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Crowley opened the door to his flat before Aziraphale had the chance to ring the bell.
“Good morning, Angel.” He accepted a quick kiss as Aziraphale breezed through the door.
Aziraphale took in the sparse interior. The bright late winter sunshine streamed through the expansive windows, dusting the grey concrete with pale streaks. Sounds from some random vintage television show about seven strangers picked to live together in a house - Crowley invented the show in the 90s - dribbled out of a large, wall-mounted flat screen television.
“I just finished watering and pruning all my plants. How's your morning been?” Crowley asked, snapping his fingers to shut off the television. He let out a little gasp. Aziraphale had stopped and turned to look at him - he stood in a beam of sunlight, which created a glowing outline around his entire gorgeous body.
“A rather dreadfully busy morning for me, I’m afraid. I took it upon myself to rearrange a shelf of books. Someone knocked on my door despite it not being anywhere near my normal business hours. Twice. The newspaper was late and so I was forced to quickly run through my crossword because I already had a notion to come here. I am simply through with the busy work of the morning.” He heaved a heavy sigh.
“You poor overworked Angel. Anything I could help with?”
Crowley’s question was genuine. It's not that he wanted to shelve and arrange books. He could answer the bookshop door and scare away potential customers by telling them the place was currently being investigated after a poltergeist incident and they were free to come browse, but not to be too worried if books were thrown through the air or their wallets found themselves floating out of their pockets. All very standard poltergeisty stuff, one just needs to sign a waiver not to hold the bookseller accountable for any otherworldly happenings to the customer.
Crowley smiled to himself. That was a clever one. Anyway, he’d do anything this beautiful, glowing angel asked of him. He was snapped out of his brief daydream by Aziraphale’s answer.
“As a matter of fact, yes, there is something you could help me with.” He leaned against the cold red marble of Crowley's desk.
“Right! Well, I had an idea about a bookshop polter-”
“I’d rather like it if you would make me your bitch,” Aziraphale said pertly, reaching up to loosen his bowtie.
Crowley blinked rapidly. “- geist. Ngk. W-wh-what?”
Bowtie unfurled, Aziraphale drummed his fingers along the edge of the desk. “Make me your bitch, if you wouldn't mind, my darling. That thing you did the night before last where you held my arms down while fucking me into the headboard before you flipped me over and pinned me to the mattress and fucked me until I forgot my own name - it was rather lovely and I’d like you to do it again.”
He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Or have I come at a rather bad time? Have I interrupted a busy moment?”
Crowley was fairly certain all sources of air left his body in the last few seconds and contemplated whether oxygen was actually necessary for him at this moment. He mustered up some air required to form words.
“Not uh…not interrupting…uh no I don't have the busy. Uh-uh I mean, n-not busy. I’m not busy.” He gulped.
Aziraphale smiled warmly. “Perfect! My calendar is clear for the rest of this morning and early afternoon so I am in no rush. If you need to ravish me atop this desk and then up against one of these walls before riding my arse harder than a jockey at the finish line in that sumptuous bed of yours, then I’m free. Much like my legs, my schedule is wide open for you.” He undid two more buttons while his eyes twinkled in Crowley's direction.
Crowley gulped again. His trousers were losing the battle against the bulge pressing against their zipper. “Desk. Wall. Sumptuous bed. Jockey. Schedule. Ride.”
“Excellent, my dear fellow! You followed my words. Perhaps you should follow your body’s own communication.”
He eyed the growing bulge between Crowley’s long legs before looking down towards his own. “Ah! Would you look at that! Such enthusiastic chaps we’ve got ourselves, hmm? What shall we do?”
Crowley closed the space between them. “Shut up,” he hissed, engulfing Aziraphale’s mouth with his own. He lifted the angel so he was seated on the desktop and parted his legs, moving himself between them. Moans quickly erupted from both of them to be shared through their kissing.
Crowley slipped Aziraphale's jacket off, leaving it to pool around him before working the buttons of his waistcoat and pulling that off him, too. Polite demon that he is, he picked both up and neatly draped them over the back of his throne. His attention turned to pushing the braces off his shoulders and then unfastening his trousers. Crowley was suddenly quite famished.
With haste, he pulled the trousers down, noting with a big grin that Aziraphale had opted to go pantless today.
“No boxers for you today? Easier access for me.” He untied Aziraphale's boots and slipped them off before standing to take him in. His long fingers teased the heavy and thick length of cock that proudly stood outward from Aziraphale's center.
Trouser-less, but still in his shirtsleeves and socks with their garters, Aziraphale hitched a breath at the feel of those sleek fingers on him. “Crowley…”
Crowley pulled his throne closer to the desk and sat down. He grabbed the sides of Aziraphale's bum and scooted him forward on the desk, making his skin squeak against the marble. His prize was right in front of him and he opened his mouth to take him in deeply, bringing his lips to the bottom of the shaft and nest of soft, silvery white curls.
“Fuck, Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned. He ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair as the hot mouth began sliding up and down the length of him sending pulses of pleasure through him.
