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“I’ve been having wicked thoughts, Crowley.”
Crowley paused what he was reading, legs flung lackadaisically over the armchair.
“You what?”
Aziraphale sighed. “Thoughts, dearest. About... well about you.” His cheeks had gone a bit flushed with shame. Adorable. “Well you know I can have a terrible possessive streak, Crowley. I’m not proud of it.”
“Can you Angel?”
“Yes!! I mean look at this place. I can count on one hand the books I’ve let leave the shop in decades, maybe centuries. I’m greedy Crowley, I get awfully jealous at the thought... I can’t bear to let anyone else have them. I need to have them all to myself.” He was waving his hands around wildly. Crowley watched idly.
“Alright.”
Aziraphale was getting more and more flustered admitting this… whatever it was.
“I need to have you all to myself.” He said, emphatically. Crowley chuckled.
“Oh Angel, you’ve got me! I’m all yours.”
“I need to show you, though. I feel that terrible… vice of mine come to the surface when I’m around you. And I keep having all these horrible thoughts, Crowley.” He took a step towards the demon.” I need to make you feel that you’re mine. Only mine.”
Crowley put down his book slowly, paying full attention.
“Ok.”
The angel blinked. “What?”
“Show me then.”
Crowley stood up, closing the gap between them. Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath as Crowley leaned in flush to his body.
“Make me yours, Angel.”
Aziraphale apparently did not need to be told twice. He leaned up fast for a surprisingly tender kiss, considering the greediness with which he pulled the demon in for it. He pulled him in by the lapels of his jacket, as if he needed to keep him there. He held him close, every part of Crowley enveloped in the angel’s plush frame, warm and inviting. They always melted together. Aziraphale held him there, lips to his, as though the demon could discorporate at any moment. But beneath that heightened, although not unusual, warmth was a fervent undercurrent, lending his eyes a sort of dazed glassy energy. When they finally pulled apart, Crowley could see that kind of madness in it. He’d felt it simmering when they kissed, and something in it went straight to the growing tightness in his stomach. Whatever was awakening in his lovely husband tonight, Crowley had never been more glad to have asked leading questions.
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Aziraphale practically lifted the demon over to where the A-Z of 18th century romance bookshelf stood, and hauled him up bodily against it, crowding the smaller creature with his arms, his chest, his lips. He kissed him with more of a hunger now, the tenderness always there but that greed much more immediate. Aziraphale was devouring him whole. Crowley moaned into it, rendered completely brainless when the angel moved down, peppering kisses along his jaw. Licking a long stripe over his jugular. His mouth moving hot and wet against his throat.
“Is this good, Crowley?” he murmured, into his skin.
“Yes, go- fuck, yes Angel. It’s good.”
Aziraphale hummed. He left visceral red welts as he went, and Crowley let him, by Satan he would let him, marking him, branding him as his own. His. And when he bit down, hard, into the juncture where shoulder met neck, they both groaned low in the back of their throats. Aziraphale was almost louder than he was, completely lost. It was almost too much. Crowley was panting like an animal at this point, unable to stop the flow of moans and gasps of “Yes Angel, please” spilling from his mouth. He was almost disappointed when Aziraphale came up from where his face was buried in Crowley’s collar. Until he kissed him again, lips red and eyes dark. A humiliating noise rose up from his chest as their lips moved together. The angel moved a hand up to protect Crowley’s head from bumping against the shelf, curling into his hair with just the reminder of what he could pull there. This changed their position. They deepened the kiss. Crowley began to grind into his soft thigh, finally getting some well needed friction. But Aziraphale suddenly pulled away, and the demon nearly whined. They were both out of air they didn’t need to breathe. His eyes flickered down to Crowley’s neck, collar unbent, skin flushed.
