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By the time they made it back from the Ritz, wine buzzing under their skin and more than a few soft, casual touches exchanged between them, Crowley was finally sure. The thing he had wanted since he’d first seen the angel on the wall in Eden, swathed in nothing more than gauzy white fabric—the thing he had denied himself for thousands of years knowing that Aziraphale simply wasn’t ready—was going to happen.
Aziraphale gave him a furtive, half-lidded glance as Crowley closed the door to the bookshop with his hip. “That was such a delicious meal, my dear. Would you like some more wine? I have a nice 1943 Chateau Cheval Blanc somewhere around here.”
“Mmmph,” Crowley said, sauntering toward him. “Not sure I’m up for more.”
“Some coffee, then? Tea?” Aziraphale watched him, swallowing deeply as he came closer. “Ah—I think I may have some of that dark cocoa you like . . .”
“I don’t want anything else to drink, angel, and I’m fairly certain you don’t either.” Crowley could smell the sweet dessert wine on Aziraphale’s breath, and yes, the arousal coming off of him in waves—a lust he’d scented many times over the millennia but had never permitted himself to outwardly acknowledge.
“I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale said faintly.
Crowley eyed his rosy lips, wondering if he dared to make the first move or whether he should let the angel come to him instead. Finally, he decided that if he opted for the latter, he might be waiting until at least the end of the week. He closed the rest of the distance between them and, slotting one leg between Aziraphale’s thighs, he took his face in his hands and kissed him.
Aziraphale’s lips parted immediately, and he let out a little moan against Crowley’s invading tongue. His arms wrapped around Crowley so tightly, he might have cracked a rib if Crowley were human. It was a very promising beginning—far better than Crowley ever could have predicted. But then, of course Aziraphale would give himself over to this fully, once he’d decided. It was the making-a-decision part that was hardest for him.
Crowley couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, the wet plushness of that mouth, the soft body under his hands. He felt like he was burning up, the whole of him hot and hard against Aziraphale, crowding him into the nearest bookcase. His heart pounded in his chest, the hungry, desperately in love, idiotic thing. Crowley couldn’t stop himself from pulling at the angel’s clothes, and thank Someone, but Aziraphale was loving it, making little gasping, desperate sounds as Crowley kissed his mouth, his throat, the little patch of freckled skin Crowley discovered under that damn tartan bow tie. He worked at the buttons of the velvet waistcoat next, and Aziraphale was grinding against him, no evidence of a cock there, but a hardness Crowley couldn’t quite understand. The strangeness of it, once registered, was enough to break through the foggy lust-haze in Crowley’s brain. He pressed his thigh up between Aziraphale’s legs and frowned.
“Angel?” he asked, “what am I working with here?”
“Oh. That,” Aziraphale said, flushing an even brighter pink. “I should have thought to remove it before our lunch. Silly me.”
“Remove what?” Crowley looked down between them, ignoring the substantial bulge in his own jeans and pressing his hand against the angel’s crotch. His fingertips met with the bunched fabric of Aziraphale’s trousers, but under that was the unmistakable slick feel of metal, just wide enough to cover the mound of the angel’s sex. He traced it up and realised what it was: the device was attached to a belt worn under the clothes. “Fuck, angel. Do they still make these blessed things? I haven’t seen once since the Middle Ages. You haven’t always worn this, have you?”
“I . . . yes. Well, when I think I’ll have a need for it. It helps me—has helped me control my urges in the past.” Aziraphale sniffed primly.
The revelation was enough of a shock that Crowley nearly staggered backwards. He might have done if every atom in his being wasn’t compelling him to remain plastered against Aziraphale, now he was finally allowed.
“But . . . why?” A fierce, protective rage rose up in Crowley. “Did Heaven make you do—”
“No, no, nothing so tawdry as that,” Aziraphale said, pressing his hand against Crowley’s cheek. “I made the choice myself, many years ago. I knew if I let myself give in to . . . pleasure . . . I might not be able to control myself. Around you.” His long eyelashes fluttered as he licked his lips. “It was a defense, against myself.”