“You’re so…fuuuuuck…”
Crowley was burying his fingers in his thighs and leaving long licks up and down his cock, teasing the head with the tip of his tongue.
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. “Squeeze me,” he commanded between licks, his lips deeply blushed and slightly swollen, glistening with his spit and Aziraphale’s precum. “Hard.”
Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hair and squeezed his thighs around him, a favourite for the demon who worshipped Aziraphale's curves as if they themselves were responsible for all of the life in the universe. He hissed at the way Crowley dug his fingers deeper into his flesh in response. In their very short history of sex so far, Aziraphale had learned he quite enjoyed some polite pain here and there and he especially loved any marks left on his skin as a result.
His thighs began to tremble around Crowley as the pleasure became more intense and frantic under his skin. He thrust slightly, helping Crowley get his cock just a small bit deeper into his eager throat. The vibration of Crowley moaning around him was driving him wild and he picked up his shaky breath.
With a loud pop, Crowley released him and stood up, unfastening the snakehead buckle of his belt. He yanked at it, causing the entire belt to slither out from the loops with a quickness. Long fingers undid his zipper and Aziraphale’s hands met his to finish the job of pulling his trousers off his arse.
“Yesssss,” Crowley's affirmation was a mix of a growl and a hiss in response to Aziraphale's hand wrapping around his cock.
He thrust forward into the angel’s fist, growing more impatient for the moment he would be buried deep inside him. Crowley loosened just one more button of Aziraphale's shirt. The vision of his dapper angel bare-arsed with a partially open shirt, untied bowtie, and those delightful gentlemanly sock garters ignited Crowley’s blood as his pulse quickened.
“You’re so fucking delicious,” he murmured before slipping his tongue in Aziraphale's mouth. He kissed him hungrily, slowly leaning further and further into him until Aziraphale was laying back on the desk. He stood up and lifted Aziraphale's legs, placing them on his shoulders. He turned his head to kiss a sock-gartered calf and giggled with his lover.
From their very first time, there have always been spoken and unspoken moments of affirmation between them during their lovemaking, especially this part. Crowley looked into the celestial mystery of Aziraphale's eyes and winked when he saw the little twitch to the angel’s perfect lips. With a miracle, lube appeared in his hand and he slowly stroked it along his cock, not forgetting to swipe just a bit at Aziraphale's pink hole, which twitched in anticipation.
“Love you,” he whispered, pressing the head of his cock against that welcoming opening.
Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hand. “Love you.” He let out a slow breath, relaxing his body, welcoming his lover to push into him. The sting and light burn of the initial stretch was, in fact, a welcoming comfort - an announcement of the extreme pleasure of what was to come.
Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand and pulled him slightly upright to kiss him while he slowly slipped further inside, swallowing the gasps that rolled forth from Aziraphale's mouth. They remained lip-locked for a few minutes after Crowley was fully seated within him until Aziraphale indicated he was comfortable and ready for more.
Gently, Crowley laid Aziraphale, whose legs were still up on his shoulders, back down onto the desktop. He unbuttoned the rest of Aziraphale's blue shirt, leaving it splayed open on either side of him to find he wasn't wearing an undershirt or vest - likely on purpose to make access quicker and easier as he knew how much Crowley loved his chest and belly. To that point, Crowley ran his hands up and down Aziraphale's torso, feeling the soft hair and plush skin under his hands as he began to thrust harder. His thumbs meandered around perfectly perky pink nipples while the rest of his fingers swirled through curly white hairs.
“You are so beautiful, Angel. Gorgeous. So fucking sexy.” He held onto Aziraphale's thighs and pounded him with a quickening pace.
Aziraphale let forth soft cries at first and then yelped when Crowley grabbed his hands and pressed them into the desk above his head, causing his knuckles to feel tender against the cool marble. Fuck, he loved this new sensation. They'd just started having sex two weeks ago and, while they have spent the majority of their waking hours engaged in it, most of it has occurred in a nice soft bed or on the sofa. There was a blow job against a kitchen counter, another against a bookshelf, a third at Aziraphale's desk, and a very awkward, but highly pleasurable -once they figured out positions - ride in the back of the Bentley. Even positions were new, with Aziraphale having just felt confident enough to ride Crowley within the last week and doggy style being a brand new addition the other night. Aziraphale found himself balancing vulnerability and submission with the newfound confidence that came with the enjoyment of their lovemaking.
That their sex life would grow exponentially as they discovered new positions, techniques, and sensations was a given. Recent conversations broke them open about their desires and fragilities, especially with Crowley. Sex for them was more than pleasure and lust. It was a beautiful new communication. It contained hopes for healing and new connections with their bodies and emotions, a chance for Crowley to reclaim intimate power and for Aziraphale to develop a new type of confidence. There were newborn discoveries in their dynamic with gentle pain being a welcome participant and some sort of dominant and submissive behaviour that both were exploring. Speaking of…
Aziraphale was taking in this new experience of being fucked vigorously on such a hard surface. The back of his hands and wrists felt sore. The marble was unyielding to the plush curves of his back and arse. Even the sweat beading on his skin felt different on the desktop, causing him to slide a bit with each eager pound into his arse. And Crowley’s face - his eyes so fierce and fiery, yet always holding the glow of his soft love for the angel, his concentration laser-focused on driving in and out of Aziraphale, and his hands so tight against Aziraphale's wrists, his body pushing Aziraphale's knees into his chest, bending him almost in half…the angel was delighted in the newness of it all. The emotions were something to learn about - he felt submissive, yet powerful here, proud that he could take such a deep pounding and curious about what else he could take.