“Oh dearest, I got carried away, I am sorry, are you alright- “
“Yes, shut up.” Crowley pulled him in by the lapels, crashing them both together urgently. He bit at Aziraphale’s bottom lip, making a point, earning him a pleased noise. He began to grind again in earnest, finding to his delight that the angel was definitely more in need than he was, trying to find that ferocity again. It didn’t take much, really. Just an accidental whimper, an incidental brush against the not-yet-miraculously-healed bitemarks on his neck. Aziraphale’s eyes locked on the wounds, this time with no guilt. His gaze deepened and held that hungry look again. Not that it ever left, not really. His angel was greedy tonight, after all.
“Crowley, upstairs.”
“Yes- “
Before he could finish that thought his lips were occupied again, and he was hoisted up, carried bridal style at a rapid pace up the stairs to the bedroom. He suspected a bit of angelic speed was put to inappropriate use there. He certainly didn’t mind. He was dropped unceremoniously onto their bed. Aziraphale’ form towered over him, eyes raking over Crowley’s. The demon began to unbutton his own shirt hastily, when two soft, strong hands covered his.
“No.” Aziraphale said simply, undressing him himself. There was no gentleness, but there was a reverence with which he undid button by button, as though Crowley were something sacred. It made him gulp.
He wasted no time getting his lips, and teeth, and tongue onto Crowley’s bare chest the minute it was free. Crowley tipped his head back, giving in to whatever the angel wanted with him. And his angel wanted everything. He laved at his chest, leaving a trail of smaller marks down, down, making sure no inch was left unloved, unworshipped. With his fingers he pulled at his nipples, just enough to get them red, waiting, wanting. He traced his ribs, his collarbones, his heaving lungs. Aziraphale lifted him up by the hips, pulling his stomach up and burying it into his face as he showered it with kisses. They tickled, and the stupid, giddy laugh that erupted from Crowley drew a snicker from the angel. He had a beautiful laugh. Like the bells of a church.
Aziraphale began to move his kisses way slowly down his happy trail. The demon tried to buck his hips but had no leverage, totally helpless to the other creature. He could only twitch pathetically.
“I love you. Love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale mumbled.
“I-ngh- I love you… too…” He gasped out.
“Is this alright? Do you feel good?”
“Yes.”
“So beautiful like this. So divine, my Crowley. All mine.”
“Yes. A-all yours, Angel. I’m yours.”
He got a pleased rumble in response, and began to unbutton Crowley’s trousers, working the zipper down with his teeth. Fuck. His perfect, prudish half-fallen angel. He had never seen him like this, so… unfettered. They had fucked before, and of course it was amazing when he got to see Aziraphale undone, to see the politeness slip, it was perfect every time. But this was new. He wanted more.
Aziraphale held him by the waist, rubbing circles into the bones there, and worked off the rest of his clothes. He dumped him back down to earth, well, bed, and moved over him, putting them face to face again before cupping his face and kissing him once more. Moaning, he palmed at any part of Crowley’s body his hands could find, mapping him out, seemingly unable to be away from his skin for even one second. Crowley wiggled his arms down to find his lover’s waist, untucking the shirt to run his hands up the angel’s back, drawing him even closer in. Aziraphale kept trying to get closer, even closer, as if to absorb his grace into Crowley’s ruined soul. They shed the rest of his clothes, but skin to skin was hardly enough. Aziraphale started on the untouched side of his neck.
“Much as I, mm, appreciate it Angel, I can’t hold out much longer.” Crowley grabbed at the angel’s ass to draw their hips closer. He ground their cocks together, hard, relishing the gasp from his husband’s mouth.
“Wait.” Aziraphale said, his voice wrecked, and gravelly.
He held him pinned to the bed, immovable, as he took his sweet, damned time marking any space left untouched, so there was no doubt who Crowley belonged to. He gulped at that. Belonged to.
When Aziraphale was finally done with him he shucked off his own clothes, leaving them both bare, and he leaned back for a second. A moment to take it all in. His demon, debauched, panting, laid out before him. Like an offering. He was looking at Crowley as if he was going to eat him whole, sweeping ravenously over each and every part of his body, smoothing the tips of his fingers down his abdomen. He shivered. Aziraphale leant down to pepper surprisingly sweet kisses down his hips, skipping past his cock, and ignoring the protests, to suck at his thighs. He smiled indulgently into the skin.
