Wellllll… when last we saw our ineffable pair, they were in bed, holding tight, waiting for midnight. They had shared a comforting but lustful kiss, but backed off from it - at the end of the chapter, it was all about closeness. Crowley, as we all know, wants desperately just to be there, to be part of Aziraphale's life, so he's doing his best to help his companion across this incredible transition.

One reviewer said they hated me just a little for stopping there. I LOLed at that! Well, hate me no more, my friend, because I did not stop there... I just put a chapter break there. And here's the rest!


So that means, friends, here we go! This is NSFW. If you think the angelic/demonic, immortal, ineffable partnership should transcend the flesh, then maybe skip this chapter :-D

Enjoy!


EIGHT

In a barely-lit bedroom in London, two supernatural beings lay entwined, beneath the covers, both terrified, and trying to take their minds off the thing currently at the forefront.

The taller of the two had been talking for the past ten minutes or so, and the other had been listening. He was resting his head against the former's arm and chest, and using these moments of tranquility to process, gather information (much of which he already knew) and brace himself for a change.

And he realised that his companion had been right: this scenario was allowing him to be much more in-the-moment. Somehow, he was able to let go of the ticking clock, and convince himself that all that mattered was right now.

All I can hear is Crowley's voice, he thought. All I can see is a pervasive, golden light, interrupting the dark. I feel warmth and love, and nothing else.

Well, not nothing… I also feel a longing. It's not unpleasant, and not totally unfamiliar, but an angel would have had no idea what to do with a feeling like this one.

"It's 12:02," said Crowley, after a slight lull.

Well, there it was. It was past midnight.

And Aziraphale felt different.

"You were wrong, Crowley," said Aziraphale, his voice low, secretive, serious.

"Wrong how?"

"I do feel changed."

"Do you?"

Aziraphale pulled back and looked into Crowley's yellow eyes. "I feel relieved. I feel lighter, like guilt doesn't exist anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. If Heaven is watching, I don't give a damn."

"That's definitely a changed tune."

"I can let go any clinging austerity, any ceremonious goodness – there's no reason for it. I don't need to learn anymore, about good or evil or humanity or anything else. I can just live."

Crowley smiled slightly. "Does that mean you are having the sudden urge to do wicked things?"

"Yes, but it's not sudden. It's the same wicked thing I've wanted to do all of my life, but couldn't because I couldn't set it free. Not even you could set it free, Crowley, and you're the one who stirs it."

This answer surprised Crowley. He hadn't asked the question about wicked urges, hoping for any sort of lascivious response. He asked, because Aziraphale had previously wondered aloud if sudden mischievous urges would be a by-product of becoming a demon.

"Wow," he murmured. "I was joking."

"I'm not," Aziraphale murmured back.

"You're saying you don't need to learn about humanity…" Crowley said.

"That's right. Excuses are gone."

"Just seeking joy..."

"As solace. As refuge."

"And..."

"Well, yes, and joy for the sake of itself. Because we want it and deserve it."

"Are you sure, Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, his voice barely coming out as a choked whisper. "I mean, are you really, really certain?"

Aziraphale gulped, then nodded, wide-eyed. He still had white hair, he was still clad in light-coloured pyjamas, he still had a beatific, angelic face… he still looked like the same skittish Aziraphale.

But his words were entirely new.

Aziraphale had definitely spent the last six thousand years evolving. As had Crowley. They'd become less like their Heavenly/Hellish colleagues, and more and more like each other… especially over the past thousand years. And that evolution had gone even more quickly over the previous month, since thwarting the Apocalypse – especially for Aziraphale. The conversation they'd had in Tadfield upon arriving at the inn was proof positive. Though the angel had said that he wasn't ready to seek joy yet, just the fact that it was being discussed as a possibility showed an enormous willingness to change. Seeking joy was a topic of discussion that would have been heretofore taboo, a prospect Aziraphale would have claimed never, ever, ever entered his mind, and how could anyone suggest otherwise? He was an angel after all!