Crowley would help him answer that. He let Aziraphale's legs fall off his shoulders as he pulled him back up to sitting, panting into his lover’s mouth.
Pointing at the wall, a breathy command fell from his lips. “Stand up. Put your back against the wall.” He removed the rest of his own clothing.
“Oh, fuck,” whimpered Aziraphale. He was keen to obey and walked quickly enough that it caused his shirt tails to flap behind him in the breeze created by his speed. So turned on by the promise of the next course, he was certain he could poke a hole through the wall with his dick if he wanted to. He turned around and watched Crowley approach him, the demon's own long cock standing strong and upright.
Crowley crashed himself against Aziraphale, taking the angel’s hands and pressing them into the wall above his head.
“I’m going to fuck you right up against this wall. Is that what you want?” Grinding those sinful hips into him, he sucked a pulse point on Aziraphale's neck until the skin was swollen and red.
Aziraphale's cock was spearing itself against Crowley’s thigh. “Y-yes. Please. Please, Crowley.” He met the demon’s lips with his own and thrust his tongue into his mouth. Crowley would need to hold him up soon, because his legs felt weak from their activity on the desk and the excitement over what was to come.
“Okay…right…um…” Crowley took a moment to figure out the needed configuration. “Right. I’m going to, um, lift you from under your legs. I’ll need you to wrap your arms around me at my shoulders and keep your legs around my waist. Hold on tight.” This wasn't the sexy talk that got them going, but he realized that sex against a wall was a little more mathematical than they thought. He hooked his arm under Aziraphale's knee.
Aziraphale gave a little hop to get his other leg up. Within a moment, Crowley had both arms under his thighs to hold him up. Aziraphale held on with his arms and squeezed his thighs against Crowley, who was now trying to figure out the next part.
They laughed together as Crowley declared, “I can't find your hole. Oh. There it is.” Lube miracle in place, he shifted their position to line himself up. Since Aziraphale was already well-stretched from his pounding, it was an easy and quick slide in, which took them both by surprise.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Crowley kissed Aziraphale's forehead.
Aziraphale shuddered a breath. “Fuck me,” was all he could rasp out. His nails pressed into Crowley’s shoulders as his lover responded. Despite the initial awkwardness, this was proving to be a new favourite experience. The concrete of the wall scratched at him through his shirt. He’d have to take care of any damage to the fabric later. Aziraphale closed his eyes and let himself go, losing himself to the music of Crowley’s grunts with each thrust. A memory came to him, one that he frequently fantasised about, changing the ending in his imagination.
“Don't stop. I need…I need you to say something for me.”
Crowley held Aziraphale's legs tighter. “What is it?”
“First, don't stop. I need you to tell me to shut it. Tell me you're a demon and..and…oh, fuck…you're never nice. Nice is a four letter word. Just like that.”
A large, toothy grin spread across Crowley’s face. “I remember that. My filthy angel.”
“And then pound me as hard as you can.”
Crowley wanted to take it one step further. “I need you to squeeze your legs against me as much as possible to help hold yourself up for a moment.”
Aziraphale did as he was told and accepted hot kisses in a trail up his neck to his mouth.
Once Crowley felt Aziraphale was holding on securely, he let go of his legs and grabbed the lapels of his blue button down shirt, causing him to yelp with pleasure. He pulled Aziraphale’s face close to his, their noses touching.
“Shut it!” he growled. “I’m a demon, I’m not nice! I’m never nice! Nice is a four letter word!” The words rippled out like a spitting hiss, hitting Aziraphale's skin.
“Again!” Aziraphale felt that his internal temperature must have been a solid 666° degrees. Whether that was fahrenheit or Celsius was something he’d have to work out later. For now, a longstanding fantasy had just played out, but he was feeling gluttonous and wanted more.
“Again, Demon!” He commanded. He had no idea where that came from, but he liked it. So did Crowley judging by the fire in his eyes.
Crowley repeated the words. The vigor of his thrusts increased with each syllable. Having a point in their history turned into a sexual fantasy was so erotic, so depraved. He loved it. Just as much as he loved how Aziraphale was desperately clinging to him while losing himself to Crowley’s words. He treated Aziraphale to one more encore.
“Shut it! I’m a demon, I’m not nice! I’m never nice! Nice is a four letter word.” He breathed the final words into Aziraphale's mouth, followed by, “and I fucking love you.” He closed their mouths into a kiss, swallowing the pleasure-strained cries of Aziraphale.
