A.N. I've never written anything like this before. Ever. It took forever to finish it. I think the fact that I did, probably says a lot about my deprived little mind. Enjoy.
Rated M for sexy fun times, sappiness and swearing.
If asked to describe what kissing felt like, Aziraphale would have resorted to reciting literature, dating through all of human history, describing the act which seemed to have humans so enthralled. He could say what it looked like, because he'd seen them do it so many times; ranging from a chaste peck on the cheek to far more intimate acts. At several points through history, greeting ones friends was associated with a kindly peck on the cheek so he at least knew what that felt like. But he had no idea what the more intimate kisses felt like.
Thousands of years ago in a country that no longer existed, a man called Kephi, an impressive scholar, had once very lightly brushed his lips against Aziraphale's and that had ended in disaster. (*1) The resulting shock had driven the unsuspecting human away and the angel had sworn to never let it happen again. There had been many times he'd been sorely tempted, particularly in the 18th and 19th centuries; he'd had a decided weakness for romantic poets. But he'd never actually given in.
The last things on his mind now were long dead poets and forgotten scholars, that was for sure.
The moment that Crowley had leaned in, almost but not quite touching, Aziraphale had felt his divine light itching at his skin, threatening to burst through his human (ish) body and blind the demon in its intensity, or worse, discorporate him. His heart was beating a cacophonous noise against his chest and he flushed against the dim light of the bookshop. He'd found himself unable to move, staring with darkened eyes between the demons' own glowing, yellow ones and his slightly parted lips.
"Tell me to go away and I will," Crowley remarked, his voice calm as he tried to get the tense angel to relax. "Anyway, we both know you're stronger than me. You already proved you can fry my brain without even trying to or you could burn me with Heavenly light..."
"...I...I don't want..." Aziraphale stammered, beginning to shiver.
"You don't want...what...this?"
"...I...d...don't..."
"Okay then," Crowley replied, unable to hide his disappointment and he drew back, running a hand through his hair.
Aziraphale made an embarrassing sound of protest and before he could even think about it, one of his hands had grabbed the front of Crowley's black shirt and held him there before he get any further away. The demon blinked at him in shock and Aziraphale blushed even more as he frantically released the demon's shirt from his hand.
"I mean...I don't want to hurt you," Aziraphale said, taking a deep breath and looking away. "I can feel it...my light could burn you," he said, shuddering and rubbing his upper arms, his skin feeling unusually tingly. "L...last time I...well, you know what happened," he muttered.
"I wasn't planning on running away, angel," Crowley said, remembering the story that Aziraphale had recounted to him.
"I don't mean that, I know you wouldn't, dear, I mean...have you any idea what could happen if you were exposed to the true light of an angel?!" Aziraphale asked, his voice frantic.
"I've seen some of your light show before and I haven't burst into flames. Maybe I've got used to it a bit."
"I don't think it works that way," Aziraphale smiled. "I didn't mean to imply that I was in any way opposed to the...erm..." he stammered.
"Kissing?" Crowley grinned smugly at him and he nodded. "Well, okay, look...I admit I had some trouble not going full on demon sometimes at the beginning but it just takes practice," he said.
"I..." Aziraphale looked unconvinced.
"I know you're not gonna thank me for saying this but I'm just gonna say it. You've been like this for ages, admit it, you're...well, you're horny, okay, I'm a demon, I can sense it so don't even try lying about it. You're not really the world's best liar anyway."
"T...that's hardly an...a...appropriate..."
"To Hell with 'appropriate', angel. You're gonna drive yourself nuts..."
"So...you were...just being kind..." Aziraphale hung his head and closed his eyes, "The Arrangement...lend a hand when needed...I see."
"Urgh, sometimes you can be so stupid," Crowley lamented, "You're the cleverest bloke...err...being...I've ever met but sometimes you just...This has nothing to do with our Arrangement. It's been kind of null and void for a while now anyway, right?"
"Well..."
"Not only are you gonna drive yourself crazy, you're gonna make me crazy too. I thought I was being pretty obvious about it. Any more obvious and I'd have needed a sixty foot high neon sign...with flashing lights," Crowley said, flopping dramatically off the sofa and onto the floor, lying sprawled out at the angel's feet. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" he asked, "You're always saying you can sense...it...so what's the problem? Unless I'm not doing it right."
"What..."
"I brought you presents..."
"You've always given me presents, dear, they're always lovely," Aziraphale remarked.
"I practically live here...I moved a lot of my stuff here..."
"Yes, oh, incidentally, I tried using your television earlier and, well...I think something went wrong," the angel flushed.
"I basically redecorated your bedroom for Chr...for Satan...for someone's sake! I put tartan in it for you. Bloody tartan!"
"And very nice it is too," Aziraphale nodded.
"Even your stupid customers think we're...you're really not getting it, are you?" Crowley asked, scoffing incredulously.
"What, my dear?"
Crowley hissed in frustration and leapt up so that he was kneeling in front of Aziraphale who was still sitting on the sofa. "That I want to..." he growled and took the angels' hands in his own. "That I want you," he said, staring up at Aziraphale, "In a...more than friendly kind of way...have done for...a while."
"I...oh dear," the angel blushed.
"I've been in your head, angel, and I know damn well you want me too," Crowley said. It had been about a month since then and since then, the angel had been even more skittish then usual. Crowley had slept for an entire day after it had happened and Aziraphale hadn't left his side, neither had he stopped apologising for weeks. Naturally, the angel had withdrawn into himself out of guilt and embarrassment but Crowley had decided to throw caution to the wind.