“For god’s sake Angel I’m marked already.”
“Not good enough.”
“Angel-“
“No.”
A little of the old angelic authority slipped into his husband’s voice and Crowley, damn it, Crowley shut his mouth. But then Aziraphale continued.
“Crowley, my love. First, I’m going to mark you mine, and leave you sensitive and squirming for me, just like this. And then I’m going to take you, dearest, all of you, and make you mine. And I am going to keep going until that’s all you know. All you’re going to know is much I love you. And you’re going to beg for me to keep going, keep fucking you, until my words, my worship, are branded into your skin.” His voice was level, commanding. “Mine, from the outside in. And you want it, don’t you? You want me to own you, my star. You’re so sweet for me. “
“Aziraphale…”
Aziraphale leaned in to Crowley’s ear, kissing at the earlobe. “So beautiful like this. I love you, Crowley.”
The demon swore under his breath. “Please.”
“Hmm?”
“Please fuck me. Please I want it, all of it. Use me.”
Aziraphale looked at him deeply, and smiled fondly. “My dear.”
And he took Crowley’s cock into his mouth, and Crowley broke. Aziraphale’s mouth was hot and wet and perfect, and those blown-out cherubic eyes were looking up at him as if he were the only creature in the world and he just couldn’t take it. Fuck. He groaned loudly. His head fell backwards to the bed.
He whimpered out broken versions of his angel’s name, he could barely form proper words, just begging for more, more. And Aziraphale gave him everything he wanted. He would give him more. For a man so reserved and pristine in the daylight, he had learnt wicked things with his tongue. He lapped at Crowley deliberately, taking long slow strokes that somehow still unravelled him entirely. Savouring the taste of it. The angel’s lips were wet with spit and precum, making filthy sounds as he mouthed at his painfully hard cock. Who let him be this downright pornographic. He tried to buck his hips up but was held firmly down with one hand, a reminder that he was completely at the whim of the infernal beast at the foot of their bed. Aziraphale licked and sucked at him with a single-minded drive, kneeling there like a man haunted, praying to the altar for salvation. And Crowley was his God. With every malicious stretch of his tongue, Aziraphale redefined worship in Crowley’s image. It was too much.
“You taste divine, Crowley. “He said, coming up for air and licking his lips.
He squirmed restlessly, only to be pinned a little more by the other hand, which moved to tenderly hold at his wrist. At the same time Aziraphale, bastard that he is, took him down to the root, leaving Crowley gasping for air.
“Oh my fucking god Azira-ngh- Aziraphale-”
He growled a little at the naked blasphemy, the rumbles going straight to each of Crowley’s nerves. The hand holding his hips fast to the covers released him only to carve long red stripes across his lower stomach. Anything to remind him. Whatever they had taught in those gentleman’s clubs, it wasn’t dancing.
Crowley’s breath came out in faster pants, the knot in his abdomen growing by the second, only for the angel to free him with an obscene pop, a thin line of saliva connecting them together. Aziraphale cheeks were red, his lips slick, his pupils huge. And the hunger in them no less starving.
He gripped Crowley by the hips and yanked him downwards, till they were face to face. He brought their lips together, running his hands up Crowley’s arms until they were stretched above his head, running fingers through his red hair. Yanking lightly, drawing desperate noises from an already wrecked demon. He could feel the damned thing smile through where their lips met. But Crowley wanted more.
“Please.” Gasped Crowley, in between kisses.
But he was ignored. Aziraphale kept on, finding ever more expanses of skin to touch, to lick, to lather in kisses and murmured praises. Crowley was aching. A single braincell somehow sparked in his brain then, and he knew how to make the angel just fuck him already. He knew what made Aziraphale tick.
“Angel please. Please make me yours. I want you to own me, please, please don’t make me beg. Just take me, whatever you like, anything, I’m yours, I’m all yours. Ruin me for anyone else, please.”
Aziraphale made a small noise, as if physically holding himself back. He cupped Crowley’s cheek.