“Crow - oh, oh fuck, yes - ley,” his heated breath scraped along his throat. Aziraphale’s nails drew red stripes into Crowley’s skin. He pressed the back of his head to the hard concrete and could feel little pricks from it all along the parts of his body that were in contact with it. It was delicious. Heat flushed through him with haste and he felt he could barely hold on much longer.
“I’m gonna - fuck, fuck…”
Crowley had learned Aziraphale's tells during sex in the last two weeks - the strain in his voice, the trembling muscles, and the way he held onto him, his eyes beginning to roll. This angel was very close, but Crowley wanted to extend that release.
“Oh no, not yet, Angel. You'll have to wait.” Crowley liked the way it felt to have this playful power over Aziraphale. He especially loved the slutty pout that developed on his face. He gently bit Aziraphale's lip.
“One more course for my hungry Angel.” Crowley carefully let Aziraphale down and took a moment to look in his eyes and ask, “you okay there?”
Aziraphale wasn't sure what was holding him upright. Scientifically speaking, his legs had vaporized. Not a bone or muscle in existence. It must have been a miracle that he was able to stand at all. He draped his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and kissed him.
“Very much so. And still craving much more.”
Crowley took his hands and the two of them walked quickly - Aziraphale floated leglessly, obviously - to the bedroom.
Crowley’s sprawling super King bed was draped in an inky black duvet over deep red luxurious satin, which poured over the bed like spilled wine . An imposing burgundy leather Chesterfield headboard loomed over the bed, the finials on each end were wrapped with carved serpents. Aziraphale admired the gothic beauty of it and felt a slight pang of debauched delight for the way they were about to wreck it.
Crowley led Aziraphale to the edge of the overstuffed mattress, pushing him against it until he laid back. He crawled over him, guiding him to scoot back to the pillows, all while kissing him. New lube came with a miracle and Aziraphale spread his legs open wide, inviting Crowley to slip in, once again with welcoming ease.
A decadent moan poured forth from Aziraphale and Crowley nibbled kisses up his neck, along his jawline, and on his ear while holding his hands above his head, pressing them into the pillows. Crowley moved slowly in him now, panting against his skin, keeping their eyes on one another, and speaking quietly to him.
“I love you, my Angel.” He moaned softly. “Just wanted to look in your eyes for a few moments before I flip you over and make you see stars.”
Aziraphale whimpered at the thought of being ravished further. “I love you.” He held tightly to Crowley’s hands and let himself get lost in his honeyed eyes while the sensations from Crowley’s cock grew outward from his center.
Crowley moved achingly slow, letting his entire cock slip out before thrusting in again. Aziraphale was breaking apart in such a beautiful way under him and he found himself lapping up every nanosecond of watching his lover's face.
“My beautiful Angel,” he murmured with lips brushing against Aziraphale’s neck. “You feel so good.”
In Aziraphale's mind, his mouth was saying the words he was thinking - words about how he felt he was melting into the bed, turning into angelic honey, becoming one with the satin underneath of him, which was now soaked with his sweat. Words about how the endpoint of every nerve had been sparked alive and his skin was now a conduit for the most intense pleasure. Words about how luminescent Crowley looked on top of him and the decadent sensation of such a gorgeous cock moving inside him, being thrust by the Universe's most seductive hips.
In reality, Aziraphale was communicating in hurried gasps, brittle whimpers, and throaty sighs. His legs rested in their wrap around Crowley. His hands slowly slid down a snakey spine until they reached perky buttocks, where his fingers sank into the flesh and pushed Crowley further into him. Breaths splashed against one another, Aziraphale’s quickening as the flash of heat in his low belly grew and his thighs began to tremble. He was edging along the release his entire body was desperately seeking, but neither he nor Crowley were ready for that yet.
Sensing Aziraphale was getting dangerously close again, Crowley slowed to a stop and kissed an angelic forehead. “Can I flip you over?”
Aziraphale had been waiting for all of this today, but being ridden from behind, hard and commanding, was his ultimate prize. They'd done it just once like that so far and it awakened a new lust in Aziraphale, this idea of being taken and pinned down, of submitting himself to the skillful art of Crowley’s body.
“Please do,” he whispered before opening himself into a deep kiss.
Crowley helped him pull off his shirtsleeves, which almost stuck to his skin with sweat in some spots. Aziraphale was now almost fully naked with the exception of his sock garters. Crowley thought of taking them off, but hesitated. Aziraphale wasn't making a move to remove them and Crowley noticed that there was something about the look that made the fiery pit of lust in his belly blaze even hotter. He helped Aziraphale, slightly trembling, flip over onto his hands and knees.
Crowley smiled at the memory of two nights ago when they first tried this position. Aziraphale had been very shy about it at first, mindful of “showing my bum.” Crowley had thought it intoxicatingly sweet, as his angel ever was, and gently reminded Aziraphale that they'd been making love several times a day and night for two weeks straight and that Crowley had seen his bum plenty. After shy laughs, the two indulged in the new position and Aziraphale quickly developed a keen hunger for it, as did Crowley, enveloping one another and unlocking new temptations.
