Since that surprise encounter on Sunday, Crowley had been back to that glory hole every day except Saturday - he'd always choose Aziraphale's company over a quick fuck - but no one had joined him all week. In fact, before last Sunday he'd not seen anyone at that glory hole for months. He'd almost given up on the place, and had only swung by on a whim as he'd happened to be in the area. He was very glad he did. Perhaps the place was picking up again.
Crowley wasn't interested in sex with other demons – mostly because they terrified him - and while he would love to be with Aziraphale he knew it would never happen. Humans were his only option, and Glory holes were the only way that would work. Whilst it was true that he could use his demonic powers to stop humans from noticing his serpentine qualities, it took a great deal of concentration and he couldn't maintain his focus for long while aroused.
It wasn't just the eyes that he needed to hide. Crowley had scales which spiralled over his chest, back and arms as well as completely covering his feet and ankles. Just like his eyes, he couldn't make them go away and he hated them for it. They were a constant reminder that he could never fully pass as human, a constant reminder that he was a demon. Still, at least he didn't have scales on his crotch, arse, thighs or face. It meant that he could still expose some parts of his body.
Crowley preferred to use the glory holes that were in the back of sex shops. They were busier and safer than public lavatories, and people didn't turn up half way through to use the toilet. But the two sex shops that he frequented – and had done for almost a decade - had recently closed down within months of each other, leaving him lonely and frustrated.
One of the sex shops had even been in Soho, a short walk from Aziraphale's bookshop. Sometimes Crowley would pop in after visiting the angel when he was feeling horny and was sure Aziraphale wasn't around to see him go in. He wasn't worried about bumping into Aziraphale there – the angel would never go somewhere as sordid as that.
Often there would be a group of men in the corridor leading to the cubicles, waiting to see if anyone caught their eye. Sometimes one of them would try to follow him into a cubicle but he made it clear that this wasn't an option.
Although, he had tried it once with a man in a public lavatory.
Sunglasses were not enough to hide Crowley's eyes up-close so he'd said that he had a kink where he liked to be blindfolded, though he made sure he could still see through the blindfold. He'd worn a buttoned up shirt, knee-high socks, shoes, and nothing else. Just enough to hide the scales. He'd sat in the cubicle, perched on the closed toilet lid with his arse in the air and his ankles around his ears, full of nervous anticipation. The only rule he'd given the man was that he wasn't allowed to touch him beneath his clothes or remove them. But despite Crowley's warnings the man had pushed a hand up under his shirt before quickly drawing his hand away again as though burnt.
"What's wrong with your skin?" the man had cried.
A quick burst of demonic magic and the man had fallen asleep. Crowley had hurriedly gotten dressed again, modified the man's memory – and the memory of anyone else that might have overheard – and then stormed away. He'd also implanted the idea in the man's head that he now hated glory holes - mostly because Crowley couldn't bear the thought of ever being touched by him again. The experience had shaken Crowley so badly that it had been months before he felt ready to visit a glory hole again.
After the two sex shops closed down Crowley struggled to find another one with a glory hole in the back. So instead he tried out nearby public lavatories which he knew had glory holes in them. There was a good one just outside of London where he'd had some success - he'd even left graffiti on the wall advertising which days and times he'd be there - but no one had shown up for the past few weeks.
He'd started to worry that all the glory holes he knew of were now abandoned, so it had been a joy and a relief to find a man waiting for him on Sunday.
But now, a week later, he was starting to lose hope again. It seemed this place was not as active as he'd imagined. He should have made arrangements with the man to meet him again, but then again he'd seemed like the silent type. Most of them were, to be fair. He'd not wanted to risk putting him off by speaking but maybe he should have tried. Now, he'd never know.
Crowley hoped that the man would return at the same time on the same day. It was worth a try. Crowley had liked him - he'd been amazing at giving head, and his dick was wonderfully thick. Plus there were certain things about him that reminded him of Aziraphale, which was a massive turn on.
