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Aziraphale was thoroughly done with the situation. He had been rearranging a new shipment of books that arrived that morning on the shelves for nearly an hour now, without making any real progress. His mind was elsewhere. Not entirely elsewhere, but fixed quite stubbornly on one specific demon.
It had been almost a year since the near-Apocalypse, and everything was good and peaceful. Heaven and Hell had finally left them alone, and he was rather enjoying his retirement. Crowley and he were finally able to enjoy each other’s company, and the past few months had been filled with picnics, dinners at fancy restaurants, walks through St James’s Park, theatre outings, and everything a formerly working angel could ever dream of.
His relationship with Crowley had evolved into something he had always dreamed of, but had never dared to admit to himself.
One evening, just about six months ago, after a lovely dinner at the Ritz, his favourite demon had driven him back to the bookshop, walked him to the door, and asked for permission to share their first kiss. It had been a lovely first kiss, one that left Aziraphale feeling as though the whole neighbourhood could surely see the happiness he was practically glowing with.
In the months that followed, there were times when they shared kisses like that. And each time, they left Aziraphale with a tension building inside him, one that only grew with every shared, intimate kiss.
As an angel, he had never truly thought about human intimacy. It wasn’t that he condemned the act itself, but he had never seen humans in that way. And Crowley had always been a forbidden fantasy, one that was never meant to become real, so why torment himself with such thoughts?
But that had changed. And with each shared kiss, he could feel a warmth coursing through his body, one that made him think there might be more.
The previous night, after several bottles of very fine wine, Aziraphale had begun to suspect that these new sensations might not be entirely one-sided. Sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, Crowley had deepened the kiss into something more profound, leaning his body over the angel, who could feel the weight of the demon pressing down on him.
Just when he thought his most secret wishes were about to come true, Crowley stood up and said, “I’m sssorry, angel… I have to go. You know… early morning tomorrow. Lots of demonic stuff to handle.” And then he practically fled the bookshop, leaving behind a very flustered angel on the couch.
Since then, a plan had begun to form in his mind. The demon clearly wanted the same thing. Up until last night, he hadn’t been sure whether he should proceed with his intentions. This dynamic between them was still very recent—at least by the standards of beings who were over six thousand years old—and he didn’t want to risk spoiling anything between them. But the passion of last night’s kiss had finally given the angel the courage to attempt to fulfil the particular urges that had been growing within him over the past months.
In two days’ time, it would be the anniversary of the salvation of the world. Using that as an excuse, Aziraphale took the small notebook he kept in his desk and phoned Crowley to invite him to a dinner hosted in his very own bookshop. The demon accepted without hesitation. After hanging up, the angel smiled to himself. He had two days to plan an evening that, he hoped, would change everything.
.o0o.
By a quarter to eight, everything was ready. Aziraphale had pushed the shelves back against the walls and set a small table, draped in a very fine tablecloth and laid with exquisite tableware. Earlier that day, he had gone to a small shop just a block away and bought nearly every candle they had in stock, leaving a very generous tip for the lady who assisted him. Now, those candles cast a soft, flickering light throughout the bookshop. A minor miracle had been performed to ensure none of them would start a fire; he had no desire to repeat a certain unfortunate incident from the past.
In the few minutes left before the agreed-upon time, the angel checked his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing his finest clothes, his bow tie impeccably straight, and he smiled nervously at himself. Although he felt certain about his plan, there were countless things that could still go wrong.
The bell above the front door rang, and Aziraphale knew that the time for second-guessing was over.
“Angel?”
“I’m coming, my dear,” he replied.
He checked his reflection one last time before stepping out to meet his beloved demon.
As he entered the room, he found Crowley standing very still, seemingly mesmerised by the atmosphere of the bookshop. That gave Aziraphale a few precious moments to admire him.
The demon still wore his hair short and those ever-present black lenses. That night, he was dressed in his usual black skinny trousers, a maroon shirt, and a black suit jacket, effortlessly elegant, as though he had given the matter no thought at all.
Suddenly, Aziraphale became fully aware of being watched. He felt Crowley’s gaze settle on him from behind the dark glasses.