This morning - or, damn, was it noon already? Crowley lost the concept of time - that keen hunger was locked and loaded. Crowley craved this sight of his angel on his hands and knees, anticipating the moment he’d overtake him and press him hard into the mattress. It would be a delicious treat for both of them. He let his hands glide over the expanse of Aziraphale’s back, nimble fingers spread out and tracing along his sides on their trip down to the proud curves of his bum. Crowley will have you know that he could spend all day kneading his fingers in the sumptuous softness offered before him. However, Aziraphale had politely requested a proper pounding and Crowley was devoted to fulfilling the cravings of such a gluttonous angel.
Crowley took one more teeny stretch of time to admire the sight before him - his sweet Aziraphale on hands on knees with a lustrous Sheen of sweat covering his blushed skin, the muscles of his back rippling under his softness. Aziraphale was ready, presenting himself. With reverent touches, Crowley spread the plumpness in front of him to reveal a delicate rosette, surrounded by strands of white gossamer curls, waiting to be unfurled once again. He pressed the head of his lubed cock there, waiting for the long exhale of Aziraphale signaling it was time to go further.
Aziraphale’s breath hissed over his lips.
Smooth and languid in motion, Crowley pressed forward, keeping his hands in a soft embrace on Aziraphale’s hips. He sighed along with Aziraphale and leaned forward to kiss him in a delicious spot between his shoulder blades. Aziraphale twisted his upper body to accept a much more consuming kiss on the lips, tongues darting against one another.
“You okay, Angel?”
“I am, my darling.” Kiss. “Now, show me those stars.”
Crowley was more than happy to take Aziraphale to that place where his body was so overtaken by pleasure that his mind wouldn't know where to go - should it stay on this plane of existence or travel elsewhere? He allowed himself a moment of indulgence, glancing down where they were connected and watching his shaft disappear then slide out and then disappear again with a teasing slow rhythm. He shuddered at that perfect hole stretching around him. Aziraphale took him so well and Crowley firmly stitched the memory of this view of his cock burying itself into the lush deep heat of his lover into his brain.
Picking up the pace brought Crowley's next reward. Aziraphale's soft curves rolled with each thrust. From his back to his sides to his hips to his arse and those divine thighs…it was like watching the ripples across the surface of a pond. Crowley was mesmerized. Thrusts became harder and faster and he watched with an almost scientific interest in the way those vibrations and ripples along flesh changed.
“Fuck. Yes!” Aziraphale cried out. “Fuck me hard. Harder,” he begged. He arched his back, pushing his arse up for Crowley’s viewing pleasure. Crowley was driving in and out with increasing power, which caused their skin to slap together loudly - a fact that had Aziraphale flirting a bit too close to his orgasm than he wanted at this point. This was still such a vulnerable position and he tried not to overthink it. He wanted to be used by Crowley. Dominated. Pleasured relentlessly. Tiny wet drops of precum hit his thigh as his thick cock banged against it with each of Crowley’s thrusts.
“Crowley, Crowley. Use me,” he gasped, coming more undone by the second. Crowley’s hand moved up his back to the center of his shoulders and pushed him down. Aziraphale let his chest drop onto the sheet and followed with his head. Pleasure kept itself coiled deep within, ready to unravel at a moment’s notice.
Crowley pressed his hands to the delicious dimples above his bum. “All the way down.”
Aziraphale obeyed, laying flat as Crowley still moved within him. Crowley was soon laying directly on top of his back, fucking him vigorously. Fingers intertwined to pin his hands to the bed. God, Crowley was so hot on top of him, literally. Their skin burned together, sweat mingling.
“This what you want, Angel?” Crowley’s voice rumbled, low and seductive, in Aziraphale's ear. “You're all mine. Every part of you. Aren't you?”
Each drag out left Aziraphale gasping. Each thrust in sent jolts through his muscle fibres and under his skin. He did his best to respond through the ecstasy overtaking his body and leaving his brain a puddle of sex, which makes it rather difficult to form complete sentences.
“Want…yes…yours…all…fuck,” the register of his voice increased and each word was met with another thrust.
“My…my…hair…” Aziraphale cried, hoping Crowley would understand. He let out a yelp and satisfied sigh when Crowley’s fingers mingled with his curls and gave a tug.
“Yes….Crowley.”
Crowley snaked his other arm under Aziraphale's chest to hold onto him. Aziraphale met his hand there, hanging on for dear life as he came closer and closer to an erotic edge. His sensual cries reached higher as Crowley’s cock first grazed and then took targeted hits to his prostate. There were no more thoughts, only pleasure. Aziraphale’s brain had officially evaporated and floated into space. He was aware of Crowley’s teeth on his neck, the pain searing through flesh, a very welcome sensation. He lifted and turned his head to kiss Crowley, their lips crashing and tongues mashing together in an almost depraved way as if trying to completely consume one another.