In a gesture that surprised even himself, he landed gentle kisses on Aziraphale's hands; to the palms, the wrists, the surprisingly smooth skin on his knuckles. Each one seemed to make the angel shiver more than the last and his breathing hitched.
"I did...r...rather suspect," Aziraphale replied. "I'm not exactly very experienced in these matters...and I...I thought that it would be safer for...for you if we never...If Heaven ever found out...they'd destroy you. I couldn't...risk...You mean too much..."
"So we just...what...stay friends? For all eternity? You can be friends with someone you...lo...damn it. This," he said, tightening his grip on Aziraphale' hands, "Doesn't mean everything changes. We do everything else that stupid humans do when they're...We have lunch, we get drunk, we go for walks, we practically live together, we give each other nice things, we have movie night and argue about what to watch. But it's not enough anymore. I know you know it too. And I get it, it makes you nervous...but, you think I'm any better? I'm a demon, I'm not meant to want..."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Aziraphale sighed, hearing the conflicting anguish in Crowley's voice as he trailed off. He prised one of his hands free of the demons grasp and placed it against Crowley's cheek. The demon leaned into it like a moth drawn to a flame. "You're right...it does make me...nervous. I'm afraid I've gotten used to the idea that I can't...that we're on opposite sides and that it's safer for you...for both of us...to keep it that way."
"To Hell with 'safer'," Crowley snapped.
"Eloquently put, dear," the angel gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "I've been horribly terse with you at times just lately, haven't I?" Aziraphale sighed a minute later.
"People get a bit snappy when they're sexually frustrated," Crowley shrugged, "Usually that's what makes tempting them so easy."
"That's no excuse. I'm not a 'person', I'm an angel. And I'm not...frustrated...I..."
"Come on, angel, I'm not an idiot. I've been around the block a few times, I know what that looks like. And anyway...been inside your head, remember." Crowley reiterated. "Took a couple of days to make sense of any of it though. You think too much. Gave me brain ache," he smiled.
"Another reason why we probably shouldn't..."
"D'you want to though?" Crowley asked.
Aziraphale trailed the backs of his soft fingers down the right side of the demon's face. He hadn't noticed, but that hand was shaking ever so slightly and Crowley put his own hand over it to steady it. "Yes," the angel admitted, quietly, "More than anything."
Slowly, Crowley stood up and sat beside the angel back on the sofa, close enough that they were touching and he leaned closer again. He planted the lightest of kisses on Aziraphale's lips and then drew back, choosing not to comment on the whine that the angel made.
"There, see...you didn't explode in divine light," he remarked, "S' a good start, right?"
Aziraphale was sat unmoving, feeling his lips burning, his skin heating up with a blush and all he could hear was the heavy thudding of his own heartbeat which seemed to threaten both his sanity and his ear drums to the point of bursting them.
"Angel?" Crowley startled him.
Aziraphale let out a shaky breath and stared at he demon with the same expression he'd had for centuries; almost every time through all of history when he'd seen Crowley, his face seemed to light up and his eyes shone. "C...can you...would you be so good as to...d...do that again...please?" he stammered.
Crowley's cooler hand snaked up to rest on the back of Aziraphale's warm, flushed neck and his fingers lightly played with the blonde curls sending a shudder of delight through the touch starved angel. As he shuddered, the demon gave him another feather light kiss, lingering a little longer than before, but still it was brief. It was still enough to draw out another quiet moan though.
"That okay?" he asked, still toying with the fine hairs at the nape of Aziraphale's neck.
Aziraphale nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak. "Again?" Crowley asked and again, the angel nodded.
Gently bringing Aziraphale closer to him, he kissed the angel for the third time, with one hand still at the nape of his neck and the other now resting on his back. This kiss was far less chaste than the others and it took Aziraphale completely off guard. He could taste the sweet flavour of the wine they'd been sipping earlier and he jumped in shock when he first felt Crowley's tongue against his lips, then it swirled around his own and mapped out the confines of his mouth. Having no idea what to do, he tried his best to simply mirror what Crowley was doing but he found that he couldn't keep up.
The hand against his back, though gentle, touched his shoulder blades in the exact place where his wings were joined and without realising it, the two snowy, feathered appendages ruffled into being. The hand at his hair was raking blissful little touches over his scalp and it was altogether amounting to sensory overload.
Aziraphale moaned, the sound muffled by the warm mouth still moving against his own and, nervously, he brought up one shaky hand to rest on Crowley's back, copying what the demons' was doing.
As he'd always said, Aziraphale could sense love. It was a fairly recent admission to himself that he loved Crowley, it had been there for a long time, but he'd never allowed himself to admit it, that would've been dangerous. But things had changed since the failed Apocalypse. He hadn't known what to do about it all and then Crowley had been turned into a snake and the whole thing had taken second place to his worry and his concern. Now apparently, Crowley had gotten impatient and no longer feared the possibility of Heaven's wrath. So, not only was his head swimming with his own emotions, he could feel Crowley's too which the demon seemed to be pouring into his kiss and his every touch. It was suffocating, like he was drowning in it but despite that, it didn't feel at all unpleasant. It meant that Aziraphale's world had narrowed to the small space on the sofa that they occupied and the rest of creation was suddenly non existent.
