London. The living room of Crowley's flat in Mayfair. Aziraphale, clad in his cushy lavender tartan dressing gown, is seated on the couch, reading. Crowley is lying on his back upon the carpet, feet atop a pillow on the couch. He's been asleep for over an hour, having drifted off while Aziraphale gave him a foot massage. His eyelids open. Golden eyes become alert.
Whoof.
Feeling better, my dear?
Oh yes. I shall be forever grateful to the internet for showing you how to do such a sinfully pleasurable massage as that.
I have a little surprise for you in the bedroom. Shall we adjourn there?
Aziraphale rises from the couch, extends a hand to help Crowley up. The demon embraces him and they indulge in a long, thorough kiss. Then amble arm in arm to the bedroom. While Crowley plumps up the giant pillows, Aziraphale magics a silver tray with two cut crystal glasses and a graceful oval bottle of golden liquor inscribed with a pair of angelic wings. He places the tray on the bedside table on Crowley's side, then climbs aboard and settles comfortably next to the demon.
It's a rye whiskey from America. "Angel's Envy."
Well! What a nice present, Angel. Let's try some right now.
I was hoping you'd say that.
The bottle is uncorked and a suitable amount poured for each. They clink glasses.
Bollocks to Heaven.
Bollocks to Hell.
They sit and sip thoughtfully for some time.
Mmmm. Angel, I think I'll have this for dessert from now on. Extraordinary.
It's the complete opposite end of the spectrum from scotch, isn't it? None of that hairy-chested peat and iodine flavor.
Would you say, "scrumptious?"
I would indeed. As you well know.
Crowley smiles snakily. They sit companionably while they finish their whiskey. Then, empty glasses safely placed back on the tray, they scootch down on their sides and regard one another. Aziraphale magics off his robe, but Crowley magics it back on. Tugs on the tasseled cincture.
I like to pull on that golden cord. It's like opening a present.
Then the robes are magicked off to the closet. Aziraphale reaches over and strokes Crowley's chest hair and nipples.
You know, Crowley, your body hair is so much silkier and fluffier than mine. And one would think you'd have hardly any.
My being a snake and all?
Well, yes. I can see why I have a chest full of curly hair. Seeing as how I'm a ram when I'm dressed up. But one might expect you to be almost hairless.
Good thing I'm not. Keep doing that tickling, Angel, it feels good.
How about this?
Aziraphale leans over and plants kisses along Crowley's neck, shoulders, chest. Strokes his lower belly hair towards his navel. Nuzzles and sucks at the demon's nipples, causing him to sigh with pleasure.
You do have such a sensitive front, Crowley.
Crawling along on one's belly has some advantages.
Crowley reaches down and works his hand around the angels balls, pulling his giblets closer.
Guessing the snake inheritance accounts for this, too. Humans can't do it.
The demon shifts a bit closer, lets his penis do a long spiral around the angel's erection. He strokes Aziraphale's stomach.
Now lay that lovely soft belly on me, Angel.
Aziraphale obliges and rolls over so he's mostly atop the demon. Crowley caresses and tickles the angel's soft backside.
Mmmm. How I love pears. . .
The demon wriggles his hips and gasps as his back arches and he goes into Divine Ecstasy. Aziraphale lays his head on Crowley's shoulder. Then sighs as he releases as well. They don't pull apart until hours later.
Mmmm. That was a nice aperitif, Angel. Any chance you'd like to be a woman for the next bout?
Certainly, Crowley. I love feeling you inside me. You're so warm and long.
A frankfurter inside a delicious bun, eh?
Tch. Really, my dear.
Here, sit in my lap.
Crowley caresses her breasts and tweaks her nipples as Aziraphale sighs and arches her back. Opens her generous thighs to accommodate a warm demonic hand exploring moist labia. Supple fingers have learned just what massage spots she likes, and her clitoris is soon as plump as a cherry.
Crowley. Please.
Aziraphale rolls off the demon's lap onto her stomach, backside raised. Crowley kneels between her thighs, eyes taking on a glowing orange tinge as he lovingly caresses pillowy white buttocks. Works his pole of an erection inside. Both of their expressions morph into St. Teresa in Ecstasy as Aziraphale's contractions send them off together. Their tableau lasts for hours.
That was lovely, Angel. You always make me feel as if I'm fucking ice cream. So soft and cold. Mmmm. . .
So I go from a bun for a frankfurter to a Mr. Whippy, do I? We'll never be able to visit a refreshment stand again.
Crowley laughs.
Let's have another glass of whiskey, Aziraphale. Then you can do me.
Generous drams are poured. They sip and sit hand in hand in blissful relaxation. When the empty glasses are once again on the tray, Crowley purrs:
That should be enough to take the edge off Ms. Demon. I always worry that I'll lose control and hurt you.
He morphs into his scary Snake Demoness. Stretches like a cat, clawed hands raised above his shoulders. Desert viper eyes fix Aziraphale in a snaky stare, as if the angel is a tasty mouse hypnotized in terror.
Pet me, Angel.
Aziraphale moves slowly and gently strokes her arms, neck, shoulders, breasts.
Mmmm. I like feeling your cold hands on my nipples. Do that some more.
Demonic nipples nicely tightened, Aziraphale's cool soft caresses tickle her belly, then gently pulls tufts of her silky russet pubic hair. Slowly, Crowley opens her knees and lets the angel massage her. She arches her back and hisses softly, thick forked tongue flicking over her lips and nostrils. Rolls over and raises her backside. Sharp ruby claws on outstretched talon-like hands slice into the pillow. Aziraphale doesn't waste time, carefully inserts himself as deep as he can go. Keeps a tight grip on her hips as her writhing and contractions pull orgasms from him by the yard. Crowley's toes turn up. More hours pass.
Once again both male, they lie side by side and regard one another. Aziraphale looks down at himself.
Oof. Crowley. I always feel as if I ought to be a few inches longer after one of these sessions. You really have quite a grip. And you twist about so.
I love those animal groans you emit. Very stimulating. To my predatory instincts, I surmise.
I suppose I should be thankful you didn't say "grunts."
Well, they're more like moans. Of pleasure, I hope.
Oh yes.
Aziraphale shivers at the remembrance. Crowley lays a warm hand on the angel's penis.
Shall I kiss it and make it better?
Before Aziraphale can reply, the demon has snaked around and down and is using his remarkable tongue in all the right places.
Mmmm . . . a tequila lolly.
Dammit, Crowley.
Aziraphale slumps back against the pillow, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Crowley keeps him aloft for over an hour.
And then it's dawn.