And so he waited, his demonic essence pushed down deep inside, making himself all but invisible to other immortals. He wasn't overly worried about other demons looking for him. If they wanted to see him in person they tended to arrange a meeting first, but they were just as likely to dump information straight into his head - which he hated. In fact, he'd been considering asking them to make use of the electronics humanity had invented - they could fax him or give him a telephone call instead.
He was much more concerned about Aziraphale finding out what he was doing and judging him.
He'd been sat there for almost an hour when someone came in and locked themselves in the cubicle next to his. Was it the same man as before? Crowley poked a finger through the glory hole and almost immediately the man pressed their fingers together, caressing him as he had the previous Sunday. It must be the same man.
Crowley was fairly sure this guy didn't know what that gesture meant. The code was that the one who stuck their finger through the hole was asking the other man to stick his cock through. The way the man had responded today and last Sunday, by putting his own finger though as well, would normally mean that he wanted something different. Last week Crowley had assumed that he wanted to play with his cock instead which was why he'd obediently put his own cock through. But it was possible that the gesture had merely been intended as a confirmation of his interest. The finger caressing was a new one.
The man made his wishes clear this time by making a 'come hither' gesture through the hole, the same gesture that Crowley had made the week before in a desperate bid to get what he wanted - a cock in his mouth. It seemed that they'd made up their own language.
As much as Crowley wanted to be the one doing the sucking he could never turn down a blow job, especially from someone so good at it. It had been a long time since anyone had deep throated him like that.
Crowley pushed down his trousers and underwear around his ankles, making sure the scales around his calves were hidden just in case the man peeked through the hole, and then he stood against the partition and started to push himself through.
There came the sound of movement, of something being dropped on the floor with a light thud. Crowley was already looking down when the corner of a blanket or cushion suddenly poked out from below the partition. It was tartan print, and it immediately made him think of Aziraphale.
Crowley choked back a cry as wet heat enveloped his cock. It wouldn't be the first time he'd fantasised about Aziraphale being in the next stall, but the thought of Aziraphale delicately putting down a tartan cushion before dropping to his knees and going to town on his cock was such a ridiculously perfect mental image that he couldn't get it out of his head. When the man started moaning around his cock it reminded him of the way Aziraphale moaned with delight whenever he ate anything particularly delicious.
Crowley knew it wasn't Aziraphale. He wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this but it was fun to pretend, to imagine Aziraphale being so desperate to have him that he'd follow him in here.
Crowley could feel himself getting close, but he didn't want to cum, not yet, so he forced himself to pull out of that eager mouth. He saw parted lips for a moment before the man drew back, and then Crowley made that beckoning gesture with his index finger in front of the hole.
He considered asking for what he wanted instead of resorting to hand gestures, but he felt as though the man wanted them to be silent. Besides, it quickly became clear that he'd got the message across perfectly well. There came the sound of the man getting to his feet, unzipping his fly and then pulling down his trousers. It seemed he'd resisted playing with himself this time.
The big, plump cock nudged through the glory hole, and Crowley's cock twitched at the sight of it. He dropped to his knees and licked at the head, lapping at the precum that had already beaded there. He drew the man's cock into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, careful to do only what a human tongue would be capable of, albeit an unusually long one. The taste of him, the smell of him, the way he felt in his mouth... all of it left him feeling desperately aroused.
Crowley reached behind himself and rubbed a finger against his arsehole, shivering at the sensation of it. A quick demonic miracle and his finger became wet and slick. He continued to rub little circles around his hole before pushing inside of himself, whimpering around the cock sliding in and out of his mouth as he pushed deeper. He imagined this stranger's cock opening him up instead, relentlessly drilling into him before filling him up with a huge load of cum. Crowley's finger moved faster, and then a second finger joined the first, stretching his rim in hot little stings. Oh, he wanted this man inside of him so badly. He wanted to be filled, he wanted to be used.