And it had given Crowley hope. And that had been excellent.

But this? What Aziraphale had just said? This was a completely different kettle of fish. It was turning everything he had ever been on its very ear. Which wasn't surprising, given the circumstances.

And as much as Crowley wanted to honour who Aziraphale was, and had always been, he also had waited millennia for this moment, had been teetering on the edge of self-control for the past twenty minutes. His trepidation about the emotional depth of this endeavour was gone. Fantasies of Aziraphale gutted him, but this was no fantasy, and it bloody well should be deep!

And he was patient, but not made of stone.

So, he lurched forward, and pressed his lips against Aziraphale's, and pushed forward with his body as well, until Aziraphale was on his back, and he was on top. He deepened the kiss, once again, and Aziraphale let him guide.

And they were off. Kisses were light. Kisses were hard. They were closed-mouthed. They were probing, and juicy and passionate, with tongues and hands everywhere. There was silence. There were groans. There was every sensation that two sets of lips could produce with one another.

Eventually, Crowley moved back over to the side, and began kissing, nipping behind the other's ear. At the same time, his fingers found the top button of Aziraphale's pyjama top, just about mid-sternum, and he worked it open. He flicked the earlobe with his tongue, inciting a gorgeous little "oh!" of surprise from his companion, while he worked open the second button. Then he sucked at the perfect, smooth, salty neck, and moved his hand to the third, then fourth, then fifth button, listening to gasps he'd always longed to hear, savouring flesh he had always wanted to sample.

When the last button was undone, Crowley pried the garment open with one hand, and explored the chest and stomach beneath, the contours of which were a bit fuller than his own, softer than his own, and lightly peppered with silky, curly hair. Crowley couldn't help but bite Aziraphale's shoulder as his hand roved all over, and Aziraphale gave a deep, almost distressed, groan of, "Oh, God."

Crowley pulled back. "All right?"

"Yes, sorry… forgot myself."

"No, I mean… are you okay?"

"I'm… overwhelmed."

"I'll stop if you want," Crowley offered, though he was cringing inside, silently begging that this not be halted.

"No, no… it's just…" Aziraphale's breathing was laboured as he spoke, and his voice was familiarly high and… not worried, just flooded with emotion. "I've never felt anything like this… it's just pure sensation. It's so, so powerful, I… I wasn't prepared for it to be this powerful."

"That's part of the mission, angel," Crowley said, lightly kissing the newly-exposed chest.

"It's so intense… it's… it's like… like I want to burst," Aziraphale breathed as Crowley's hungry, experienced mouth roved over him.

"That is also part of the mission," Crowley growled.

"Oh, my!" Aziraphale responded, still breathy, still deep, still inundated with unadulterated feeling. Crowley's mouth was now nibbling and licking all over his neck, shoulders, collarbone…

With more breath than voice, Crowley said, "I just want to taste you everywhere..."

Aziraphale's head swam, and he tilted his head back and breathed, "Oh, I want that too. Crowley, I'm in love with you." These words came forth choked, halfway between a passionate moan, a sob, and a confession that just came spilling out.

"I know," Crowley whispered, never stopping what he was doing. "I'm in love with you, too."

"Of course you know," Aziraphale moaned, grasping Crowley's arm, drowning in emotion, still leaning his head back to give the demonic tongue better access. "I imagine it's been written all over my face for centuries. Millennia, maybe. And just when I thought I couldn't feel more strongly..."

"Shhh," Crowley lulled, placing himself back on top, and smashing his mouth against his companion's once again. He plunged his tongue in ravenously, and found it received with the most delicious, voracious sucking and pulling…

And in this position, with legs against legs now, they could each feel that the other was as hard as iron below the waist.

Crowley sat up, straddling Aziraphale's legs, and pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He then snapped his fingers, and suddenly, Aziraphale's off-white pyjama bottoms were draped over a chair on the other side of the room, along with his own black silk shorts.

