Okay, once again, this is NSFW. A couple have readers have told me recently that they would rather skip the sex scenes, so... okay! Don't read this chapter if that sort of thing isn't your cup of tea!
Uhhhh… I'm nervous about this chapter! It's quite explicit, and a little bit twisted, and so closely resembles gratuitous smut that it's hard to even talk about it.
But I say once again, I really, really want to do justice to that long-suffering, pent-up passion - it is absolutely a story that deserves to be told! And I'm nowhere near done telling it. This pair of corporeal beings are learning how to love each other, and to me, steamy as they are, these scenes are about learning to be partners, rather than being "about sex." You can tell by the way they trip over things.
As such, as I said before, I realize it's fan fiction, but the goal here is not "smut," but rather, a titillating, literate, beautiful, description of lovers learning to lean into the physical aspect of their relationship. The story itself has been just as much about this, as it has a possible coming war!
Please, please enjoy! :-)
FOURTEEN
In a rare book shop in Soho, one that had seen many a forbidden confab between an angel and a demon, the air had changed. It was heavy this evening, with sweat, with love, with the thick, desirous exhalations of said angel and said demon.
The two of them knelt face-to-face beside a bookshelf. The angel's clothing, rather than on his body, was folded neatly on a chair nearby. The demon's kit was just as he had arranged it this morning, as usual hugging his body somewhat tightly, and flattering his long, lithe form. Except, one key appendage had escaped its confines.
And most importantly, Aziraphale had been shocked into a new stage of corporeal awareness.
"You said yourself, I'm a fast learner. There's no reason why I couldn't… you know, learn," he was saying. "To give you the same bit of ecstasy you've given me. What am I saying, bit of ecstasy? I mean, the same great swathes of unfathomable, mind-bending…"
"It's very early days, angel," Crowley said, tucking himself back into his black vinyl trousers. "A few minutes ago, you couldn't even say the words."
"That was before I understood… this… this corner of physical experience. I'm in awe of it, in awe of you. I want to give the way you do."
"How could I say no to that?" Crowley whispered, and their lips met desperately.
After a few moments of greedy searching tongues and lips, Aziraphale pulled away, and said, "Shall we close up shop, and go home, love?"
Crowley could only nod, with a bit of drunken bewilderment.
Aziraphale climbed back into his clothes, as one does, and the two of them travelled back to the flat almost wordlessly. Likewise, they parked the Bentley, then rode up in the lift, without making any conversation more significant than about Suzy Fly, their neighbours' Papillon-Corgi mix. She'd been yapping rather unabashedly lately, and her owners were hard of hearing. Fortunately, angels and demons have the power to command their surroundings, so they'd been able to shut out the noise.
Crowley entered the flat first, and Aziraphale followed. When the door was shut, Crowley grabbed the other's hand, and the two of them walked toward the bedrooms. When it came time to decide which one, naturally, they turned left, and entered Crowley's stylish, dark, spacious chamber. He shut the door, then snapped his fingers, and with that, the television disappeared from the wall, eliminating (mostly) the possibility that they'd be surprised by any agents of Hell (or Heaven).
By this time, the sun was going down on London, and Crowley waved his arm downward, thus closing the plantation shutters for the night, and at the same time, lighting the teardrop-shaped fixtures, dimming them to candlelight-like perfection.
"All right, Crowley, I'm here to learn," Aziraphale said, enthusiastically. He'd said it as though he'd turned up in order to be shown the Dewey Decimal System, not how to give explosive, unholy pleasure to a demon.
"Oh, come on, Aziraphale," Crowley whined. "Tone it down, would you? What do you think this is, a quilting symposium?"
"No, no," Aziraphale insisted, frowning, shaking his head. "Those are lethally dull."
Crowley smirked, and aggressively peeled off his jacket, tossing it to the floor. "You used to like them."
He kicked off his boots (with a little help from magic) threw his glasses off, pulled his loose-fitting, snakeskin tie away, and tossed it to the floor as well. It was all in an almost stylish heap on the floor.
Aziraphale watched him, half with shock, and half with lusty interest. His voice came out low and breathy, when he said, "All right then. Tell me what to do. Teach me."
Whilst unbuttoning his own silk shirt, Crowley sauntered up close, and very softly said, "Okay, then. Learn, you shall. Oh, but... I think my language could get right filthy. Okay with that?"
Aziraphale smiled tightly, in the way that he does, just as the slinky black garment hit the floor. "I think we've already established that I don't mind that."
For the second time that evening, Crowley reached up and tugged Aziraphale's bowtie loose. "Indeed, angel. All I'm saying is, if you want to learn what really flips my ship – and you do, right?"
"Oh, my, yes," the angel breathed.
"Well, then, I'm not going to hold back from saying whatever nasty thing pops into my head," the demon said, snapping the pesky tartan piece of cloth away.
