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The afternoon was sticky warm. Crowley was full of homemade lemonade and contentment, her angel lazing about on the blanket next to her, at the bottom of their garden.
Aziraphale was in her pinup finest, high-waisted shorts and a little gingham top that tied at the bust, covering just enough to be fit for the public eye, and just little enough to keep Crowley’s wandering eyes entertained.
“Pretty,” she hummed, reaching out to run her thumb across the swell of her breasts, smiling to herself.
Aziraphale smiled back, fluffing up Crowley’s hair where it fell across her forehead.
They had settled in for their little impromptu picnic a while ago now, Crowley plied along with gentle kisses and a good excuse to laze with her angel. And now, perfectly happy where she lay, she felt herself growing full, heavy, a warm familiar pressure building inside of herself. She gave a contented hum at the realization, wiggling her hips before rolling onto her stomach to inch closer to Aziraphale.
“Hello there, my serpent,” Aziraphale teased fondly, arching over to place a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “Comfy?”
“Mhm,” Crowley gave a hum in response, letting the weight of her body press her bladder into the ground. Oh, yes, so wonderfully full. She closed her eyes, letting a breathy sigh escape her lips as she indulged.
Aziraphale watched her eyelashes flutter, her hips wriggling ever so slightly into the ground, lips quirking up in amusement.
“Happy, my sweetness?”
Crowley hummed again, nuzzling closer, pressing her face against Aziraphale’s shoulder. She wasn’t desperate, not yet, but she didn’t want to reach that stage of frenzy today. No, she wanted to indulge. She wanted to luxuriate.
And so she lay, letting that lovely pressure build, wriggling a hand beneath herself at some point to press against the swell of her bladder, feel it ache so wonderfully.
And then, feeling heavy and happy and held, she allowed just a little release, sweet warmth spreading beneath herself and soaking into the cotton of her sundress. It was quiet, discreet, fucking hot. Pissing herself next to her angel, all cuddled and cosied up, full from sweet lemonade she had given her. All her fault, really.
She clenched, stemming the stream.
“Hmmnh.” The delicious heat of her piss mingled with the slick of arousal that clung to her thighs, cooling quickly in the heady afternoon. Oh, ohh, her ache was so much stronger with a taste of relief.
Sighing, she let go just a little more, desperate to hold onto that wonderful feeling of hot release, her piss sloshing softly onto the picnic blanket, her dress already sodden.
Oh.
Her cheeks turned pink as she realized Aziraphale’s eyes were on her. Well, on the puddle spreading beneath her stomach, soaking into the cheery fabric.
She swallowed, glancing up to meet her angel’s eyes.
“Roll over.”
“Hm- Nnh, no.” No! She’d barely be able to hold it in if she had to move now. And then, well… everything would be on display. Her piss-damp stomach, the trickle that had rolled beneath her tits when she wriggled her hips…
Aziraphale gave her a stern glare, sitting up and propping herself up on one arm.
“Crowley, roll over.”
With a soft whimper, she did as she was bid.
Aziraphale looked over her with a careful eye, biting her lower lip as she inspected the absolute state Crowley had gotten herself into.
Crowley could only lay, waiting, in the cooling puddle of her own piss, silent and pliant.
Aziraphale studied her. She looked, first, judging with an expert eye. Then, she investigated, a hand across her damp stomach and the fabric that clung there. To her knees, bent obediently, legs parted for her. Up her sticky thigh. A put-on frown at the lack of panties. A barely-there smile at the damp heat of her slick. She bunched up the soiled fabric, pushing it over Crowley’s pert tits to expose her body to the air. She withdrew her hand, wiping it on Crowley’s already messed dress.
“Well, so far as I see it, dear, you ought to finish what you started.”
Oh. Oh, someone, yes.
Aziraphale shifted, settling into a kneeling position between Crowley’s legs. One hand gripped firmly at her hip, nails just digging in, while the other took careful position. The heel of Aziraphale’s hand pressed right against Crowley’s bladder, her pressure gentle at first but quickly building.
“Go on.” Her eyes were stern and steely, watching Crowley with intent. “You’ve already pissed yourself this much, already made a mess of yourself, of your little dress, of our lovely blanket. Let go, Crowley. Soak yourself. Soak me.”
Crowley gave a choked-out whimper at that. It was all too much to hold back. A few weak drops, and then the stream started again, unhindered now as it splashed between her thighs. The wetness stained Aziraphale’s legs, her thighs glistening with drops of Crowley’s piss in the afternoon sun. The blanket beneath them was dripping, wetness travelling beneath Crowley’s back. Yes, fuck, yes. She was making a mess, her stream pattering onto damp fabric, splashing onto Aziraphale, darkening the denim of her sweet little shorts. The relief, the drawn out bliss of pissing herself, of emptying so wholly, there was nothing like it. She gave a breathy moan, tilting her head back in ecstasy.
Crowley’s stream slowly petered out to a damp dribble, and finally to nothing. Cheeks flushed, breath heavy, she looked up at Aziraphale. At her beautiful, perfect, lust-riddled wife. Crowley felt like prey to the most divine huntress, and oh, how she was ready to be devoured.
Aziraphale straddled her damp lap, leaning over her to take a fistful of copper hair and tugging her into a deep kiss.
Crowley slid her tongue across Aziraphale’s, giving an unrestrained moan and a wriggle of her hips, desperate for some sort of attention.