Crowley hardly knew how to compute this information. “But honestly, you don’t expect me to believe you’ve never even—fuck, don’t tell me you’ve never?”
“Never.”
“Never touched yourself? Never come? Never fucked, not in all the years we’ve been here? Not even during a temptation?”
“You don’t need to be so crude, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s eyes were downturned now, and the flush on his cheeks had turned from lust and excitement to shame.
“Sorry, hey,” Crowley said, gently brushing his thumb across Aziraphale’s lips. “I’m just surprised. I never would have guessed.”
“Because I’m such a hedonist?” Aziraphale huffed. “Contrary to popular opinion, I do know how to control myself when need be. It would have been disastrous for us to engage in lovemaking before now, Crowley, you know that.”
Crowley nodded slowly, not wanting to say something to upset Aziraphale more. He still didn’t completely understand, but this was obviously something that meant a lot to the angel, that had given him a feeling of control over his circumstances, and he didn’t want to demean it no matter how strange it seemed.
And he had to admit, if only to himself, that the fact Aziraphale had felt it necessary to restrain himself around Crowley was more than a bit of a turn-on.
A series of complicated emotions played across Aziraphale’s face. “If I’m disgusting to you now, we don’t—” He started to turn away.
“No. No, angel, you’re wonderful. I don’t really get it, but I . . . It doesn’t matter what I think. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. But I need to know if you really . . . Do you really want to be with me, like that?”
“More than anything.”
Crowley smiled, he hoped in a way that was sexy and not desperately relieved. “Music to my ears. Let’s go upstairs, shall we?”
The bedroom in the small flat above the bookshop was mainly used for storing books too numerous to be displayed in the stacks below. However, there was, in fact, a small bed in the midst of it all, half the size of Crowley’s own and covered in tartan. It would have to suffice, though Crowley was already fantasizing about taking the angel back to his own flat and laying him down on black satin. What a contrast that would make.
Aziraphale stood in the center of the room, rumpled and half-undone, and he gave Crowley a beseeching look over his shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s not much.”
“It’s all good, angel,” Crowley said, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale from behind to continue plucking at his buttons. Aziraphale melted against him, his head lolling back on Crowley’s shoulder to give him better access, and Crowley watched greedily as the waistcoat and then the shirt fell away, and he was finally treated to the sight of bare skin. So incredibly soft, and so lush. He mouthed at Aziraphale’s neck and ran his hands over the full swell of his belly, his hips, and then paused at the clasp of his trousers. “This okay?”
“Yes,” Aziraphale said, clutching at Crowley’s hips. “There’s a key.”
“A key.”
“Yes. I . . . had to make sure to miracle the . . . harness unopenable by other means. I keep it locked in the other room.”
“Couldn’t you just go get the key when the, ah, moment struck?” Crowley pressed a kiss to the tender lobe of Aziraphale’s ear.
“I find the added barrier helps to, ah, calm me down, as it were. It serves as a reminder of what I have—had—to lose.”
“Your grace?”
“No, you fool. You.”
“Ssss-someone’s sake, angel. Don’t you know you could never lose me?”
“I could have lost you before, when Heaven and Hell were watching.” Aziraphale moaned as Crowley’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.
“You really had it that bad?” Crowley himself had never been harder in his life. He could imagine it now, Aziraphale wearing his device, so turned on he was desperate for touch, yet refusing himself that release out of some notion of duty. Or rather, protection. The angel had been trying to keep him safe.
“You’ve no idea.”
“Oh, I think I might have some idea.”
“Perhaps so.”
At that, Aziraphale’s trousers fell to the floor, and as he stepped out of them, Crowley admired the fullness of his figure, the curves of his arse against simple white cotton briefs. But the belt was impossible to ignore. It ran between his legs in a thin strip, almost like a thong, and was secured at the waist by a tiny silver lock. Crowley kneeled to get a better look, and Aziraphale parted his legs to allow Crowley’s fingers to explore.
