Our ineffable friends are at the symphony, Crowley is wearing Armani, and Aziraphale is breathless over it! He's loving the attention his partner gets, and the envy in the eyes of others.

During the second set of music, Anathema noticed a certain pink and gold aura around our favourite duo, indicating what they had been doing during intermission. This is the story of that intermission. It's very, very smutty, yes, but there's also some new "relationship" stuff introduced.

This particular bout of smut sees Crowley being rather naughtily verbose (as they both sometimes can be), and laying on the temptation routine pretty damned thick. But it's on a particular topic. And on that topic, don't worry... they will go a lot further in the way of actual "discussion" before taking any more steps forward!

And a quick note to Americans: please keep in mind that public toilet stalls the world over generally provide a lot more privacy than those in the U.S. Crowley and Aziraphale would 100% surely be caught in the States. In Europe (UK included) stall walls go all the way to the floor, and all the way to the ceiling, and there aren't little slats between panels where you can accidentally see in.

However, apparently, the toilets in Royal Festival Hall are dreadful (thank you, Yelp). But we're going to pretend that that's not the case.

DESIRES THAT DESERVE TO BE HEARD

Crowley had managed to plunder through the crowd at intermission efficiently enough to beat most everyone to the toilets. Only two of the cubicles were occupied when they arrived, so they hurried and grabbed one, toward the end of a row. One bloke entering behind them saw them both disappear behind the same door, but they reckoned that by the time they were finished, that guy would be gone. They just hoped he wouldn't report them.

Aziraphale locked the door, and put his back against it. Crowley wasted no time pressing into him, tonguing his earlobe, and whispering, "The music got under your skin, did it?"

"Yes, quite. Crowley, we don't have a lot of time."

"I've got under your skin a bit, too, eh?" Crowley chuckled. "More than usual?"

"One might say that."

"I could make you do anything now, couldn't I?"

"You could."

"Shit, if I'd known that, I would've put on an Armani suit and mindfucked you with Stravinsky years ago."

The harsh language and low, low tones inflamed the imperfect former angel as usual, and he groaned slightly, swallowed hard, and said, "Well, it's now. And I'm yours."

"Yeah?" Crowley asked, grinding his pelvis and stiffening cock against him. "Good. How badly do you want to unzip these trousers?"

"Badly."

"Then do it," Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale's hands went immediately to his lover's belt, and began to pull it loose, then to unhook the precisely-tailored trousers. He reached greedily inside after the zip came down, and grasped a throbbing member, aching within the confines of a tight suit and expensive silk pants. The entire time, he was being penetrated by a pair of razor-sharp brown eyes, and a smirk across a pair of achingly tempting lips.

Those lips pushed against his as his hand moved up and down over Crowley's shaft, followed by a long, hungry tongue snaking against his. Their mouths were open to each other, sucking, dancing, wanting. Aziraphale stroked, and Crowley moaned.

Crowley pulled away, when he knew that his lover would be breathless with the wet, searching snog, and smiled. He examined Aziraphale's lips, and kissed them once more, just for a second. Then, again. Then again, and again.

"Blimey, I can't seem to stop," he whispered. Then he kissed them again. And then, he slowed his movements, leaned forward and licked the slightly-parted lips very lightly, and sighed, "Mmm, love that mouth. I want it."

"Want… my mouth?"

"Mm-hm, angel. Get on your knees."

Crowley had to step back to make room, and his calves were pressed against the toilet, but Aziraphale obeyed. "You… you want my mouth… you're going to…"

"Have it, yes. I'm going to have you. In the mouth. Understand?" Crowley asked him, harshly, as his right hand wrapped tightly around the back of his lover's head.

"Oh, I do."

"Excellent." Crowley's free hand held his own hard dick, and guided it between Aziraphale's parted lips. He pulled the angelic head hard against his body, and grunted at the sensation of his mushroomed cockhead burying itself in his companion's tight, willing throat. "Fuck, that feels good, angel."

"Mm-hm," Aziraphale responded, as Crowley's palms made their way to his jowls, and his fingers wrapped round under his ears. Aziraphale looked up, and saw miles and miles of sexy black suit, capped by the gorgeously flushed face of an erstwhile demon in the throes of desire.

Crowley's fingertips dug into Aziraphale's flesh, and began to move his head back and forth, his hips began to thrust, finding a rhythm and depth that suited him. He sighed, "Mm, yes." He grunted each time he watched his cock disappear on the other side of the tight pink lips.

Both of Aziraphale's hands found Crowley's bum, squeezed and pushed, assisting the driving pelvis, and relishing in the sinews and muscles flexing inside the accommodating black Armani trousers.

