Chapter Text
Sunday mornings at the store were the closets Aziraphale got to bliss on earth, well there was that one Tuesday in the Garden of Eden that set the precedent but the euphemism was too cliché for him to admit out loud.
With his sign firm set to close he could hide away in the upstairs apartment, perched in his most comfortable armchair. It is his favorite spot, the perfect spot, where the searing dry heat from the fire mixed with the chilled wet wind from the open window, On other days, when he was forced to read downstairs by the glow of the electric lights, which are perfect for unsettling unwanted customers, was truly abhorrent. That blaring bluish tint making his eyes ache. Instead, upstairs, reading by the fire with the soft flicker of light dancing against the page, amongst the letters made all the excitement jump off the page.
He swayed his head in time with the Dulcet whining of Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 coming from his 1899 gramophone.
A perfect setting for a warm cup of tea and his first edition Jane Eyre. He was so very lucky to be able to get his hands on one of the few signed editions, all it took was a few dozen miracles to just happen upon miss Bronte and get her to sign. The dried brittle yellow pages were coarse against his slightly sweaty palms, giving each page turn a satisfying sensation. He was just coming out of one of his favorite parts, the drama being shattered by a breathy groan from his couch.
Turning the page, Aziraphale gave a small good-humored huff, “You are far too old to pout, my Dear.” An observation that did little more than making the demon squirm deeper into his horrible seated posture on the couch. The man was bent in half with his thing thin height pressed to his chest and then twisting around each other some complicated manner before him.
His soft grey oversized long sleeve was rolled up just below his elbows, providing an extra cushion the back of his head, laid atop his folded arms. The bottom edges of his shirt, frayed and distressed in a way that was hard to tell if it was by design or from being worn well, is riding up along his tight stomach. Hellfire was the word that popped into Aziraphale’s head looking at the thick line of hair trailing the demon’s stomach. A literal line of temptation into the land of sin.
A flush raised to Aziraphale’s cheeks as he quickly averted his eyes, trying to pay Miss Bronte the attention she deserved. Crowley for his part, just kept pouting and groaning and sighing and flopping side to side raising the hem of his shirt more and more. It was soon up around his chest, The demon seeming completely oblivious to the fact that his practically undressing as he rolls around.
Acknowledging that there would be no more reading for the foreseeable future, Aziraphale put his ribbon bookmark in its place and gently put the novel aside, “What is wrong, my Dear?”
“Nothing.” He grumbled turning his back toward Aziraphale. The fine planes of his back-muscle rippling. The shadows from the form danced in the firelight just like the written prose of the most compelling poetry.
“Crowley.”
“Mmmm?” Now that’s just childish.
“Now really, Darling.” Aziraphale stood up, coming to stand behind Crowley’s head. Reaching down, he slowly carded his hand through Crowley’s silky hair, “You have been this way since our Ritz date. What is bothering you?”
“The Ritz date is bothering me.” Crowley practically hissed, curling in tighter to himself, face practically pressed into his knees.
“Still?” With the freed-up space, Aziraphale plops down onto the couch, “Dear Crowley, why is it still bothering you?” He gently grabs one of the Demons ankles, egging it to stretch into his lap.
“It’s… embarrassing.” He whispered barely oud enough for Aziraphale to hear over the noise off the street down below. He flopped over onto his stomach and shoved his face into the couch cushions.
“You’re embarrassed?” Slowly Aziraphale started to massage the long lean feet. He watched as his thumbs pressed deep into the muscles, enjoying the way the tendon and joints rolled as he massaged.
“Ymah mnah” Came to the muffled response.
The toes wiggling as he ran a finger lightly over the instep, tickling the surprisingly soft skin that was there. smiling to himself, Aziraphale started to tease the area, tickling the demon who fidgeted and groaned but didn’t pull away. “I am sorry, what was that darling?”
