Time After Time

[Begins with passage from Angels and Demons chapter at The Big One:

Early evening twilight. Inside the Bentley, enroute to London. Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time starts on Crowley's "Best of the 80s" playlist. Aziraphale is riveted.

Would you play that song again, Crowley?

Crowley puts it on replay.

You know I never listened to be- . . . er, popular music. But I remember liking this simple little song very much.

Crowley turns and regards him steadily. Aziraphale glances nervously at the road ahead.

Oh, don't worry. The Bentley is pretty will trained on this stretch. See?

Crowley takes his hands from the wheel, and the car rolls steadily along in its lane, keeping a safe distance from the vehicle ahead. Demo accomplished, he places his hands back on the wheel and pretends to drive once again. Aziraphale breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes in his seat.

Thank you, my dear. I'm still having difficulty adjusting to a self-driving car.

Well, it's not exactly self-driving like a Google car. It's me, not Waymo.

I'm not certain that's at all reassuring.

Crowley grins.

So you liked Cyndi Lauper, eh?

I never knew the singer's name.

Funny you liked it. I always think of you when I hear it.

Aziraphale is silent for a long moment.

I suspect I liked it for the same reason. Made me think of you. And it still does.

Crowley reaches an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder, pulls him across the gap between the two seats, runs his other hand through the angel's wooly hair as he kisses him firmly. The Bentley drives steadily along, without even a slight swerve.


London. The parking garage below Crowley's Mayfair flat. Aziraphale leans over. Putting an arm around Crowley's shoulder, he unbuttons the shearling collar of the demon's overcoat, loosens and removes his tie, unbuttons his shirt, pulls his undershirt loose, and caresses Crowley's bare chest. Crowley slumps back and sighs. Azirahale undoes the snake belt buckle, trouser button and zipper, extracts the demons giblets from his underwear and proceeds with a lovely, sloppy BJ. Crowley is off into Divine Ecstasy in short order. ]


Crowley exits the Bentley, zipping and buttoning various pieces of clothing as he goes around to the passenger door. Aziraphale is straightening his bowtie. Shrugs to re-adjust his overcoat after he gets out. Reaches into the back seat to retrieve Crowley's tie.

As they approach the stairwell door, Mrs. Allison steps out.

Mr. Muffin! Mr. Muffin! Time to come home. Here, kitty kitty kitty . . .

As usual, Mr. Muffin takes his sweet time to appear, leaving Mrs. Allison standing in the chilly concrete barn in her slippers and housecoat. Crowley glances up at the two disposable demons on the crossbeam. DeeDee makes a gesture. There's a sharp meow from a far corner, and Mr. Muffin comes racing to his owner.

There you are, you naughty kitty! Good evening, Mr. Crowley, Mr. Fell. You've been partying, I see.

Can we assist you up the stairs, Mrs. Allison?

Thank you Mr. Fell. I think I will just take the little elevator. I know it's only one floor, but my knees, you know. Getting a bit creaky.

I'll wait with you until the elevator comes. Crowley can go unlock our door.

The tiny elevator descends. Aziraphale holds the door open for Mrs. Allison, punches her floor button for her.

There you go. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Allison.

Likewise Mr. Fell. Thank you so much. Now, mind you don't let Mr. Crowley's nice tie trail in the dust.


Crowley is already in his dark silk dressing gown with the red lining. Snaps his fingers as Aziraphale enters, sending the angel's clothing off to the closet and robing him in his cuddlesome lavender flannel velvet-lined gown. Goes over to the liquor cabinet for two glasses.

Shall we open a fresh bottle of Talisker?

Good idea, Crowley. I'm feeling a trifle chilly.

Crowley magics the duvet out of the bedroom closet and bundles it around Aziraphale as they sit together on the leather sofa. The angel opens one side of the duvet.

Here, Crowley, sit closer to me. You're as warm as a stove.

Crowley puts an arm around the angel's shoulders. They clink glasses.

Bollocks to Heaven.

Bollocks to Hell.

Both grin and take a long sip. They sit companionably in silence while they work their way through their scotch.

Nightcaps finished, they go to the bedroom. Crowley sits at the foot of the bed, shrugs off his robe. Reaches his arms out to Aziraphale, who stands before him. Crowley tugs at the gold cord fastening the angel's gown to loosen it, slips his arms around Aziraphale and pulls him close. Nuzzles the angel's chest as he gently strokes Aziraphale's back.

I love you, Angel.

Aziraphale runs his fingers over Crowley's velvety fade and through his quiff as he hugs the Demon's head and shoulders.

Lie down, Angel. And tell me what you're in the mood for.

Aziraphale sheds his robe, semi-reclines against the giant pillows, assumes his female form, legs spread and knees up. The whites of Crowley's eyes take on a glowing orange tint as he kneels between the angel's legs and caresses her breasts. Aziraphale moans softly as the nipples in her rosy areolae become tight as red currants. Crowley shifts himself downward and kisses and tickles her soft belly with his remarkable tongue. Nuzzles her platinum bush, then licks and sucks at her clitoris until it's as plump as a ripe cherry. Aziraphale is breathing rapidly, eyes closed in bliss.

Crowley.

The demon raises himself and works his erection into the angel, thrusts in rapid counterpoint to her hip movements. Deep inside at last, feels her powerful contractions, collapses with hands on her breasts as they both drift away upon the ocean of Divine Ecstasy.


Several hours later. The two roll apart.

Mmmmmm. . . Crowley, that was wonderful.

The two relax for awhile, then Aziraphale murmurs:

Let me do you.

Crowley looks at the angel, then reclines against the pillows, arms above his head, and morphs into snake demoness form.

Oh, Crowley, you're so beautiful.

The angel gently strokes the demon's breasts and body with his cool, soft hands. Crowley smiles and sighs. Feet together and knees outstretched flat, she exposes her ruby labia and clitoris to Aziraphale's enthusiastic oral attention. The aroma of incense fills the air.

Fill me, Aziraphale. Lie atop me.

Crowley moans and writhes, raising her long legs and wrapping them like an anaconda around the angel's back. Her clawed hands puncture the pillows. Aziraphale's eyes roll up under half-closed lids, his mouth open in ecstasy as he feels the demon's pulsing contractions. They roll in the waves of Divine Ecstasy until early dawn.


Mmmmm. Angel. I feel like I'm under a cartload of ice cream. Stay atop me for awhile longer.

Crowley, once again male, caresses the angel's back and runs his hands through Aziraphale's woolly hair. After a long while he rolls the angel over, scoots down and lays his head against Aziraphale's soft belly, one warm hand atop the angel's now relaxed penis. And promptly falls asleep. Aziraphale gently strokes Crowley's hair. Closes his eyes, but doesn't sleep, simply enjoying the intimacy and presence of his beloved demon.