And all around them, men moved in and out of cubicles. Doors, slammed, toilets flushed, voices and laughter echoed.

"Oh, angel," Crowley moaned, just so his partner could hear. "Getting sucked off is one thing, but this is a whole different thing. Ughhh…."

"Mm-hm," Aziraphale agreed, his lips getting repeatedly forced against Crowley's body, his throat repeatedly penetrated, all of it outside of his control. Though he did continue squeezing the tight, flexing bum with both hands.

Crowley was looking down, not wanting to miss a single moment of this. They made eye-contact now, and Crowley smiled wickedly. "You like this?"

In answer, Aziraphale's eyes closed languidly, and he moaned around the rigid pole impaling his mouth over and over. Eventually his eyes re-met those of his lusty companion.

"Listen to all those people around us," Crowley continued. "You wish they could see you, don't you?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes diffidently then, and he answered, "Mm," non-committally.

A pair of feet shuffled in the cubicle next to theirs, and the door slammed. The man called out something, and a friend answered him unintelligibly from another cubicle.

People moved in and out, and Aziraphale randomly wondered if any of them had seen the two of them together on the promenade, and had their heads turned by the spectacle of Crowley.

"Oh, you know you do," Crowley insisted, slamming his shaft hard into Aziraphale's throat, and holding the curly-haired head against his body for a few moments, driving his point home. "I see you preening like a fucking peacock, just at the opportunity to walk beside me, let people see you with me."

He released the super-tight grip. Aziraphale whined a bit, but then looked up again, into those penetrating brown eyes, and he nodded subtly.

"I could reach forward and throw open this door. There are men standing about just on the other side, and they would all see you on your knees getting your mouth fucked. By me."

Another whine came from below, that was nevertheless tinged with desire.

This was when Crowley's fingers tightened, and his thrusting became quite intense. Aziraphale felt his partner's entire body tighten, and become impatient.

"What would they say, angel? What would they think of you?"

Another groan came from the man on his knees.

"They would know that you're mine, Aziraphale, wouldn't they? Yes, they would. They would see me here, in an appalling place and time, having you the way I want, and they would know that I can't keep my hands off you, can't keep my dick out of you," Crowley continued, breathlessly, now jerking his hips hard, his companion's curls entwined between his tight fingers. "That you're not just the one who gets to go places on my arm, but the one who gets to have me inside, and have his holes filled…"

"Mmm, mmm…"

Crowley was now panting, still speaking, but on the edge of choking. "And they would know how fucking spectacular you are, too. You've got my cock in your mouth, but you've also got my attention. And my love. And no-one else can say the same, and the two of us, we make people squirm, and turn green with jealousy, and… ugh!"

Crowley's cock began to spasm and spurt without proper warning, and he had to bite his tongue hard, in order not to give himself away to the men outside the door, all bustling around, who had foolishly come to Royal Festival Hall merely to hear the Philharmonic. Aziraphale tasted salty, heavy cream splashing across his tongue, then promptly felt it forced down his throat as Crowley thrusted fiercely, and the bulbous cockhead became buried once more. Crowley throbbed, grunted, swore, and then seemed to collapse and brace himself against the cubicle wall. Just for a moment, then he stood up straight.

"Come here," he said, grabbing Aziraphale by the lapel, and pulling him to his feet. He turned them both to his right and slammed him against the wall, plunging his tongue ravenously into the very mouth that had just accommodated copious jets of his come.

"Hey, mate, you all right?" came a muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

Crowley finished tasting his own emissions in his companion's mouth, then called out, "Yeah, sorry – lost my balance."

By the time the man answered with a chuckle, Crowley's tongue was already back in Aziraphale's mouth, relishing the last of the salt, and moving once more against a pair of lips that he had admired for time immemorial.

"Love, love, love that mouth," he muttered. "You know I could fuck it better, properly, at home."

"Oh yes?"

"Oh yes. With a bed and some room to move, some time to work with, angel, you'll wonder if your lips and throat were actually made for it."

"You'll have to show me," Aziraphale said, his voice shaky with desire.

"I will," Crowley promised. "It's only too bad that I can't fuck it and kiss it at the same time."

With that, he plunged his tongue in again, and sucked heartily, as though still, inexplicably, starving.

When he pulled away next, Aziraphale commented, "I think that would require some rather impossible acrobatics, or, dare I say, a third person."

"Do you dare say?"

"I did dare, didn't I?"

"You did. Shall I dismiss it as simply filthy pillow talk from my logophile angel?"