Aziraphale felt like he couldn't get close enough to Crowley, no matter how much he clumsily shuffled, it just wasn't enough. His knees were touching Crowley's, their lips were locked, one of his arms was hooked around the demons' back and the other he brought up to rake through the messily styled, red hair but it still wasn't enough. Aziraphale moaned and couldn't understand why it wasn't enough. They'd never been as physically close as they were at that moment but why did he still ache for more? In an effort to placate the voice in his head that was screaming for more, Aziraphale pressed his body closer to Crowley's but found that he could literally get no further as he was having to half turn his body on the sofa since they were sitting side by side.
"Y'okay?" Crowley asked, pulling back a little when the angel whined again and he soothingly ran his hand down through Aziraphale's hair and over his wings.
"Hmmm," the angel hummed, opening his eyes. He didn't even remember closing them. He doubted he could form a coherent sentence even if he wanted to so instead, he kissed the demon back, initiating their fourth kiss in an act of boldness that he'd probably be embarrassed by later. Again, he tried to get as close to Crowley as possible but it still felt like his human shell just wasn't able to do it. He hadn't felt like there was such a disconnect with his body and his ethereal self since the Beginning.
He was jostled out of this internal dilemma when Crowley began to carefully press a hand against his chest and push him to lie back down on the sofa. His eyes darted frantically from the hand on his chest to Crowley's face, wordlessly wondering what he was doing.
"Jusssssst lie back, angel," the demon muttered against his lips, only barely breaking their kiss.
He let Crowley guide him into lying down and the demons' other hand was still cradling his head, using it to lay Aziraphale's head down on a cushion as though he were made of glass and might shatter easily. The fact that his wings were protruding from his back made it difficult though and he winced, pulling away from their kiss when one of the wings got caught at an uncomfortable angle between his body and the sofa.
"Shit," Crowley grumbled. He was propping himself up over Aziraphale and he looked down at the angel, his yellow eyes darting over the slightly pained expression on his face. "What? What's wrong?" he asked.
"N...nothing, just...m...my wing, it's..." Aziraphale said, fumbling with said appendage and with Crowley's help, they managed to drape one wing over the back of the sofa and the other was lying limp against the floor. "Sorry," he muttered, sheepishly, "I erm...didn't realise I'd...that they were..."
The angel was only now noticing that along with his wings appearing without him noticing and that Crowley was effectively straddling him, one leg by the back of the sofa and the other had nestled between Aziraphale's own legs at some point. The demon buried both his hands in the soft feathers and Aziraphale moaned before he had the chance to be embarrassed, his eyes flickering shut again. "Oh...that feels...heavenly," he whispered, lying back.
While he was otherwise distracted, Crowley moved one hand to deftly remove the tartan bow tie and unfasten a few of the top buttons of Aziraphale's white shirt so that he had access to the angel's neck. He then proceeded to kiss the soft skin he found there, eliciting wanton moans of approval as he alternated between kissing and sucking and licking every inch of Aziraphale's neck and jaw. Then, methodically, he moved to the angel's ear and lightly bit the delicate ear lobe. At that, Aziraphale's arms wound around his back tightly, one linked underneath Crowley's right arm and the other tossed around his neck, his moan now louder than the last.
"Y'like that, huh?" Crowley grinned.
"Hmmm," Aziraphale let out a heady moan and he shuddered, his eyes glassy.
"Ssssssensitive, aren't you, angel?" the demon chucked as he continued, trailing his lips down Aziraphale's neck again. He savoured each and every sigh and moan and whine that came from the angel's lips.
Despite the fact that he liked to think he had developed an iron willpower over the centuries, at the sound of each one, Crowley's blood rushed south and he bit his lip in a bid to ignore it. He reached one hand down to Aziraphale's left knee and gently hitched it up to rest against his side, pressing his body sensually against the angels'. Crowley had long since discovered the joys of human sexuality and he'd taken his time exploring each and every inventive way of manipulating their fragile bodies. He'd reported it as a great success to his superiors, telling them that they barely had to lift a finger and the humans would be begging for mercy. Some had approved and some hadn't. Some had even tried it for themselves.
Ethereal and occult beings were created fully formed and genderless. They technically had no need for reproductive organs or desires, but at times when living on Earth throughout history it was perhaps arguable that to blend in, they were sometimes necessary; public bathing had been popular for some time and it would be rather difficult not to draw attention to yourself if you didn't have the proper equipment so to speak. So they had the ability to create them, they could create practically anything they wanted and as Crowley pressed his body down over Aziraphale's it was clear that the angel had never bothered to do that while he himself had.
"Oh," the angel breathed shakily, when their bodies were flush against the other.
Having read practically every book in existence and from observing Adam and Eve in the Beginning (really he hadn't meant to look, but they'd just been lying there right in the open, completely unashamed) Aziraphale wasn't ignorant of what happened to human bodies when aroused, but knowledge didn't equal experience and he was certainly surprised when the hard, insistent evidence of Crowley's own arousal was pressing down against his thigh. It added another facet to the sensual onslaught he was faced with and while part of his brain was worriedly telling him that this was too much, too fast, another louder part was saying the exact opposite, that it wasn't nearly enough.
Without realising it, Aziraphale had rolled his hips ever so slightly against the demon's in an attempt to recreate that first jolt of friction he'd felt just a few seconds ago. He wasn't disappointed and he breathed out a deep, shaky sigh. When Crowley felt him move, he grinned and rolled his hips against Aziraphale in a slow, repetitive motion but it made the angel writhe beneath him with every move.
