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⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
West End London. 1941.
It does not quite feel like a violent awakening after a pleasant dream but it is rather close, Crowley thinks, as he waits for the door to truly click shut behind Furfur before he slowly slides his hat away from his face. For all his nonchalance in front of the other demon, he was more than aware of the true horrors that would follow his and Aziraphale’s Arrangement being revealed, he just could not let either Furfur think he’s succeeded in getting to him, or Aziraphale think he’s scared with no plan in sight.
(Unfortunately for his ego, both statements are the truth.)
(Also, he did have a backup plan in the form of assurance. Holy water would have been perfect for this exact predicament they are now in, but something tells Crowley he better not bring that argument up again. He doesn't wish for his last conversation with Aziraphale to be one filled with regret and frustration.)
This is it, the snake, temptation incarnate, hisses in his mind. Your last night together. Do it. This is your last chance. Hold him. Lo—
Crowley shakes his head as he sits up while Aziraphale nervously shuffles closer.
“Crowley… I—”
In that split second when their eyes meet, Crowley makes a decision and the snake in his mind hisses pleasantly.
“Angel,” he calls, hands reaching for the boa around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulling him down on the sofa, “changed my mind, what was it you said about doing something in return for me?”
“Wh— wait,” Aziraphale stutters as he falls forward but manages to brace himself before he can crush the demon, bracketing Crowley’s head with his arms on the sofa’s backrest. “I did not— is this really the time, Crowley?”
“Seems like as good a time as any to try,” the demon replies, tugging the boa loose so it falls on the ground, allowing his hands to slide up Aziraphale’s rapidly reddening face. “We might not be there tomorrow. Or in a few hours for that matter. It’d be a shame to not try, y’know?”
“About that, Crowley, I—”
“Ugh, don’t need to apologise, angel, I put myself in this mess in the first place.” He should have noticed they were watched, Furfur’s demonic essence stinks but he had an excited and lovestruck angel occupying all his thoughts and overwhelming his senses.
Love. He’s denied himself for so long, purposely looking away. There was a thrill to this open secret between them, a mutual understanding that they must never name it for naming the feeling between them would make it real and for centuries, no, thousands of years, it was enough. To know yet not to speak of it so neither of their sides could intrude. However, this time… this time there was something different in Aziraphale’s eyes, a glimmer of hope, of excitement, of carelessness.
As if something changed.
He sighs, a hand slithering behind Aziraphale’s head and tangling in the angel’s platinum curls. Aziraphale’s eyes glaze over at the touch as a pleasant shiver shakes his body. “If this may be our last night on Earth…” Crowley trails off and watches as Aziraphale tries to refocus, blue eyes sharpening as they look over his face.
Then, slowly, carefully, a soft and perfectly manicured hand reaches for his sunglasses. “May I?” is whispered gently against his lips and the demon nods, the tiniest of movements, as if afraid it would break the moment. His sunglasses are taken off, Aziraphale probably means to safely put them down on the dresser on the other side of the room but they get discarded on the floor when Crowley, impatient, eager, and full of desire, lifts his chin at the same time that he pushes Aziraphale’s face closer so their lips can finally meet.
A small whimper escapes Aziraphale’s throat at the heartwarming touch and Crowley himself has to channel all his energy to not completely melt under it. The demon slips his free hand towards the small of Aziraphale’s back, encouraging him to properly sit on his laps only for the both of them to gasp and pull away when their bodies properly collide. Warmth surrounds him, from within because of the scorching rhythm of his heart, and from outside because of the angel’s heat and softness covering his whole front and Crowley’s brain has trouble catching up.
So perhaps he wasn’t as ready as he had thought.
“We, ah, we used to do that in Ancient Rome, didn’t we,” Aziraphale says, sounding way too coherent compared to the mess that is the inside of Crowley’s head right now. “As a greeting,” he clarifies.
Right. A quick peck on the lips, often ending up closer to the cheek rather than the mouth, could barely be qualified as a touch.
“Don’t play innocent now angel, you and I both know this is different,” the demon groans and squeaks — he’s really not proud of that sound — when Aziraphale’s deft fingers find his collar, twiddling with his tie.
