Chapter Text
Aziraphale stared up at the ceiling. He supposed he should be feeling shock at what had happened, but all he could manage was a dazed sort of feeling that he couldn’t quite put a name to. It was like that final tug of his bow tie as it tightened into place, the crack of a spoon against the caramelized surface of crème brûlée, the first step into his warm shop on a cold rainy day…
He sighed as he pushed himself off of the bed, got dressed, and went downstairs. The desire to chase after Crowley clawed at him, but would that make things better or worse? Where was the reference book on what to do when your hereditary enemy turned best friend of six thousand years suddenly snogged you with unmistakable passion? That you helplessly responded to the point that you felt consumed by it?
He ran his hand over the back of his chair as he relived what had happened upstairs. More even than the feel of Crowley’s mouth against his, Aziraphale’s memory kept snagging on how upset Crowley looked when he left, his wide panicked eyes, the tear tracks on his face... The demon's obvious distress pulled a rapidly rising tidal wave of need from deep inside of him, a need to find Crowley, to soothe him, to—to—protect him.
And with that thought his lips curled back from his teeth in a feral snarl.
The tidal wave became a tsunami, howling at him to find Crowley, to make him safe, to touch him, to claim him… he knees buckled as he struggled against it, his heart pounding as he gripped the back of the chair so tightly it splintered under his grasp.
“Oh, to Hell with it,” he bit out, as he concentrated his will to fold space and fling himself through it.
The next thing he knew, he was staring at his widespread hands pressed against the door to Crowley’s flat, trying not to give into his suffocating drive to crash through it. He was not going to charge in like a deranged madman; Crowley was spooked enough as it was. He would be calm, rational— but he’s behind this door. What if he’s hurt, what if he needs me?
He slammed his hand against the door in frustration, deploying divine strength without meaning to. So much for calm and rational. The door flew open, bouncing against the wall with a crash. Crowley ran in from the other room and skidded to a stop when he saw Aziraphale.
The instant Aziraphale’s eyes landed on Crowley, his wings erupted from his back. Crowley staggered as his own wings appeared at the same time, and he looked wildly behind him in astonishment.
Aziraphale had the presence of mind to quickly step inside, away from curious neighbors, and shut the door behind him. He slowly turned back to Crowley, the ferocious need clawing inside of him easing somewhat at seeing Crowley safe and unharmed.
“Something’s— happening to us,” he said haltingly. “And I don’t know how to stop it.”
And I don’t want to.
His heart thumped wildly, feeling as though he was on a precipice, about to take a step forward into an abyss. His wings flexed as if readying to catch him from falling. But the step he took was towards the demon staring at him with wide eyes, who mirrored him, jerkily stepping closer as if pulled forward on puppet strings.
“Wh—what is it?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied helplessly. “I think when we started grooming each other, it was the catalyst that sparked off this” —he gestured between them— “but I suspect the seeds of it were planted long before that.”
As he spoke he continued to take measured steps towards Crowley, the demon matching him step by step without even seeming to realise it, stopping when they were close enough to touch.
Aziraphale held himself back with an effort, nearly consumed by the need to reach out and touch, to press himself along the length of that body so tantalizingly close to his. From the looks of it, Crowley wasn’t faring much better, as he was trembling, breathing in short panting gasps, fists clenched white-knuckled by his side.
“Crowley. Please,” Aziraphale rasped out, his voice cracking with need. He had no idea what he was asking for, only that he was desperate for it.
Despair and desire warred across Crowley’s face before he groaned out “Aziraphale,” before lunging forward. Aziraphale surged to meet him and they slammed together, mouths connecting, arms grasping, wings bending forward.
The instant their wings connected a part of them exploded. They spiraled outwards together, whirling motes spinning, intertwining, so fast and incandescent it felt as if they could create their own sun to blaze brightly in the cold vacuum of space. They sang out in a thousand voices as their ethereal essences twined together like the notes of a harmony, reaching a crescendo that defied size and space before shrinking to sink back into their corporations.