Demons were selfish creatures, Crowley was a demon and therefore by extension, he too was selfish. Demons weren't meant to care about others. They only cared about getting what they wanted. Crowley had an angel who was clearly willing and receptive to his attentions like so many of the humans he'd tempted before but in every other sexual encounter, he'd put his own gratification first. He'd never taken the time to do what he was doing now. Why bother? But this was different; this was Aziraphale. His best friend, a fussy bookworm who could also, if he'd chose to, easily discorporate him. A virgin angel who'd willingly admitted that he'd barely ever had one kiss throughout all of human history was actively trying to bring their bodies even closer together than they already were and was moaning when they touched.
He, one of the Fallen, was making an angel moan in bliss. It was an astonishing display of trust from Aziraphale who had only ever displayed the utmost embarrassment when faced with physical affection. But it had to be said that the sight of an angel, tossing his head back in the throws of pleasure was a glorious sight. Crowley was committing the sight to memory as he leaned over the angel, telling himself that it was done out of pride, not sentimentality, but really who was he kidding? For years he'd hated the fact that he'd developed an almost co-dependency on Aziraphale but he could never bring himself to hate the angel himself. Now that was all ancient history. Literally. He still couldn't bring himself to say the word 'love', perhaps one day, but he could admit that everything else in the entirety of creation was meaningless compared to Aziraphale. Surely that admission was worth more than one paltry, four letter word.
Aziraphale was breathing heavily, all conscious thoughts obliterated and he began to emit a pale, divine glow. Naturally, he himself didn't notice it but Crowley did. Unlike other demons, Crowley could tolerate exposure to more divine light than was really healthy. He didn't know why, maybe he'd been around Aziraphale for so long that he'd acclimatised to it, just a little. Or maybe it was because it was Aziraphale's light specifically and it genuinely didn't want to hurt him. Regardless, enough of it would kill him just as it would any other demon. But this light that Aziraphale was emitting felt more of a comfort than a threat. It was warm and soothing, not harmful at all.
After a moment, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley had stopped his exquisite assault on his neck and that he'd stopped moving his hips in that tortuous rolling motion that had set him writhing. When he forced his eyes open, Aziraphale found an unconcealed expression of adoration etched onto the demons' angular face. It was stunning in its intensity and the warm tendrils of love that Aziraphale could feel from it were enough to make him shudder again right from the tips of his wings to his toes.
"C...Crowley?" he panted, his thoughts still scattered and sluggish.
Usually Aziraphale thought of several things all time no matter what he was doing; his latest translation project, where he'd next like to go for lunch, the next book he'd like to hunt down for his collection. Things like that. Things that usually were very important to him, but now the only thing on his mind was Crowley; his hands, his fingers, his lips and the undeniable, denim clad erection that had been pressing against his own thigh.
"Mmmm?" the demon muttered, tilting his head a little.
"...Please..."
"Please what, angel?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow smugly.
"Please," Aziraphale begged, hazily, "P...please don't stop."
His pride appeased again, Crowley lowered himself back over the angel and kissed him possessively, he felt Aziraphale's arms tighten around him with strength enough to severely bruise a human, but fortunately he wasn't human. Crowley left a trail of hard nips and kisses down Aziraphale's jaw and neck and he deftly worked to pop a few more buttons on the angel's white shirt, then proceeded to suck at his collar bones and trail his fingers over every inch of newly exposed, smooth skin. To Crowley it felt like touching the finest silk.
Tentatively, Crowley could feel one of Aziraphale's hands sliding its way under the hem of his black shirt to very slowly touch the much cooler skin on his lower back. After a moment, he splayed his whole hand over Crowley's back, then it moved higher and five manicured nails burrowed into his skin when the demon licked at Aziraphale's ear lobe. He'd used his snake tongue for that and it flicked devilishly, earning him a surprised yelp which trailed off as a moan when that tongue began to map its way around the delicate cartilage of the ear itself.
Aziraphale's other arm was around Crowley's neck and his hand, like the other, was shakily finding its way under the demon's shirt to better grasp at his neck. Crowley couldn't help but shudder happily at the angel's touch and he buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder for a moment as he exhaled.
"Shit," Crowley mumbled. He was supposed to be the one in charge, not an inexperienced angel, but Aziraphale's tentative touches were making his blood boil in a way that no other of his lovers had ever done. Maybe it was emphasised by the fact that he'd wanted to touch the angel for so long, and be touched in return, so now that it was happening, everything felt like it was being enhanced a hundredfold.
Aziraphale caressed the back of his neck, soothingly while the hand beneath his shirt continued to map out the skin on his back with increasing confidence as though he knew the effect it was having. The bastard. Crowley raised his head from Aziraphale's shoulder and kissed him with renewed vigour, hard enough to bruise and long enough to leave them both gasping for air even though they didn't need to breathe.
Quietly cursing the angel's propensity to wear layers, Crowley didn't even bother with the row of fiddly buttons of Aziraphale's waistcoat and used a handy demonic miracle instead to undo them in the blink of an eye. He then did the same with the remaining buttons on the white shirt and then he splayed both his palms on the angel's exposed chest and felt Aziraphale flinch at the unexpected touch.
"Ohhhh..." Aziraphale exhaled, shakily and opened his eyes to see that his clothes had been unfastened.