"I wouldn't hear of it," Aziraphale responded. "I mean… I wouldn't hear of you holding back. Not…"
"I've waited a long time to do this when I'm not playing a role, or trying to manipulate someone. This, with you… it has all been quite a coup for me. I'm not sure if I've made that clear to you." Crowley was once again undoing his companion's waistcoat.
"You ought to be able to say whatever you'd like, now that you've no agenda," Aziraphale told him, sincerely. "I would imagine you held yourself in check for centuries just as I did, only in a different way."
Crowley nodded, then snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale's waistcoat and jacket literally flew off his body and landed draped over the doorknob. "In my line of work, it's all been about the other person. Been bloody difficult to get what I really want. Not impossible, just rare."
"Then let me be the first to give it to you, for the sake of you," the angel said, with lips pursed rather enticingly. "Tell me what… flips your ship."
"Okay – you asked for it," Crowley said with his eyes atwinkle, and barely moving his lips. He took a deep breath, then, "I'll be honest with you, angel: part of making my ship flip would be hearing you say a few choice things as well."
"All right…" Aziraphale said, tentatively.
"I know I pushed too hard before, to get you to talk, so I'm just, you know… floating the idea," Crowley told him, now going for the stuffy starched shirt's buttons. "Putting it out there. Work up to it, Aziraphale. It doesn't have to be tonight."
Aziraphale nodded nervously, and while finishing the last few buttons, Crowley leaned forward and caught the angel's lips with his own. The mouths writhed together for a few moments until the shirt was undone, then it hit the floor as well.
"You said last night," Aziraphale began, again, rather tentatively. "There are acts that you consider to be advanced flying."
"Yes," Crowley conceded. He now unzipped his trousers, and reached inside, began rubbing himself a bit. "I still say it's early days for that. Although, the thought of it is… well…"
"All right. I must admit, I agree, even though I want… I want to be… for you…"
"Well, I quite fancy what you said in the book shop."
"Oh. Which part?" He was now intently watching Crowley's hand, invisible inside his vinyl trousers, moving slowly up and down. Aziraphale now had the urge to do the same thing himself…
"The bit about this corner of physical experience," Crowley said, sensually. "Unfathomable, mind-bending, and you want to give the way I do. The way I did, for you – to you – against the bookshelf." He closed his eyes and bit his lip, whilst he fondled himself, thinking of those moments.
"Yes."
"Which means you'll be spending some time on your knees, angel."
"Yes."
"So do it."
"Do it?"
"Get on your knees."
Aziraphale obeyed.
Crowley stepped forward and pressed the angelic face sideways against the front of his hip, almost in an embrace. He sighed with contentment as he continued to stroke himself, and Aziraphale gave a little groan, at the smell of the vinyl and sweat, and of having so vividly close a view of this bit of Crowley. Aziraphale's hands went to the backs of the vinyl-clad thighs, and he closed his eyes to take in all of the sensations.
Crowley's fingers rifled through his hair a few times, which felt gorgeous, and made him fall into the moment even more.
"Do you like watching me rub my cock?" the demon asked.
"Mmmmm…" Aziraphale moaned in assent, opening his eyes again, only to see more vigorous stroking.
"I like you watching. And I bloody love the feel of your hair, your head, pressed to my groin. But you know what? It's not enough."
"How so, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, dutifully.
Crowley pulled his cock loose in one deft motion, and suddenly it bobbed there, right in front of the angel's face.
"It has to be you, angel," he responded. "Stroke it for me."
Aziraphale took it shyly in his palm, then wrapped all of his fingers around it staring at the swollen head, as though mesmerised. This alone caused Crowley to exhale raggedly, and throw his eyes up to the ceiling to cope. When the angel's hand slipped forward gently, then back, then repeated the action, Crowley pulled in a hiss of air, and let out, "Fuck!" as though it were glass shattering.
"Good?" asked Aziraphale.
"Very good. Only grip tighter."
Aziraphale obeyed. "Like this?"
Crowley's fingertips dug into the other's shoulders, and he answered, "Just like that. Rub it, angel, nice and tight, nice and slow…" He closed his eyes and winced, then after a few more beats, he opened his eyes. "Kiss the head, Aziraphale."
The angel looked up at him and stared, as he pursed his lips and planted a brief, lovely kiss on the purple, mushroomed head of Crowley's cock.
The demon ordered him to do it again, and he was obliged.
"Oh, that looks so fucking hot," Crowley groaned. "My cock and your lips… mmm, in fact, do you see any wet drops leaking out, angel?"
"Y-yes."
"Rub it all over your mouth like it's lipstick."
Once again, Aziraphale kept eye-contact, and obeyed. He planted a wet kiss on the underside of the head, and then traced round his open mouth with the tip, to his delight, spreading the slippery clear liquid all over, and thus producing more. Aziraphale couldn't help but run the demon's suffering member round his mouth a few more times, and watch the yellow eyes gloss over with pleasure, then begin to blaze with intensity.