Aziraphale sucked in a gasping breath as he opened his eyes and dazedly took in their surroundings. He was lying on his back, Crowley partially on top of him with his head pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest, ebony wings folded back and Aziraphale’s arms and wings wrapped around him protectively like a shield.
As Aziraphale settled back into his body, he became more aware of the fact they were sprawled on the uncomfortably hard floor. He frowned and snapped his fingers to transport them to Crowley’s bed.
Ah. Much better.
He took stock of himself. He was panting as if from heavy exertion, his heart beating hard against his rib cage, but his corporation was fine. And emotionally—the anxious maddening itch was gone, but he still felt the same raging need pulling at him; a feeling of incompleteness, along with an intense thrumming tension throughout his body that was—his breath caught as he realised that part of the unusual sensations he was experiencing was centered in his groin. And that the sensation was, in fact, the first erection of his entire existence.
He looked down at the demon he held tightly in his arms. Crowley appeared to have passed out, although he was also breathing rapidly and Aziraphale could feel faint tremors running through the lean body pressed against him.
The part of him at the apex of his legs that was experiencing new… sensations had the weight of Crowley’s hip pressed against it. Which felt… good. Although not quite good enough…. He groaned as he shifted his pelvis upwards, seeking more of that tantalizing pressure as his hands slid into the silky underside of Crowley’s wings.
Crowley gasped awake, reflexively pushing his wings into Aziraphale’s hands. “Ndhxsng?”
With years of experience interpreting Crowleyisms, Aziraphale figured that roughly translated into What the fuck was that?
Aziraphale tried to put what he was feeling into words. “I—you’re—”
~Mine~
That thrumming, restless, feeling of need suddenly blazed like a solar flare. He felt as if every nerve ending was sizzling against his skin wherever Crowley was touching him and he needed more, he wasn’t complete, he needed—Crowley.
Aziraphale shuddered hard, sucking in a quivering breath at the same time Crowley choked out a garbled sound and surged up to kiss him, openmouthed and fierce, as if trying to claim him by his lips alone. His mouth was hot against him, sending washes of heat through Aziraphale’s body until he felt as if he must be burning in a holy hellfire. He writhed in the ecstasy of it, his fingers tightening possessively in Crowley’s feathers.
Crowley shuddered and growled deep in his throat as he writhed and shifted to lay more fully on top of him, trailing his lips down Aziraphale’s jaw and mouthing as his neck.
Aziraphale arched his head back, his mouth dropping open in a soundless gasp as his hands moved down Crowley’s back. Frustrated that the shirt dared to keep him from touching Crowley’s bare skin, he clenched it in his fists, urgently pulling it up. He needed to touch, to lay claim to every patch of the heated flesh in his arms. He felt victorious when he yanked enough of it out of the tight confines of Crowley’s trousers that he could slide his hand underneath to explore the bare skin over lean ridges of muscle and bone.
Crowley moaned a shuddering sound against Aziraphale’s neck as his hips jerked down in an erratic rhythm. Aziraphale pressed back up into him, the intensity of this new, wondrous, mad desire pooling low in his groin, a mindless driving need for more like a ferocious animal that he was defenseless against.
“Az—Aziraphale—tell me to stop, I—I can’t stop, please,” Crowley gasped out brokenly even as he frantically licked and sucked at Aziraphale’s neck like a starving man.
Stop? Why on earth would he want Crowley to stop? The very idea was unfathomable as his inner voice was screaming that he needed to take him and— He spread his thighs and wrapped his legs around Crowley, moving his hands down to grab handfuls of his backside and pull so they were pressed even more tightly against each other, feeling the need to twine around Crowley so tightly he could never break free.
Crowley growled against Aziraphale’s neck even as his hips jerked down harder in response. “Fuck. I’m so fucking weak . We—you can’t do this, you have to leave.”
Aziraphale struggled to make any meaningful sense of Crowley’s words, as they completely contradicted the message Crowley was giving with his body, mouthing passionately at his neck and rolling his hips.
