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Crowley was a horticulturist, and had fields upon fields of flowers he grew and sold to florists around the county.
It was a bit unwise of him, as his neighbours were farmers who specialised in sheep. You'd think this would cause Crowley trouble, and it did, but not in the way you would expect.
It was mating season, and the rams had been set loose in the fields with the ewes, all strapped up with chalk and ready to begin the lambing process. Only, there was one ewe that didn't have any chalk on its backside, and instead it spent a lot of time breaking through the fence and sniffing at Crowley's marigolds.
"Shoo! Shoo! Get!" Crowley roared at the ewe, who did not move, but only dug it's hooves in harder. "Get back to your own farm!" he hollered.
Crowley grabbed the ewe's woolly coat and immediately melted at how soft it was to touch. He'd never touched something so soft in his life. He petted it, and ran his fingers through it, much to the satisfaction of the ewe, who turned its head, causing the sunlight to glance off a tag on its ear. Crowley squinted at it.
"Az…shearaphale," he read out. "What's the matter love? The rams not giving you any attention?"
Azshearaphale, the ewe, shook its head, wool fluffing around as it did so. Crowley was mesmerised by it, the way it caught the light, glowing as if like a halo. He ran his hands through it again. Azshearaphale butted up against Crowley's hand, and nuzzled against his crotch.
"Woah, woah there! What do you think you're doing?"
Azshearaphale nudged Crowley's crotch again, and an apple fell out of his pocket. The ewe bent down and began to nibble at it, Crowley to breathing a sigh of relief.
"Oh, of course. You could just smell my lunch. Well, have at it. And you know what? If you come back here again tomorrow, I'll have another for you, so long as you let me stroke that amazing coat of yours."
Azshearaphale bleated in agreement, or so Crowley interpreted, and nuzzled Crowley again before slipping back through the hole in the fence. If Crowley noticed and made a conscious decision to forget to get the hole fixed, then no one was the wiser.
Every day Azshearaphale-the-ewe would come round, and every day it lacked the chalk mark to say it had been mated, and every day it would eat an apple from Crowley's hands whilst Crowley cuddled it and regaled stories of his flowers and customers. Crowley grew so fond of the sheep that he couldn't bear the thought of it going to slaughter for failing to bear offspring, so he devised a plan to steal it and keep it for himself in one of his smaller fields where there was plenty to eat. Azshearaphale would be want for nothing.
That night, Crowley squeezed through the hole in the fence in search of the flock of sheep. He eventually found them snuggling together near the trees, and thought he would have a terrible time of trying to find his particular sheep, until finally he spotted it sitting by itself away from the flock.
Crowley approached quietly, eager not to startle the poor thing.
"Azshearaphale," he whispered. "Azshearaphale, you're coming home with me."
He offered out an apple and the ewe's ears perked up. It stood and approached him just as gingerly, looking a bit odd in the gait. Finally, Crowley noticed the issue.
Azshearaphale was wearing a chalk strap.
It wasn't an ewe. It was a ram. A ram that had shirked its daily duties of impregnating the ewes by wriggling out of the strap, and spending all its time with Crowley. The strap had been put on tightly to prevent Azshearaphale from getting free, with it cutting into his magnificent fluffy wool.
Crowley reached out and placed a hand on the buckle. "Poor thing, let me get you out of this." He undid the strap and let it dangle from his wrist. "Odd thing, this. It looks exactly like a-" he looked at Azshearaphale, who was gratefully shaking out his fluff whilst chowing down on the apple, "-well, you won't even know if I told you. I'll show you."
Crowley slipped his legs into the straps, tightening it around his waist. The chalk stick stood proudly in front of him.
Crowley laughed. "Yes, it looks exactly like I thought it would- hey, wait, what're you doing?"
Azshearaphale had finished the apple and began nuzzling at Crowley's crotch again, marking his own muzzle up with the chalk.
"No, wait, I don't have anymore apples. What're you doing?!"