Eventually, Crowley's hips began to push forward again and again, he groaned, and caught himself gripping Aziraphale's head…
And he realised he'd have to say something, otherwise…
"Stop, stop," he practically whimpered. "If you don't stop, I'm going to come all over your face."
Aziraphale pulled away, and not for the first time that day, he was struck lasciviously by Crowley's coarse language. "Oh, my," he groaned, but not with surprise, or appal. He sat back on his heels, closed his eyes momentarily, and then for a few seconds, his hand went to the bulge in the front of his impeccably-tailored trousers. He, too, rubbed himself… then he realised what he was doing, and stopped.
"Told you," Crowley said, watching him with wicked delight. "Some language may not be suitable for perfect angels."
"Then it's a good job I'm an imperfect one," Aziraphale responded crisply.
"Blimey, this is going to be tougher than I thought."
"Tougher how?"
Crowley smiled, and caressed the angel's hair, cheek and chin. "Having you here on your knees is… well, just the sight of it… I don't think I can tolerate it. The thought of it makes me want to just..." And he found that he couldn't finish the sentence, because he didn't know how. He wanted to consume and possess, as much as he wanted to love him.
"Well, if you… erm, come too soon, I can make you hard again. I'm sure of it."
Crowley smiled. "I'm sure of it, too. And oi – language! A definite step in the right direction, angel."
"I find that I'm a bit drunk with lust, and it's making me bold," Aziraphale said, getting back up on his knees, and gripping Crowley's cock once again.
"Whoa… careful…" the demon groaned, still feeling a bit hair-trigger. But Aziraphale stroked, watching his partner's face, and he noticed it relax.
"Oh, now," the angel scolded. "What are you thinking about? Holy water? Hastur? The fourteenth century?"
"All of the above," Crowley mused.
"Think about me, Crowley," the angel urged. "Not about things that make your blood run cold."
"Oh, Aziraphale…"
"I came here to learn how to, as you say, flip your ship," Aziraphale protested, stroking more strongly now. "I came here because you did something to me in the book shop, and it was so mind-numbingly pleasurable, my vision will blur when I think about it, for at least a century or two. And I want to give that right back!"
"I know…" Crowley breathed. "But now that I'm in it up to my neck… I… I'm a little afraid."
"Of what, love?"
"That you'll be… that I'll repel you."
"You could never do that," Aziraphale assured him, though he did understand what the demon meant. He leaned forward and gave the head of Crowley's cock another warm kiss, and continued to pump with one hand.
"I thought I could do this," Crowley growled, wincing a bit. "But angel, if you knew…"
"I do know," Aziraphale lulled. "You're a demon. You're a fiend. You've been doing this for six thousand years, and you've got a bit twisted. Perhaps more than a bit. Your tastes run dark, some of what turns you on might scare me. It's possibly why you might have thought you should just be the one to pleasure me for the time being."
"Yes. Yes," Crowley conceded, still breathless.
"This is not a surprise, and in the years ahead, we'll explore all of it, all right?"
"Okay," Crowley said, with some measure of relief, and astonishment, still concentrating on keeping his body under control.
Aziraphale stopped what he was doing and sat back again. "You don't have to unleash all of your unholy lusts upon me straight away. In fact, I'd rather prefer it if you didn't. You said yourself it's too early to do anything too advanced. So tonight, can you just tell me how to give you a chuffing amazing blow job? One that will cause you to feel fireworks and prickles and see stars, and forget your own name, then melt into the floor, like the one you gave me?"
A wave of lust came over the demon. "You know those words? I mean, you know what it's called?"
"Blow job? Of course. I haven't had my ears closed for the last hundred years, contrary to what you might think."
"I loved hearing you say it. I want to hear more."
Aziraphale set his jaw hard, narrowed his eyes, and took a nervously determined breath. He was glad that lust had emboldened him a bit. "You want... you want. I see. Well, let me tell you what I want, Crowley. I want jets of your come sliding down my throat, as soon as fucking possible. So just tell me what I have to do to get it!"
For a few moments, Crowley was so stunned, he couldn't speak. Then his eyes blazed again, a fresh wave of that same want washed over his already tightly-coiled body, and he said, "Put it in your mouth, and suck it. Lips tight, eyes on mine, plenty of spit, angel, and plenty of moaning. That'll do for the moment."
Aziraphale's dutifully engulfed the hard-as-rock, demonic member with his mouth. The sensation was so titillating, he couldn't help but moan as asked. Crowley moaned back, then looked down, searching for the angel's eyes. Aziraphale turned them upwards, pulled his lips tight, and began pulling back and forth, over and over, with long, slow strokes. He moaned again and again, struggling, at times, to keep his eyes open, against the onslaught of lust and drunkenness. But he saw every twitch of Crowley's face, watched and heard every crackling grunt.