Crowley drew back, letting the cock slip free from his mouth, a trail of spit still linking them. He swallowed thickly as he watched the man nudge forward again, trying to seek him out. He needed the man to pull away, to look through the hole so that he could turn around and offer his arse to him. Crowley wanted to speak, to ask him if he wanted this. He'd known far too many men who would just back up onto a cock without checking that their partner wanted it first. Some people only came to glory holes for oral, not everyone wanted to suddenly find themself balls deep in someone's arse. Crowley needed to make sure that he wanted this before he did anything.
But the man wasn't pulling back, and Crowley was scared that, in his confusion, he'd just give up and walk away without looking through the hole to see what was on offer. Crowley couldn't let that happen. He made a split second decision.
"D'you want to put it in me? From behind?" Crowley said, keeping his voice low and sultry. "I'm ready. I've got a condom if you want it. But it's up to you." As a supernatural entity he couldn't catch or spread diseases, and he liked having men cum inside of him, but he wanted to give this man the option.
The man yanked his cock away.
"Sorry!" Crowley said, dread twisting in his stomach. "We can go back to what we were doing."
The man refused to answer him, refused to speak, and then came the sound of him fastening up his trousers. The man was going to leave.
"Sorry!" Crowley hissed again desperately. "Don't go. I'll be quiet!"
Crowley bit his lower lip, forced himself to stop talking, but to his dismay the man left his cubicle anyway, his door rattling as it was thrown open, and then came the sound of footsteps rushing away.
Crowley pulled up his trousers and underwear, half wanting to run after him but knowing it would only make things worse. Was it the offer of anal that had put him off? The mention of condoms? Or was it the talking? He suspected it was the talking. Perhaps the man had been fantasising that he was someone else and he'd just ruined it.
Crowley felt angry with himself. He'd really liked this guy and now he'd scared him off – probably for good. All because he couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut.
Crowley's cock had started to soften so he tucked himself back into his trousers, put his clothes to rights, and then sat down on the closed toilet lid. After a few minutes, once he'd calmed down and given the man enough time to get away, he left the stall, washed his hands, and then marched away through the park. He kept his head down and his hands deep in his pockets.
The Bentley was parked only a few streets away and he felt much better once he was sat in the comfort of his own space. He had every intention of driving back home and distracting himself with the television - or perhaps sleeping for a few weeks - but he felt unbearably lonely suddenly and wanted some company.
Perhaps he could tempt Aziraphale to some dinner. He turned the car around, and headed towards the bookshop.
Authors Notes:
I just wanted to check that there were indeed sex shops around in the 1970s and…
'In the district of Soho within the City of Westminster a handful of sex shops were opened by Carl Slack in the early 1960s, and by the mid-1970s the number had grown to 59.'
Oh my!
(Though how many of them had glory holes in the back, I don't know.)
I found the following quote while googling what scales feel like (Because it's been ages since I held a snake, and it was a smol boy, but I remember him feeling smooth.)
'What we tell tourists at The Australian Reptile Park is "feel your finger nail, that is what snakes scales feel like because they are made of the same material which is keratin."'
So I'm imagining that for that handsy guy, going from skin to a fingernail texture on someone's chest would be a shock!
When Crowley is considering asking Hell to contact him using the new-fangled electronics humanity had invented, I'm referring to this part from the book:
'Using electronics as a means of communication had been his (Crowley's) idea and Below had, for once, taken it up and, as usual, got it dead wrong. He'd hoped they could be persuaded to subscribe to Cellnet, but instead they just cut in to whatever it happened to be that he was listening to at the time and twisted it.'
The mention of Cellnet dates it to the 1980s, so I figured in the 1970s he might be starting to consider it with no idea of the can of worms he was about to open.
I checked to see what year fax machines were invented - to make sure they were invented before the 1970s – and I found some pics of them from the 70s. But fax machines were invented in 1843! I had no idea they were invented so long ago!