“I missed it,” the angel confesses, the tiniest of smiles tugging at his lips as he looks at Crowley’s, half open in a gape. “But really, about earlier—”
Crowley throws his head back with a sigh, interrupting him. “Angel, please.” He hates begging, they both know it. The angel bites his lips. “Let’s just pretend, for tonight. There’s no Hell, no Heaven, we’re just… us, without even miracles to help us, and I’m congratulating you for a show well done.”
“Oh. Are you now?”
“Yup.”
“It was a team effort, I ought to congratulate you too, don't I?” Aziraphale is playing along now, good, temptation successful, the snake hisses.
Crowley smirks slowly. “First the church, then this magic show… someone owes me a lot.”
Then Aziraphale dares to put some distance between them by leaning back with a pensive pout, almost leaving the demon’s lap altogether. Crowley’s hands hitch to pull him back in right about now. But Crowley keeps still, plays along with Aziraphale's faux innocence act, and lets him think he’s the one in control.
(He is. Crowley is simply deluding himself.)
“I suppose I do,” the angel agrees eventually, that delicious hint of mischief shining in his eyes. He tugs at Crowley’s tie and the demon follows willingly until their breaths mingle once more. “So, dearest, I’m at your mercy.”
It feels like the other way around, actually, Crowley thinks in a haze as he grabs Aziraphale’s chin, guiding him so their lips meet again. Aziraphale keens, melting into him and parting his lips eagerly for Crowley to explore enthusiastically. Aziraphale sighs heavenly against him, eager hands trailing down the plane of Crowley’s chest, absent-mindedly picking at the buttons of his shirt. Crowley’s heart starts hammering again, along with the very obvious tent in his trousers when the angel manages to get rid of his tie along with the first couple of buttons of his shirt open so he can freely slide his divine fingers on Crowley’s bare, cold chest, lighting it with fire with every deliberate touch, before hurriedly pushing the fabric off the demon altogether, deliberate to let his hands slide from his shoulders to his arms. Crowley shudders, biting on the angel’s lower lip when Aziraphale brushes a nipple next, gently circling it but not quite touching either, as if afraid.
“Now’s not the time to be shy, angel,” he almost growls into Aziraphale’s mouth who huffs — or tries to. Quite hard to do so when his lips are too preoccupied at the moment.
Tentatively, Crowley reaches down as well, palming the plane of Aziraphale’s stomach, feeling the softness and tenderness of his beloved’s corporation until he reaches— Oh.
Crowley pulls back properly and chuckles when Aziraphale chases him, only to gasp when the demon gives a more purposeful pressure between his legs, right where he now knows the angel’s pussy is, eager to be played with.
“You did make an Effort, just not the one I expected, I was getting worried you weren’t as affected as I am,” Crowley purrs, delighting in the way the angel’s thighs instinctively tighten around him, keeping his hand there and creating the faintest of additional friction. Always surprising him, his angel.
“I’m afraid the miracle blocker is still in place, I cannot change it if you’d rather have the other… set of genitals.”
“I want you any way I can.” He licks his lips, his mind suddenly picturing all the ways this evening can go now. He himself has enjoyed switching between, depending on how he’s presenting, and sometimes not even, just because he felt like it or forgot to change. It’s not like he had any actual use of the genitalia anyway and he has no particular preference. Aziraphale has always mostly had a human male-presenting corporation and Crowley had wrongly assumed what would be down there, if anything, would match the angel’s overall presentation. “Just surprised at the choice.”
“It's more comfortable” Aziraphale huffs and Crowley bites back a snort. His angel and his need to always be comfortable.
“You did not have to make an Effort at all in the first place. I know angels tend to not.” Demons are more indulgent in that aspect.
“Yes, well… It feels odd, not having anything anyway. ‘S also… um, more convenient… that is to say— easier, or… well… to hide when… uh… it’s rather obvious when male humans are… you know.”