Aziraphale grabbed at a sheet, then the pillow, then the headboard with his free hand, not sure what he could hold onto to keep him from floating away. The bed under him was soaked with a combination of his sweat and the cum leaking from his cock thanks to the prostate stimulation. He was at the mercy of his demonic lover, pinned down, used like the debauched angel that he was, saying lascivious words and making decadent noises that would make Lucifer himself blush from the divine lewdness of it all. Aziraphale loved the supposed sin of lust, giving into the gluttonous hedonism of it all. And Crowley - how he was making such unchaste and libidinous noises in his ear between bites to his awakened skin, his hissing words and ruttish moaning became desperate and higher pitched, though still gravelly. Aziraphale buried his face in the pillow, the satin quickly succumbing to his bites, muffling the noises coming from him. The coil deep within him snapped and he let go of the last modicum of control.
It came fast and full of a balmy feverishness that overtook both of them, their muscles shuddering, voices mingling, hands clasped to other hands and into plump flesh. Names were pushed through raw throats. The stars were there, as promised, dashing through Aziraphale's vision and through his head, his mind a swirling nebula of colour and light. Crowley’s cock was pulsing with its release inside of him, he could feel the power of it along his rim. His own cock thundered in its twitches between his belly and the bed, the warm stickiness growing under him like melted caramel.
Crowley collapsed his head into the space between Aziraphale's temple and his shoulder. He stayed there, breathing heavily, feeling as if he was having an out of body experience while actually deeply rooted inside his body.
“Aziraphale,” his voice cracked into a whisper. “Aziraphale.” His orgasm had been so intense and he was rocked with aftershocks, while still buried deep within Aziraphale.
“Stay inside me,” Aziraphale whined into the pillow, unsure if he remembered how to turn his head. Having Crowley stay inside him had become a standard request. He reveled in the soft intimacy of it all.
Crowley obeyed. They both soaked up this moment in a languid bliss that moved through their bodies, bringing a euphoric relaxation to their muscles. Crowley’s lips moved along Aziraphale's skin with soft dances over the spots where he nibbled and bit him.
Aziraphale shivered happily from the velvety touch of those lips. His fingers still held onto Crowley's and he remembered how to turn his head for a much more gentle kiss than had happened just moments ago.
“I love you, Angel.”
Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “I love you deeply, my sweet demon.”
Crowley whispered love and kissed Aziraphale's cheek, his ear, his neck, and all along his shoulders until his cock slipped out. He pushed himself up and kissed all along Aziraphale's spine, to those two dimples, and finally to his lavish arse. Carefully, he rolled Aziraphale to his side and laid next to him, pressing himself against him face to face. He noted how soaked and sticky the sheet was and he would happily stay there for days if Aziraphale asked.
He kissed that perfect nose. “You okay?” he asked, looking into the mixed hues of Aziraphale's eyes.
“Very much so, my dearest. That was exactly what I needed. Delightful debauchery - one of my favourite pleasures. You were so sensually commanding and you made me feel alive with such divine sin.”
Crowley smiled. “Mmmm. Divine sin. I like that.” He kissed Aziraphale's hand.
They laid together, Crowley cuddling Aziraphale to his chest, for a while, checking in with one another, talking about what they liked, and making out.
When it came time for Aziraphale to leave, Crowley offered a small protest, despite knowing they’d be together again before supper. After all, departing from one another was still an open and raw wound that they were learning to dress and care for so it could heal. It would take time for them to sink into the fact that they could come back to one another at any time now. No more hiding feelings or waiting for centuries to see one another again.
“Must you?” Crowley asked when Aziraphale sat up. He traced a finger over the yummy rolls that draped along his sides. He would have liked to bite them. Later.
“I told you, my dear, that this Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association meeting is rather important. We’re defining the proper parameters for outdoor seating at certain establishments to ensure we are in full compliance with local regulations. We don't want an errant chair getting someone like Nina saddled with a fine, do we?”
Crowley sighed. “No, I suppose not.”
“The bigger issue is that there is a caper on Whickber Street,” Aziraphale said with a mystery dripping from his voice. His wiggled his fingers for effect.
“A caper?”
“Quite so. It appears someone is dressed as an Easter Bunny. A rather tall one - the herbalist says he must be well over seven feet with those ears. And it wears sunglasses. This Easter Bunny has been hiding plastic eggs in all the shops. Each egg contains a small toy duck. Nothing more.”
“Well that doesn't sound too terrible.”
“You wouldn't think so. Except Nina quipped that they are probably listening devices designed by a top London competitor. She was being completely sarcastic, but now there is a sense of unease among our street traders and Shopkeepers.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure the bunny didn't mean it. Probably just some bored old sap looking to cause light-hearted mischief.”
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m certain it is all in good fun, but now we have folks in full detective mode.”
“You like full detective mode.”
“For actual capers.”
“This is a caper. You don't know who is doing it.”
“Not at all. I have no idea who could possibly dress up as a seven foot tall bunny in sunglasses. One who saunters rather than hops.”
Crowley sniffed. “Beats me. Besides, all these people are posting their sales and business tricks on Instagram and Facebook and Twitter. I mean their business is out there. No need for secret spies. Who wants to secretly spy on a tailor or, ugh, a carpet shop? Leave the poor rabbit alone.”