“Yes!” Crowley shot up, throwing cushions to the ground and nearly knocking over Aziraphale’s porcelain tea set, “Yes I bloody am well embarrassed!” Harsh hisses leaking out around his words. His hair was thoroughly disheveled, bed head curls flopping onto his brow.
“Why in the lord's name are you embarrassed?” Where demons even able to feel embarrassment? That seemed rather problematic to the work. The Lord knows that one needed ample confidence when doing the devil's work of taking candy from babies or naked dancing with witches throughout the entire 15th century. However, the blush that seemed to be crawling along Crowley's cheeks and neck seemed to hint at otherwise.
“Because I am the damnable demon of original sin!” He threw his hands up into the air, “I am supposed to be temptation personified and the most lecherous creature that crawls on the ground. Yet I can’t even… go on a date and…. Seduc… seduce an- Ugh.” He flopped back onto the couch, snatching and downing the rest of the wine in a single swig.
Aziraphale mulled over how he could respond, watching the demon snap another full bottle of wine in his hound which he instantly started to chug. Crowley was in one of his patented moods. He was feeling raw and exposed, a feeling that would result in Crowley either drinking the night away, turning into a snake, or going out and setting up another 5 construction stops on the M25. With the right words though, Aziraphale could ease the ache in his poor dear’s heart, “You have been tempting me for 6000 years.”
Crowley gave a snort removing his sunglasses to stare at the ceiling, “Lying is a sin, Angel.” The bottle in his limp hand-rolled cross the ground, clanking against the legs of Aziraphale’s coffee table.
“I am not lying, Crowley.” He contended, fingers rubbing up the sides of Crowley’s ankles, tucking under the cuff of his impossibly tight skinny jeans. “I have been painfully aware of your skill at sexual temptation.” He felt gloriously fine leg hairs, twirling them between his fingers. “I have whole memories burnt into my brain from millennia of watching your insufferable swagger.”
Crowley sat up, staring up at him, cautious and confused. Like a homeless man confused about how he could possibly be on house arrest. “But the date-“
“If you really think one failed date can eclipse a lifetime of memories with you, then you are more a demon of stupidity than sexuality.” Aziraphale chastised lightly, a wry smirk on his lips. Attention fully locked on exposing as much of the pale skin, hidden under the surprisingly soft material of his dark wash jeans. Small goosebumps started to rise alongside the thing red hairs along the demon’s legs.
“Me the demon of stupidity? Poor Ligur will be out of a job,” Aziraphale couldn’t hold down the laugh that burst out of his gut. Throwing his head back, he just enjoyed the full body laugh that overtook him. Crowley chuckled as well, pressing his feet into Aziraphale’s trouser covered legs, indecently high up on his thigh. The pressure made him feel warm from his core. Crowley was smiling at him, in the sadly soft way that made Aziraphale feel like he was something that was both treasured but Crowley was waiting for his inevitable disappearance.
He looked as if Aziraphale would leave him, any second. Angel couldn’t even stomach the thought of not being with Crowley, ever again. It tore him up last time and would probably discorporate him with the ache of loss if it happened again. Not even heaven or hell could keep him away from the willy snake. IF only Crowley could see it. He wanted to make it unequivocally clear that he couldn’t for without the demon. He had to make it clear.
Standing up, Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s hand into his, pulling the man to stand with him as well. The angle stumbles slightly in off-kilter confusion on what is happening. Cupping Crowley’s sharp chin in his hands, Aziraphale s pulls the man in close. With a bit of unintentional force, Aziraphale kisses Crowley, teeth clicking against each other as their lips locked. His pink lips were slightly agape, soft, and tasting slightly of bitter wine. Wrapping his hands around the front of Crowley’s shirt, Aziraphale pulls the man in closer. Crowley’s Hot breathe skims the side of Aziraphale’s cheeks.