Aziraphale pulled back with a stern glare, reaching for the damp dress clinging to Crowley’s body and pulling her up just enough to tug the fabric over her head, tossing it aside.
“Filthy little thing, you think you can just make a mess like that and then expect to be pleasured? You think I’m going to just give you my fingers after a display like that?” Aziraphale clicked her tongue, pinching Crowley’s nipples into firm peaks. “You think you’ve earned an orgasm from me?”
Crowley gave a sweet little whimper, staring up at Aziraphale with golden eyes.
“Lay back. Up against the tree.”
Crowley did as she was told.
“Mouth open. There’s a good girl.”
Aziraphale was quick to shed her shorts and underwear, stroking her fingers slowly up the length of her labia, watching Crowley all the while through hooded eyes.
“So pretty, darling. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you touch yourself, hm?”
Aziraphale was careful to position herself, legs either side of Crowley’s head, holding onto the tree in front of her for a little extra support as she lowered herself onto her wife’s face.
“Go on, my sweetness, use that lovely tongue of yours. You know how I like it.”
Crowley did know. Rough and messy and hot, she took her tongue to Aziraphale’s clit, sucking brashly for a moment before she began to lave her tongue around her slick lips, lapping up the sweet salt that had gathered there. She gave hums and moans, rubbing her lips against that delicate peak, prodding and tasting at her entrance with the tip of her tongue, indulging, eating her out without abandon.
Being beneath Aziraphale was without compare. Crowely could feel the tension building in her thighs, that delicate tremble against her cheek, even as her face grew slick and messy with her arousal, chin damp, tongue working a frenzy against her clit.
It was only when she heard gentle whimpers from her wife above her that Crowley sucked her clit again, taking it firmly between her lips and humming, giving the sweet vibrations that tipped her over the edge.
Aziraphale fell perfectly still for just a second, hanging there in bliss, before the shudders of her orgasm overtook her. She moaned and writhed, letting Crowley pleasure her through it, giving a weak cry. She shook, whining Crowley’s name, before conceding and clambering off to lay by her side.
Aziraphale’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, legs still trembling in aftershocks every few seconds.
She looked over to Crowley, her darling Crowley, face damp and sweet with her own slick. She reached over gently, swiping away the moisture on her chin with her thumb, and prodding it between her plump pink lips.
Sweet and obedient, Crowley licked the digit clean, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes the whole time.
“There’s my good girl.”
Crowley preened under the praise, shuffling just a little closer, tilting her head ever so softly in request.
“Oh, okay, darling. Go on, you may use your hands,” Aziraphale smiled gently.
Crowley was more than eager, reaching down to rub herself with an urgency, rubbing her clit back and forth before bringing her other hand down to slide two fingers inside, easy and unburdened with the slickness of her arousal.
It was easy to feel the pleasure build, the beautiful memory of Aziraphale being splashed with her own hot piss so fresh in her mind, and it felt like a matter of moments before that wonderful coil of tension in her stomach was building. And then-
“Stop.”
Crowley whined, staring up at Aziraphale, hands falling still where they were, two fingers still buried deep inside herself and pressing wonderfully at that sweet pleasure point.
Aziraphale tossed her shirt aside, shifting to straddle Crowley again, risen to her knees so that she hovered above her lover’s chest. Her full breasts hung tauntingly in front of Crowley’s face, heavy and delicious, and Crowley wanted. Someone, how she wanted.
“You’re so good for me, waiting like this. And good girls get rewards,” Aziraphale cooed, reaching down to brush Crowley’s hair back from her face.
With a torn-out moan, Aziraphale tilted her head back and released, a stream of golden piss pattering straight onto Crowley’s tits.
“Touch yourself, love. This is all for you.”
Crowley cried out as she began to rub herself again, a mess of bucking hips and clumsy fingers and desperate pleasure as she was coated in Aziraphale’s piss. It ran down the hollow of her throat and over the planes of her stomach, mingling with the dampness of her own release.
“Oh. Oh, oh fuck, oh fu-“ Crowley cried, climaxing with a firm buck of her hips even as Aziraphale continued to piss onto her, the noisy patter of her stream drawing out her bliss.
When she finally came to, she looked up to see a sweetly smiling Aziraphale letting the last of her piss drip onto her chest. She gave a little wiggle of her hips, tits bouncing deliciously as she did so, before climbing off of Crowley’s lap and laying down by her side. She gave a deep sigh, brushing her fingers softly through Crowley’s hair.
“My darling, that was absolutely divine. I can see why you enjoy it,” she smiled, pressing the sweetest of kisses to Crowley’s cheeks.
Still panting and breathless from her orgasm, Crowley could only nod, reaching out to snuggle into Aziraphale’s arms, seeking the comfort that she needed after the intensity of that scene.
Aziraphale was more than happy to provide, tucking Crowley into her arms and up against her chest, feeling their shared spend and urine lingering between them in their embrace. It would grow cold and uncomfortable soon, but for the moment, it could all stay.
“Look up at me, darling.” Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. “Can you find your words again just yet?”
“Mhm.” Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s chest, still only just getting to that point, but eager to please.
“Love, was that everything you had hoped for?”
Crowley looked up at her with a broad grin, arching up to press a kiss to her jaw.
“Angel… So fucking good, everything and more.”
Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh, stealing a soft kiss from her lips.
“Good. Come on, precious thing, it’s time to get cleaned up.”