"Well, Anathema got me thinking, Crowley…" Aziraphale began, not unaware that this might be an awkward time for a complex discussion about their relationship.

A two-tone bell sounded then, signalling three minutes until the next Stravinsky piece, interrupting him.

All around them, people began to move faster, the water ran, paper towel came off the spool rather roughly, men spat expletives in response to the time crunch.

"Got you thinking what?"

"We're going to miss the beginning," Aziraphale whispered.

"We can go back to our seats now, if you want," Crowley offered, with a sardonic smile, knowing what the answer would be.

"No… I couldn't… I wouldn't be able to…"

"No, of course not," Crowley lilted, turning Aziraphale's body completely around, and then taking him by the haunches and moving him even further to the right, to face the toilet. Crowley was now standing behind, and was in a perfect position to pull back on the collar, and remove the centuries-old coat his partner wore. He hung it on the hook beside the door, and into Aziraphale's ear, he whispered, "Undo your trousers, angel."

Aziraphale obeyed, and Crowley took the opportunity to slide both hands down inside the fine linen pants, and feel soft, round flesh greet his palms.

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispered, now conscious of the fact that there were only a few men left in the washroom, and his voice could be much more easily heard, in absence of a din. "Stop playing games, and do what you're going to do. You're driving me mad."

Crowley squeezed one perfect bum-cheek, and growled, "Come on, we both know you're a slut, so be one. Ask for what you want."

"Make me come hard, Crowley," Aziraphale moaned, quietly. "I don't care how you do it, just get me off like a bottle rocket."

He distinctly heard the sound of fingers being noisily removed from Crowley's mouth, then felt two wet digits probing at his backside.

"Bend forward, angel. Put your hands on the wall."

Aziraphale again obeyed, practically shaking in anticipation.

The fingers continued to play, tease…

Meanwhile, the washroom emptied. They were completely alone.

"Stick them inside of me," Aziraphale demanded, not quietly now. "I want them in me!"

"You want to get fingerfucked, angel?"

"Yes. Please."

"Might want to free that big hard weapon up front, or you'll have another mess on your hands fairly soon."

Aziraphale did as Crowley suggested, and now, his cock hung down, solid as a rock, aimed straight at the toilet.

"What did Anathema say to you, then?" Crowley asked, popping the tip of one finger past Aziraphale's tight-ringed barrier.

"She said everyone has desires that deserve to be heard out by those who love them," Aziraphale told him, breathlessly.

"Ah. You told her I hinted about a trio with our favourite purveyor of cheese, who seems to be quite aroused by you."

"I did. Was that wrong?"

"No, angel," Crowley assured him now pressing one finger in and out gently. "Not wrong at all. What do you think of her advice?"

"I think she's right, I want to hear you out… please give me more of your fingers, Crowley."

Crowley obliged his trembling lover by adding another finger to his arsehole, and the slutty former angel moaned with abandon as he increased his pace and intensity.

"You want to hear me out? All right, then hear me. Listen."

"Okay," Aziraphale panted.

"Do you like the thought of sensations exploding all over your body?" Crowley asked into his ear, fingering him a bit faster now. Aziraphale's cock bobbed in response. "Wonder at all what it might be like to have both holes filled at once?"

"Oh, fuck," Aziraphale moaned, almost reluctantly. "You're such a fiend! Such a demon!"

"Temptation, angel. It's my jam."

"I said I'd listen, not be assaulted with... ugh... oh..."

"Tell me to stop talking, and I'll just finish you up now, and we can return to our Stravinsky, and we don't have to discuss this again."

It was around then that they heard applause through the tannoy system.

A few silent moments passed, Aziraphale said nothing.

Crowley smirked, increased his speed, and said, "Ahh, I thought so. Insatiable angel, you can't help but wonder… a new cock in your mouth, what would that be like? Would you be able to take him down your throat like a bloody pro, like you do me? Especially if I'm behind you, fucking your brains out at the same time?"

"Oh, for Somebody's... Crowley..." Aziraphale growled with an intensity Crowley had rarely heard before.

The Symphony started, and music came through the speakers and filled the echoey space.

Crowley used his free hand to pull Aziraphale's trousers to his knees. He spat on the red, puckered arsehole in front of him, and added a third finger. He proceeded to shove them in and out roughly, and asked, "Or maybe you'd prefer to be the one behind?"

"Yes, maybe…"

Crowley now made an effort to crook his fingers just so, and Aziraphale made a crackling cry.

"Behind me? Or better yet, him. Think of that – giving your big dick to someone new, someone who wants it bad, been wanting it for ages! Sinking it into an arse that craves you!"