He couldn’t think, he was drowning in pulsing sensations of ~want, need, desire, yes, yes, YES~
He shoved a hand between the tight press of their writhing bodies, needing—
Just as his fingers brushed against the hard outline of Crowley’s erection, Crowley let out an anguished cry and ripped away from him. He scrambled off of the bed, stumbling backwards, his golden eyes glittering with blatant hunger even as his teeth clenched and he outstretched his hands to hold Aziraphale back. His wings lifted and beat erratically, as if unsure if they needed to to fight or take flight.
Aziraphale immediately sat up and moved towards him, but Crowley frantically snapped his fingers and heavy chains appeared around Aziraphale, stopping his advance.
Crowley choked out, “Nygh—just—stop! I’m trying to keep from doing something to you that you don’t want.”
Aziraphale huffed in frustration as he looked down incredulously at the chains. “I should think it’s perfectly obvious that I do want this.”
Crowley shook his head determinedly. “No, you don’t.”
Aziraphale looked back up at him with narrowed eyes. “Really? What was that you said to me once? Oh yes, I think it was something along the lines of How can someone so clever be so stupid?”
He concentrated as he flexed his arms, and the chains fell to the bed in a shower of clinks as they snapped apart.
Crowley’s mouth dropped open as he took an abortive step towards Aziraphale before jerking backwards to press flat against the wall.
“Fuck, that’s hot. Stop that, you’re making it worse! Fine, then I’ll just—” he snapped his fingers again and thick ropes appeared around his own body, binding his limbs tightly.
Aziraphale’s mouth twitched in amusement as he shoved the remnants of his chains onto the floor.
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
He got off of the bed and put his hands on his hips as he looked Crowley over. He felt like a veil had finally dropped from his eyes and he all he could see how utterly handsome, alluring, sexy Crowley was. His face was flushed with passion, mouth kiss-swollen, chest heaving, leaning towards Aziraphale like a flower straining towards the sun, with the unmistakable outline of his hard erection straining against his trousers… and tightly bound in rope like an Old Testament sacrificial offering, for him.
~Mine~
A growl he dimly realised emanated from his own throat sounded low in the room as he stalked towards Crowley like a feral beast, his wings stretched out high and wide. Crowley whimpered as he struggled frantically in his bonds like prey trying to escape.
As Aziraphale stepped in close, he reached out. As soon as he touched Crowley, he flinched as a spike of fear slammed into him. He froze, breathing hard as he tried to sort out what just happened. Why was he suddenly afraid? He probed at the feeling, reaching down to the source of it, and realised with no little astonishment that it wasn’t his fear, it was Crowley’s. But not fear of him, fear for him.
He closed his eyes and leaned forward, chasing down another, more elusive feeling. It slithered and slid away from him, until he finally coaxed it out of the darkness it had been hiding in to reveal… love.
Aziraphale’s eyes flew open. He whispered, “Crowley. I can feel you. Can you feel me?”
Crowley shook his head stubbornly, even as a pulse of ~love, yes, want, love, mine, yours~ came out in a wave so strong it almost had a taste to it, of jasmine in bloom, of sunshine pooling on a warm patch of earth, of a breeze blowing a caress against heated skin…
Aziraphale reached down and curled his fingers around the rope.
“Crowley. Can you feel my love for you?”
Crowley’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp as Aziraphale ripped the rope apart. He stepped in close, pressing his body against Crowley’s and nuzzling against his neck, feeling drunk with the sensation of love twining with his own like ribbons of light.
“Can you feel how much I need you?”
Crowley’s eyes rolled up in his head as he arched his back with a shudder.
“Ngk! Ah, yes, uh, maybe, but the erm, physical part—you can’t— ” Crowley sputtered desperately, even as he burrowed his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and his hands flailed out to clutch at Aziraphale’s hips and pull him even more firmly against his own.
“Mmmm. I beg to differ,” Aziraphale hummed as he turned his head to try to kiss Crowley, but the demon jerked his head away.
“Fuck, if we—you’ll Fall, Aziraphale! Please, I can’t stop myself, please,” Crowley pleaded with anguish in his voice, his fluttering wings reflecting his anxiety even as his arms wrapped around him.