“My dear. I will, I will.” He said, and then leant down to give a chaste kiss to the top of Crowley’s forehead. The demon shivered. Tender. No. He wanted hunger. He wanted Aziraphale to fuck him like an animal, he wante-
Oh.
Oh.
Aziraphale had (affectionately) shoved him backwards up the bed in a single split second, and was now on him like a beast. He leaned over him, looking down at his handiwork.
“You’re so beautiful like this, my Crowley. So delightful. So lovely. Will you let me fuck you like this my dear? On your back, so I can see you?” His voice had a tone of desperation, as well as a holy avarice that left him entirely at odds with the sweetness in his touch now, in his words. Or perhaps, not at odds at all.
Crowley wanted to say, “I’ve already begged for you Angel, what part of that makes you think I’d say no.” But instead, he just nodded and made an unintelligible noise, too turned on and a little too fucked out to argue positions. Aziraphale beamed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. He ran a single digit down to Crowley’s hole, finding it already miraculously wet and inviting. It welcomed him in, and he added another, working him open. Crowley moaned, squirming like a wanton whore as Aziraphale coaxed him with just his fingers, over and over and over again.
“That’s it my dear.” He cooed, voice dropping lower. “Just like that. So pretty.”
“Ang-el. Fuck. I appreciate the… the attention, but ’m already there, I don’t need- “
Aziraphale hushed him and took the two matching fingers of his other hand, prising Crowley’s jaw ajar. He slid them across his tongue, essentially halting any more words from leaving his lips. His mouth was pink and shiny with his own spit.
“You need to be savoured. My love, you’re going to let me take such care of you. My darling. I want to indulge in every part of my beloved Crowley, and you’re going to let me. Does it feel good dear? To be treated the way you deserve?” He said, smiling fondly. “Like a treasured thing. Something to be savoured. Can you feel how much I love you?”
Crowley whimpered, nodding. The angel smiled.
“Good my love. Good.”
He moved his fingers in adverse rhythm, thrusting in his mouth, then into his ass, leaving at least one of his holes full at any one time. He felt consumed, from the outside in. Relished, ravaged like one of the cream puffs Aziraphale got from the bakery on special occasions, eyes closed, cream dripping down his chin. And the bastard looked down upon him all the while, smiling indulgently, eyes watching him, ears pricked for every noise escaping his lips. Drool snaked its way down Crowley’s jaw. His tongue, forked, teased at Aziraphale’s hand, pulling a dark chuckle from the angel. They lay like that for a while, in sync with one another, wrapped up in reverence. And Crowley, he was a demon. He had good stamina. But even so, he could feel something building as Aziraphale massaged him from every angle. He made a muffled noise, and Aziraphale freed his mouth. He panted for a second before he spoke. Words were difficult.
“I’m close, A-Angel.”
Aziraphale cleaned off his soiled digits on Crowley’s chest, deliberately brushing past his sensitive nipples before replying.
“I want to watch you finish, my Crowley. Just from this.”
And fuck, if that didn’t do it. The idea that his angel was so trusting, so confident that he could pull him apart with two bloody fingers and some nice words, and he was right. Aziraphale wanted to show him he owned him, body and soul, that no one could worship Crowley the way he could, and it was working. The angel carried on, and bent down to suck at his ribs, knowing how sensitive they could be to the nip of his pearly white teeth. He thrust his fingers again, and again, and again, adding a third just to hear Crowley moan. He was going to die like this.
The demon came violently, shooting across his torso and his back arching off the bed, into Aziraphale’s face, who moaned grittily into his skin. Aziraphale’s other hand held at his back, scratching down the newly accessible flesh with perfectly manicured, but sharp, nails. Another mark. Crowley’s hips rutted uncontrollably against his fingers, riding out the high until it subsided and he came back to earth. Aziraphale beamed at him.