“I brought some wine,” Crowley said, lifting the bottle slightly. “The bookshop looks… stunning tonight.”
“Thank you, dear. I thought the occasion warranted it.”
“Mmm. Yes.” the demon replied, sounding faintly suspicious.
“Please, sit. Would you serve the glasses while I fetch our dinner?”
Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale retreated to the kitchen. The moment he stepped inside, his hand flew to his chest. He took several deep breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart. After all, this was Crowley. There wasn’t any other being in the universe he trusted more than him.
When he heard the soft clink of glasses being filled, he picked up the tray with their dinner and returned to the table.
“I hope you’ll enjoy this,” Aziraphale said as he approached the table, carefully setting the plate down in front of Crowley. “It’s tagliatelle alle vongole.”
Crowley was already sipping from the glass of wine he had just poured. As Aziraphale served his plate, the demon’s expression shifted. Just slightly, but enough for the angel to notice.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Aziraphale asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. “I can change it, of course, if it’s not to your taste…”
“No, no, angel,” Crowley cut in quickly. “It looks amazing.”
He glanced down at the plate again, then back up at Aziraphale.
“It just reminded me of the oysters,” he added casually. “Our first dinner together. Rome. You said you were going to tempt me.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said.
“Right.”
Aziraphale sat on the opposite side of the table, momentarily at a loss for words after the demon’s pointed remark.
“To the world,” Crowley said, lifting his glass.
“To the world,” Aziraphale replied.
“And to being an us,” the demon added, a small smile playing at his lips.
“Cheers to that,” Aziraphale said, bringing the glass to his mouth and taking a careful sip.
He set the glass down and reached for his fork, twirling the pasta slowly, deliberately. The strands of tagliatelle clung together, glossy with sauce.
As he closed his mouth around the first bite, the flavours unfolded all at once. The briny richness of the clams, the warmth of the oil, the faint sharpness of wine and garlic. It melted through him with a quiet, irresistible lushness.
“Oh…”
The sound slipped from him before he could stop it, low and unguarded. His eyes fell shut as he savoured the bite, utterly absorbed in the sensation.
When he opened them again, Crowley had gone very still.
The demon was staring at him, unmoving. Aziraphale wished, not for the first time, that he could see Crowley’s eyes; the dark glasses hid too much, and left him guessing at the expression beneath.
“Mmm,” Aziraphale said softly, suddenly very aware of himself. “Crowley, you really should try the tagliatelle. It’s… quite wonderful.”
“Don’t worry, angel.”
Crowley took another slow sip of his wine, crossing his legs. He rested his elbow on the table, his chin settling into his hand.
“I’m already enjoying myself over here.”
Heat crept into Aziraphale’s cheeks under the demon’s unwavering attention. The air between them felt thick, charged, as though something had shifted without a word being spoken.
Against all odds, it seemed his plan was unfolding rather well.
.o0o.
Dinner passed smoothly after that. They talked about their years together, laughing over the seemingly endless anecdotes they had gathered in six thousand years of life on Earth. The wine Crowley had brought was long gone, and Aziraphale had disappeared briefly into his private stock to fetch a few more particularly fine bottles. With each refilled glass, the angel found himself growing warmer, looser, pleasantly unguarded.
“You were right,” Crowley said at last. “The pasta was amazing.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Though I already knew it would be. You are quite the expert when it comes to culinary arts.”
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Aziraphale replied, beaming.
He rose from his chair, smoothing his jacket almost absently.
“I’ll be back in just a moment. I’m going to fetch us dessert.”
A few moments later, the angel returned carrying a tray. Upon it rested the reddest, plumpest strawberries one could imagine, their surfaces glossy and ripe, alongside a small bowl of dark chocolate, melted to a smooth sheen.
“Bon appétit,” Aziraphale said softly.
He reached for one of the strawberries, holding it delicately between three fingers, and dipped it slowly into the warm chocolate.
As he took a bite, thick drops of chocolate slid slowly down his fingers, warm and unhurried.