The metal was burnished from years of usage, and it didn’t appear to chafe. It was smooth to the touch, and it molded securely around what Crowley could discern from the wetness of the panties underneath was a warm, ready cunt.
“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, his voice hoarse. He was glad he was already kneeling, as the vision would have otherwise sent him to the floor. He pressed his mouth against the curve of one of Aziraphale’s luscious arse cheeks, biting at the fabric and breathing in the angel’s scent. No one had ever done this, been this close. Aziraphale’s thighs shook as he licked and tasted.
“It’s not too terrible?”
“Fuck, no. This has got to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me get a look at the front of you.”
Dutifully, Aziraphale turned, and Crowley ran his hands up and down thick angelic thighs covered in light blond hair. His fingers trembled as they reached the flare of the belt and felt the soaked white cotton. There was no way for him to get at the treasure beneath, the fit was so perfectly tight, and while half of him wanted to ask for the key, the other half wondered what it might be like to draw it out just a little longer.
He looked up and met Aziraphale’s gaze. “You’ve never come before. Ever gotten close?”
Aziraphale bit his lower lip and nodded.
“Bet you’re really sensitive here,” Crowley said, rubbing along the crease of Aziraphale’s groin. He traced the path with his tongue. “Bet if I tried really hard, I could make you come without even taking this off.”
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, putting his hands in Crowley’s hair. “Don’t be cruel.” His eyes, however, were glowing, obviously excited by the possibility.
“I can’t wait to taste you.” Crowley pressed the heel of his palm against the warm metal cupping Aziraphale’s cunt and was rewarded with a little moan. “Can’t wait to get inside you.” He pushed at it again, teasing the sensitive skin under the white cotton with his tongue as he did. The heady taste of Aziraphale’s arousal combined with the tang of metal made his trapped erection throb in sympathy.
Aziraphale panted, his hips hitching pitifully as he tugged and pulled at Crowley’s hair. “Please, please. You’ll drive me out of my mind.”
“You want me to get you out of this thing?”
“Yes, my dear, yes. I can’t wait another moment.”
“Where’s that bloody key?” Crowley growled.
He was given a location and the combination to a safe in the sitting room. Crowley had never moved faster or undone a lock so quickly. The key was as Aziraphale had described, just a tiny slip of metal on an unassuming chain, and he snatched it up and returned to where he had left Aziraphale, only to find the angel already lying on the bed, arms stretched over his head. He could have been a Botticelli, and for a moment Crowley only stared, hardly able to believe what was about to happen.
“Got it,” he said, dangling the key, and Aziraphale gazed over at him with dark, lusty eyes.
“Hurry.”
Crowley did. The key fit into the lock and, with a click, the belt loosened. Crowley undid the latches at both sides and pulled it gently from between Aziraphale’s legs.
The white cotton underneath was ruined, translucent. Crowley climbed onto the bed and hovered between Aziraphale’s spread thighs.
Aziraphale cleared his throat. “My dear, I would very much like to see you.”
“Right,” Crowley said, unable to tear his eyes away. He wasn’t about to muck around with buttons and zips, so he used a quick miracle to vanish his clothing and was gratified when Aziraphale sucked in a quick breath of astonishment.
“You’re utterly lovely.” Aziraphale reached for him, and Crowley went into his arms, their bodies fitting together so perfectly it was almost absurd. His cock snugged against the wet warmth of Aziraphale’s crotch, and the two of them gasped into each other’s mouths. Crowley kissed him, unable to stop himself from grinding into the heat, and Aziraphale let out a plaintive moan. They would both come if Crowley kept going like this, which might be nice, but what would be even nicer, Crowley decided, was for the angel to come on his tongue.