Suddenly, like the sneaking snake that hi is, Crowley slithers his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth. He is both aggressive yet tentative as he presses into every corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. Feeling bold, He bit down softly into the powerful muscle, eliciting a groan from the demon. Fisting his hands into Crowley’s read hair, Aziraphale’s yanks onto it, hard. Letting out a gasp Crowley’s head is pulled back, extending his deliciously smooth neck, just begging to be marked up. Diving in like it is the last torte at the Ritz, Aziraphale all but devours the exposed skin. Nipping, kissing, flipping, and leaving dozens of little bruises along the pale column.
Pulling back, Aziraphale’s notes the glazed over look on the demons’ eyes, pupils were blown impossibly wide. Grabbing his hand, Aziraphale pulls him through the living room, “Come on, Dear.”
“Hmm? Where are we going?” The demon hummed, more than happy to just follow the angle to the ends of the earth, he would even follow the man into the London tube if he had too.
“The Bedroom,” Aziraphale shouldered open the door and with a snap of his fingers, a soft yellowish glow from candles filled the space. His bed was perfectly made, not a wrinkle on it, from lack of use over the years. Honestly, he only got one in case Crowley was over and wanted to take one of his naps. The sheets were soft, perpetually smelling of freshly laundered detergent and had the most subtle of plaids waved into the cream material, “I’m going to do to you what you deserve.”
“What is that?”
“Worship you.” With that He pushed the demon onto the bed, Crowley’s back body bouncing slightly before settling into the flush folds of the mattress. The demon looked shocked, mouth open slightly, teasing the angel with a peek at the lecherous tongue that was so good at teasing out scandal.
Seconds passed before Crowley squawked like a bird with the loud sudden laugh he let out, “That is blasphemous and cheesy, Angel.”
“Maybe so,” Unbothered, Aziraphale, pulled off his waistcoat, folding it primly before tossing it onto a wing back chair in the corner. “but it is true.” He started to roll up the sleeve of his button-up, taking note of the way Crowley's eyes widen and focused solely on the way his muscled forearms moved. Smiling to himself, Aziraphale stored the little tidbit away, to be used later. “Get ready, My Dear.”
Crowley’s Adam apple bobbed as he silent gulped. Suddenly Aziraphale was upon him, his larger form encompassing Crowley in a cage of plush. Kissing him once more, Aziraphale’s hands begin to roam, sneaking under his shirt, hunting for two sensitive nipples. With a sudden gasp, he knows he found what he is looking for. He rolls the nubs between his fingers, enjoying the way the demon squirms and gasps, always managing to press in closer to his finger. Digging his nails in slightly he smiles as the breath sounds Crowley makes.
“Now you, my Dear, have been a very wicked being indeed.” He continues, pushing the shirt up higher so he could actually see his new conquests flush and rise, becoming hard nubs made for him to play with. Crowley arched his back, practically bringing off the bed. “Begging to be praised,” Aziraphale practically whispered to himself, dropping his head down, latching onto one of those nipples. He wrapped his lips around the redbud, sucking and teething at the sweet little thing. Crowley’s hands immediately weaved into his hair, pulling his face closer. With his free hand, he quickly readjusts himself against the tight confines of his trousers. The slight rubbing making him even harder.
Letting go of the nipple Aziraphale smiles up at Crowley, staring down at him with the most euphoric expression, “Flaunting your self all over this world for centuries.” He makes quick work of Crowley trousers, unzipping them and tugging them down his thighs. He is commando and absolute perfection. “Endlessly teasing with the hip swagger of yours, begging to be given a good smack on the rump.” He in fact dig give a light spank, the chap of his hand on bare flesh echoing in the room followed instantly by Crowley whine.
“Angel, Please.”
“Yes, My Dear?” He asked, going back to the business of removing the demon’s jeans, they were really too tight. A bit of a hassle would be better if he just very wore them, to begin with.
“Please,” Crowley made grabby hands at the angel. His shirt was half off, hanging off one arm and knotted around his head.
“Please what. You must really use tour words Darling Boy.” He tutted, helping to right the man, right out of his clothes. Then setting back Aziraphale just admired his work.