"Next level, angel," Crowley groaned. "Teeth. Use some teeth."
The angel resisted the urge to ask if he was sure, and he carefully, lightly bit down on the distended piece of flesh, closed his lips taut once again, and continued what he'd been doing… rhythmic, in and out, moaning, always moaning.
"More," Crowley ordered. "Harder."
Aziraphale gave ever so slightly more pressure with his teeth, and continued.
"No, even more than that, angel," Crowley demanded, with his own teeth gritted hard. "Make it hurt, do you hear me?"
Intentionally hurting anyone was against every instinct in Aziraphale's body. But then, just about every sensation he was currently feeling was against the natural order of his angelic form.
He forced himself to grip tighter with his jaw, and his teeth scraped hard along Crowley's diamond-solid cock, and the demon groaned deeply as he did so, and spat out the words, "That's how you do it, angel."
Aziraphale repeated what he'd done, and was rewarded with another deep, sinister groan, and a few exciting expletives.
Crowley then engaged his hands at his hips, and began pushing his trousers down toward his thighs. Aziraphale raised his hand and prepared to snap the pesky garment away, but Crowley stopped him, and let the vinyl hug his thighs rather tightly.
"You want them like that?" Aziraphale asked, pulling momentarily away.
"Mm-hm," Crowley answered. One of his hands now cupped his balls. "Now squeeze."
Once again, Aziraphale obeyed. Then, the demon demanded, "No, squeeze them. Hurt me, goddamn it! And don't stop sucking my cock, angel. You wanted a throatful of come, and I'm going to give it to you!"
Aziraphale could not imagine how this could feel good, but he indulged the demand, and squeezed forcefully, then raked his teeth firmly over the demonic member, lodging the head near his throat. When he pulled back again, Crowley groaned as though he'd just been punched in the gut in slow-motion, and he hissed the word, "Twist!"
Aziraphale gave a twist of the wrist, and listened to another unhinged groan of pure, unfettered hedonism escape from Crowley's mouth.
He continued to do as asked, stroke after stroke, back and forth with teeth clenched, and Crowley's testicles twisted in-hand. The demon's outbursts became strained, pained, noisy, and foul-mouthed. It was the most exciting moment of Aziraphale's life thus far…
And then, he felt Crowley's hands gripping both of his jaws, and the force of the head of his cock hitting the back of Aziraphale's throat strengthened. He realised that Crowley was now thrusting, and everything intensified...
Anticipating one's own orgasm, the angel now knew, was one thing - and it was quite a thing. Anticipating another's was so much more thrilling, so much more exhilarating! Any moment now, at his hands (so to speak), the creature he loved more than anything in this universe was about to experience sizzling, burning pleasure, a big blast of a release, that he hoped would cause blurred vision, buzzing in fingers and toes, a total warm wash all over the demon's body. And giving him that was more important, in this moment, than any blessing or miracle he'd ever done. The singeing, smouldering decadence of love… such a coup, as Crowley had put it. Such a miracle unto itself!
Still grinding his teeth, Crowley managed to croak out, "Oh angel, here I fucking come!"
Suddenly, Aziraphale felt both of Crowley's hands grip tighter, then grab onto his ears. He heard "Shit!" shouted from above, and his mouth began to fill. He could feel Crowley's body spasming and throbbing, and with each one, there was a short surge which the angel impulsively, and quite voraciously, swallowed. One after another after another… more pleasure, more groans of release, more filthy words, more moans from Aziraphale…
It was eye-crossing for Crowley. This thing he'd shown Aziraphale how to do was a combination of things he'd fancied over the years, but had never achieved all at once. It would never have occurred to him to try and only have the maximum indulgence before now; he'd never had anyone there just to give. Just for him. The entire effect was gorgeous. Overwhelming.
He wished he could watch himself come, and could watch the look on Aziraphale's face as his mouth filled up, and he swallowed for the first time, but alas, the effect of this perfect liaison was too much. He wasn't able to see anything as the pleasure shot out of him, through his exquisite partner's waiting lips.
And at some point just after Aziraphale began to swallow everything he could catch, his body spasmed unexpectedly and his hand went instinctively to his groin. He was coming inside his trousers, rubbing the outline of his cock, feeling delicious release as the creamy liquid slid down this throat, and satisfaction became complete.
A wet spot began to form at the front of his trousers, but he didn't notice. Crowley did, and it thrilled him.
And for a few moments, the two of them just stared at each other in a state of shock.
So, what do you think? Please leave a review to let me know... I'm drowning in a sea of silent readers! *gurgle gurgle*
Honestly, though, a chapter like this is a risk. I'm interested in your observations.
Thank you for reading!