Aziraphale let out a thready whine of protest as Crowley backed away and kissed down his body. There was so much to touch, and the angel was all for him. Without further ado Crowley pulled off his soaked underwear and tossed them over the side of the bed. Aziraphale’s cunt was swollen, glistening and pink, and nestled under a thatch of soft blond hair. Crowley kneeled down and spread the angel’s thighs to get a better look. The perky nub of his clit was begging for attention, and his needy opening beckoned for Crowley’s fingers. He flickered his tongue against the velvety soft skin, and Aziraphale groaned, lifting his hips.
“Oh, my darling, yes. More, please.”
It was almost a crime that Aziraphale had denied himself this pleasure for so long, and Crowley was determined to do his best work. The angel deserved nothing less. Crowley gave him another lick, making his tongue long enough to cover the length of that aching pussy. Hands were back in his hair, tugging him closer. He alternated firm, satisfying strokes with gentle flicks of his tongue, getting everything nice and wet, rubbing and licking and making a mess of Aziraphale’s cunt until the angel was begging, thighs shaking. Crowley pressed two fingers into him and lapped and licked at his clit, sucking it into his mouth and holding it there as Aziraphale ground against him.
It was better than anything, and Crowley decided he was going to spend at least the next week between his angel’s legs. It was a good thing he didn’t really need to breathe. He could feel his eyes had gone entirely yellow, and the scales on his feet were warm and aching. If he wasn’t careful, he’d go full snake—and then where would they be.
“How do you feel, angel?” he rasped.
“I . . . it feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Oh, please keep going. I . . . I need you.”
“You’ve got me.”
Soft inner walls clenched around his fingers as he began to fuck the angel slowly, loving him with his tongue all the while. He could tell from Aziraphale’s harsh gasps and the painful tug on his scalp that the angel was close, so he redoubled his efforts, swirling around that little bud with unceasing pressure. Suddenly, powerful thighs tightened around his ears, and Aziraphale cried out. His whole body convulsed, and Crowley felt his cunt tighten and spasm, drawing him in as Aziraphale rode out his first climax. Crowley lapped at him greedily, wanting every last drop of that delicious slickness.
“That’s it, that’s it, angel,” Crowley said, muffled by Aziraphale’s skin. “You’re doing so well.”
Aziraphale seemed beyond comprehension. His orgasm went on and on as he moaned and held on tightly. Finally, the powerful waves seemed to recede, and the pressure around Crowley’s skull abated. He grinned and looked up at Aziraphale, who was wearing an extremely dazed expression.
“Good Lord, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I should very much like to go again, should you be amenable.”
Crowley arched an eyebrow, still rubbing his fingers gently against the sensitive flesh. “Again? Amenable, that’s me. Any special requests?”
“As lovely as that was, with your mouth—this time, I want you inside me.”
“Yeah. Yeah. We can do that.” Until now, Crowley had managed to keep his own arousal at bay, but the request from his angel had him scrambling up, prick bobbing between his legs. He was flushed and leaking, and he couldn’t resist rubbing the head of his cock against the place where Aziraphale needed him, pushing just enough to light up the nerves again. Aziraphale’s thighs fell open shamelessly, and it was hard to believe this was the same angel who’d denied himself any release for six thousand years. He looked utterly debauched, his rosy skin flushed from cheeks to groin. As Crowley played with him, he canted his hips, trying to catch the tip of Crowley’s cock, but Crowley pulled back, not quite ready to give up his tease. Instead, he gathered up Aziraphale’s legs and held them together, creating a slick channel to thrust into right above the angel’s cunt.
“Such lovely, fat thighs for me to fuck,” Crowley said, swiveling his hips as he did so. “Your legs have been driving me crazy for eons, angel.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. The first time I saw you, I wanted to take a bite.”
“I’m very glad you didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Crowley said, wondering when Aziraphale had first felt desire. When had he chosen to restrain himself with the device for the first time?
Aziraphale squeezed and squirmed around him. “Oh, my dear, that feels absolutely incredible. I can . . . oh, I can feel you.” He was trying to grind against Crowley as he thrust and finding it difficult, but Crowley knew that building frustration would only make the act of penetration that much more satisfying. However, the motion was also quickly unravelling Crowley’s self-control. Still, he had to know.