"Feelsss good?" Crowley questioned, smirking. At any moment he half expected the angel to demand that they stop out of embarrassment and then precede to ignore him for a century, two centuries or more if he was particularly unlucky, leaving him with just a tantalising taste of what he could've had. After all, he was a demon to be forever denied even the slightest touch of Heaven again, and this was Heaven.
"...Oh..." Aziraphale sighed, again.
"That mean 'yes'?" Crowley asked him and the angel nodded.
While Aziraphale described himself as 'soft', it wasn't necessarily a bad thing; that was how he'd been designed after all. He looked like the angels found in a Renaissance painting with elegant curves and graceful limbs. That's to say, in appearance, he was Crowley's opposite. Despite that, the angel had been created as a soldier of heaven. There was undeniable muscle beneath skin that was decidedly very smooth, very soft and very much hairless.
Crowley took his time, passing his tongue over the gloriously smooth skin, starting at Aziraphale's belly button and moving his way up to then pay extra attention to the rosy pink nipples, making the angel jolt in shock.
"Ssssso sssmooth," Crowley murmured, nuzzling his face against the angel's chest. "S'like silk," he noted, "Better than ssssilk."
"T...that'll be the...the...lavender and the...the...erm...oh, good lord," Aziraphale trailed off when Crowley's teeth passed over one of his nipples and his hand pinched the other. "Nmmmmm...I know I'm...Gab...Gabriel said I've gotten too...mmmm...soft...eaten too many...ohhh..." he murmured, trying to cover himself up but Crowley stopped him.
"He's an idiot," Crowley told him, gently running his hands over Aziraphale's chest again and kissing the angel, leaving him breathless.
"B...but..." Aziraphale stammered, pulling back.
"Y'sssshouldn't be thinking about him at all...ever," Crowley reiterated, "Esssssspecially not now."
"I'm...I'm not...only..."
"Ssssssshhhhhh," the demon hissed into his ear and lightly bit it again. "Whatever the bastard said, he's a fucking idiot. Right?" he said, biting Aziraphale's ear a little more forcefully.
"...Nmmm..."
"Right?" Crowley repeated, leaning up and using one hand to forcefully raise the angel's head up so that their noses were touching.
"...R...right..." Aziraphale stammered, moaning when Crowley kissed him again.
"Damn...fucking...bastard..." the demon muttered through the kiss.
"P...please d...don't...c...curse...dearest," Aziraphale muttered back, clawing at Crowley's hair and his back.
"Bastard deserves it," he said and he felt Aziraphale smile against his own lips.
"...V...very kind of you...I'm...I'm sure..."
"I'm not kind!" Crowley hissed, pulling away and forcefully pushing the angel back down. "I'm a demon!" he exclaimed.
Aziraphale stared up at him, shocked for a moment at the demon's abrupt mood change, but he could see the confusion and doubt in Crowley's eyes, so he smiled, gently. Crowley always hated being called 'kind' or 'nice' or any positive kind of adjective. So, setting his own embarrassment aside, Aziraphale put his hand against Crowley's right cheek.
"Of course not, my dear, you're pure evil, you're a wicked, wicked tempter," he said, indulgent and watched Crowley's shudder.
"Damn right I am," the demon said.
"Forgive me?"
"Demons aren't really very forgiving," Crowley whispered.
"Then how shall I make amends?" Aziraphale asked.
"You're clever...you'll think of something," the demon replied. He took the opportunity to start removing Aziraphale's waistcoat and shirt and the angel weakly protested out of resurfacing embarrassment.
"T...those are antiques..." he stammered.
"If you don't want me to..."
"It...it's not that," Aziraphale replied, "I just..."
"I want to touch you, angel," Crowley said, sitting up, easing his weight off the angel. "And I want you to touch me, but if you don't want this, then I'll stop. I'm not that kind of demon. I've waited a long time for this but..."
"I know...you've been very patient with me," Aziraphale said, sighing. "You are good to me...no, don't say it. You are," he said, swallowing nervously as he took in the sight of Crowley's mussed hair, bright eyes and slightly askew shirt. He reached out and ran his hand from Crowley's hip and up his chest. "I want to...I just don't know...how to," he admitted.
"'Zira," Crowley said, gathering Aziraphale's hand in his own and holding it. "It's not like there's a right or wrong way to do any of this, it's just...do what feels good," he shrugged. "Besides...you're a fast learner...when you wanna be, and you're smart, you'll pick it up," he said.
"You think I'm intelligent?"
"No, I know you are."
"Oh...thank you," the angel beamed happily at him.
"Remember that debate back in Greece with all those stuffy philosophers? Socrates and whoever else was there...you talked circles round them...they were so embarrassed."
"Yes, that was rather fun, but I only did it because they'd been quite cruel to you," Aziraphale pouted.
"I did tip rotten food over them the day before," the demon grinned. He'd only done that the cheer the angel up and it had worked too.
"I know...it was funny," the angel laughed.
"You're such a bastard," Crowley shook his head and gently kissed Aziraphale on the lips again. "You looked good in that chiton though," he murmured. (*2)
"I erm...I believe I still have it," Aziraphale said, "I keep all my clothing."
"Shit...you still...have that?" the demon buried his nose into his neck and shuddered again.
"S...somewhere...yes..."