Crowley raises an eyebrow at that. His finger traces the line of the angel’s clit and starts massaging through the fabric. Aziraphale stifles a whimper, face aflame. “Having naughty thoughts about me frequently? Oh, angel, I’m flattered.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, I wouldn’t say frequently,” Aziraphale still finds the audacity to protest, even as he angles his head so his lips hover against Crowley’s neck, just a breath away from tasting him. “However, dear, when you act so dashing, coming to my rescue without a single hint of hesitation, it makes even the purest of angels have thoughts.”
Crowley has to stop himself from snorting at the word “pure” regarding this particular angel, so instead he pulls Aziraphale into another kiss. The angel hums pleasantly, hands still grasping at Crowley’s bare chest, nails ever so slightly pressuring the skin at every swipe of the demon’s tongue on his. Then he yelps when Crowley flips him over, his back suddenly meeting the soft cushions of the couch with an eager demon draped on top of him and not relenting in his kisses.
Crowley starts peppering kisses all over his face and neck, at every inch of skin he can find. Aziraphale can't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling of the demon's gel-filled hair brushing his skin. Finally, Crowley starts fussing at the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, and quite soon enough, Aziraphale feels the cool air hit his bare chest and he takes a deep breath at the skin-on-skin touch when Crowley licks his way towards his stomach, leaving the softest of kisses in his wake.
“Have you ever…?” the demon asks, in such a low voice, that Aziraphale almost doesn't hear him.
He shakes his head in response. “Never was curious about it… never really… considered it to be an option, really, not with humans anyway.” He waves a hand and stifles a yelp when he feels Crowley's cool fingers curling around the seam of his pants and his breath so close to where he needs him to be. “It’s… not like we need it but I suppose neither do we need to eat or sleep, so.”
“Mm.” Crowley nods, understanding what he means. This is… more of a curiosity, than a need, he supposes. And curiosity, that has always been his downfall. “I’ve never done it either, ‘s why I asked.”
That surprises Aziraphale, relief, oddly, flaring in his heart suddenly. “Really?”
“Tempted humans, priests into breaking their vows, mostly, never meant I had to be part of it, so I never bothered,” Crowley dismisses although there's a flush to his face.
“So you’ve only been acting like you know what to do.”
“Oi.” Crowley snaps his fingers to get things going and get rid of the last layers of clothes on both of them, only for nothing to happen. He groans. “Fuck I already forgot.”
Aziraphale giggles. He fucking giggles. “Darling, I’m getting cold, come back here for a moment?”
And Crowley, hopeless, lovestruck, smitten Crowley, obeys, slithering his way up once more to cover Aziraphale’s front, bringing their lips together again. The angel hums against his mouth, more than pleased, although he lets the kiss only be a brief press of the lips before he pulls the demon’s face away, gently cradling his cheeks in his warm palms.
Crowley nuzzles into Aziraphale’s right hand, kissing its palm. “Angel,” he says, fitting one knee in between the angel’s thighs and grinds, eliciting a quiet gasp. “I know what I’m doing.” So maybe he’s a little stuck on that.
Aziraphale purses his lips. “We’re not arguing about this, dear.”
“You made a very wrong accusation, angel.”
“I mean, you’re not giving me compelling counterarguments, are you?” And to add to the point, Aziraphale lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his lips struggling to stay put.
“You little—” This time, as he reaches down, he doesn’t hesitate and slides his hand inside Aziraphale’s pants, delighted to find an already-soaked pussy beneath his fingers. The angel’s hands falter, almost letting go of him at the new sensation suddenly hitting him, but his gaze stays steady on Crowley’s face, never breaking the eye contact.
Then, Aziraphale smiles. “At the risk of repeating myself, I’m at your mercy and you don't seem keen on taking advantage of that with the way you treat me like a fragile doll.”
The demon lifts an eyebrow at that. Interesting, this angel likes to be manhandled a bit, then?
“Oh angel, you have it the wrong way around. Demons have no mercy, but I am under yours,” Crowley declares then starts drawing slow circles on the angel’s clit, eliciting the most exquisite sounds. The snake within him hisses pleasantly, a forked tongue tasting the arousal in the air, sticking to the angel’s skin. “So tell me,” he says, hissing through it, “what do you desire?”