“What about you, angel?”
“What about—ah!” Aziraphale cried out as Crowley rubbed over his needy clit. “What about what?”
“When did you get it in your head to keep your pretty little cunt locked away?”
“I—oh, Crowley, it was after Rome. I wanted you, oh, how much.” Aziraphale bit his lower lip and tossed his head, exposing his vulnerable throat. The snake in Crowley wanted very much to latch on and see what that flesh might feel like when pressed against aching fangs.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
“Put your legs around me,” Crowley said, leaning down for a kiss. He got one hand around the base of his cock to guide it home, and Aziraphale’s mouth opened, his blue eyes widening with something like wonder.
“Oh bless it,” Crowley said with a groan, sinking inch by inch. “You’re like hot silk, angel.”
Aziraphale opened up for him like a sheath to a blade, taking him deep with no effort at all, he was so ready. Crowley’s toes curled, and he shuddered with pleasure, gratitude and six thousand years of unexpressed emotion. The feeling of being held in both the angel’s arms and in the clutch of his body was like nothing he could have imagined. He blinked back the hot burning sensation behind his eyes and kissed Aziraphale again as he started to move.
He wanted to start slow, give Aziraphale time to adjust to the sensation of having another inside him for the first time. However, the way that Aziraphale was clutching him and begging for more wasn’t making soft and steady very easy. Crowley’s prick didn’t want to comply either, or his hips started moving faster, drilling down into that tight, slick hole. The little bed creaked dangerously underneath them and seemed to move a few inches on every thrust. Crowley could feel the pressure building in his belly and balls, his cock squeezed so delightfully with every push. He nudged it deeper and deeper, tapping something inside that almost felt like a cervix, but couldn’t possibly be. Aziraphale wouldn’t have gone so far as to give himself actual reproductive organs—he didn’t think. Still, the thought of it did something strange to Crowley, made his lust thicken and coalesce into a possessive need to take, to claim, to flood that womb with his seed.
“Sssomeone’s sake, angel. Tell me I can’t get you pregnant.”
Aziraphale let out a little laugh. “Of course not. Why, would you like to?”
“A little bit,” Crowley grit out. He knew it was the demon in him talking, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. He dug his nails into Crowley’s back and let out a sigh.
“Mmm. Well. We can pretend.”
“Fuck, angel—” Crowley managed, biting and sucking at Aziraphale’s neck.
“Oh, you’re so wonderful, darling. You feel so good, I can’t bear it. I’m . . . I’m close.” Aziraphale was panting, his breathing ragged and hot in Crowley’s ear. Crowley couldn’t answer. He was too far gone. The tension in his cock and balls was impossible to ignore, and he was hurtling quickly toward the point of no return. When he felt Aziraphale’s cunt start to ripple around him, he let out a harsh cry and pushed in as deep as he could go, releasing with a powerful surge. It shook him to the very core, emptying what seemed like his entire essence until Aziraphale was overflowing and Crowley could no longer hold himself upright. He collapsed in a graceless heap, welcomed into the comforting fold of Aziraphale’s arms.
“I must say, I’m very glad we’re on our own side, my dear,” Aziraphale said, brushing Crowley’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Our human corporations may be messy, but they truly are a delight when mingled together.”
Crowley, who was still very much inside of Aziraphale, managed a laugh. “Indeed.”
“I’m afraid that my original prediction turned out to be entirely accurate. I shall want to do this all the time, now.”
“So no more . . . ah, chastity thing?” Crowley said, very articulately.
“I’m afraid not. Unless of course, you want me to wear it. On occasion.”
Crowley pushed himself up to look at Aziraphale’s face, which was blushing quite prettily. “Very kinky, angel. I think I’ve created a monster.”
Aziraphale gave him a saucy smile. “Oh, no, my love. The monster was always inside me. You just let it out of its cage.”