Shaking with the effort, Aziraphale wrenched himself back and cupped Crowley’s face in his hands.
“Sex is not a sin, Crowley. You know that.”
Frantic golden eyes darted wildly over his face. “But you’re an angel and I’m a demon.”
Aziraphale frowned. He knew he needed to address whatever misconception Crowley had managed to convince himself of, but he found himself quite distracted by the strong urge to suck on the trembling lower lip that was mere inches from his own.
“So?”
Crowley choked out a frustrated noise as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head frantically.
“Really, my dear, I don’t know where you get these absurd ideas,” Aziraphale said as patiently as he could manage with his gaze fixed on those delectable lips. “I won’t Fall for loving you, you daft demon. Whatever is happening, I can feel that it’s not something to be feared, it’s something to be cherished.”
“But—”
Aziraphale swiftly placed a finger against Crowley’s lips, prompting the demon to bite off his protest. He slowly lowered his hand. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would very much like for you to kiss me again.”
Through their connection, Aziraphale could feel a sliver of hope leaking through the wall of fear that Crowley was stubbornly clinging to. He concentrated on pushing his essence outwards to meet that hope, coaxing it out towards him.
~Joy/ Love~
~Need/ Want~
~Mine/ Yours~
Crowley’s eyes snapped open, blazing in wonder. “I feel you,” he breathed.
Aziraphale exulted as he felt Crowley’s wall of resistance crumble away as he finally stopped fighting it.
The demon lunged at him with a hiss, their mouths meeting in a hard clash.
As he was pushed backwards toward the bed, Aziraphale eagerly worked his hands between them, trying to unbutton Crowley’s shirt, his fingers feeling far too slow and clumsy. Frustrated, he clenched the fabric in his fists and tore it apart with a very satisfying sound.
Crowley moaned into his mouth as that triggered a flurry of them tearing each other's clothes off. In his frenzy, Aziraphale barely registered the sound of seams splitting and buttons popping as fabric fell in tatters to the floor. When Aziraphale’s knees hit the back of the bed Crowley shoved him onto it, and he barely had time to scramble farther up the bed before Crowley was on him.
The sensation of their bare skin sliding against each other was electrifying, every nerve ending snapping in a current of sensation. Crowley’s wings arched forward, pressing Aziraphale’s wings firmly down against the bed in a deliciously possessive manner that something within Aziraphale answered to. He urgently grasped at Crowley, his hands in constant motion, trying to touch as much of that heated skin as he could manage. He could feel the hard press of Crowley’s erection against his leg that was tantalizingly out of reach as the demon shifted down to mouth at his chest.
Aziraphale made an incoherent sound at the astonishing sensation of a hot wet tongue flicking over his nipple. His hands dove into Crowley’s hair, reflexively tightening in it, probably too hard, but the demon didn’t seem to mind as he moaned around a mouthful of flesh. Aziraphale used his new handhold to pull Crowley’s mouth up to his own, unable to stand being parted from him any longer.
Ah, yes, this was even better, as now their erections slid against each other. Instinct took over as his hips snapped up. It was glorious, but it still wasn’t enough. Aziraphale made a frustrated noise as he gasped out, “Crowley. I want—I need—”
“Yes,” Crowley breathed in agreement.
He pulled away to sit up, tucking his wings behind his back as he straddled Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale whined, bereft of the press of Crowley’s body and reached out to pull him back down where he belonged, but Crowley splayed a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, holding him down.
There was a brief struggle as Aziraphale strained against Crowley’s hand, but Crowley pressed down harder and hissed, his eyes wild as he made a gesture with his other hand and reached down to wrap his newly oiled hand around Aziraphale’s erection.
Thoroughly distracted, Aziraphale strained in an entirely different way as he let out a shaky moan of bliss, pleasure pooling hot in his groin at the sensation of Crowley’s fist sliding over him in firm steady strokes.
“Crowley,” he choked out, as he writhed against the press of Crowley’s thighs and hand, raw, unabated need filling him so that he felt he might go mad with it. “Please, more. Oh—oh—”
Crowley made a desperate sound as he let go of Aziraphale long enough to shimmy up and kneel around his hips, reaching down to align Aziraphale’s erection to him.