“You, just you, in any way I can,” Aziraphale breathes out the words the demon was thinking earlier, one hand now gently squeezing Crowley's nape while his hips meet the movements of his hand. “As long as we don't get too messy, we still can't use miracles and I do rather fancy this outfit.”
Crowley almost laughs. Fussy angel. He wonders if he can make him delirious with pleasure enough to stop worrying about the state of his clothes. He’s seen the way humans can shut down under ecstasy, lost in a world of bliss, and if these bodies are close enough to the real deal...
Now, that sounds quite like a challenge he'd like to take on. A quick look around the dressing room tells him they could easily find a replacement for their clothes if needed.
(His eyes linger on a sparkling white dress topped with a feathered bow next to a slick black dress made of sequins glistening under the light and his imagination runs wild for a second.)
“Let’s get going then, angel,” Crowley whispers, dropping a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s neck before slithering down once more. Blessedly, the angel wiggles a little, allowing his pants to slide down with a little help from Crowley’s hand, falling quietly to the floor, so the demon is directly faced with the blatant proof of his beloved’s arousal state.
Crowley breathes out, needing to mentally prepare himself, as he takes in Aziraphale's shining cunt right in front of his eyes. Slowly, he brings his hands to the angel’s inner thighs, parting them as much as he can on the small couch they are lying on, and delights in the small whimper escaping Aziraphale in anticipation. Crowley grins and drops a kiss on Aziraphale’s inner left knee, earning yet another giggle.
“Tickles,” the angel whispers when their eyes meet again.
That is truly when what is about to happen hits Crowley. Giddiness finally trumps the dread over their imminent end and he indulges. For Aziraphale’s sake, he can pretend, he can pretend they still have forever and take his time here, get to learn and feel Aziraphale, worship every inch of skin. Savour it the way he's watched, over and over again, how Aziraphale enjoys every meal like it's the last.
And so he dives in.
Aziraphale gasps, biting into the back of his hand to prevent further noises from spilling out as Crowley thoroughly and eagerly licks all over the folds of his cunt then his clit, alternating and humming along the way. It sends the most pleasant vibrations through the angel’s body who can feel his legs quivering under Crowley's sure hands. Oh, he had ideas about what making love might feel like, he’s read about it, after all, and oh how humans never lack the imagination to describe intercourse with such vivid images and passion and perhaps he is starting to understand why now. Crowley’s tongue lights a fire within him that he had no idea could even be lit.
He feels something building up inside, making his vision go hazy and his breathing come out harsher. His free hand reaches below, tangling in Crowley’s hair as he bucks his hips forward, greedily asking for more and more. The demon hums, and presses a kiss to his clit, before pulling away for a moment. Aziraphale blinks, willing his eyes to readjust.
“Alright there, angel?” Crowley asks, with the tone of someone already fully aware of the answer so Aziraphale doesn’t bother replying, just tugs his hair with a pout, silently ordering the other to resume his feast. The demon follows willingly, shining lips curling into a smile. “Fine, fine, bossy.”
The indignity at such an adjective applied to him dies in Aziraphale’s tongue as Crowley eagerly sucks on his clit again and a slender finger gently traces his inner folds, teasing the entrance.
“Oh dear L—” he cuts himself off. Better not invoke Her name now. “Crowley please—”
Truth be told, he’s not quite sure what he’s asking, but he does know he’d rather not have this feeling cut short so soon. Blessedly, Crowley soon answers his silent prayers and pushes a digit in, quickly followed by a second one, sliding in so effortlessly Aziraphale almost didn’t feel it. The only reason he does is because Crowley crooks his fingers just right, making Aziraphale arch his back with a moan, body conflicted between trying to get away and seeking more of that wonderful pressure.
Crowley chuckles then and Aziraphale startles upon realising the demon is now pressing kisses on his neck, teeth scraping the skin.
“When did he even move?” he wonders dazedly then his thoughts get cut short when Crowley finally takes a bite at the same time the demon’s thumb starts playing with his clit in rhythm with his thrusts.
“A-ah, Crow—!”