"What about those silk stockings you had in the 1700's?" (*3)
"They were dreadfully expensive, of course I kept them," Aziraphale answered. "I think that was my absolute favourite century for clothes," he mused. His wardrobe had long since been expanded by a small divine miracle and it spanned all of human history, it was one of his most prized collections. All of them had been bought and paid for since because usually he liked to spend time with his tailors appreciating their craft. He could never be rid of such great works of art.
"Course it was," Crowley chuckled, "So many frills...all that...lace."
"And what exactly is wrong with frills and lace?" Aziraphale asked.
"Nothin', angel," the demon replied, smiling and kissing Aziraphale's neck. "You looked good in 'em, 'specially the stockings," he said.
"Really, my dear," the angel blushed.
"What? You've got nice legs, y'shouldn't be shy about it," Crowley said, ghosting a hand over Aziraphale's calf and knee.
"I...erm..." the angel blinked at that statement.
Crowley solved Aziraphale's speechlessness by kissing him and then drawing back. Now not even his hands were touching the angel. "If you want me to touch you, tell me," he murmured.
"I..."
"Yeah?"
"P...please."
"You sure?"
Aziraphale nodded frantically, "Please, love, please touch me," he said.
Crowley raised an eyebrow at the new term of endearment but decided not to mention it yet. He leaned in and ran his hands up Aziraphale's sides, pushing back his clothes but not removing them. The angel surprised him by doing that himself with a minor miracle; his shirt and waistcoat vanished and reappeared neatly folded on a chair across from them with his golden pocket watch on top of them.
"Oh, fuck," the demon muttered, nuzzling the side of his face against Aziraphale's chest.
The angel was already reaching out his hands to push up Crowley's black shirt as far as he could and clearly delighting as each inch of skin was revealed. Crowley took the hint and threw off his shirt the human way, tossing it to the floor and moaning in unison with Aziraphale when he leaned back down, their bare skin meeting.
Aziraphale gently examined patches of black, serpentine scales that were dotted around seemingly at random on Crowley's chest. "Urgh," the demon exhaled.
"T...that doesn't hurt, does it?" Aziraphale asked.
"Feelssss good," he admitted, rutting his hips against the angel before he could stop himself. Tenderness and gentle touches weren't usually what took place when Crowley had done this before and it was taking him by surprise just how easy he found it to be so gentle when it was Aziraphale on the receiving end.
"S...so does that," the angel hummed. "It's erm...not really very...angelic I suppose but...oh, good lord..." he threw back his head when Crowley sucked at his chest again.
"Not angelic?" Crowley scoffed, mockingly. "Didn't you say earlier this all feels 'heavenly'?" he asked, rocking against the angel, eagerly, each movement becoming increasingly urgent.
"Ohhh...it...it does..."
Crowley pulled up Aziraphale's leg again, moving it as close as possible and pressing himself down, leaving the angel with no question that he was very, very aroused, as though he needed reminding. The demon then started massaging the angel's feathers, brushing his fingers against the most sensitive joints and kissing him deeply, not coming up for air for several minutes.
"Sssstill heavenly enough for you?" Crowley asked, but Aziraphale seemed beyond words at that point. He dragged the demon back to kiss him again and his moans growing louder, the divine glow on his skin seeping through again and his arms were tight around Crowley's back and his neck.
The light was warm and it make Crowley's skin feel like he was curled up under the sun. He and no idea how much time passed or even if he'd stopped time. All that mattered was the expression on Aziraphale's face which was putting the famous 'Ecstasy of Saint Teressa' to shame. He'd actually been the one to encourage Bernini, or Berny, as he'd called him, to make the sculpture so expressive and he was proud of it, until now.
He reached his hands as far as he could to get at the particularly sensitive wing joints on Aziraphale's back and his reward was a stammered string of words in Enochian and a moan so wanton that it set his blood aflame. Aziraphale's wings ruffled beneath him and Crowley rested his mouth next to the angel's ear.
"Nearly there, angel," he whispered, soothingly. "I've got you. Let go, 'Zira. Trust me," he said and that seemed to be enough to push Aziraphale over the precipice, moaning, writhing and literally glowing as Crowley held him close, waiting until he stilled.
At one point, only for the briefest of seconds, the light actually did feel like it was burning him, but it stopped soon enough and he managed to close his eyes so that he didnt end up being blinded. The angel was breathing heavily, sweating and shaking and Crowley manoeuvred on the sofa, making it slightly larger with a demonic miracle, so that he was reclining comfortably with his head against the arm rest, cushioned by pillows. Aziraphale was curled up mostly on top of him with one wing resting limply over them both and the other splayed out over the back of the sofa. Crowley was stroking his hand through Aziraphale's hair as he continued to shudder and after a while, the angel took a deep calming breath.
"Y'okay?" Crowley asked him.
Aziraphale tightened his arm over Crowley and nodded, nuzzling his face against the demon's bare chest. "Mmmm," he hummed, happily.
At the back of his mind, no matter how many times Aziraphale claimed that he wouldn't Fall, Crowley had been worried that Heaven wouldn't quite agree with the angel's assessment. But he needn't have worried, clearly. Aziraphale was, if possible, more angelic than ever. He was extremely relieved; Aziraphale didn't deserve to Fall. As far as Crowley was concerned, Aziraphale was more angelic than all the other angel's put together even if he was 'just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.' His wings seemed even more brilliantly white with hints of gold, the ethereal glow on his skin had only just faded and the general aura of serenity and grace was so strong, Crowley thought that the whole neighbourhood would be able to feel it. If so, there'd be a lot more happy couples and probably no crime in a five mile radius at all that night; everyone would be too busy feeling all warm and fuzzy.
