Chapter Text
Crowley drove “their” car back to the bookshop at breakneck speed and, for once, Aziraphale didn’t have any helpful little commentary about it.
He did however take the time to double park.
Aziraphale didn’t pretend to fiddle with his cufflinks like he usually did while waiting for Crowley to open his door as a courtesy for keeping up appearances.
He was out of the car while the engine was still running and he was the one opening the door for Crowley, tugging at his wrist much as he did when they had danced together all of those months ago.
They did stop for a good snog against the bookshop door, however. And when they decided that had been going on for long enough, they opened the door only to continue said snog on its other side.
At some point a very shy clearing of a throat made Crowley stop trying to sample Aziraphale’s tonsils.
‘Right,’ he said as he let go of the angel’s lapels. ‘My place then?’
Aziraphale turned around to spot Muriel half hidden behind a bookshelf and toying with the drawstrings of their hoodie nervously.
‘Out of the question, Crowley. Muriel, do you think that you could um… entertain yourself somewhere that isn’t here for the next hour or two? Maybe Maggie’s?’
‘An hour?’ Crowley scoffed.
‘Or two.’
‘Angel if we’re going upstairs you won’t be leaving the room for at least a week.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘I was on my way out anyway,’ Muriel lied very unconvincingly seeing as their preferred choice of footwear was at the moment a pair of very fuzzy and extremely pink house slippers. ‘Be out of your hair.’
‘Much appreciated, my dear.’
‘When do you expect me back? It’s only that I have two more rooms to take stock in.’
‘That won’t be necessary, I’m sure. The thing is… we… well, when two people love each other very very much, they sometimes need a bit of “them time”.’
‘Oh! Mr. Crowley mentioned that. Alcoholic breakfasts at the Ritz.’
‘Ah, not quite. You see -’
Crowley tutted at him and placed a hand on his shoulder before approaching Muriel.
The day so far hasn’t gone at all how he had imagined it going when he had woken up in the morning. But if there was one thing he was rather certain of, then it was that they wouldn’t be having “The Talk” with maybe the most pure of heart angel in existence. Especially if they were staring at him with those big soulful eyes of theirs.
‘How would you like some you time at the Ritz, though? My treat. I believe that the Deluxe Suite just became available.’
‘Oh, really?’ Muriel beamed at him.
‘Really really.’
‘I just have a question and then I’m going.’
‘Shoot.’
‘What exactly is “The Ritz”?’
‘Ah…’
***
It took maybe half an hour of explaining the concept of human hotels and Crowley miracling a map of London and giving Muriel his platinum card before they finally were on their way and Crowley locked the door. Reconsidered. Miracled six more locks on it and a deadbolt and turned back towards Aziraphale.
‘Okay. So where were we?’ he tried to go for suave and exercised his most tempting saunter going forward.
He had caught Aziraphale eyeing the sway of his hips many a time over the centuries with what very much resembled his expression dedicated to staring at the eclairs in the window of that French bistro he so liked.
‘I believe you were going to show me the benefit of Earthly corporations is how I think you put it.’
‘Right. So… urgh… what are you doing?’
Aziraphale looked confusedly at his raised hand, fingers ready to snap.
‘Oh no no no no no. We ain’t using miracles for this. Not now, at least. Maybe next time. Or the time after that. No no. This time I plan to take as long as possible. I plan to savour it. Starting with getting rid of that sodding bowtie.’
‘You like the bowtie!’
‘Yeah, okay, I like the bowtie a little.’
Aziraphale beamed at him.
‘Makes you the perfect present for me to unwrap.’
Aziraphale beamed some more.
For all of his posturing and confident and debonair demon approach, Crowley was scared silly.
He had everything he wanted, everything that mattered just there in his grasp.
He had imagined this for centuries now if not more. Hadn’t dared hope, but oh, boy had he imagined it.
And now here he was and his hands were trembling.
What if he got it wrong?
What if Aziraphale didn’t care for it?
The problem with changing the status quo was that you never knew what awaited you on the other side.
It was usually best for it to be kept both status-y and quo-ey and Crowley would have probably hated to find out that he might share the same opinion with an oaf of an Archangel.
He placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders if only to ground himself and Aziraphale seemed to understand the reason for his inner turmoil because he was now being wrapped into angelic arms while an equally angelic head was resting on his shoulder.
Those white and fluffy curls that he had spent many a week just imagining toying with were now brushing his chin, and Satan below, if the angel didn’t smell absolutely intoxicating…
He hadn’t lied when he had said that he knew what Aziraphale smelled like. He had actually made a point of noticing whenever the angel changed either perfumes or barbers and all of that information was carefully occupying quite a large shelf in Crowley’s mind.
But he had never had the chance of noticing it from up so close yet and it was so overwhelming that it sent him into overdrive.
‘I think you might have to take the lead, darling,’ Aziraphale whispered against his collarbone.
‘Mmm,’ Crowley hummed intelligently trying to process how that particular “darling” made his insides go all mush.
‘You see, I’m not very familiar with how we should proceed. I understand it as a concept, of course. And I have read up on the topic quite extensively but I lack what you might call a “hands on” approach.’
‘You… ugh… what?’
‘Well, I just think that you might know more about it than me. And as someone with more experience -’
‘Experience.’
‘Yes.’
‘Experience with what?’
‘Well, carnal happenings.’
‘Carnal… bloody… you fucking idiot…’
‘Well, that doesn’t seem like something that one usually says during foreplay.’
Crowley burst out laughing and pushed a bit at Aziraphale’s shoulders to look him in the eye.
‘You can’t be serious, though.
Aziraphale pouted at him because this was not exactly how he had envisioned any of this going.
‘What experience, Aziraphale? It’s only you, you idiot. Always ever been you.’
‘Oh,’ Aziraphale’s jaw fell slack. ‘But you… you…’
‘I what?’
‘You’re you, Crowley.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘You look… well you… you’re so very… you’re so beautiful, Crowley. You must know that.’
Crowley’s breath hitched and maybe in order to hide that or in order for something else entirely he surged forward and captured Aziraphale’s mouth in a searing kiss.
His hands had to have stopped trembling at some point as nerves were replaced by utter need.
He needed to have Aziraphale out of his myriad of clothes like yesterday.
Needed to taste him all over.
Needed the two of them entwined with each other, nary an atom in between them.
Demons didn’t get a lot of things in Hell, especially not nice ones. So all of them, by and large, were as possessive as anything about whatever they might call theirs.
And, while technically Crowley was no longer affiliated and had always been a rather shit demon to begin with, he had always carried on that trait in particular.
And had always been hugely protective of every little scrap he could call his and his alone.
And the angel was his.
Aziraphale had point blank told him so.
So he let all of those inner instincts to consume and utterly devour run amok.
And now his lips were wrapped around Aziraphale’s pulse point and he could do nothing but bite down.
He considered for a brief second feeling sorry about that but the completely wanton moan that Aziraphale didn’t do anything to supress urged him to keep on going.
His fingers made quick work of ridding Aziraphale of his bowtie and proceeded to fumble with the fiddly buttons of his waistcoat, but Aziraphale quickly chimed in and started helping.
He would have gladly ripped it to shreds off him, but he knew how much the angel cared for that ratty old thing so he tried to keep that particular instinct under wraps.
And yes, sure, he had said that he wanted to take this slow. But there was slow and there was slow.
And he had waited for long enough already for this to be the second type of slow.
The waistcoat ended up thrown atop of a candelabra.
The shirt didn’t get the same careful treatment and it did end up being torn to shreds.
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Crowley muttered when he spotted the undershirt.
Which he pulled at until the thin material gave in, marching the two of them still firmly locked in a heated kiss and a fumbling embrace all the way towards the sofa or where he thought the sofa was if his spatial awareness of the bookshop was anything to go by.
And since it very much was, him knowing each square inch of the space by heart and with his eyes closed, he managed to push Aziraphale down on the lumpy surface and land atop him only to be met with the next obstacle on the road to his end goal.
Belts should never be dealt with while having your eyes closed and your lips wrapped around your best friend’s nipple so that he did miracle away against his better judgement.
