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“So what's your pleasure, angel?” asked Crowley with a grin. “You like it missionary, you want me on top or bent over? Cunnilingus, analingus, blindfolds, racks, figging, fisting, maybe just a little inappropriate delivery boy and gent without the money for his takeout?”
Aziraphale gave him slow blink over the edge of his teacup.
“Well, first, I am going to need to finish my tea,” he said practically. “And then I would like to have a word with you about what you think a proper proposition looks like.”
“A proper proposition is whatever works,” Crowley retorted. “And come on. Armageddon's done, Heaven and Hell will be licking their wounds for the next petty eon, and...and we've been talking about it, haven't we?”
They had been, sort of. They had gotten around to trying kissing just a few weeks ago, and wow, yeah, that had been-
Wow.
Crowley had the sneaking suspicion that as the Demon Crowley, Hell's own Best Tempter 3998 BC through 1201 AD and again from 1203 AD through 2018 AD, he should be less impressed with Aziraphale giving him a melting look of utter adoration, taking his face between soft hands and then kissing him as if he were dying for it. It was enough to make him wake up slightly dizzy, wide-eyed and hard in the weeks since, and he had decided that he definitely and absolutely wanted more.
He had tried dropping a few subtle hints, and when they hadn't taken at all, he had done a quick crash course through a few dozen terabytes of human pornography so that he would be prepared for whatever it was Aziraphale might have liked because... well.
He just didn't know.
Crowley had gone some millennia thinking that Aziraphale had had no interest at all. He knew some people didn't, and that would have been fine. Then they had kissed, and oh, but Crowley recognized that spark of need in Aziraphale's pretty eyes, longing and hunger and all wrapped up with a kind of joy that was still sort of new to them both.
So, Crowley was prepared, and he leaned against the doorjamb, giving Aziraphale a knowing little smirk.
“What're you, nervous, angel? Don't worry about sparing my sensibilities. I'm up for whatever.”
Aziraphale took a thoughtful sip from his cup.
“Whatever meaning...?”
“Whatever,” Crowley promised, even if he felt a little lurch of nervousness at the bottom of his belly. “Your wish, my command.”
“Hmm.”
Another sip, and Crowley began to get a little irritated.
“May I remind you, I am literally shaped to desire,” Crowley said huffily. “If you think there's something I can't do, well, you've got another think coming.”
“Of course I don't think that, dear,” Aziraphale said. “What do you like?”
“Whatever you do,” Crowley said promptly, crossing the space between them and going down on his knees by Aziraphale's chair. Ah yes, he could feel something change between them now, as if the air had somehow grown sharper. It was Aziraphale's desire, so different from a human's. Humans were easy, humans wore their wants on their sleeves. Angels were another story, and Aziraphale might as well have been in another library entirely.
Aziraphale gazed down at him, a slight and loving smile on his face, one hand supporting his saucer, the other holding his teacup.
“Whatever I do,” Aziraphale echoed. “And... you'll simply accommodate me?”
“Sure.”
Something about that made Aziraphale frown, and he set his tea aside. He reached for Crowley -now they were talking- but he only threaded his fingers through Crowley's hair, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. It felt good, but Crowley had to close his eyes. This close, and it felt as if Aziraphale could see everything moving inside him. He wasn't quite ready for that. Maybe in the next thousand years. They had time.
“And what if I don't want to be accommodated?”
A dark and unpleasant shiver went down Crowley's spine. Some of those videos...
“Um, like, you want me to say no, and kick and cry?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.
“Do you want to do that?”
“If you want me to,” Crowley said thinly.
Aziraphale shook his head, and Crowley, too relieved, made an impatient sound.
“Angel, we're going to be here all day if we're have to talk about everything you don't like. I know plenty of what you don't like...”
“Cold tea, poorly-cut pages, and self-destructive sex,” Aziraphale said darkly.
“Wait, what-?”
“Come here, darling.”
