Okay, here we go, into Crowley and Aziraphale's last night together. How EVER shall they spend it? ;-)
Which brings me to my warning: the latter half of this chapter is NSFW. Nothing "happens" yet, but the (ahem) descriptive language gets pretty juicy! One reviewer mentioned communication as being an important component of Crowley and Aziraphale's physical relationship... well, I agree. And that's where this chapter sprang from. Also, I began this journey with Aziraphale's "education" as something of a motif - simply put, at this point in his life, he's keen to learn about sex. So, I think he would be very stimulated having scenarios described to him... both intellectually and physically.
So, if you're not interested in the sexy stuff, here's where you should stop reading: when Aziraphale says, "What's in the Stallion's bag?" From there, you should probably pick up reading again when chapter 21 is posted (meaning, skip the next chapter!).
Enjoy!
NINETEEN
It was just after two o'clock in the afternoon when Aziraphale arrived back at the flat.
The two of them went down the hall to the Meehans' and knocked on the door. Crowley reported to the couple that he and his companion would be out of town for the next week or so.
"Would you mind coming in, and misting the plants?" he asked Mrs. Meehan, holding out a key to his flat.
"Not at all," replied the delighted Mrs. Meehan, holding a squirmy Suzy Fly under one arm, and taking the key in her free hand. The dog recoiled when Crowley attempted to reach out to her, but was all too keen to lick Aziraphale's fingers, and wag her tail when he smiled at her.
"They've had their misting for today," Crowley said. "We're leaving at midnight tonight, so they'll need another misting in the morning."
"I can do that," she agreed.
"The plants themselves are down the back hallway, and the mister is just sitting there on the pedestal next to one of the pots. Oh, and erm… there are a couple of plants in the bedroom. The one on the left."
Aziraphale momentarily frowned quizzically, but realised soon enough that Crowley was trying to ensure that Mrs. Meehan would find them.
"No problem," she said. "Would you gents like to come in for some tea and biscuits?"
The demon tried to beg off, but the angel couldn't help but accept. They spent about an hour in the Meehan's stylish, boxy, 1960's-themed parlour, having tea from the couple's last trip to the Middle East. Mrs. Meehan apologised for intruding upon them earlier, at Kiptyn's. Crowley and Aziraphale waved it off as no problem, but did not offer any explanation as to what had upset them both so much.
They dodged questions about themselves that would have been simple to answer, had they been human, ("How long have you been together?" "How did you meet?") but proved very complicated, under the circumstances. Instead, they learned quite a lot about the Meehans, including their first names (Louise and Oliver), how many children they had (four), grandchildren (twelve, the youngest just born five weeks prior), and all of their world travels (impressively extensive).
"Well, perhaps when we flit of to New York this Christmas, you boys can return the favour, and water our plants," she said, smiling.
"If we are in a position to do so, Mrs. Meehan, we would be more than happy to," Aziraphale said, with a tight smile.
They also learned that Mr. Meehan had been a commodities broker, and Mrs. Meehan had been an ED nurse before their retirement. This made Aziraphale, at the very least, feel better about the fact that she might, tomorrow morning, find their lifeless bodies whilst misting plants. Perhaps it wouldn't scar her for life, if she'd seen worse things in the ED?
After that, they returned to their own home, and retired to the kitchen. Aziraphale inspected the foods Crowley had purchased – two lovely-looking organic filet mignons, some crisp, perfectly-formed asparagus, red potatoes, and fresh truffles.
"What's in there?" he asked Crowley, pointing to a small black shopping bag, sitting on the counter. It had a barely-there logo on it, a slightly shinier texture of black, depicting the head and torso of a very sleek horse, and the word Stallion's.
Crowley leaned on the counter with one hand, coolly. "Do you really want to know now?"
"Oh," Aziraphale said, crisply, suddenly realising what sort of store Stallion's must be. "I… I think not. Let's leave that until later, shall we?"
Crowley smirked, then began unpacking cooking equipment from cupboards.
Shortly, they began arranging their evening meal. They decided to prepare the filets sous-vide style, guaranteeing a slow cook, a tender texture, and locked-in flavour. They clipped, washed, and brushed the asparagus with olive oil. They cut the potatoes into manageable bite-size pieces, brushed them, then preheated the oven. They shaved the truffles to perfume the vegetables, then began the roasting. As an afterthought, Crowley mixed some crêpe batter for dessert, then made a raspberry reduction with a bit of brandy.
They opened the wine early, of course, and moved about the kitchen, chatting and laughing about their exploits both together and apart, having a different kind of side-by-side rapport than they had ever had. It was the sort of domesticity that could have spoken to a future for them, sharing space, sharing a home, sharing un-self-conscious reminiscences, everyday tasks, easy friendship, hard-earned love, reliable companionship… but neither of them stopped to take stock, because they knew it was not to be. It was a simple collection of moments to be enjoyed in the here and now, and that was it.