Crowley got out of bed with Aziraphale, who looked himself over in the large redwood and gilt Baroque mirror on the wall. He admired the scratch marks and bites on his chest, shoulders, and back. One looked dangerously close to the part of his neck that would show above his collar. Little pink pricks were scattered all over his back from the concrete.
Crowley hugged him from behind and kissed each mark. “Are you sure that was okay? You're okay?”
Aziraphale turned to him and put a hand on his cheek. “I am peachy keen and I love having these marks on me. It makes me feel…possessed, I suppose, in a way that's very freeing. I can't quite find the words for it.” Aziraphale was turned on by the idea that his clothing hid a side of him that no one outside of Crowley would believe.
They burst into fits of giggles as Crowley helped him dress. A miracle repaired the pulls created by the concrete rubbing on Aziraphale's shirt. Dressing someone was slightly more awkward than undressing him. Aziraphale thought the intensity with which Crowley concentrated on getting his bowtie just right was downright endearing. Aziraphale booped his nose.
“You're a very lucky angel,” Crowley warned, “anyone else who would attempt to boop my nose would find themselves without a finger.”
Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, most definitely. Such a terrifying snake.”
Crowley flashed him a fangy smile and pretended to chomp at his neck, dipping him back for one more passionate kiss.
“Speaking of snakebites,” Crowley began, tracing a finger along the rim of his collar. “Part of this is peaking from your shirt.”
Aziraphale checked in the mirror and noticed the reddish bruise rising just above his collar. “No matter, I doubt anyone will notice.”
Mr. Brown slapped his newspaper on the table to get the group of loudly chattering adults to focus once more. “Order in here! I say, we’ll never get anything done if you all keep up this fantastical chattering.” They were meeting at Marguerite's, Justine’s restaurant, and the group had broken down into side conversations about the latest mystery.
Everyone looked at Mr. Brown. Aziraphale sat up in his seat, barely listening. He could feel each scratch and snakebite left by Crowley and he found it titillating. His thoughts turned to the silky feel of Crowley's lips brushing against him while teeth scraped against and even lightly pierced his skin. The taste of Crowley, earthy and almost smokey, still rested on his tastebuds. The smell of his expensive vetiver and citrus cologne was so vivid it was as if he himself was wearing it. Crowley’s touch, the weight of him, the way he held him so tightly as if afraid to let him go lingered on every nerve. The fire and lightning in his eyes coupled with raw, unencumbered love was tattooed to Aziraphale's brain. The sound of his sultry moans and ecstatic cries, the commands, the beautiful words whispered to him still vibrated within his ears along with Mr. Brown’s voice. Wait. Aziraphale snapped back to reality.
“Mr. Fell! Hello? Mr. Fell, are you listening? I asked - have you gotten around to installing security cameras to your shop?” Mr. Brown asked impatiently.
“Ah. No. I’ll find the time someday.”
“Mr. Fell, it is a matter of security not only for this street, but also for your own safety. If, Heaven forbid, you were burgled -”
Aziraphale laughed dryly. “I understand Mr. Brown. However, anytime a person has attempted something other than a friendly interaction within my store, they found themselves with an immediate lifetime full of regret and fear.”
Mr. Brown huffed and pointed to his laptop. I have compiled a slideshow of images and videos from our more cooperative street traders and shopkeepers. “Let us all have a look, shall we?”
Aziraphale joined his compatriots in gathering around the laptop. He watched videos clips of a very conspicuous Easter Bunny - dressed in a bright blue on blue tartan waistcoat and yellow bowtie, wearing giant cartoonish sunglasses, carrying a dark red whicker basket, and walking with a familiar saunter - leaving black Easter eggs in each shop. He sighed and went back to his seat when the slideshow was over.
“I do wonder, Mr. Fell, you don't have security cameras and you haven't been the recipient of one of these Easter eggs. The only one here who hasn't.”
Aziraphale remembered kissing Crowley goodbye at his door. Crowley had stuck his hand in Aziraphale's pocket, as he usually does when hoping to steal from the packet of fruit pastilles Aziraphale usually has stashed there.
Aziraphale reached into his pocket and pulled out a black egg, which he opened to reveal a glittery yellow duck with a bright orange bill.
“I’ve been rather busy with stocktaking these days so I hadn't rushed to report my own mysterious egg.”
All eyes were on him. Could they tell? No, not that his lover was the mysterious egg-laying Easter Bunny. Could they tell that just over an hour ago he had been pressed up against a wall with a cock pounding into him? This dapper and refined gentleman, the goodly bookshop owner who loved tea and old pages, was also someone the mysterious hot redhead with the Bentley worshipped with his body? He was desired, sexual, and currently filled to the brim with his lover’s spend. Under his clothing, poetry had been written on him by Crowley’s mouth and hands. Oh, this group would be surprised to learn that sweet, quiet-natured Mr. Fell now spent his days and nights having every inch of him kissed and licked, his body set alight with the most heavenly pleasures, his desirable thighs wrapped around a stunning beauty named Crowley who made love to him with such lavish adoration. He smiled to himself and blushed.