Crowley started to rise, but then Aziraphale simply leaned over and plucked him up. Crowley yawped in surprise as he found himself settled on Aziraphale's comfortable lap, his arms automatically going loosely around Aziraphale's neck. Satan, but the angel was strong, and with Aziraphale's arm looped around his lower back and settled on his thigh, Crowley knew he had no chance of getting away, even if he wanted to.
“Crowley, I think we had better-”
“No.”
Aziraphale blinked at him.
“No?”
“No. I don't want to talk about any of that,” Crowley snapped. “I don't want to talk about virginity or what I saw of sex in Hell or on Earth. I don't want to talk about... responsibility and helplessness and service and feelings of fucked-up self-worth. If you want to, I should just go home.”
He could feel a high heat on his cheeks, and there was that sinking feeling in his stomach again, dread and fear. He knew what a dirty trick that was, and that Aziraphale knew it too.
Instead of ordering him out, however, Aziraphale only held him more tightly, briefly pressing his face to Crowley's shoulder before looking up at him.
“All right, we don't have to talk about any of that right now,” he said. “I think you were in the middle of propositioning me?”
Crowley thought he was going to get whiplash, but he nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sex. I want it with you, angel, and I want you to want it with me.”
“Oh, I very much do,” Aziraphale said. “I have for a long time.”
“Since when?”
“Hm. Rome, the early days.”
“Wait, really?” Crowley blinked, the scope of history turning on the head of a pin. “Rome, seriously?”
“Oh yes. Perhaps before that, but Rome was when I knew for certain.”
Crowley licked his lips, fascinated.
“So... what did you imagine doing with me?”
“Well, first I would get you naked...”
Aziraphale made a surprised sound as Crowley snapped his fingers and sent his clothes away.
“And then what?” he asked.
Aziraphale smiled.
“And then you would be on my lap as you are now.”
“So like, riding you?”
Crowley started to move to straddle Aziraphale's thighs, but the angel kept him in place with a negligent strength that should have been alarming but instead was just hot.
“Oh, something like that,” Aziraphale demurred. “You know, fantasies are never as good as the reality of a thing. This is better than anything I could have come up with.”
Crowley could feel Aziraphale's cock getting hard underneath him. Experimentally, he rocked on it and smiled when Aziraphale made a quiet pleased sound.
“Oh that's nice....” he purred, and then he drew a breath as Aziraphale traced a gentle finger up his bare thigh.
“So is this,” Aziraphale said. “All of it, you know. And look what a pretty cunt you've made.”
“S'just a cunt,” Crowley muttered, suddenly shy.
“Can I see?”
The eagerness in Aziraphale's voice made something in Crowley melt, and he remembered that this wasn't something he had watched on his laptop at night in bed, uneasy in the flickering light from the screen and what was happening on it. This was Aziraphale, and the pure enjoyment there, not so different from when the angel heard about a new restaurant or a new bookstore, made Crowley laugh.
“Yeah, I guess you can...”
Crowley ended up with one foot pushed against the opposite arm of Aziraphale's chair and the other flat on the ground. He was spread out over Aziraphale's lap like a great lazy cat, his head leaned against Aziraphale's broad shoulder. He felt... surrounded. Comforted. Loved.
The angel's hand was warm on his thighs, petting him in long strokes that turned him boneless. The pleasure of it sent him off into a haze for some timeless interval until Aziraphale gently brushed the wiry hair between Crowley's legs with his fingertips. Startled, Crowley closed his legs around Aziraphale's hand, and then blushed.
“Er, sorry, you just startled me...”
“I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale said earnestly, kissing his shoulder. “Should I not?”
“Um... no, you can.”
“Do you want me to?”
For some reason, that made Crowley bury his face in Aziraphale's soft curls, his heart beating fast.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice as thin as thread. “I do...”
“All right,” Aziraphale said tenderly. “Please do not mind if I ask you that more than I should. Just a silly little thing I like.”
Crowley's legs fell open of their own accord as Aziraphale leaned up to kiss him, gentle sweet things until Crowley bent to capture his mouth. Kissing Aziraphale was still new enough that it felt excitingly taboo, pleasurable with just a hint that they were getting away with something.