Both were now totally bare, exposed to one another.

Aziraphale looked down at himself. "Oh!" he said, with surprise.

"What? Too fast?"

"No… it's just…"

"What?"

"I didn't realise that it…"

"What?"

"Well, I know it's daft, but I never realised it would stand up."

Crowley smiled. "It's never done that before?"

"I've never let it. Or, if it did, then I would close my eyes until it went away." He shifted his eyes, and roved over Crowley, who was still kneeling over him. "Oh… yours too, then."

Again, Crowley smiled. "Yes, that's how this works. Did you not understand that?"

"I did," Aziraphale answered, swallowing hard. "Theoretically, only, though."

"Aziraphale, say the word, and I'll slow down. You told me I go too fast for you… that's the last thing I…"

"No, no… please don't slow down. Please," Aziraphale begged. "I feel like an exposed nerve just now, but I don't want it to end. I've never felt so alive! It's just…"

"What?"

"Well," Aziraphale said, nervously, staring at Crowley's cock, jutting forward, solid and ready. "I'm looking at you now, and I'm wondering… are you going to want to… erm, be… you know, behind me?"

"No, angel," Crowley said softly. "Not tonight."

And he lowered himself back down on the left side of Aziraphale.

"Oh, I'm relieved," Aziraphale confessed. "I think, anyway."

Crowley whispered in his ear, kissing the earlobe again. "That's pretty advanced flying. We're just getting off the ground tonight. Relax, love."

And with those words, Crowley's hand wrapped around his companion's very well-primed member, and began to stroke slowly. Aziraphale gasped hard, and his eyes seemed to roll back in his head. He hissed out a few unintelligible phrases. At the end, he distinctly heard the slurred words, so bloody good come tumbling out.

"Mm-hm," Crowley lulled, kissing the other man's shoulder. "Just let it roll over you."

"Oh, Crowley… oh, it's too much…" Aziraphale said, eyes shut tight, nearly weeping with the intensity.

"Shall I stop?"

"Don't you dare!"

"Good, good, angel," Crowley sang in his ear. "I love, love how shocking all of this is to your system. I love how you're practically drowning in sensation."

"I am!"

"But you want it?"

"It's… it's… oh, magnificent," Aziraphale croaked, eyes still shut tight.

Crowley now draped his leg over Aziraphale's, and pressed his own pelvis against Aziraphale's hip, and began to move, moaning into his ear.

"I'm loving watching and hearing you experience everything for the first time – it makes me happy and hard, all at once, and I can't wait to see what your face will do as you get closer and closer," he said, teasingly. He licked Aziraphale's neck with his snake-like tongue.

Momentarily he stopped, sucked his fingers, then set back to work, stroking with his moistened, slick fingertips. Aziraphale gave a crackling, scorching groan. When he settled in again, Crowley pumped faster, and ground his own cock onto his partner's hip, rutting, now panting a bit, looking for relief.

Aziraphale's breathing quickened as well.

"If you've never seen your own cock standing up hard that way," Crowley whispered. "Then that means, you've never had an orgasm before."

"No… no, never."

"Never even on your own, eh?"

"No."

"Not even thinking about me?"

"No… I've thought… and then stopped. But I…"

"I've had them, thinking about you."

"Oh, Crowley."

"But thinking of you, and being without you… the climax is too hard. I just drown."

"Crowley, that's… that's…"

"You've always run away from those thoughts?"

"Yes," Aziraphale panted, as Crowley's palm jerked him forward, and his own cock ground over and over into Aziraphale's hip. "Thoughts appear… I can't stop them. But I run… and I run…"

"I run away from them too, for different reasons."

"I'd never guess…"

"Well, if you've never had an orgasm before, you're about ten seconds from having one now. We both are, do you know that?" Crowley asked him, rather forcefully.

"Yes!"