Maggie beamed at him. “Mr. Fell has been hard at work in his bookshop recently.”
“He’s been doing a lot of rearranging, finding new spots and positions for things,” Nina added.
“Thank you, Maggie and Nina. Stocktaking is laborious work in a bookshop such as my own. Often, I find things in need of repair, which means I am engaged in the fine art of bookbinding and leatherwork. Honestly, I’m exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this bunny nonsense.”
He stood up and circled around the tables. “Listen here. All of you share plenty of business information on your Twitterings and the InstaFace and Bookgrams. Everyone knows everything about everyone else these days. No one needs to concoct an elaborate scheme to place super spy ducks in each shop to get a leg up on the competition. Absolute balderdash! It’s likely just someone having a bit of impish fun for themselves.”
The meeting wrapped up without resolution on the identity of Whickber Street’s Mystery Bunny in Glasses, but nerves had been calmed of ulterior motives and Shopkeepers and Street Traders were tickled at the notion of someone just having a joke.
Mr. Brown approached Aziraphale. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fell. I trust you are having a fine day.”
Aziraphale smiled. “As a matter of fact I am.” Because I was railed mercilessly by my demon lover while you compiled a slide show of an Easter Bunny, he thought.
“I noticed you sustained an injury to your neck. Is everything alright?” My Brown indicated the area of injury on his own neck.
Aziraphale touched himself where Crowley left a lovesnake bite. It felt tender in the best way. “Ah, yes. I was a bit vigorous with the shaver.”
“I understand. The perils of being a well-groomed gentleman.” Mr. Brown was renowned for his flirting skills. At least in his own mind.
Maggie butted into the conversation. “Right. Just like I sometimes burn myself on the neck with the curling iron.” She winked at Nina.
Aziraphale was saved by the roar of the Bentley turning the corner and stopping at the bookshop. His face brightened.
“Oh dear. Oh bother. I must be off. My, uh, dear fellow over there has arrived to help me with some restocking.”
“Hardcore restocking?” Nina quipped under her breath.
He blushed. “Cheerio!”
Aziraphale dashed over the road to Crowley, who played it very cool and acted quite put out to have to go into the bookshop.
Once inside, Aziraphale pulled Crowley by his hand to the sofa, sat him down, and straddled him, bringing their mouths together.
When they came up for air, Crowley laughed. “Didn't have enough earlier?”
Aziraphale kissed along his cheek and jawbone. “It was a very annoying meeting. I had to distract myself with filthy thoughts, which left me aroused.”
“I do love a filthy angel,” Crowley murmured into a heavy kiss.
Crowley ran his hands along Aziraphale's back. He thought of all the scratches and bites left on Angel skin.
Back up for air, Crowley asked, “You’re sure all of this was okay? None of it hurts?”
Aziraphale tipped Crowley’s chin up and gave him a light kiss. “My darling, I find much delight in being marked up by you like this. It's like being a canvas for your art. Any brief glimpses of simple pain have been more than welcome. Desired, to be frank. I promise, if there is ever something I don't like, I will tell you.”
Crowley took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Angel.”
“I must admit, I sat at that meeting a bundle of giddy glee at the idea of this secret under my clothing. Everyone there treated me as they always do - their angelic and kind bookseller - with no idea of the depraved things that I had done with a certain sexy redhead just in the previous hour.”
“Mmmmm.” Crowley nuzzled his nose in Aziraphale's neck, “I love this side of you.” He kissed his chin, his nose, and his forehead. “I love all sides of you.”
Crowley took Aziraphale to dinner at a quiet little corner spot not too far from the bookshop. They sat in candlelight (L.E.D. of course) and spoke gently to one another, communicating the more private thoughts through facial expressions and gazes (even through sunglasses). Legs bumped next to each other and hands accidentally grazed. They each longed for the days when they’d become more comfortable with showing their relationship and affection publicly. Though, for now, both were pleased to quietly share such a delicious secret.
A stop at a charming gelato shop left them slowly strolling through Soho enjoying their treats. Winter’s bite was softening on this mid-March evening, though a lingering chill stubbornly remained. They window-shopped and giggled, sharing naughty quips and inside jokes.
Back in the bookshop, Crowley carefully undressed Aziraphale, kissing each centimeter of skin, his warm breath caressing the surface. He was gentle with him, each touch deliberate and reverent. Crowley used his mouth, his words, his tongue to adore all of Aziraphale. He made gentle love to him, a beautiful ache to the tenderness with which he worshipped Aziraphale with his body. Their moans softened the air around them and they clung to one another, tears mingling just as their tongues were during the height of their shared release.
Crowley cradled a blissful Aziraphale in his arms, burying his nose in the soft, slightly sweaty curls and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“You are my entire heart, Angel,” he whispered.
Aziraphale stretched up to lay face to face with him, still enveloped in one another’s arms, and shared a dreamy kiss.
“And you are my heart, Crowley. It’s always been yours and will be forever more.”
They languished in intoxicating kisses and comforting embrace of one another until they both slipped into a peaceful sleep, forever safe and adored.