“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured softly. “I didn’t think to bring any utensils for this…”
“Do you want me to fetch something from the kitchen?” Crowley asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“No, no, don’t trouble yourself, dear,” Aziraphale replied lightly.
And then, as though it were the most natural solution in the world, he lifted his hand and drew his thumb between his lips, closing his mouth around it to clean away the mess. He sucked gently, brows knitting in mild concentration, before moving on to the next finger, unhurried, thorough.
He felt it then. The shift.
Crowley leaned back in his chair, suddenly rigid. His grip tightened around his glass until his knuckles turned white, and a faint twitch betrayed itself beneath the dark lenses, subtle but unmistakable.
Courage bloomed warm and heady in Aziraphale’s chest as he realised the effect he was having. Emboldened by that knowledge, and by the pleasant dizziness brought on by far too many glasses of wine, he decided it was time to fully embrace this newly discovered side of himself.
If he was going to tempt his demon, he might as well do it properly.
Closing his eyes, he continued with the third finger. He let a low, not-at-all subtle moan slip from his lips, savouring the mingled sweetness of chocolate and strawberry left behind.
A sudden grip around his wrist made his eyes fly open.
“Can you tell me what on Earth you think you’re doing?”
The demon was standing beside him now. Piercing yellow eyes were fixed on his mouth, unshielded by dark lenses which were now resting on the table. The lust in his gaze was unmistakable, open and raw, easy to read now that there was nothing left to hide behind.
“I think you know,” Aziraphale replied softly.
“Is this what you wanted all night?” Crowley said, his voice coming out rough, strained.
“For me to lose my fucking control?”
All Aziraphale could do was give a small, trembling nod.
An expression of understanding crossed Crowley’s face.
Without taking his eyes off him, the demon dipped a finger into the bowl of chocolate resting on the table.
“Do what you were doing again for me,” he said quietly.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he brought his finger to Aziraphale’s mouth.
Blushing fiercely, he parted his lips and took the finger in, sucking away the chocolate left behind.
The look on Crowley’s face was everything he had been dreaming of for so long. The raw, unguarded emotion in those yellow eyes made him feel utterly desired, something he had never imagined a celestial being could experience.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” the demon murmured as he leaned closer.
“I could watch your mouth for the rest of eternity.”
Without hesitation, he licked the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth, savouring the last trace of chocolate left there.
“Oh, God,” the angel breathed.
“No,” Crowley said softly.
His hand closed around Aziraphale’s chin, lifting his face.
“No more God, angel”
“Get on your knees. You pray only to me now.”
He dropped to his knees immediately, never taking his eyes off those yellow ones that had become the center of all his dreams.
The demon leaned down toward him. Their gazes locked for a few seconds of unbearable tension. Just as Aziraphale thought he could not endure a moment longer of the desire coiling inside him, Crowley closed the distance and kissed him, fierce, unrestrained.
Aziraphale’s thoughts dissolved into incoherence. He had never realized how much the demon had been holding back in all their previous encounters. This kiss was ravenous, as though he were an exquisite dish discovered by a man who had been starving for centuries.
Their tongues explored each other, and he could taste the wine, the pasta, all mingled with something else entirely, the same intoxicating note he always sensed on Crowley’s skin whenever they stood too close. The flavour overwhelmed him, and the only thought left in his mind was that he wanted to savour every last bit of it.
The angel’s hands slid over the demon’s legs, slowly working their way toward the very centre of his fantasies.
With elegant, deliberate movements, Aziraphale unbuckled Crowley’s belt and unzipped the tight black trousers before him.
A guttural growl tore from Crowley’s throat without breaking the kiss. The sound rolled through Aziraphale like a wave of heat, settling low in his belly. He wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock and began to stroke him carefully, reverently.
Crowley broke the kiss at last, straightening abruptly and covering his face with his hands.
“Please,” Aziraphale whispered, breathless. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Anything I want?” Crowley replied, his voice muffled behind his fingers.
“Anything for you, my love.”
If not for the knowledge and trust they had built together since the beginning of time, Aziraphale might have been frightened by the look on Crowley’s face, as he uncovered it. His true demonic nature shone through in all its splendour, raw and unrestrained.