He didn't suppose that demons were meant to like 'cuddling' and he'd never bothered to stay with someone afterwards, but Crowley couldn't make himself leave. He'd never felt so trusted and lying there holding a half naked angel felt more like Heaven than he could ever remember the real thing being. If it had been like this, then he definitely never would have left.
"That was wonderful. I've never felt so...loved," Aziraphale said, sheepishly. He craned his neck to look up at Crowley, looking ridiculously angelic as he did.
"I'm...I'm a demon, I can't..." Crowley replied, the old protest coming to mind automatically.
"I felt it," the angel stopped him.
"No, that's my hard on," the demon retorted quickly, completely unapologetic.
"I didn't mean...that," Aziraphale blushed. "I meant, I felt...what you feel...for me. It was beautiful. I know you hate that word...you hate all four letter words, I know, but that one in particular. Just know that...that I love you," he said.
"You're an angel...you 'love' everything'," was all Crowley managed to say after a moment.
"Not like this," Aziraphale replied, tenderly kissing Crowley's chest. "I've never loved anything or anyone like this except for you," he said. He was blushing, still clearly a little embarrassed, but Aziraphale was a being of love, admitting it aloud was simply natural for him now that he'd acknowledged it to himself. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love," he recited, flawlessly.
"...Hamlet," Crowley breathed.
"Yes."
"I...err...never got why you like that one in the first place. You cry every time."
"And you always cheer me up afterwards," the angel replied. "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
"...Austen?" the demon mused.
"You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought," Aziraphale said.
"How can you make something so sappy sound so...not."
"Arthur Conan Doyle was not 'sappy', dearest," the angel scolded him, smiling. "I can keep going, if you like," he offered. "You and I, it's as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to earth together, to see if we know what we were taught," he said.
"Who's that?"
"Boris Pasternak."
"I like that...it's ironic."
"In an odd sort of way, I suppose so. It feels as though you were made for me, and I, you. What an odd stroke of luck that we found each other, don't you think?"
"Unless it's another of Her grand bloody plans."
"If it is...I confess, I can't find it in me to object," the angel smiled. "I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all," he quoted.
"Please tell me that's you and not some writer..."
"Both I suppose. I didn't write it, but it doesn't make it any less true."
"Hmmm."
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depths and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and idea grace," Aziraphale said, kissing a trail up from Crowley's chest to his mouth.
The demon pulled Aziraphale to lie over him completely and they were cocooned by the soft feathers of the angel's wings. "That one's overused, angel," Crowley murmured through their kiss as Aziraphale clumsily, but eagerly, settled himself over Crowley, straddling him.
"But I like it," the angel whined. Crowley chuckled, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. So close that the still present erection he'd mentioned so casually earlier, was pressing up against the angel again.
"Oh," Aziraphale breathed. "Erm...is that...isn't it meant to...from what I understand...shouldn't it have...erm...gone..." he stammered.
"Would've, if I'd come, yeah," Crowley replied.
"But...but you didn't..."
"No," the demon said, stroking one of Aziraphale's wings. "I was try'na make you feel good."
"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale beamed.
"Doesn't feel like you bother with anything down there, so if it's not your thing, I can just, y'know, miracle it away. It's the humans who think genitals are the most important thing ever, not us. I'm just so used to it now."
"Well...I never really...saw much of a need for..." the angel said, suddenly embarrassed again. "But...well...it hardly seems fair that I...that you...did something so nice for me and neglected yourself," he said.
"You don't have to..."
"I want to," Aziraphale told him, quickly. "But...you may need to...show me...how to," he admitted. He sat up and tentatively eyed the bulge in Crowley's jeans with wide eyes. Pursing his lip, he started to pull down the zip and his hand brushed against Crowley's sensitive and neglected erection.
"Oh, shit," the demon moaned, tossing his head back. "'Nmmm...'Zira...you really d...don't need to...oh, fuck..." he trailed off when Aziraphale's hand touched him again. This time, much more deliberately after he'd undone the zip and gently put his hand against the black boxers underneath. "I...won't be in...a...any state t...to say anything if you keep that up," the demon scoffed.
"I...didn't...do much of anything," Aziraphale blinked.
"I know!" the demon lamented, sardonically. "Ssssshit, I never...loossssse it like thisssss," he groaned. "I'm...sssssssorry, I...mmmmmmm," he moaned again, unable to speak for a moment.
Intrigued and somewhat bemused by the effect that the slightest of touches was having on the demon, Aziraphale grinned. His embarrassment faded quickly, leaving a fierce determination behind and though he had no idea what he was doing, he continued. His touches were much less tentative now as he palmed the demon through his boxers, trying different movements and repeating whatever made the demon moan loudest.
After a minute, Aziraphale decided that Crowley's jeans were simply in the way, but they were so tight he worried that if he tried pulling them off he'd damage something.
"Crowley?" the angel said.
"Mmmmmm?"
"Can I take these off?" he asked, pulling at the denim.
"Oh God...I mean...Satan...oh, fuck, yes," the demon stammered.
Aziraphale miracle'd the jeans across the room, folded perfectly along with his own shirt and waistcoat, leaving Crowley in nothing more than his boxers. Unlike his own body, Crowley was not hairless, but it made no difference to Aziraphale.