Their eyes locked as Crowley sank down on him with undulating rolls of his hips. Aziraphale stilled, awed by the intense intimacy of their joining, then the physical sensations of it slammed into him. Pleasure shuddered up his spine from the tight velvet heat he was sinking into. His hands curled around Crowley’s thighs, clenching tight over the sinewy muscles as he threw his head back in a soundless gasp.
The sensations were on the precipice of too much, nearly overwhelming. He’d never—to him physical pleasure had always been the simple softness of fabric on his skin, food on his tongue, a comb against his scalp. Nothing like this pleasure curling heavy in his loins, alighting all of his senses in his body to the point he felt consumed by it.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed out, his tone reverent.
“Yes,” Aziraphale replied, pushing everything he felt into that one meager word.
~Yes I love/ desire you, Yes I belong to you, Yes you are mine, Yes I give myself to you, forever~
Crowley’s lips parted in short hissing gasps as he began fast rhythm, lifting up and sinking down on trembling thighs. A deep coiling pleasure unlike anything Aziraphale had ever known began building deep within him.
During the rare times he’d wondered what this kind of intimacy might feel like, he’d never imagined it could feel like this. The sheer pleasure of it was exquisite, yes, waves of it curling his toes with each undulating roll of Crowley’s narrow hips, driving Aziraphale to wrap his hands around them, and instinctively thrust up, seeking more of that tight intoxicating heat. But even more than the physical pleasure, he could feel their ethereal selves joining together, twining ardent and bright.
He laughed in pure joy, and Crowley smiled down at him in response, open and unguarded, unmistakable love glowing bright in his golden eyes. Aziraphale wished he could freeze this moment in time, but a force beyond his control writhed, pushed, shoved, driving him into a frenzy of unfulfilled need.
He moaned desperately, “Crowley, I need you.”
Crowley bent down to kiss him, the act made difficult by their writhing bodies and panting breaths. His wings came forward, ebony caressing against alabaster as he gasped into his mouth, “Yes, I need you too Aziraphale, yes, yes, yes—”
Crowley’s hips undulated faster to meet Aziraphale’s snapping hips, his hand wrapping around his own cock and pumping it desperately. That glorious pressure coiled tighter, and tighter still until it unraveled, starting in his pelvis, rippling down his legs, up his torso, then beyond the confines of his corporation.
Crowley shuddered, spilling over his fist as he cried out with Aziraphale as they climaxed. A pulse of energy shattered the air, shaking the building and rattling the windows in their frames. A soundless chime rang, rising into a crescendo and reverberating through them as they intertwined in exultation.
Aziraphale barely managed to hang onto his consciousness as they shook and writhed from their ethereal selves joining. When they finally sank back into their corporations, Crowley collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his shaking arms around the gasping demon. They lay together quietly as their breathing slowed.
Crowley was the first to stir as he shifted his legs down with a tired groan. He pressed his lips to Aziraphale's clavicle then peered up.
“Erm. What exactly just happened? Aside from the obvious.”
Aziraphale closed his eyes, marveling at the feel of the unmistakable bond thrumming between them that he now realised had been trying to complete for months, maybe longer.
“Don’t you feel it?”
Crowley was quiet for a moment, then slowly replied, “Yesss.”
Aziraphale hummed contentedly and reached up to run his fingers into dark ginger hair. “If I were to venture a guess, I think that our core selves, our—essence, perhaps?—have... I don’t know what the right word is. Bonded maybe, or mated.”
“What, like ducks or something?”
Aziraphale huffed. “Do I look like a duck to you?”
Crowley reached out a hand to run it along Aziraphale’s wing in a caress. “More like a swan.”
Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure how much he appreciated being compared to water fowl of any kind, but felt somewhat mollified.
Crowley tucked away his wings and rolled to his side, raising an eyebrow at the remnants of a shirt sleeve clinging to his arm. Aziraphale thought ruefully of his own clothes that he’ll have to repair as he watched Crowley pull off the tattered fabric.
