A Restful Interlude

Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting sprawled on the carpet in the back room of the bookstore, supported by two giant pillows propped against the armchair. Crowley is curled alongside Aziraphale, his mop of russet hair on the angel's shoulder, an arm across the angel's chest. He is thinking how soothing he finds the angel's glacially cold body, and his cool, gentle hands. Aziraphale for his part is relaxing in the warmth radiating from the demon, thinking how beautiful he finds those golden amber eyes . . .

Crowley glides himself atop Aziraphale with his backside between the angel's outstretched legs. Crowley isn't aware of it – he is what he is, and doesn't think about his appearance - but an observer might note with interest that Crowley's butt is firm and taut as a green peach. Although not fuzzy. He makes himself comfortable against Aziraphale's chest, leans his head back against the angel's shoulder, and reaches his arms up, running his fingers through the angel's frizzy lambskin hair.

Tickle me, Aziraphale.

The pair had discovered on a previous occasion that Crowley's nipples were even more sensitive than Aziraphale's. ("Perhaps that's why I always rather enjoyed crawling around on my stomach?") The angel strokes Crowley along his belly and flanks and begins to softly massage and tweak his pectorals and nipples. Crowley sighs with pleasure and lets his arms go limp. He arches his back and presses his muscular buttocks against Aziraphale's crotch, doing a lazy serpentine wiggle against the angel's rapidly firming cock.

[Nope, not going there. Celestial bodies lack certain lower orifices and functions. No need for them if you don't have to eat or reproduce.]

Aziraphale continues his gentle massage until Crowley's nipples are like steel ball bearings, then slides one hand downward and grasps the demon's not-so-little serpent. It gives a supple writhe as the angel's thumb gently brushes over its tip.

Unnnnhuhhhhhh. . . Crowley succumbs to Divine Ecstasy. Aziraphale, eyes half closed, thinks how happy he is to be able to pleasure his beautiful demon. He's loved him for so, so long. He rests his head back against the pillow as if asleep, eyes closed and mouth softly open, continuing to stroke and caress Crowley until he, too, is overcome by a wave of Divine Ecstasy. The pair rests in bliss for hours, unmoving as a statue.