When it was finally time to sit down to dinner, the two of them were already half-drunk, ravenous, and miraculously happy. They had never had to live as though tomorrow would never come, and in spite of themselves, they found that this sort of moment-seizing made them forget their problems for a bit.
They toasted with Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and dug into a fantastic, lovingly-prepared dinner, each of them satisfied that they were spending this time with literally the only being in the universe worth seeing out life with. Crowley partook as enthusiastically as Aziraphale, while still enjoying watching the angel experience his food. They had dessert with coffee, and then pushed their plates aside. They sat at the kitchen table, grasping hands for a few moments, before Aziraphale became the one to break the silence.
"I heard something very nice about you today," he said.
"Really? That's rare. You're the only one who ever says nice things about me."
"Well, it wasn't so much something nice about you, but rather, something nice that you said."
Crowley smirked again. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not nice?"
Aziraphale smiled indulgently. "I think we're quite beyond that, aren't we?"
"Maybe."
"Anathema and Newt had a memory to share."
"I see. Well, I can't be held responsible for what I say when Book Girl attacks me."
Aziraphale chuckled. "Yes, you can. And I want to tell you, Crowley, what you said is beautiful, but not true."
"Sorry, I don't even remember what I said."
He squeezed Crowley's hand a bit tighter. "I don't have any more to give than just to you. I don't have, as they say, bigger fish to fry. Especially not now. Arguably, not ever. Nothing has ever been more important to me than you."
"Angel…"
"You could never ask for too much from me. You could never… take up too much of me. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Crowley responded, looking at the angel through dark glasses, but betraying wonder, nevertheless.
"I can't bear the thought that you ever were hesitant to reach out to me because you thought I'd have better things to do than be with you. That I was somehow more or better than you. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. What am I saying? Of course I made you feel that way."
"You're an angel," Crowley muttered, still a bit bewildered. "You didn't know how else to be. You didn't know how to embrace… anything, really. Not me, not your feelings, not even yourself, if we're being honest – only your work. God's work. You and I had a certain… rapport, but you lived by a protocol – we both did. But you, more so, because you were concerned with doing good, and being good. I didn't want to derail you from that. I couldn't push. Blimey, did I want to. But I couldn't."
"Well, you don't have to anymore," Aziraphale said, softly. "Or rather, you don't have to hold back. From asking, from taking, from pushing... from anything. Because I'm yours. Take up all of me."
"Take up all of you?"
"Yes. I have nothing to give, except to you. So let me give."
"Okay. I hear you."
"I can't make up for six thousand years of ignorance, of pig-headedness, but in the time we have, I…"
"Okay," Crowley repeated, nodding, pressing his other hand on top of the angel's and still studying him.
The two of them, once again, sat in silence for a couple of minutes. And once again, it was Aziraphale who broke it.
"What's in the Stallion's bag?"
Crowley looked across the room at the black bag on the counter. Without saying anything, he got up and retrieved it, then set it back down in front of the angel.
Aziraphale peered inside, and found two items. The first was a white rectangular box that said "Icicles" in black, on the outside. He opened the box carefully and found an item that was wholly unfamiliar to him, yet took his breath away.
It was made of clear glass. It was a narrow spade-shape on a pedestal, sitting on a wide base. He picked it up out of the box, and its length and width fit well in his hand.
"Do you understand what that is?" Crowley asked him, his voice low, smooth... tempting.
"I… I think so."
Aziraphale replaced the glass implement in the box, then looked inside the bag again, and extracted the second item. It was a tiny bottle, no larger than a lipstick, of lubricant.
"And that?" Crowley asked.
"Yes, this I understand."
"Good," Crowley muttered. He took a pause, and then said, "When you asked me to teach you advanced flying, you said that you didn't think we'd have time for the intermediate programme. But to be honest, angel, advanced is not much fun without the intermediate. So, you can call these little implements, the intermediate programme, if you like."
"Oh. I see."
Crowley leaned across the table and picked up the glass toy, and held it, leaning on one elbow, quite close to the angel. "Do you know what this thing is called?"
"Not specifically, no."
Almost without moving his lips, quite secretively, Crowley said, "It's an anal plug. Rather a flat, vulgar name for something so bloody beautiful, if you ask me."
"But it is unambiguous, which I appreciate," Aziraphale commented, starting to grow a bit breathless.
"You just asked me to let you give. Well, you got a taste of that last night, so to speak. So you must know that if I, no-holds-barred, showed you how to give, it might..." Crowley cupped his own head between his hands, and made an explosion gesture with his fingers.
"Yes, last evening was… a tad outside my comfort zone," Aziraphale confessed. "I don't ordinarily like hurting anyone intentionally, but somehow… somehow, it was…well, it…"
"I know how it was," Crowley purred. "I saw you rubbing your cock through your trousers, and I saw the little shudder, and wet spot that appeared when you came in your pants. I saw you, loving it. A real orgasm is one of the most honest things in the universe."