‘You said… ah… Crowley… you said… oh dear God… you wanted to take this slow.’
‘I’m a demon,’ he whispered against the pebbled skin. ‘I lied.’
Aziraphale threw his head back and gasped.
‘I need you to… I need…’
‘What do you need, angel?’ Crowley focused his attention on divesting Aziraphale of his dastard trousers and those even more dastard brogues being in the way.
‘Fuck,’ he managed as he drew back to take in the glorious picture that the naked and flushed angel made spread there on the sofa for Crowley to marvel at. ‘Fuck, you’re gorgeous. I dreamed… well… I imagined… but never like this…’ he trailed off before realising that there were more important things that his mouth could be doing at the moment such as kissing down Aziraphale’s chest and stomach.
‘You’re still… oh good Lord… still dressed.’
And Crowley just grunted in reply, snapping both of his clothes and Aziraphale’s undergarments into the ether.
‘Not fair,’ Azirapahle managed in between two moans. ‘I wanted to… wanted to…’
‘Next time, angel. And I promise you there’s gonna be a next time. And a thousand times after that.’
‘There will be, won’t it?’ he could hear the wide smile in Aziraphale’s voice even if he could not see it on his face seeing as his own face was buried in the plushness of Aziraphale’s waist at the moment.
And then he felt a hand lightly combing through his hair.
‘A thousand and more. Oh, Crowley, I…’
The angel was far too coherent, Crowley mused just before doing something that had been the sole reason for countless of cold showers and wrapped his lips around Aziraphale’s cock.
And that was more like it, he smiled to himself as Aziraphale nearly knocked the both of them off the sofa proper.
‘Crowley, you can’t… Crowley I… I… you need to… mmmm… Crowley please… I…’
Of course it didn’t take long because how could it with someone as starved for basic human touch as Aziraphale had been for millennia?
But it didn’t need to take long.
He had promised this and a thousand more of it.
He’d extend the offer to ten thousand. A million.
Hell, if they could only do this from now until Heaven decided to play stupid buggers and want to end it all again then still it wouldn’t be enough.
Aziraphale’s ears rang with the choirs of ten million angels and his heart was beating so fast he had a hard time believing he wouldn’t actually discorporate.
‘Sorry,’ he said when he got his breath back in check.
‘Sorry?’
‘For… you know… ending things in such a timely manner.’
‘You mean coming down my throat.’
‘If that’s what you wish to call it.’
‘Which… so hot, by the way,’ Crowley leaned sideways and kissed his hipbone. ‘But, you know, the best thing about our corporations… well, we’re not entirely human, now are we?’
Aziraphale got up on his elbows and looked down at Crowley, chin resting against the back of his hand that was firmly gripping his hip and smiling as brightly as when he had chanted whole constellations into being.
Eyes as bright and as lovely as anything.
Crowley’s eyes had always been beautiful.
Long hair impossibly mussed and so soft-looking that Aziraphale just felt he had to touch it.
Which he did.
Because they could do this now.
His hand travelled upwards from the nape of Crowley’s neck to the back of his head, gingerly guiding him into a long kiss that he tried pouring all of his love and undying devotion into.
‘You taste -’
‘Delicious,’ Crowley said and smacked his lips before his face split into a wide smile.
‘Alright, now let’s get you sorted.’
‘Get me sorted.’
‘Well, you promised me a thousand more so enough dilly-dallying.’
‘Dilly-dallying? Angel, I might not get it up if you go on like that.’
‘Crowley.’
‘Mmm?’
‘I can feel it against my thigh. And it is definitely up.’
‘Mnnnfeel like doing anything about it?’
‘Well, obviously. And you are indeed quite right about our corporations.’
‘I know. I can feel it against my thigh, too.’
‘Oh, you…’
‘Fiend?’ Crowley grinned widely at him and was a poor angel to do if not kiss him silly.
‘I had rather hoped that…’ Aziraphale let his gaze go down because he really couldn’t look Crowley in the eyes right now. Not with what he was proposing.
The fact that said gaze landed on both of them naked as the day they had been breathed into Creation did not help things.
‘Hoped that I will take care of you. Yeah. I gathered. So let me take care of you, angel,’ Crowley kissed him some more and let his hand venture freely.
