Rough, tanned fingers gripped the steering wheel, sending rivulets of sweat down the arm of an expensive leather jacket. The air conditioning did nothing to alleviate Crowley's discomfort, nor did it matter that he was not human, and therefore didn't have to sweat if he didn't want to. It was the least he felt that he deserved.
You might think it odd for a demon to feel ashamed of his sinful acts, but Crowley had been on earth for far too long, and certain human attributes were beginning to rub off on him.
It didn't help that he had this Agreement. His connection with the angel had changed the way he thought about things. Back in the bad old days he would have thought nothing of doing what he had been asked to do. He certainly would never have dreamed of averting Armageddon. Damn Aziraphale. Maybe he deserved what was coming to him.
That didn't stop the fact that Crowley was taking the longest possible route to the second hand bookshop, riddled with guilt for what he was going to do when he got there.
--xxXxx--
"Do you realise what you have done? This day has been anticipated for thousands of years. There was to be a great battle, from which we would emerge victorious, having trampled our divine enemy under our feet…"
Crowley tuned the demon out until he was done aggrandising the forces of darkness and finally got to the point.
"…and you, you with your great designs for the future of humanity, ruined our plans with your ineptitude! You will burn for a thousand eternities for this, Crowley. You will burn until you repent for your morality."
Crowley shrugged, but internally he couldn't help but feel that this wasn't such an excellent turn of events. Saving the world wasn't worth it if he ended up in hell anyway.
"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to make it up to you…"
"He thought you would say that. There is a task set for you, if you are demon enough to see it through."
--xxXxx--
Priceless works of literature covered with layers of dust lay neglected as their owner flipped through a magazine, feet resting on a coffee table as he relaxed in his favourite armchair. The tinkle of the bell at the front of the shop went unnoticed; his attention was captivated by an article about weight loss.
It wasn't until his visitor opened the door to the back room that Aziraphale looked up from his magazine and greeting him with the question:
"Have you heard of these MEALS?"
Crowley had planned to just do what he came to do and get it over with, but as soon as he walked in on the angel, looking so peaceful with his mug of hot tea and the strands of golden hair that fell over his face, he realised that he couldn't. Not without warning, at least. After four thousand years he owed him that much.
Aziraphale continued, oblivious to this internal torment. "They're supposed to make you lose six stone within four months. If you ask me, they sound absolutely ghastly."
The angel frowned and looked up with a questioning glance. "I don't mean to be impolite, but what exactly are you doing here Crowley?"
Running his tongue over dry lips, Crowley replied, "I've just been to see my superiors." He pointed downwards as he said this.
Nodding, face filled with concern, Aziraphale put down the magazine to give Crowley his full attention.
"They, ah, aren't too happy with me at the moment," Crowley continued, unable to look the angel in the eyes. "They threatened eternal torment, actually. I only got away by promising that I'd… carry out an assignment."
"I'm unsure why that brings you to my humble abode, my dear."
Crowley sighed. This was his last chance. If he didn't do it now, he would never be able to.
"I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely, wishing up ropes to bind Aziraphale to his chair. A look of confusion crossed the angel's face, followed shortly by understanding.
"You were instructed to kill me," he realised as Crowley stood over him, one leg either side of his own, which were bound tightly together. The demon laughed without mirth and lowered himself onto the angel's lap, straddling him, and wished away his clothes.
"Not exactly." He stretched out his arms, placing them on either side of Aziraphale's head. "I was instructed to take away your virtue."
"I don't understand," the angel murmured. Burning hot lips placed themselves over his, making it clear what Crowley meant. The demon pulled away after a few seconds; he had only intended the kiss as an explanation.
"But angels are sexless…"
Crowley shook his head, one finger trailing downwards to rest on the very obvious evidence that he was lying. Aziraphale's nose twitched at the contact. This threw Crowley slightly. For some reason he found himself trying to resist the urge to bend down and kiss the tip of the angel's nose. Realising that his finger was still touching that sensitive place, he took his hand away and stood up, turning away from the angel and taking a deep breath.
"Fuck," he murmured to himself. "This is stupid. Pull yourself together."
"May I make a suggestion?" Aziraphale spoke up from the chair. Somehow, despite his nudity, he still managed to maintain his air of dignity. Crowley tried to ignore him as he paced the room.
"Not if you're going to suggest that I not go through with this. I have no choice."
"You could untie me."
Crowley stopped in his tracks. Something had occurred to him.
"Why haven't you untied yourself? You're perfectly capable, you know."
"I know."
The demon stared at him. Saying nothing, he turned and left the shop.
--xxXxx--
The kiss lingered in his mind. He tried his best to drown it out, even resorting to turning on his wide screen television and flicking through the porn channels. This just served to worsen the frustration that he already felt. He blamed Aziraphale for this. The infuriating angel was being righteous again. If he thought that he could redeem Crowley, he had another thing coming.
The demon's nonsensical thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. This struck him as strange for two reasons. Firstly, no one ever visited him. Secondly, he had a doorbell.
Reluctantly getting up off the leather sofa in his living room, he went to find out who was at the door.
"I'm not interested in buying whatever it is you're-"
He was stopped short when he saw Aziraphale standing in his doorway wearing a woolly scarf and mittens.
--xxXxx--
Fiddling with the knobs on his coffee machine, Crowley tried to fathom what Aziraphale was doing in his flat. Was it normal for someone to turn up at the doorstep of the person who intended to rape him?
Giving up his quest to make coffee, he returned to the living room where the angel was sitting on his sofa. He had removed the mittens and scarf and was gazing around the room in interest.
