into bed together could not.
Crowley had asked him not to say anything, and so Aziraphale wouldn’t. Not yet. He would allow them to pretend for a few more hours that this was something they could keep, and then—
Oh, he would have to leave, wouldn’t he?
Aziraphale turned and pressed his lips to Crowley’s temple, right over the snake marking. Crowley raised his head, and whatever he saw in Aziraphale’s eyes made him frown.
“We still have tonight,” Aziraphale whispered.
Crowley looked pained. “Just tonight?”
Aziraphale kissed him, slow and deep, drawing a sweet muffled noise from his throat. “We can discuss it in the morning,” he told Crowley softly.
Crowley closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “Not morning yet, though,” he pointed out.
Aziraphale pushed him gently onto his back. “No,” he agreed, moving over him, “it isn’t.”
—
By the time the sun rose, Aziraphale’s lips hurt from kissing and his arse was sore after taking Crowley’s cock twice more. There were marks on his skin that would have to be miracled away when they left the bed, but Crowley liked to touch them, so he let them be for a little longer.
But the light was growing brighter, and he couldn’t put it off forever. “Crowley.”
Crowley had been kissing intricate patterns on Aziraphale’s shoulder, but at the sound of his voice, he stilled. “Yeah?”
“I....I need to go,” Aziraphale told him. “We’ve spent too long together as it is.”
Crowley didn’t say anything, but he rolled off Aziraphale and began to get dressed.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale bit his lip. “Crowley, I really don’t want to—”
“It’s fine, angel,” said Crowley shortly. “I get it.”
“I’m not quite sure you do,” said Aziraphale cautiously. Crowley’s fingers were mesmerizing as he laced up his leggings. “It isn’t that I want to go, please believe me.”
“Of course I believe you,” Crowley told him, scoffing. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? You couldn’t lie to me if you wanted to.”
“I’m afraid for us, Crowley!” Aziraphale clenched his fists. “You know what they would do if they found out.”
Crowley turned to him, shirtless and covered with marks from Aziraphale’s mouth. He was beautiful enough to make Aziraphale ache. “I know what the stakes are, yeah,” he said coolly. “I’ve been doing this as long as you, haven’t I? Don’t act like you’ve got to protect me.”
“You’ve protected me,” Aziraphale told him quietly. “It seems only fair.”
Crowley ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Look,” he said, “I do get it, you know. Just—do me a favor, would you?”
“What is it?”
“Take the girl. Set her up in a convent somewhere, or a household where they won’t mistreat her.” Crowley looked away. “I’m not staying here either.”
Something in his expression hurt Aziraphale’s heart. “Crowley, I’m sorry—”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Head office starts to get twitchy if I stay in one place too long, you know that.” Crowley forced a smile. “But I can’t get away with it, so you have to take care of her.”
“I will.” Aziraphale studied his face.
“Probably shouldn’t see each other for a bit after this either, should we?” The glib tone in Crowley’s voice pierced Aziraphale through the heart, even as he saw the wisdom in his words.
“A century or two, at least,” he agreed, heartsick.
“Yeah.” Crowley nodded. “That’ll do it. After that we’ll play it by ear.” He gave Aziraphale a sly look. “Don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to the arrangement I proposed back in Wessex?”
“Oh, how can you bring that up now!” Aziraphale cried, getting to his feet. He bit his lip, feeling ridiculous standing there trying not to cry when he’d been the one to suggest leaving. “Crowley—”
“No,” Crowley growled, expression turning fierce. “Just think about it, Aziraphale. You’ll have a few hundred years.”
“I shall miss you,” Aziraphale confessed.
Crowley’s face softened. “It’ll fly by. Time always does.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Aziraphale looked down. “Crowley, thank you. For—everything.”
“Better not say that again.” Crowley jerked his chin up. “You’ve got to be careful, angel.”
Aziraphale nodded, watching Crowley go down the stairs and say something to the girl. He knew without being told how this would go. Crowley didn’t want to say goodbye, so Aziraphale would remain here until he left. Then he would take the girl and his books and go down to the shore, and convince a ship to take them back to Britain, where he would pick up a new life. As clean and simple as plucking a blood feather before it caused you to bleed to death.
But oh, it hurt much the same way.
A few centuries, Crowley had said. That was sensible. By then the raw ache in Aziraphale’s chest would dull and he’d be able to look at the demon again without wanting to hold him. It was better this way. Better, always, to have part of something than all of nothing.
He would miss this village, and the precious time he and Crowley had shared here, and he would treasure their friendship in the secrecy of his own heart, where Gabriel and the other angels would never know of it. Aziraphale bowed his head, reminding himself that some things were unchangeable, and all he could do was accept them.
The door closed loudly, and the sound seemed to transport Crowley further away from Aziraphale’s reach. Some things were unchangeable. Crowley had never been something he could keep.
Aziraphale took a deep breath and went downstairs.