“Let go, angel,” Crowley encourages, increasing his pace and Aziraphale listens. He closes his eyes, letting the waves of pleasure crash over him until he drowns in them with a cry that Crowley is quick to muffle with a wanton kiss.
“That— That was… something,” Aziraphale pants, earning a chuckle from the demon.
“Very eloquent,” Crowley sarcastically says. A whimper escapes the angel as Crowley withdraws his hand and brings his glistening, slicked fingers to his face. “Want a taste of yourself?”
At that, Aziraphale makes an unsure face, which Crowley takes as a sign to not push it. “Alright then,” he shrugs, then licks the angel’s cum off his own fingers, making sure to put on a show.
Aziraphale makes an unintelligible sound and suddenly their positions are reversed. Crowley finds himself laid down under a very determined-looking angel.
“I do want a taste actually, it’s only fair,” Aziraphale huffs, somehow managing to sound pompous despite how flushed he still looks — Crowley is also glad to note that the silly moustache he had drawn is now smudged, almost completely gone, after all the kissing they’ve done. “My dear, this looks rather painful, we need to remedy that.”
It takes a few seconds for Crowley to realise what Aziraphale is talking about, the angel’s whole attention focused on the bulge trapped within his tight pants. Before he can say anything, Aziraphale flashes him a brilliant smile before he swiftly unbuckles the demon’s belt with surprising expertise.
“Wait, Aziraphale,” he calls, voice incredibly soft although he’ll forever deny it. The angel stops, a hand poised on the demon’s navel. “You don’t have to.” The words are out before he even understands where they come from but something about the angel kneeling for him feels… off.
Aziraphale blinks and gives him a quizzical look. Crowley sits up then, forcing Aziraphale to shuffle a little to give him space before the angel decides to simply sit across his lap again rather than stand up and gather his clothes. Crowley is quite thankful his pants are black because Aziraphale is still so wet that he can feel it through the layers.
“Darling,” the angel says oh so gently, his warm hand reaching for Crowley’s face and oh— this might be the worst way to realise he’s fucking crying. “You’re overwhelmed, aren’t you? Too much love?”
“I—” he chokes out. “Ngk.”
Aziraphale smiles and nuzzles his cheek. And it’s so sweet, Crowley might explode. “We can stop if it’s too much for you for now but know I don’t feel like I have to do something in return, I very much want to, I suggested it first, after all,” the angel whispers while one of his hands draws smoothing circles over Crowley’s heart. “Breathe with me for a moment? There, just like that dear.”
Crowley melts, letting the warmth of his angel and his voice soothe him into a clearer state of mind. He sighs and sinks into the cushions, fully letting Aziraphale take the lead. “I don’t want it to end just yet,” he confesses. “Can’t let you kneel for a demon, though. Doesn’t feel… you might…”
“Fall?” Aziraphale finishes for him. “You silly demon,” he comments, oddly serene about that possibility.
“Oi!”
The angel chuckles. “Just let me take care of you in return. Smooth your worries away.”
He leans forward so their foreheads can rest against each other, the touch grounding and comforting. After a short while, Crowley tilts his head, forked tongue poking out in a hissing request and Aziraphale smiles into the next kiss, neither truly understanding nor caring who leaned in first.
Then an eager hand cups him through his pants and the demon gasps at the quite brutal reminder of his vessel’s still arousal state.
How he even forgot, he has no idea. Human bodies are weird like that.
“Oh my,” Aziraphale says as he pulls back, sounding somewhat as surprised as Crowley feels. “I thought I’d need to coax you into hardness again but it appears you’re—”
“Well, your lovely ass was sitting right on top of it the whole time, so,” Crowley deadpans.
“Tsk, that tongue on you.”
“You didn’t mind it buried deep in your cunt.” Crowley blinks at his own words. Well. Thousands of years of being so careful with his words as to not frighten the angel before him and now he's being bluntly honest.
Aziraphale gives him a pointed look, managing to look judging and annoyed all the while his cheeks are flushed. “Well, I’m glad you’re back to your old crude self,” the angel says. “Let’s take care of your problem now, shall we?”