“You have no idea what you just asked for, my innocent angel,” Crowley said, a wicked grin curling his lips.
His hand reached for the table, dipping a finger once more into the bowl that still rested on its surface.
To Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley traced his length with it, drawing a dark, glossy line all the way down to the base.
“I’ve been fantasising about that mouth of yours for a long time,” he said quietly.
“I really want to know if you’ll moan the way you do when you’re overwhelmed by your favourite dish.”
Aziraphale’s mouth watered. He trembled with desire. Not only from his own longing, but from the thought of Crowley taking exactly what he wanted from him, compelling him to answer that need. And he was more than willing to comply.
Closing his eyes, he followed the line the demon had drawn with his tongue, unhurried, taking his time to savour the most exquisite indulgence he had never imagined he would taste.
Above him, he could hear Crowley’s breathing grow heavier.
A small smile curved his lips, proud, lustful and deliciously unangelic. But he was no longer a servant of God.
He lifted his gaze and looked straight into the eyes of the only being in the universe he would choose to serve now.
“You taste wonderful”
Without breaking that gaze, he took the full length into his mouth and let out a helpless moan as he reached the base.
Crowley’s fingers tangled in the blond curls, urging him on, demanding more. Aziraphale began to move back and forth, the lingering taste of chocolate and Crowley’s unique flavour encouraging him to explore with his tongue every inch of the solid warmth filling his mouth.
He could feel the demon’s restraint, how tense he was, how deliberately he was holding himself back despite the raw, barely contained lust trembling through him. That knowledge sparked an unexpected warmth in Aziraphale’s chest. Crowley could not help himself; even like this, he was still trying to protect him.
Aziraphale’s hands slid to Crowley’s hips, urging him silently to let go of that final shred of control.
A deep, broken sound tore from Crowley’s throat. His fingers tightened in Aziraphale’s hair, firm enough to hold him in place, and he began to move, slow at first, then more insistently, thrusting into the eager mouth waiting for him.
As he slid in and out, Aziraphale’s hunger only grew. He couldn’t get enough. Keeping his grip on Crowley’s hips, he urged him to go deeper, faster in each thrust.
“Wait- angel, please,” Crowley gasped, his voice breaking.
“I don’t want this to end too soon.”
He pulled back abruptly and dropped to his knees, leaving them face to face. Heavy breathings mingling in the few inches between their lips.
Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks in his hands. The kiss they shared then was different from the one before. Softer, yet somehow deeper, laden with unspoken things neither of them dared to voice just yet.
With careful, deliberate movements, the demon untied Aziraphale’s bow tie while, at the same time, the angel gripped the lapels of the black jacket and let it fall to the floor. Without ever breaking the kiss, they began to undress one another piece by piece, unhurried, taking the time to savour the disappearance of every layer that had kept their bodies apart.
When their torsos were finally bare, they broke the kiss, foreheads still resting together.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Crowley whispered, nearly breathless.
“Crowley, I- I can’t say it.”
“You have to, angel,” the demon pleaded softly.
“You have to tell me exactly what you want to happen.”
Aziraphale gulped. Putting his desire into words felt almost impossible. He had spent nearly all of his existence suppressing the feelings and urges the demon stirred in him.
But those days were over. He reminded himself of that. Neither Heaven nor Hell could harm them now.
Drawing a shaky breath, he voiced his deepest want.
“I- I want you inside me.”
A spark flared in the demon’s eyes.
“Your wish is my command,” Crowley replied, a grin tugging at his lips.
He leaned into Aziraphale, the weight of his body pressing the angel down onto the carpet beneath them. Skilled hands slipped beneath the light linen of Aziraphale’s trousers, working their way closer to his hard, aching centre.
“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale begged.
“You’ll have to be more specific, angel,” the demon teased.
“Please- please, touch me.”
The demon let go for a moment and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Aziraphale felt cool air brush over his bare legs. Crowley had miracled both his trousers and undergarments away. He flushed at the sudden exposure, but the feeling vanished as soon as Crowley’s hand returned to its task and his thoughts scattered again.