Azshearaphale gripped the zip of Crowley's fly with his teeth, and pulled it down with a zriiip. Crowley's cock twitched in his pants as he'd always found the move very sexy, before he quickly remembered that it had been done by a sheep.
"No, Azshearaphale, no. Stop!" He tried pushing the ram's head away, but he was persistent and nosed at the now hard line of Crowley's underwear. "Oh, someone, what would people think if they were to catch me like this right now?"
Azshearaphale bleated uncaringly, and chewed a hole right through Crowley's boxers, freeing his cock to the cool night air. Azshearaphale licked at it and bleated in joy, Crowley thought. He sunk his hands into the sheep's soft wool again. The melty feeling, combined with the persistent licking of his cock, had Crowley feeling like this must've been what Azshearaphale had been after all along. The sheep clearly had affection for him, and if Crowley were to be honest with himself, he had affection for the sheep, too.
"Oh, blessed hell Azshearaphale. Turn around! I can't take you home like this. I can't walk. I'll just-"
Crowley grabbed the sheep's fleece and turned him, lining his cock up with the its hole before pressing in with a reverent sigh.
This.
This is what it had all been leading up to.
Azshearaphale let out a groan of a bleat, and began pushing himself backwards onto Crowley's cock, eager to move without adjusting. Crowley grabbed fistfuls of fleece, pulling him back onto himself over and over as he chased his release.
"You wanted this, didn't you? This whole time. That's why you came into my fields. That's why you hid that you were a ram by getting out of this harness. You didn't want the ewes. You only wanted me!"
Azshearaphale bleated in orgasm so loudly that the windows lit up in the farmers house, and a torch light started to shine in their direction.
"Shit, shit!" Crowley said. He was so close now, there was no way to stop if he tried.
"What're ye doin' t' ma sheep?!" Demanded old farmer Shadwell.
"N-nothing!" Crowley bit out, hips still moving against his will.
"Ye be stealin'?"
"No. Maybe. Why?" he said in a high pitched tone.
"Ye'll git yer hands cut off fer stealin'!"
Finally, Crowley's hips stuttered to a halt. That did sound familiar, though it was an archaic practice in these modern times.
"But if ye is in carnal relations wit' t' beast, tha's jus' a wee fine."
Crowley's thrusts picked back up again, and he shouted a loud groan of release as he filled the sheep's backside with his load.
"Yes," he panted. "Yes I was absolutely doing that. Fucking your sheep, a good and proper buggering."
Shadwell looked completely dumbfounded at having watched a man orgasm into his sheep in front of his eyes, but he recovered at a suspiciously alarming speed.
He shook his head. "Can' say 'm surprised. T' little tart's bin eyein' ye up fer weeks. Oh!" Shadwell laughed at himself. "'Eyein' ewe up fer weeks!" He laughed some more.
Crowley chuckled nervously, aware that was still balls deep inside a sheep.
"Well," Shadwell began, "Ye may 's well take 'im home wit' ye. He's no good t' me now; useless fer mutton, 'nd he's way too much o' a pansy to get m' girls pregnant."
Relief washed through Crowley as he slipped out of Azshearaphale and quickly tucked his cock back into his trousers without Shadwell getting a look. "Really? Just like that?"
"Aye, really. Now 'way wit' ye, 'fore I change my mind. Git!"
"C'mon, Azshearaphale. Let's get you home."
Crowley took Azshearaphale by a horn (which he only now noticed, covered as it was by fluffy wool), and led him towards the hole in the fence.
Azshearaphale bleated smugly at the rest of his flock, arse thoroughly chalked, and glad to be away from their farmyard politics and task of impregnating them. Gaaaabriel could handle that all by himself now.
Azshearaphale lived out the rest of his unusually long days by Crowley's side, who miraculously never got any kind of infection from regularly fucking a farm animal, and if anyone ever thought there was something weird about a sheep sleeping in a horticulturalist's bed, every single last one of them kept it to themselves.