Crowley hums and leans back in a silent agreement. Soon enough, a sight he never thought of witnessing happens before his very eyes. Aziraphale, in all his naked glory, kneels between his legs on the carpeted floor of a dressing room at the West End Theatre, the demon’s cock gently wrapped between his fingers, regarding it like an exotic treat he could not wait any longer to taste.
The demon winces at the sight of his own Effort, throbbing and hard, neglected for quite some time. Pre-cum coats the head of it which Aziraphale thumbs curiously, causing Crowley to stifle a moan by biting down on his fingers.
Then Aziraphale takes him in his mouth and Crowley might have as well Ascended at the sudden burst of warmth and pleasure. Aziraphale seems to know, somehow, because he hums around him, cheeks hollowed and eyes shut in bliss. Crowley curses under his breath as the angel seems to grow restless, leaving no room for respite. One of his hands finds its way towards Aziraphale’s hair, dark-coated nails contrasting against the platinum white curls.
“H-How—” he pants, restraining himself from thrusting up, “are you so good at this,” he hisses around a groan.
Aziraphale answers by taking him even deeper and making a show of loudly sucking, careful to swirl his tongue around Crowley’s length.
Then a tiny whimper escapes him when Aziraphale pulls back with an audible pop, although he keeps a firm grip on the tip of his cock. The sensation is a bridge between intense frustration and gentle pleasure, Crowley is not sure where he stands on that.
“You would not believe the number of detailed erotica humans have written over the years,” the angel says then, idly rubbing a thumb over the slit of his member.
Crowley chuckles, trying to reign in his tremors at the slow torture the angel is exercising on him right now. “And you’ve read all of them, obviously?”
“Let’s call it research,” Aziraphale says with a shrug. “Was it, really? Good, I mean? You haven’t… let go.”
“You’re… uh, you’re preventing me from doing so with your hand there.”
“... Oh? Does it block— I’m sorry!”
And he abruptly lets go. Crowley hisses. He’s so close, he can feel it, and now Aziraphale isn’t even touching him anymore. “Angel—”
“Sorry again! Oh, I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”
Their eyes meet and the demon senses mischief in Aziraphale’s seemingly innocent and concerned gaze.
“C’me here angel,” Crowley settles for saying, playing right into his beloved's hand and Aziraphale gladly follows the request, standing up again to sit on his lap with a satisfied smile. “Not like you to leave a job halfway done.”
“Well…” Aziraphale grins, reaching behind him to stroke Crowley’s dick, smearing the mix of spit and precum onto his hands, making the demon's breath hitch all over again. “I can think of a way to complete it, then.”
Crowley takes a deep breath, reigning in his racing heart. “That’s… the point of no return. Last chance to back out, angel.”
Said angel huffs, nose turned up. “As if, you silly serpent. Thank you for being so sweet—”
“Sweet?! Who are you calling sweet, demons are not sweet.”
“You’re right, you were rather salty,” Aziraphale concedes, licking his lips and pulling an exaggerated grimace. “I was talking about your personality, however—”
His sentence gets cut short by a laugh when Crowley groans and pins him to the couch once more, and despite the abruptness of the action, the demon’s hands are gentle where they rest around his waist and having made sure Aziraphale’s head would land on a cushion rather than the hard arm of the sofa.
This proves his point once again. What a sweet demon he somehow found himself enamoured with.
“You’re provoking me,” Crowley says and if Aziraphale did not know better, he’d say he’s pouting.
(He does know better, Crowley is definitely pouting, but he won't point it out.)
“You like it,” Aziraphale counters because he can still feel Crowley’s hardness against his thigh. He lifts his legs, wrapping them around the demon’s waist at the same time he wounds his arms around Crowley’s neck to get him closer. In the back of his mind, he chuckles at the irony of being the one snaked as is around the demon.
Crowley follows willingly, lowering himself so his body covers Aziraphale wholly. In his motion, his cock brushes against Aziraphale’s vulva, the tip ever so slightly catching on its entrance, making both angel and demon gasp at the sudden and new sensation.