Crowley’s grip tightened around his shaft, setting a steady rhythm with each stroke.
Aziraphale’s head pressed back into the floor, while his hips thrust forward to meet the demon’s hand. He had to remember how to breathe, since his lungs seemed to have forgotten the mechanics of letting air in and out.
Crowley’s thumb reached the top, rubbing a sensitive place, making bright flashes burst behind his closed eyelids. As the demon’s hand began to explore lower, the angel’s breath grew shallow and a shiver traveled through his body.
“Are you sure, angel?” Crowley asked, eyes locked onto his.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything, my dear.”
The angel yelped when the demon grabbed his hips and, in one smooth motion, flipped him over, an arm on his hip lifting him up onto all fours.
He felt Crowley’s teeth scrape across the skin between his shoulders, a warm breath chasing shivers all the way down his spine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful in this position,” Crowley murmured as he straightened. His hands cupped Aziraphale’s arse, a thumb teasing his entrance, sending waves of craving to the needy angel beneath him.
“I’m gonna make you scream my name.”
A finger, slick with miracled lube, slid slowly inside.
Aziraphale could get enough. He wanted more, desperately. Instinctively he pushed back, taking the intrusion deeper.
“You’re a greedy little angel, aren’t you?” Crowley said, pressing a second finger into him.
“But you’ve always been weak for earthly delights. Once you start indulging, you just can’t stop, can you?”
“Please” he whimpered “Take me, Crowley”
The demon withdrew his fingers, leaving the angel feeling suddenly empty. But shortly after he felt something hot and hard pressing forward, easing into the aching emptiness inside him. Crowley groaned as he buried himself all the way in.
Without pause, the demon began thrusting, building an ever-increasing rhythm.
His fingers tightened on Aziraphale’s hips, hard enough to leave small, finger-shaped bruises on that soft, cream-colored skin.
“This is what you wanted, huh?” Crowley panted. “You’ve gotten so good at tempting, angel. And nothing has ever tempted me like you do.”
His hand slid to the back of Aziraphale’s neck, pinning him to the carpet. The angel’s hands searched helplessly for something to grab, to hold on to, as the new angle made the demon hit a spot that made him cry out.
“Crowley!” he screamed.
“Say it again,” he growled, pressing him down. “That you gave yourself to me. That you belong with me.”
“Yours! I’m- I’m only yours”.
"That's right, angel” Crowley breathed, his hand wrapping around Aziraphale’s aching length, stroking it.
Crowley was exquisite. The way he touched him, the sounds he made, the words he breathed against his skin. The realization that this magnificent creature was truly his made Aziraphale spiral. It pushed him over the edge, and he came with a cry, spilling himself onto the carpet beneath him.
Moments later, he felt the demon shudder, pushing as deep as he could while he climaxed, filling him with spreading warmth. Crowley panted against the back of Aziraphale’s head, his arms winding around him in an almost serpent-like embrace.
They stayed like that for a while, breaths slowing, hearts finding their calm again. When Crowley finally slipped out, he gathered Aziraphale gently into his arms and carried him to the sofa by the fireplace. A soft tartan blanket appeared out of thin air, wrapping around them both. The angel couldn’t help the tender smile that bloomed on his lips.
Curled against Crowley’s chest, the demon’s hand stroking slow circles along his back, Aziraphale felt perhaps for the first time utterly, impossibly happy.
“Please tell me,” Crowley murmured, a thread of worry in his voice. “Was this really what you wanted? I need to know I didn’t read everything wrong…”
“Crowley, hush,” Aziraphale interrupted softly. “It was everything I dreamed of and more. I only wish we had done it sooner.”
Relief softened the unguarded golden eyes.
“I tried to go slow,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to push you again. This means too much for me to fuck it up”
“Oh, dearest… I was afraid before, and I regret every word I spoke back then.” Aziraphale cupped his cheek with gentle fingers. “But now I want all of you, for all eternity, if you’ll have me.”
“I couldn’t imagine anything better,” Crowley replied, leaning in to kiss his angel.