"It hasn't been that long since I was last here, surely. You've completely redecorated. How intriguing."
He seemed to have forgotten that less than an hour ago, Crowley had been sitting on top of him, about to force himself upon him. The demon joined the angel on the sofa, narrowing his eyes.
"I know what you're doing," he accused. Aziraphale blinked innocently.
"Really? I wasn't aware that I was doing anything."
"You're flirting with me, trying to confuse me so that I won't complete my assignment. You think that just because you're so… so infuriatingly endearing, that I won't be able to go through with it."
The angel's perfect lips began to curl slightly upwards. "You find me endearing?"
Crowley's eyes were fixated as a blush spread over Aziraphale's cheeks. "Bless," he swore, swallowing hard. He could feel a hardening in his crotch, another human characteristic that he wasn't supposed to possess. The angel was winning this battle of wills, and what was worse was that Crowley didn't care. Right now, all he wanted was to feel those soft pink lips pressed up against his once again.
Growling in frustration, he crawled forward to the other end of the sofa and pounced.
Aziraphale found himself lying flat on his back, fingers entangled in Crowley's messy black hair as they suddenly found themselves kissing furiously. Dexterous fingers undid the top button of the angel's shirt, working their way down until they were able to pull the garment open and get to his chest. Crowley sat up, hands placed firmly on the angel's torso, pinning him down.
"Stay," he ordered, removing his hands to undo the button at the top of Aziraphale's trousers. He paused at the zipper in order to look up at the horizontal angel lying underneath him. Aziraphale's face was a mixture of lust and hesitation. The demon grinned and undid the zip, freeing the angel's legs of the trousers, amused to find that he wore nothing underneath.
"Kinky as well as endearing," he mused, running his hands down the angel's naked body. From the gasps that emerged from between those perfect lips, he could tell that Aziraphale was extremely sensitive. This gave him an idea.
"What are you doing?" Aziraphale inquired as Crowley moved down his legs, planting kisses along the way until he reached the angel's feet. In reply, the demon wrapped his mouth around the big toe of his left foot and began sucking relentlessly.
"Oh," the angel sighed blissfully. "Could you possibly keep doing that?"
The demon took his mouth away and ran his tongue from the tip of the toe to the base, then down the sole to the ball of the foot. He repeated this with the right foot, all the while delighting in tiny gasps of pleasure from the other end of the sofa.
Growing bored of this, Crowley stood up and made quick work of his own clothing before returning to his original position of lying on top of the angel, pressing their bodies together. He could feel Aziraphale's erection harden at the contact. The hesitation was gone from his face, allowing lust to take over. Running his hands down the angel's supple thighs, he felt strong legs wrap around him as he was turned over onto his back. The two of them rolled off the sofa onto the floor, the soft carpet cushioning their fall as they battled for dominance, each determined to be on top.
"I hope you didn't imagine you were going to win, old chap," Aziraphale murmured into his mouth as he slid a hand between Crowley's legs. "A demon's place is underneath, after all."
"Cocky bastard," Crowley tried to say as a tongue very gently and insistently invaded his mouth. He gave up on trying to speak when a steady hand wrapped itself around his erection and a thumb rubbed over the head of his cock.
"Do relax," Aziraphale murmured gently. "You're only doing what you've been ordered to, after all."
The thought that perhaps Aziraphale wasn't the one being taken advantage of crossed Crowley's mind before a finger slid slowly inside him and he brushed the thought away. He wondered whether it was possible to be tainted by lubricant wished into existence by an angel.
"I told you to relax," said Aziraphale. The finger inside Crowley twisted suddenly and he failed to stop himself from moaning out loud, to his embarrassment and Aziraphale's amusement.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" the angel said quietly. A second finger pushed past the ring of muscle and joined the first, stretching Crowley out enough that shivers of pleasure went through him every time Aziraphale moved his fingers.
Clarity of thought was starting to deteriorate by the time those fingers were replaced with the angel's cock, thicker and harder than anything he was used to. When Crowley opened his eyes, he saw pure white feathers, covering him like a blanket of snow. He was vaguely aware of having transformed at some point himself, because his snakelike tongue was wrapped around Aziraphale's in a way that should be impossible in his human form, and his own dark wings were spread out beneath him as if to cushion his fall.
Hips bucking desperately, he felt his orgasm like someone lying on a train track feels an approaching locomotive. Aziraphale pinned him against the floor as he came, gasping out curses long forgotten by mankind, his seed spilling over his chest, the angel's hand and his spotless cream carpet. Right now, while Aziraphale held him down and continued to fuck him until he reached his own release, he lacked the motivation to care.
They lay on the floor together, wings out, Crowley twitching occasionally as Aziraphale traced meaningless patterns on his skin. At some point, when his brain managed to find its way from his spent cock back into his brain, he'd complain that it tickled.
Aziraphale was the first to speak. "I should think your superiors will be satisfied with that, don't you?"
Crowley was bothered firstly by the fact that the Forces of Darkness might have been watching him being fucked by an angel and secondly that Aziraphale only participated in such an act to save Crowley from the pits of Hell.
"That tickles," he complained instead, waving his hand in a disoriented sort of way. The manner in which Aziraphale continued to trace patterns on his chest suggested that he sensed Crowley's unease.
"Would you mind terribly if I told you I love you?" the angel asked as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. This threw Crowley more than his sudden appearance at his flat a couple of hours ago. With a sigh of defeat, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to be tickled.
"You always have to get the last word, don't you?" he muttered as he felt himself drift off into sleep. The last thing he heard was a gentle chuckle of amusement and a warm body, complete with feathery blanket, covered his.