His fingers kneaded the prostate each time they went in, each time a bit harder, faster by the moment…

"Crowley…" came the tell-tale whine.

"What would you do, angel? If you could give him what he wants? Give me what I want? We both want you! So you oblige, and what happens? When you abandon everything and let pleasure have you?"

The words were lovely, but they came out like a scolding, because this fingerfucking had grown harsh, urgent…

"What happens angel?" he hissed, and crooked two fingers forward in just the right position…

And a grunt escaped Aziraphale's lips, just as a hot, white jet of come exploded from his aching cock, straight into the toilet. Another wave hit him as Crowley's relentless fingers continued to give him more paroxysms, and more of his creamy pleasure shot out, spurt after warm spurt.

"That's right," Crowley whispered. "That's what happens."

Aziraphale gave surprised gasps, little breathy barks of pain and pleasure as he finished orgasming, and took a few moments of recovery.

He panted, and Crowley kissed his neck.

"My God, that was glorious," he breathed.

"Not a fan of giving credit to the Big Gal, but I'll have the word glorious," Crowley quipped, as Aziraphale stood up straight, and he pulled his fingers from the still pulsating passage.

"I didn't even know that was possible!"

"What, to shoot off hands-free? Oh, yeah. Got to be vigilantly filthy about it, though – it can get clinical if you're not careful." He looked down, and noticed his lover's member still leaking a bit, and said, "Oops!" He grasped the twitching shaft and gave it one tight, slow pump, while Aziraphale nearly went cross-eyed, and then Crowley licked off the ooze that had escaped over his fingers.

Crowley moved away as best he could then, and tucked his half-hard cock back into his the Armani trousers that had, after a fashion, started all of this. As Aziraphale did the same, he asked, "Hypothetically, do you think you could talk Huling into coming for a drink, and - what's the phrase? - a drink and who knows what else?"

"Could I talk him into... you're joshing me, right?"

"Right," Aziraphale muttered, zipping up. "I mean, no. Sorry."

Crowley opened the cubicle door, and Aziraphale climbed back into his coat. Both headed for the sink and washed their hands well.

"Ready to go back and sit down and be civilised?" Crowley asked, drying his hands with some disposable towels.

"She's going to know. She's going to know everything," Aziraphale fretted

"Who?"

"Anathema! About what we did in here!"

"Yeah, probably," Crowley said, with a shrug, moving toward the gents' room door. "Although… she won't know details, so that's something."

"Hypothetically, he would need to understand that it will just be the one time," Aziraphale said, stepping out into the side corridor of the Mezzanine.

"Who?"

"Huling."

"Of course. Hypothetically."

"That it's merely experimental," Aziraphale said in an almost comically proper way.

"Yep."

"But that we would like to remain friends…"

"We're friends?"

"Well…" and then he stopped walking. "Crowley?"

"Yeah?"

"Would this be for you, or for me?"

"Huling?"

"Yes."

"Well, I won't lie. I find the idea of someone wanting one of us quite stimulating…"

"Right, well, you've just proven that."

"And I'll admit to having had a hankering, these past seventy-eight years, for, erm… you know, a party of three. I mean, my largest hankering was for you, of course, and the trio thing pales in comparison... not even in the same galaxy, hankering-wise. But you know, I'm a guy who's done practically everything. And I actually used to look forward to those dual temptation shags. A lot."

"Okay. I think I understand."

"But also, lately, I've begun to wonder if maybe you might need or want to touch life outside of me, as well. Experience someone else. And ever since Huling came into the bookshop, that little seed of thought has been growing."

"I see. I think that's a noble, and also practical sentiment, Crowley."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Brilliant. As long as you understand that it's at least fifty-five per-cent, threesomes-are-hot-and-I-just-kind-of-want-one, and maybe forty-five per-cent the other thing about you broadening your horizons."

"Okay. That's rather specific, but okay."

"Let's talk later. Unless you're keen to miss the rest of Stravinsky."

"All right," Aziraphale said, reaching for the door to the mezzanine.

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I know I laid on the temptation thing kind of thick in there. Maybe that wasn't fair."

Aziraphale smiled at him fondly. "It's who you are. You said it yourself: it's your jelly."

"Jam, Aziraphale, it's my jam. Blimey."

Aziraphale chuckled, and opened the door to the darkened auditorium.

If you had any thoughts or feelings during this chapter, leave a review and let me know! (If you're reading, it's only fair to give feedback from time to time. Just sayin'. :-) )

Thank you for reading!