"And there's nowhere to run now, do you know that too?"

"Yes!"

"Nowhere, Aziraphale. Because we're free, and we're in love, and all over each other now. We don't need to hide anymore, and you want this, don't you? "

"Yes!"

"So have it!" Crowley ordered him, at a low, demonic growl, rubbing himself to the breaking point against Aziraphale's body.

"Yes…. Yes…."

And with another crackling grunt, this amazing creature who had been holding himself in check for six thousand years, exploded in orgasm, white threads spewing high in the air, landing on his chest in drops, on Crowley's hand, on the sheets nearby.

And the sight was too much for the seasoned demon, and he let everything go, as well. With a low groan of "oh, angel," he spilled his own restrained come, all over Aziraphale's hip and thigh.

He'd had probably millions of orgasms in his long, long existence. Both on his own, and with partners. With women, with men, with groups of both… it was part of his job. Mostly official, all hedonistic.

But this… this was the one he'd been waiting for, since The Beginning of time. The indulging of love. The joy sought and found. The ultimate creature comfort.

He panted against Aziraphale's shoulder, and listened to his companion's stunned, heavy breathing, then opened his eyes and feasted them on the wonderful supernatural being lying next to and underneath him. He saw six thousand years of excruciating, exquisite patience, manifest and strewn all over Aziraphale's buzzing, rising and falling body. It was in the form of shiny, careless, slippery, white pools of liquid, and it was the most pure love he had ever actually seen.


After lying still and silent for a long few minutes, Crowley finally got up, padded to the attached bathroom, and retrieved a towel.

"Shall I?" he asked.

Aziraphale looked at him, and sat up and reached for the towel. He took it, and wiped himself clean.

"I suppose either one of us could have just snapped our fingers and cleaned it up," Crowley said.

"Mm," Aziraphale answered, tossing the towel to the floor, and lying back down.

Crowley lay down beside him again, once more kissing his shoulder. "Can you speak?"

"I wouldn't know what to say."

"Because your brain is still addled and you don't have words? Or because you have something to say that's actually too difficult to contemplate?"

Aziraphale actually chuckled. "The first one."

"Oh, good," Crowley said, with a sigh, turning over onto his back. "That's how it's supposed to be."

"I feel as though everything I've ever known has changed in the space of one hour."

"It has."

"Suddenly, I'm not what I was, and now I know… this. I know what makes humans seek this experience, sometimes at the expense of everything else."

"Yep. And why my job was often so bloody easy."

"And mine so hard."

"And we're just getting started, angel. You've not had anywhere near the full spectrum of what you can feel."

"How many times can you do this in one night?"

"What, me? Or anyone?"

"In general terms, I mean."

"Depends. For humans, the younger the man, the more virile. I've been with twenty-year-olds who are seemingly limitless. I've also been with men of sixty, who've got one good go in them, before they have to recover for twenty-four hours. But that's an oversimplification. And then, women are a different creature altogether."

"Wow."

"For us, I'm going to say, we could go three or four rounds without even trying that hard – more if we gave it a bit of effort, and maybe some magic."

"Well, I'm famished," Aziraphale said. "Let's go find a midnight snack, and maybe…"

"Give it another go?"

"Yes. If you want."

"Okay."

"Well, do you want?"

"For the record, angel, I will always want."


So, again, I know you are having thoughts and feelings! I'm dying to know what they are! Please don't be silent on this! :-D

On a different note, though, I've written a fair few smutty scenes in my travels through ffn, but this is the first one I've written for two men (or at least, two men-shaped creatures, as the book points out). I found the process difficult because using pronouns makes things very ambiguous, when two characters of the same gender have body parts entwining, and needing description. But constantly using their names feels repetitive and cumbersome. Using the words "angel" and "demon" don't work well in this instance because of other things going on in the story, so let me know what you think about that bit as well, if you are so inclined.

Thanks, as always, for reading!