Crowley looked ready to be devoured, completely exposed underneath Aziraphale. Pale, Naked, on display, for Aziraphale to watch, touch, lick, bite, tease, spank, play and enjoy, fully clothed, and in control. A rush of power raced through Aziraphale as he took in those constellations of freckles he adores, unobscured like the clearest nights of old when artificial light did not intrude on the celestial domain.
“Just… please.” The man said, humming happily as Aziraphale busied himself, kissing every single freckle he could find. He was slow and deliberate making sure no freckle was left of blessed, they called them angels kisses after all. As he went lower, Crowley groans grew louder, “… that feels nice.”
“I am glad my Darling.” Aziraphale gave one last kiss, to a particularly large freckle just above the bright red thicket of hair at Crowley’s groin Now really must sing my praise now. And you know how well we angels sing.” Aziraphale innocently smiled before deep throating Crowley with ease. The demon squealed as his cock slipped into the angel’s hot mouth. Nose pressed tight into Crowley pubic hair, Aziraphale took a deep inhale. He smelled of incense and mulled wine, a trolley sensual combination of scents that enchanted Aziraphale even more. Bobbing his head up and down, Aziraphale used every trick he had ever read about, finding the exact moves that drove the demon of original sin wild.
Even as Aziraphale’s jaw started to ache, he swirled his tongue and sucked, wriggling every bit of pleasure that he could. Since the man was close Aziraphale replaced his mouth with a hand, intent on drinking in the spectacular show of Crowley’s orgasm.
“Angel!” With a shout Crowley climaxed, so hard in fact that cum spurting from his redden cockhead, splash at high as his neck. Transfixed, Aziraphale watched as the member twitched, pulsing as small streams of cum, dribbled out. Trailing down his red cock like melted icing, pooling around the folds of Aziraphale’s fingers, still wrapped snug around the member.
Eyes blazing, pinned on Crowley’s ruddy expression, Aziraphale brought the palm to his mouth. Slowly, just as much a show for the demon as for his own pleasure, he licks at the milky white cum speaking his fingers, “Mmmm. you taste divine, My Good Boy.” A small gasp being the only reply he received. Oh, Crowley liked that. His Good Boy.
Hands clean, Aziraphale unfastens the closures on his breeches, shuffling through the fabric folds to pull out his own member. Hard and Thick it stands at attention, like a little soldier, with pride at the looks Crowley gives it. The demon shifts, slowly reaching to wrap long fingers around it. That won’t do. Quick as lighting, Aziraphale grabs Crowley's hand, bringing it right back to his head, pinning it to the bed beside his ear. “Now. Now. Be a Good Boy and let me continue my praise.” Crowley practically melts, the tightness in his shoulders evaporating under the pet name.
Gently, Aziraphale situates them to his liking, Crowley on his back, gaggle legs in the air. His knees thrown over Aziraphale’s shoulders, ankles wrapped around behind his head. With his fingers, still wet from saliva and semen, he presses gently but firmly on Crowley’s entrance. The opening gives away like fine velvet, their corporal bodies knowing how to be made perfect for one another. Crowley has a dopey smile on his face, as Aziraphale thrusts his fingers in and out, seeking the soft bundle of nerves that will make him see stars. It takes a few tries and then he finds it. Pressing in hard against the spongy surface, Crowley moans, hips arching, and cock-hardening once again.
Smiling down with love, Aziraphale settles in to watch the pleasure across Crowley’s being. Every thrust of his fingers hitting their mark, rubbing against his prostate and sending electric pleasure through the man’s veins. It was reminiscent of the dances at Delphi, the euphoric loose-limbed swirl of desire, pleasure, and devotion to all the is good in the world.