Oh well. It had been worth it. Even now the memory of Crowley ripping the clothes from his body sent a little thrill shivering down his spine. Although maybe next time with clothing that wasn’t a hundred years old.
Next time.
He looked at Crowley uncertainly. He could sense a hum of love and contentment pulsing through their connection, but with an undercurrent of something else that made concern flutter in his chest.
He put away his wings and rolled over to face Crowley.
“How are you feeling about… it?” he asked hesitantly.
Even though he was still faintly astonished at the turn of events, their bond felt so overwhelmingly right that he couldn’t fathom not wanting it. But their new connection was more of an impression of feelings than words; he couldn’t tell what Crowley was thinking.
Crowley reached out to grasp Aziraphale’s hand and twine their fingers together. “I—it’s a lot to take in, you know? I didn’t—I never wanted you like—that until we started grooming.” He let out a short incredulous laugh. “Don't get me wrong, you’ve been the most important thing to me in existence for centuries, but I didn’t want to shag you.”
Aziraphale nodded, unsurprised. He’d had no such base desire either until very recently, and would have been astonished at the very idea. In retrospect, he felt a little foolish for not recognising he’d felt aroused when Crowley had groomed him, but to be fair he’d had no frame of reference. They weren’t human after all, and so far as he knew angels weren’t designed to have those kind of—urges. He wasn’t entirely sure if demons felt differently, but he had assumed that since they were of the same original stock it was the same for them.
“And then” —Crowley disengaged his hand to flap it haphazardly between them— “I’ve been going bloody mad trying to fight this for months, thinking there was something wrong with me feeling that way, and now… I feel like I’ve been hit by a bloody lorry.”
“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale responded uneasily. “We—you—didn’t exactly choose this. I—maybe if we give each other some distance the bond won’t be as strong. I can leave, go back to the bookshop or—or leave London, even—”
He started to sit up with the distressed half formed notion to put action to his words, but Crowley firmly yanked him back, throwing his leg over to pin him down to the bed.
“Don’t be daft. It’s okay, we’re okay, we’re… pretty fucking great, I think. It’s a bit bonkers and all, but it’s also like I’m—like we’re finally complete. I can barely remember why I was fighting it so hard.”
The worried tension ebbed from his body as relief flooded him.
Crowley paused, then asked, “So. Now what?”
Aziraphale tilted his head towards him and replied lightly, “Well, if the movies I’ve seen have any bearing on reality, I think after the first time post-coitus there is usually some amount of cuddling and a declaration of feelings.”
Crowley snorted. “I mean, what happens between us?”
“I know what you meant,” Aziraphale said softly as he drew Crowley’s hand up to press his lips to it. He thought for a moment, then said slowly, “I don’t know. I think that we get to decide what happens. But I can’t bring myself to regret this in the slightest and I’d like… more.”
Crowley hummed as he squeezed his hand. “Yeah,” he agreed simply.
Aziraphale smiled delightedly, feeling sure his corporation must be leaking joy. “Can we try the cuddling part? It seems like that would be rather nice right about now.”
“Demons don’t cuddle,” Crowley hissed with an irritated twist to his lips.
Aziraphale said placatingly, “Of course not. Perhaps you could wrap me in your demonic clutches?”
Crowley gave him a look that told him he wasn’t fooled, but rolled onto his back and pulled Aziraphale to him. Aziraphale snuggled up against him, his head pillowed on the demon’s chest.
They were silent for a time as Crowley idly ran his fingers along Aziraphale’s arm.
After a while Crowley said quietly, “When I was, uh, thinking about us doing this for the first time, it wasn’t this—desperate. It was—” he stopped and looked down as he cleared his throat. Aziraphale watched in fascination as a demon of Hell actually blushed, a crimson flush spreading from his face down to his chest. “Um, sweeter,” he mumbled.
Oh. Aziraphale reached out and nudged Crowley’s chin up with his knuckles. When Crowley looked up Aziraphale smiled.
“Show me?”