"Ahhh...fuck...r...right there...angel..." Crowley moaned when he made another of his experimental movements. "Sssssshit...that'ssssss good," he hissed, clenching his eye shut tightly.
"These too?" Aziraphale asked, timidly using his other hand to tug at the black cotton boxers which had begun to feel wet against his hand.
Crowley nodded and with the aid of another divine miracle, the demon was naked and for a moment, the angel simply stared at him, noting the lithe muscles, pale skin and occasional scales and of course, the intimate part of his anatomy that he himself had never bothered with. It wasn't as though he'd never seen one before, some humans used to go around naked after all, but he doubted that human erections, or bodies even, had the occasional scales like Crowley did. There had definitely been times when Aziraphale had been almost tempted by humans, enough to realise that he had a preference certainly, but usually those feelings passed and be was left wonfering just why pople put so much importance on it all. Now he knew.
"A...angel..." Crowley panted, and Aziraphale's hand finally curled around him, making him sigh in relief. Soft, manicured fingers suddenly moved a little too forcefully and he yelped, making the angel flinch and release him.
"Sorry," Aziraphale exclaimed, quickly, "I'm sorry...I..."
"Sssssss fine," Crowley breathed. "Ssss jusssst sssensitive. Jusssst need to be a bit more...gentle," he said. He took the angel's hand and laid it back around him, moving the softer hand with his own, guiding it into a rhythmic motion of moving up and down and back again. "There...ssssssssee," he said, falling back limply against the sofa again.
Careful not to make the same mistake and hurt the demon, Aziraphale kept his touch gentle, his fingers easily slipping now over the base and rolling over the sensitive head to repeat the gesture.
"Angel..."
"Yes, love?"
"Fuck...kissss me..." Crowley murmured through his moans, "Pleassssse."
Aziraphale quickly lowered himself back over the writhing demon, not pausing in his movements as he joined his lips with Crowley's, smiling. "More..." Crowley muttered against him, urging Aziraphale's hand to move faster with his own. "Fassster," he begged.
Crowley's kiss was urgent, demanding and his hold on the angel was unyielding. He opened his eyes, looked up and saw not only the cherubic face of Aziraphale, but also a blanket of feathers which was an entirely new experience for him; he'd never been given a hand job under the beautiful wings of an angel before, but he supposed that there was a first time for everything even if you were 6,000 years old.
"Urgh," Crowley panted, his hips bucking up to meet Aziraphale's eager hand. "Shit," he mumbled, "'Zi...'Zira..."
"Shhhh," Aziraphale whispered to him. "Relax, love, I'm here," he said, soothingly.
"Y've...n...never c...called me...that...b...before...t...today..."
"I'll call you 'love' every day if you wish," the angel smiled, "Every day and every night for the rest of eternity."
"Mmmmm..."
"Should I recite something for you?" he asked, curiously.
"Urgh...n...no...jussssst...talk t...to me."
"Alright, love," Aziraphale replied, "About what?"
"T...tell me...t...tell me...you want this."
Aziraphale kissed him again, peppering Crowley's lips with light kisses as he spoke. "Oh, but I do," he said. "I want this. I want you, Crowley. I want to make you feel as wonderful as I did. Here, can you feel it?" he asked, spreading his wings over them and using his ethereal senses, he projected waves of the love that he felt, hoping that Crowley could sense even a fraction of it. "What you feel for me...see how happy you make me. See how my wings shine," he said.
"Ahhh...fuck," Crowley moaned, looking at the wings. "F...fuckin'...b...beautiful," he murmured at the sight of them stretched out to their considerable, full wingspan. He pulled Aziraphale down and held him tightly, burying his face in the angel's shoulder as he mentally exploded.
From practice, Crowley's wings didn't manifest themselves anymore when he orgasmed, it was just an inconvenience really when dealing with humans, but since he didn't have to worry about that here, he could feel them almost burst from his back. Almost but not quite, which was quite unusual, he'd admit. He murmured incoherently while Aziraphale soothed him with his gentle hand, unashamed as it was coated with warm, unfamiliar liquid, feeling the demon soften under his touch. Slowly, Crowley's hold on the angel loosened and he lay back limply on the sofa, panting.
Aziraphale cleaned the mess with a minuscule wave of his hand and then rested his head back on Crowley's shoulder again, curling in on the demon's side with a contented sigh. He lay there in silence, listening to the demon sigh and pant and slowly, his breathing settled.
"The Arrangement never quite covered any of this, did it," Aziraphale mused.
"Oh...fuck the Arrangement," Crowley breathed, hugging an arm around Aziraphale as the angel giggled.
"I erm...I assume that was...good...for you?"
"Y'mean it wasn't obvious?" he drawled, "Yes, angel, it was good. Damn good."
"Hmmm," Aziraphale nodded, relaxing against him, closing his eyes.
"Angel?"
"Mmmm?"
"Aren't they...err...your lot...gonna wonder what all those miracles were for?" Crowley asked and Aziraphale tensed suddenly.
"Oops," he muttered.
(*1) Ref to chapter 17
(*2) chiton - a kind of woolen tunic from Ancient Greece. I'm pretty sure there's a version for men and a different one for women.
(*3) In the 1700's, men and women wore stockings but womens' were hidden under their dresses. Stockings here doesnt mean modern tights, they were more like big socks, lol. Usually they were made of wool but I say Aziraphale had silk ones because it's more luxurious.