Aziraphale's hand between Crowley's thighs stayed light, doing nothing more than ruffling the coarse ginger hair there, not seeking any entrance at all even as Crowley rocked up against him encouragingly. It took a small lifetime of kissing before Aziraphale cupped the flat of his hand against Crowley's slit, and Crowley groaned because the angel's touch was still so light and restrained.
“Aziraphale,” he whined. “You must want more than that.”
“Don't tell me what I want, please,” Aziraphale said. “I know very well what I want.”
“And that's...”
“To do this like this with you. To only do this if that's what we decide upon.”
Crowley made a displeased sound, because that was not how he imagined this going at all. He opened his mouth to say so, but Aziraphale spoke first.
“How do you like this?”
Crowley squirmed as Aziraphale reached down and dragged his fingertips up Crowley's slit, past his entrance and up to circle his clit oh-so-gently at the apex. There was a touch of moisture there that hadn't been before, and Aziraphale looked up at Crowley expectantly.
“Yes? No?”
“Yes,” Crowley hissed. “Yes, more like that. And, you don't have to be so nice about it, you know.”
“Oh, but I'm the nice one,” Aziraphale said calmly. “That means that everything I do by definition is nice.”
“That's not how it works-!”
Crowley's words were cut off as Aziraphale repeated the motion, parting the hair with a delicate touch so that his fingertips slid smoothly along Crowley's skin. Crowley rocked up against Aziraphale's hand, dimly certain that he should be doing something right now.
Instead, all he seemed capable of doing was squirming on Aziraphale's lap, clasped loosely to Aziraphale's body as the angel made a mess of him with a delicately sure touch.
Aziraphale was as patient and as methodical as a watchmaker, repeating that slow and sweet slide of his fingers along Crowley's opening until Crowley was flushed and his breath was hissing through his teeth.
“Oh, you're getting wet,” Aziraphale said, pleased.
“So you can-”
“Hm.”
Crowley watched, breath in his throat, as Aziraphale matter-of-factually stuck the two fingers that he had been using to pleasure Crowley into his own mouth.
“Angel!”
Aziraphale pulled them out with a popping sound. They were slick and shiny, and Crowley groaned as Aziraphale reached for him again. He couldn't take this, he couldn't take this at all, and he slouched down to bury his face in Aziraphale's neck, clinging to him hard.
Something about seeing Aziraphale wet his fingers like that had stirred something inside him, and when Aziraphale touched him this time, the way was slicker, sleeker, almost silky.
“Ah, there we are,” Aziraphale murmured, and now Crowley could hear a thread of tension there.
“Come on, angel,” he hissed. “What's next? I'm ready enough...”
“Mm.” Do you like this?”
Crowley couldn't respond as Aziraphale pinched his soft damp lips between his wet fingers. He couldn't get a grip as slick as everything was now, but that wasn't the point. The soft pinches would have been too much even a few moments ago, but now they were just fine, sending whimpers of pleasure spilling from Crowley's lips.
Aziraphale paused.
“Crowley.”
“Yes,” Crowley whined, a hint of surrender in his tone. “Yes, Yes, it's good, it's... angel, it is so good...”
“Good. Keep letting it be good, darling.”
Was that all he had to do? Crowley would have wanted to go over it from a few different angles, but then Aziraphale rode the pad of his fingers over Crowley's clit, making him shake and whimper.
“Like that?” asked Aziraphale. “More firm, less...?”
“More,” Crowley said recklessly. “More than that, all of that...”
Aziraphale made a soft humming noise, and he repeated the motion, stroking Crowley's clit with a firm touch that Crowley couldn't even imagine pulling away from. He could smell himself now, the dark and earthy scent of himself that was tinged with burning, and it mingled in a strange way with the smell of Aziraphale's hair pomade, something that hadn't really changed in fifty years. It reminded him that this was Aziraphale, and of course doing this with Aziraphale would have nothing to do with doing it with anyone else.
“Do you care for it inside?” Aziraphale asked, still so earnest and achingly polite that Crowley laughed.
“Yes, yes, I do,” he said. “Just do it, please...”