Once he was loose and ready, Aziraphale lined himself up. “Ready, my Dear?” Crowley simply nodded, blurred eyed, and blissed out. With a steading breathe, Aziraphale slowly pushed into the demon below him. For how good he had felt on his fingers, Crowley wrapped around his cock felt infinitely better. “Sweet Heaven.” He gasped out, thrusting flush up against Crowley. Inside Crowley was hotter and tighter than imaginable, it was a vice that made Aziraphale’s toes curl. Groaning, he rolls his back, just drinking in the sensations. Then slowly he starts to pull out. Just as his tip is about to fall out, he thrusts back in all the way to the root. Instantly he pulls out again to repeat.
He couldn’t stay slow for long though. With each thrust forward he goes faster and faster, egged on by Crowley’s euphoric moans. Soon he is using nearly supernatural speed to fuck into Crowley’s delicious body. The headboard of his bed banging loudly against the wall, mixing in with their gasping breaths and the wet slapping of their hips. Sweat pools around the collar of his button-up. He presses worshiping kisses into every bit of the demon’s available skin he can reach. Never once taking his eyes off Crowley flushed face, bite swollen lips and Hickie littered neck.
His hips started to cramp, but the feeling of that hot ball of pleasure in his core was too good to slow his thrusting. Every movement had the tight warmth around him dragging deliciously, setting both their nerves on fire. Crowley thrashed underneath him, a cacophony of moans falling from his lips, in perfect duet with the wet sounds coming from Their pistoning hips. Crowley was almost completely red from his sex mussed hair to the flush of his skin, a beautiful contrast for the cum splattered on his heaving chest. He was coming apart at the seams and it was all because of Aziraphale.
With a twist of his hips, he hits Crowley sweet spot dead on and the demon melts. Cum dribbled out of his hard cock, pulling in his concaved belly. Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to make it bulge with his own seed. To mark Crowley inside and out. He greedily wanted to make sure that everyone knew what was his, what had always been his for millennia. With a groan, he orgasms, cumming deep into the blissed-out demon.
Rolling over, making sure they stayed fully connected, Aziraphale pulls Crowley light body atop his. The demon waiver slightly still strung out from his just had the pleasure. Without missing another moment, Aziraphale thrusts up with all his power. Crowley bounces, eyes going wide, head falling back, “Angel!” clamping his hands on the smaller man’s bony hips, Aziraphale pushes and pulls their hips together. Crowley gasps and bounces and groans and moans and screams ‘yes and more’ in every ancient dialect he knows. There are quite a few.
Releasing a bruised hip, he fists Crowley surely sensitive cock. He is memorized, watching as the flushed head disappears and reappears between his pale fist, like a magic trick.
“Once more,” Aziraphale said he needed more. The sight of Crowley strung out the body was more delicious than any desert and his greed demanded to see more. Aziraphale was insatiable.
“I… I don’t know… if I can… An-,“ a pitchy gasped rippled through Crowley, his chest shaking as his muscle tightened as Aziraphale returned to his punishing pace. Moving his hand faster, Aziraphale coordinates them with his thrust. With every thrust up he strokes down on Crowley’s cock giving him pleasure from both ends. The demon’s eyes widen, hips shaking, as he bites his lips and takes what Aziraphale’s gives him.
Feeling the edge racing close, Aziraphale gives one last bruising thrust, twisting around Crowley cock head and together they fall over into oblivion. The tight ball of tingling pleasure explodes and Aziraphale cums deep inside Crowley. Refusing to close his eyes, Aziraphale watches as his demon is silently gasping under the pressure of his third orgasm. Small drops semen dribbled out of his over sensitive cock, landing on Aziraphale’s stomach.
Woozy, Crowley starts to wobble atop Azirpahle's lap. Quickly the Angle sits up, scooping the demon in close, hugging him tight to his chest. The Willy snake hisses in pleasure, burrowing deeper into the soft folds of Azirpahle's plush chest. They sit there for almost an hour, Aziraphale petting his hair, humming a soft toon and basing in the afterglow of his magnificent boy. As the sun sets outside Azirpahles feels it is finally time to move once more. “Come on dear, lets get you a bath.”
“Fine, but I am using your fancy bubble bath.”
“That is more than fair.”