“Argh, fuck angel, I don’t think I’d last long,” Crowley hisses and Aziraphale can indeed feel his muscles trembling under his fingertips, all their strength going into holding himself back.
“I’m fine with that dear,” Aziraphale reassures, nuzzling his demon’s neck.
“You’re so—” Crowley pants, one hand curiously caressing Aziraphale’s folds, “soaking still. Wanna— wanna make you come again.”
“Mm I’d very much like that,” the angel approves, letting himself fall willingly into the throes of arousal.
Yellow and blue eyes meet and a bright smile blooms on both their lips. Crowley remains gentle despite the earlier protests, testing the waters by dipping two fingers inside Aziraphale. Aziraphale whines at the intrusion, only startled for a moment before relaxing.
Something else breaches him soon after and Aziraphale braces himself for a pain that never comes. Crowley’s prick slides inside him as naturally as he would slither around Aziraphale’s calves when in his snake form. Hips meet hips and Aziraphale’s moans get drowned by Crowley’s swooping in for more kisses, hungry tongue first.
From there, the demon builds a steady rhythm, one hand cradling the side of his angel’s face and the other drawing circles on his clit, in tandem with his thrusts. Aziraphale keeps making those noises, those delightful, sinful noises even against Crowley’s mouth, so loud in his indulgence. Crowley can feel it building up inside again, the pleasure, hot, needy, incandescent, with every thrust into Aziraphale’s inviting, heavenly warmth. Crowley groans. But his angel comes first.
(In the back of his mind, he snickers at his unintentional wordplay.)
Crowley breaks the kiss, causing Aziraphale to gasp loudly now that he’s allowed to properly breathe again. Crowley smiles, can’t help it really, as he looks at Aziraphale’s flushed face and tear-stricken eyes and upon the sight of them, Crowley is momentarily distracted.
“How the fuck— how the fuck do you hold stars in your eyes?”
Aziraphale blinks lazily at him but doesn’t say anything. The nebulas within his eyes swirl under Crowley’s gaze and the latter feels peace settle over his heart.
If this may be our last night on Earth…
Crowley kisses his forehead and resumes his thrusting. Aziraphale’s eyes flutter shut and the demon spares a brief second to mourn the loss of their sight before he focuses back on bringing the angel the utmost pleasure. The demon sits back on his knees, now snaking his hands on Aziraphale’s thighs, pushing his knees up to the angel’s chest so the new angle allows him to slide even deeper.
“Oh G—” Aziraphale gasps, only to be cut off before he could utter blasphemy, by Crowley hurryingly covering his mouth with a hand this time.
“I’d rather not hear Her name if you don’t mind, angel,” Crowley hisses and he’s pretty sure Aziraphale mutters an apology against his palm but he pays it no mind. He releases him, only for Aziraphale to grab a handful of his hair and pull him down, swallowing his surprise with a deep kiss.
Crowley feels Aziraphale’s walls clench around him periodically, and he can feel himself close to the precipice as well.
“A-ah, yes—” Aziraphale pants against his mouth. “Inside— Crowley please, just—”
“I got you,” Crowley reassures.
“Fuck—”
And hearing such profanity from his angel is probably what sends him over the edge really, because suddenly, Crowley’s vision goes white as he comes with a final thrust at the same time as Aziraphale clenches around him with a wail that he quickly stifles by biting just below Crowley’s collarbone. The pain barely registers, in this blissful moment, all Crowley can do is collapse on top of Aziraphale with a long, satisfied sigh.
They stay like this for who knows how long, the silence between them only punctuated by the noises just outside of the dressing room, of performers and technicians running around. Crowley sorta forgot, for a moment, where they even are. It’s quite lucky no one has tried to walk into this particular dressing room…
A hand starts playing with his hair and massaging his scalp and it takes everything in Crowley to not suddenly turn putty and purr right into Aziraphale’s ministrations.
“Next time,” the angel muses, “I’d rather have a bed, though, this sofa is lovely but not quite that comfortable.”
It takes a few minutes for Crowley to comprehend the words before he abruptly snaps his head to look at Aziraphale as if he lost his mind.