He hadn't bothered with a hymen, as thematically appropriate as it might have been, and suddenly he wondered if Aziraphale might be disappointed to find its lack. Then Aziraphale swept his soaked fingers from Crowley's clit all the way down inside him, and Crowley keened, all thoughts of inadequacy flying out of his brain. All that mattered was the utterly perfect pressure that Aziraphale was putting on his flesh, how his fingers filled Crowley, how they returned to circle his clit only to slide down and fill him again.
“Angel, oh angel,” Crowley whimpered, clinging as hard as he could.
“Shh. The only thing I need from you now is to enjoy what I am doing. Do you understand? That is the only thing I want right now. That is the only thing I am thinking of, and it is the only thing you should be thinking of.”
Crowley couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes. It was ridiculous. It was foolishness. He knew what sex was. It was... it wasn't this. It wasn't sitting on an angel's lap and allowing the angel to make him feel good. It wasn't this kind of caring, this kind of pleasure, not for him, but maybe it was?
It was overwhelming, and he hid his face in Aziraphale's neck, sobbing quietly even as Aziraphale stroked him.
“Crowley...”
“Don't stop, please, please don't stop,” Crowley groaned. “Not... not when it feels so good.”
Aziraphale sighed with pleasure at that, and he pulled Crowley even closer.
“Precious darling,” he murmured. “Don't you know how very lovely you are? Don't you know how good you feel like this, and how much I want you just like this?”
It felt as if every muscle in Crowley's body was tensing up, and he clenched his fists in Aziraphale's coat, clinging as if it would save him. He couldn't take it, he couldn't let himself topple over, couldn't give in, and then he realized with a thrill that he absolutely no choice.
Crowley didn't recognize the hoarse sound that came from his throat, his face soaked with tears and his entire body shaking. He was utterly wrecked, reduced to a pile of sensations on Aziraphale's lap, Aziraphale's hand between his legs pressing against him firmly to prevent him from simply shaking to pieces.
“Oh... oh fucking... angel...”
Aziraphale nuzzled the side of his throat, holding him as closely as he could with his free arm.
No where safer in all the world, Crowley thought, and he was. He was safe, and there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of snuggled up to his angel.
That was why it was fine to hide his face in Aziraphale's shoulder for a little while, to let the silly tears cry themselves out. He didn't need to be up and back to being the Demon Crowley, so he could be this instead, and that was... that was fine.
Finally he sat up, clambering off of Aziraphale's lap. Aziraphale made a brief sound of dismay as Crowley tottered and then took Aziraphale's hand.
“Come on,” he said, his voice raw.
“And where are we going?” asked Aziraphale, mystified.
“To bed, right? I'm... I'm ready enough.”
And so blissed out on pleasure that he couldn't imagine being afraid of anything right now. They had to take advantage of that before his brain started talking again, but Aziraphale shook his head firmly.
“Weren't you listening?” Aziraphale asked gently. “That wasn't a preparation. That was the thing itself. That's what I wanted.”
Crowley felt the tears threaten again, and he shivered.
“Do you... that is, don't you want...”
Aziraphale stood up, taking Crowley's face between his hands. Crowley found that he couldn't close his eyes against the stern sincerity and love of Aziraphale's gaze.
“My darling, you must listen to me. I want to do anything and everything with you. There's little I would refuse you... but I won't do something that you want solely because you think I want it.”
Crowley started to argue, but then he sighed, nodded.
“All right,” he said gruffly. “All right.'M sorry.”
Aziraphale sighed with something that looked a bit like relief and then he kissed Crowley firmly on the mouth. Drawn close to Aziraphale again, Crowley could smell the mess he had made of Aziraphale's trousers and blushed.
“Um, want me to get that for you?”
“Come to bed,” Aziraphale said. “I'll change into my pajamas and then we shall have a bit of a snuggle, shall we?”
Crowley thought that the pornography that he had watched had been rather unclear on the topic of pajamas and snuggles, but as Aziraphale led him to the back bedroom, Crowley thought he was willing to follow the angel's lead.