A slight tingle in the fabric of reality made Aziraphale’s eyes snap up only to notice a sealed plastic container residing in Crowley’s other hand.
‘I promise we’ll take this slow. I lied about the clothes. But I’m not lying about this. You know that I’d never want you getting hurt.’
‘I know, darling. I trust you. Implicitly.’
And he did take it very slow.
Far more slowly than Aziraphale could have ever imagined writhing under him and calling out Crowley’s name in supplication.
And when Crowley was buried deep inside him what felt like hours later Aziraphale fought back a sob.
This.
Just this.
This was what they were supposed to be like together since before time even existed.
Since Crowley wondered at the stars with such joy that Aziraphale might have lost it completely were it not for orders from Up High to keep it together.
Since meeting him again in Eden and trying his hardest not to break down sobbing with sheer relief that he hadn’t been utterly annihilated.
Since he had been tempted with an ox rib.
Since he had tempted Crowley with oysters.
Since Hamlet.
Since. Edinburgh.
Since…
More than forever.
He let his body do its own thing and spasm and coil and tremble while his mind gathered up all of the instances when he had nearly given in, Heaven, pardon his blasphemy, be damned.
Crowley’s hair that reached his hips back in Ur.
And, oh, those hips.
The way he waved them about at all the symposiums in Athens.
The kohl he had worn in Egypt.
The corsets in Venice…
His demon was beautiful beyond belief and he was still slightly incredulous that he could call him that.
His demon.
With every snap of Crowley’s hips another memory sprung to mind.
Babylon. Alexandria. Pompeii. Xian. Sevillia. Munich. Blasted Milton Keynes.
Crowley had been so proud about that.
And here they were now, skin rubbing against skin, almost electric when they touched. His insides feeling like they were flayed open in the most glorious way.
So he let a litany of praises escape his lips.
He had promised Crowley after all.
Not that there were any processes going on inside his head at this point in time.
‘You’re so beautiful. So gracious. So… Crowley… you’re everything.’
Crowley grunted at that.
‘The freckles… I wanted to kiss each and every one of them.’
There was a muffled moan after that.
‘Your eyes… oh… bother… your eyes, Crowley…’
Another moan.
‘I wanted to... oh God!’
Crowley never said anything about him calling on to the Almighty as he was far to busy with something that God should have not known about entirely.
‘Your hair… Crowley… please…’
‘Please what, angel? Whatever it is, I’ll…’
‘Harder.’
‘Oh, I can definitely do that.’
This time it didn’t take as short as the first time.
This time, as Crowley was sprawled all over him like a beached jellyfish, Aziraphale could say whatever his heart desired and more.
Everything about how his hair curled just so. And how his skin looked just golden when the sun hit the bookshop just right. About how he wanted to kiss each freckle and beauty mark that adorned Crowley’s corporation. About how lovely the demon’s thin lips felt against his own.
“I adore you” and “I love you most ardently” had been said if only to start a debate about Jane Austen, diamond robber extraordinaire.
It was only when a rather loud rap on the door took them out of the haze that having them wrapped around each other quite tightly had provided that they realised there was life outside the backroom of the bookshop.
‘This is the last time I’m getting locked inside the shop, you know? I know you two are responsible for it. You two are responsible for everything. And I mean it. Next time I am breaking all the windows to get out and you’ll get to deal with the invoice.’
Crowley tilted his head sideways and whispered a “sorry ‘bout that” Aziraphale’s way.
‘Congrats on all the sex, though,’ Nina said as an afterthought ‘Let’s just never let it happen again.’
Aziraphale extended his powers to ascertain the extent of the damage and cringed.
Crowley semi-got up on an elbow and eyed him for a while.
He seemed to be struggling with the next words that would come out of his mouth.
‘You know, I said… about the bookshop…’
‘And I told you yes. Whatever it is.’
‘London seems a bit crowded nowadays for two supernatural entities who just found their footing.’
Aziraphale tried to rearrange all of his thoughts to gather what Crowley was suggesting.
And as soon as he did that he beamed.
‘How does the South Downs sound?’