A wave of pure lust washed over the angel. Just like that, Crowley was off to the races with the dirty talk, and it was, predictably, electrifying.
"So I've been learning," Aziraphale said, swallowing hard. His voice was a tad shaky. "And it must mean that whatever it is you want, I will want it, too. We don't have forever, Crowley, and I want you to have everything."
Crowley smiled wickedly. "Ah. But what if we did have forever? Have you thought about that?"
"Of course."
"What sorts of hedonistic things would we get up to, if we knew we had tomorrow and the next day, loads of time to be naughty, and try everything?"
"I have no idea. Tell me," Aziraphale practically begged.
He looked at the glass implement in his hand, and seemed to inspect and weigh it in the crooks of his fingers. "Well, I would have started a couple of hours ago, and I'd have had you sit there, all the way through dinner and dessert and coffee with this lovely gem inside you. And I'd have absolutely relished watching you squirm, watching you pretend to be a prim, proper angel like always."
"Oh my," Aziraphale moaned.
"I'd have to fight not to come all over myself, watching you moan over that sumptuous meal, like you do, while also feeling yourself spread open, getting filled, getting relaxed and ready for later," Crowley continued. Then he leaned in even closer, and whispered, "Getting ready for me."
"For you. Yes."
"Can you imagine that, angel? You'd be pressed in a way you've never been pressed before. Every move you'd make would change its position just a bit, and make you feel something slightly new."
Aziraphale couldn't speak. He stared at the glass object, and tried to keep his breathing even.
The demon continued, "Do you know what? I might even fancy inviting people over. The Meehans, or even our favourite odd couple in Tadfield. I'd watch you shift in your chair and try not to pant and moan, try to be a congenial host, make polite conversation with our clueless friends…"
With that, Crowley sighed heavily, and his hand shifted to his groin. Aziraphale's eyes followed it, and could see that the black jeans were quite strained, bulging with extra girth now.
Crowley was now rubbing himself through the thick fabric. "Shall I go on?"
"Yes, please do."
"If we had forever, angel, I'd have you right here on the floor," he said, practically growling the words, breathless with the prospect of it.
"Would you?" the angel asked, equally breathless.
"Oh, yes," Crowley lilted, stroking the angel's cheek with two fingers of his free hand. "If this were a regular night, you'd be on your hands and knees by now. Those stuffy trousers and fine linen pants would be around your thighs, and our new toy would have served its purpose and would been discarded for next time. And do you know where I'd be?"
"Please tell me," Aziraphale practically moaned, his eyes shut, Adam's apple bobbing.
Crowley stood up and placed himself behind Aziraphale's chair. He buried his hands in the white curls, and pulled gently, until Aziraphale's head was resting against him. The angel could feel a straining, hard cock pressing into his back. He could feel just the slightest hint of a rhythm…
"I'd be behind you, fucking you into blindness. I'd be pounding into you over and over again. I'd be fiendish and gasping and cursing, and very quickly losing control..."
"Oh… God…" Aziraphale moaned as Crowley tugged harder on his hair. He was now, of course, completely erect and no longer felt any compunction about rubbing himself through his trousers. "Don't stop talking."
"I'd be listening to you pant and strain and beg, and watching you spill yourself all over the Italian floor tile."
"Crowley…" Aziraphale breathed.
Crowley fell to his knees then, and wrapped one arm around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. He placed his mouth just a few millimetres from the angel's ear. His voice came out as an intimate, barely-audible whisper.
"And maybe, if I still had a bone that hadn't turned to jelly after exploding inside of you, I would let you do the same thing to me."
Aziraphale felt desperate, and as though his whole body was vibrating. "I'll get on the floor. If you want. Just tell me. Please tell me what to do."
"No, angel," Crowley said, now stroking, rather than pulling, the lovely white hair. "All of that would be… oh, it would be so much fun. It would be shouting-obscenities, forget-your-own-name, prickly-all-over kind of fun."
"Mmm?"
"But since we only have tonight, I'd like to do something I've never done before."
"And what would that be, Crowley?" Aziraphale mused, slurring his words, as though his voice were broadcasting in from another planet.
"I've never made love, Aziraphale. Never, in six thousand years."
"Never?"
"Never. Only pretended to."
"I see."
Crowley stood up, then leaned forward and placed a tender, upside-down kiss on the angel's upturned lips.
Then, barely audibly, he said, "But it's never been real. Because you are the only thing I've ever really wanted, angel. And I can't believe I get to have you forever."
Please don't hate me. Stay tuned for more!
Reviews are love... I would very much appreciate some feedback on this chapter. As always, I'm a little nervous about the naughty bits!
Thanks for reading!