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Actually it was sort of Harriet Dowling's fault. Or at least, she was the one who giggled at Crowley during a garden party and said "Do you know, you look just like the governess in this charming English novel I'm reading?"
"Do I," said Crowley dryly.
"Oh yes, well, it's kind of genre, really, she turns out to have all sorts of awful tentacles under her skirts, but the picture on the front cover is really very you."
Aziraphale, who was at that moment trying to convince Warlock that flowers ought to be treated with respect and not torn up before their time, went a delightful shade of pink when she said the thing about the tentacles. Well, Crowley put two and two together pretty swiftly after that.
She let herself into Brother Francis's quarters after dark that night, finding him reading as usual by the light of a small lamp next to his armchair. He wore a tartan dressing gown over pale blue silk pajamas. She was delighted to spot a stern governess figure on the front cover of his book.
"Have you been expecting me?" she crowed. "Did you steal that?"
"Yes and no," Aziraphale answered, shutting the book and laying it aside. "If you must know, I borrowed it."
"Because you knew I'd come tonight," said Crowley. They'd been fucking more often these last few years - the assignment was a perfect excuse to be in the same place at the same time for this long, and they'd both let their guard down a little. She was honestly surprised by how lovely it felt to have a regular thing, to have someone with expectations of her.
"All right, all right, we both know I saw the look on your face when you saw the look on my face," Aziraphale said crossly. "You don't have to be smug about it."
"Oh?" Crowley raised an eyebrow imperiously. "Maybe I'm just pleased my, you know, eldritch lovecraftian mind control powers have enthralled you so thoroughly."
Aziraphale smiled that little smile he did when Crowley was cute. "And what are you going to do with me now you've snared me?" he asked coyly.
"On your knees, thrall," Crowley commanded, suddenly laser focused. Aziraphale slid out of the chair with a thump and a little moan.
"Would you like to see what sort of effort I've made to take you with tonight, angel?" Crowley murmured, stalking forward until she was looming directly over him.
"Please," Aziraphale breathed.
Crowley slowly unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the ground. Underneath it she wore nothing but a black garter belt holding up her stockings. And between her legs was a twitching cluster of short, fat tentacles, already beginning to glisten as she slicked up with arousal watching Aziraphale's pupils dilate.
"I'm going to fuck your face now, thrall," she announced. "Try not to be driven mad by the knowledge of that which man was not meant to ken and all that."
"Oh dear," Aziraphale began, but whatever he was going to say, she shut him up with a hand in his hair and two wriggling tentacles in his mouth.
He moaned around them and she wasted no time starting to explore his mouth. She actually hadn't spent much time with tentacularly inclined appendages, and certainly never with Aziraphale. It was quite different from fucking his mouth with a cock - they weren't rigid, and they had their own odd reflexes. One was coiling around his tongue now, the other tracing the shape of his teeth, creating a fascinating bulge in his cheek. She slid a third inside him, the rest caressing his neck and jaw. Even that silly beard had an interesting texture like this.
By the time she'd finished exploring his face, his eyes were practically rolling back in his head, the erection tenting his pajama bottoms seeping an obvious wet spot. She rather thought she could make him come in them like this. The thought sent an unexpected zing to her cunt, still hidden beneath her tentacles but leaking great quantities of slick to run down them and into Aziraphale's mouth, onto his face. He sucked hungrily, chasing her taste, and she groaned as she pulled his face further into her crotch by his hair.
"Do you want my cunt?" she demanded, and he answered by moaning and sucking even harder.
"Then take it," she panted, swinging one thigh onto his shoulder for better access. Her tentacles stiffened inside him, holding his mouth open, the tips of two external ones creeping in to hook over his teeth and yank his jaw down as far as it would go, and her cunt swelled to protrude down into the space they made, filling him up, clenching and expanding to work his tongue inside of her. He was moaning continuously now, shoving his tongue into her muscular channel to meet her thrusts halfway, whimpering as he felt it squeeze around him. She barely needed to hold onto his hair at all, her tentacles were owning his face so thoroughly, and she rather liked it.
"Yessss," she hissed, feeling her orgasm beginning to take hold. "Oh, yes, you're going to drink it all down like a good boy, aren't you?"
Aziraphale came in his pants just as Crowley started squirting into his mouth, the force of the spurts pushing his tongue back out of her cunt and filling up his mouth faster than he could swallow. When it started to dribble down his chin she wiped it up with her still-trembling tentacles and fed it back to him.
At last she released his face, wet tentacles flopping limply between her thighs, and Aziraphale collapsed back onto his arse in the floor.
"Good lord, Crowley," he managed.
"Nnnnot done yet, I don't think," she panted.
"I don't really want to spend a miracle on my recovery time right now, dear," Aziraphale said apologetically.
"Oh, well," said Crowley. "Why don't we see how many tentacles I can jam into your arse at once, and then if that helps I can leave a couple in there while I ride you?"
Aziraphale made a small choking noise. "You know, I feel like I'm perking up already."