“Next time?” he repeats.
Aziraphale blinks. “Yes? I was rather hoping this was not a one-time thing.”
“Did I fuck you so good that you forgot what just happened?”
The angel makes a face. “Must you be so crude again? And no, as a matter of fact, I haven’t forgotten.”
“So you know that as soon as they see that picture we’ll—” Aziraphale cuts him off with a kiss and the demon allows himself to melt into it for a few seconds before he pulls back with a glare. “Angel!”
“Yes, so, about that picture…” Aziraphale flicks his wrist and suddenly, there is the picture between his fingers. Crowley blinks and promptly snaps his fingers to try to pull a miracle from Hell, a small thing, he only intended to clothe them both again, but nothing happens.
“B-But—” he stammers, properly speechless. “There’s still a miracle blocker in place!”
The angel pouts. Honest to Someone pouts. “I swapped the picture with a magic trick, obviously.”
“You swapped the picture with a magic trick,” Crowley repeats, dumbfounded. “And you did not think of telling me.”
“I tried!”
“For fuck’s sake—” Crowley groans, replaying their earlier conversation. “You’ve never had trouble talking over me before though!”
Aziraphale is blushing now. “Well, then you kissed me and that was distracting alright. Also, you’re still inside me right now and it’s taking me everything to not be distracted again.”
Crowley can feel his cock twitch at the reminder. He gulps.
“Round two, angel?”
And Aziraphale beams. “With pleasure, darling.”
(Later, around a candle-lit dinner, they make a new agreement. It was enjoyable, although utterly exhausting as well, and Crowley is, by nature, rather lazy, although he lives to please his angel. It was one more curiosity satiated, although he wouldn’t mind doing it again if the opportunity arose when both their sides were preoccupied and Aziraphale wholeheartedly agreed. Then, life went on, with a few more hand-holding and kisses along the way, as long as they were hidden beneath shades of grey where neither Hell nor Heaven would think of looking.)
⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆
Epilogue. Mayfair London, 2019
The bus ride is spent in complete silence, with the angel and the demon content holding hands. At some point, Crowley slumps against Aziraphale’s shoulder rather than the window and the angel uses the remaining energy he still has to produce a miracle so that Crowley doesn’t wake up with a horrible knot in his neck.
As the bus pulls up in front of Crowley’s building, they still don’t let go of each other, if anything, Crowley’s grip tightens, nails almost digging into Aziraphale’s palm with the force of it as he drags him to the elevator then across the ridiculously long corridor towards his flat.
“Well. It was quite the day,” Aziraphale comments once they are face to face with the door.
“Ngk,” is all Crowley replies while searching for his keys, a horrid sense of déjà-vu permeating the air.
Then he grows impatient and simply snaps his fingers.
At least miracles are not blocked this time, good thing Gabriel and Beelzebub were too frustrated with Adam to think of doing that.
“After you,” he grunts.
Aziraphale silently walks in and wisely doesn't comment on the scent of burning sulphur still stinking up the place.
(Crowley sort of forgot about Ligur by that point.)
“So. Any chance you tell me you have a trick up your sleeve again so we don’t get killed tomorrow?” the demon asks once he closes the door behind them.
And then Aziraphale literally pulls out a piece of paper from his sleeve. “Well—”
Crowley laughs incredulously in a way he hasn’t done in centuries. Must be the exhaustion. “I was joking!”
“I inadvertently caused you more distress last time, dear boy, I did not wish to repeat that mistake, now do listen.”
Crowley throws his head back and allows himself another loud, genuine laugh that almost brings tears to his eyes. His angel, always and forever surprising him.
“Do you want to repeat something else from that night, though?” he asks with an easy grin. “Think it'd be good to loosen up a bit. Unwind.” And he'd very much like to hold his angel, for a while, after thinking he's lost him during those last dreadful hours. They can worry later. They’ve been worrying for six thousand years, they deserve some respite.
Aziraphale pursues his lips and then, in place of a vocal response, he hooks a finger in Crowley’s tie and starts walking towards the bedroom as if he owned the place.
Crowley happily follows.