“So good, my Crowley. You liked that didn’t you. You clenched around me so tight.” Aziraphale said, withdrawing his fingers. He began to lap at the puddle on Crowley’s abdomen, drawing whimpers from him as he laved all the way up to where cum had shot to his collarbone. Aziraphale moaned, making sure no drop was wasted. Then he stood up, and spread the demon’s legs wide. He looked up at him in a daze.
“I’m going to make you feel even better, my dear, is that alright with you?”
Crowley nodded.
“Good.”
Aziraphale hooked a pillow under Crowley’s hips, and lined them up together. He pushed into his already oversensitive hole. He could feel every nerve ending alight. The demon whimpered, gasping with every press of it. He went slow, achingly slow, so that Crowley could feel every inch moving inside him. So that he was perfectly aware as Aziraphale claimed him like this. With one hand Aziraphale held his leg up in the air, fingers bruising, branding him, on his teeth-marked thigh. With the other hand he rubbed soothing circles into his hip, murmuring praise as he eased himself in.
“You take it so well. Just for me.” Aziraphale mumbled. He gave him a pause when he was all the way, letting them both catch their breath.
“Ok, my dear?”
Crowley nodded, whimpering a little as Aziraphale incidentally shifted inside. Aziraphale bit his lip, eyes darkening. With them both catching their breath, he didn’t have to hold back and began to fuck him in earnest.
“Oh I love that noise, my love. Make it again for me won’t you?”
Crowley didn’t have to try, another snap of Aziraphale’s hips and he was lost, whimpering and moaning out Aziraphale’s name.
“Sweet thing.”
Aziraphale rolled his hips on every thrust, keeping a steady pace of hard, and fast, and deep. He groaned beautifully, leaning down for a quick but heavy kiss, sloppy and undignified. He moved a hand down to grab at Crowley’s ass, and Crowley in turn wrapped his leg over his shoulder. He was grateful that, lithe as he was, his body was just as flexible. Aziraphale had often remarked at it, wonder in his eyes. There was wonder in his eyes now too, as well as greed to take more. His gaze raked over the demon, head to toe and then back again, and he’d never felt quite so watched as he did tonight, exposed and pinned under the angel’s eyes. He saw every twitch, every bite of his bottom lip, every time his own hands grasped at the sheets. He felt filthy. Crowley turned his head away; he could only take so much. Aziraphale rumbled.
“Oh no, dearest that won’t do at all. Look at me.” It wasn't a request. Aziraphale’s deft hands reached down to Crowley, both of them, to jerk him by the jaw until their eyes met.
“Keep those pretty yellow eyes on me.”
He fucked into him mercilessly, holding him steady so that all Crowley could do was take it. He sobbed. Aziraphale paused for a second, concern washing over his features, but Crowley desperately rocked his hips up, dug his heels into his shoulder, urging him back on.
“Please.” He begged.
Aziraphale stroked a thumb soothingly along his jaw where his face remained cupped, soft but strong hands keeping him grounded. Crowley’s voice came out in broken sounds. Aziraphale continued the brutal pace.
“So beautiful like this. So sweet. My Crowley, you should see how good you look, all laid out for me like this. So wonderfully made, Crowley. Every part of you. So glorious. My Crowley. All mine.”
Crowley nodded.
“Nobody else makes you break like this. Nobody else. Oh, my dear. My treasure. You can’t even speak. You love it when I make you feel good, don’t you, my star?”
Crowley grabbed at Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss, whimpering into where their lips joined. It was a horrid kiss, teeth clacking, but neither cared. Aziraphale growled into his mouth, but his hands were tender, if a little demanding, moving to curl around his neck and into his hair to tug at the nape. He fucked into him again, and again, and again. It was a wonder Crowley still had the strength to demand a kiss like this. But then again, Aziraphale would always give him what he asked for.
He pulled out for a moment, leaving the demon whimpering at the sudden loss. He shifted their positions until Crowley’s ass was aloft, supported by Aziraphale, who resumed from further over him. And oh.
Aziraphale had experimented on occasion with different positions, some which hit Crowley where he wanted better than others. But this position, this heavenly position… It was his ultimate weapon. It managed to hit his prostate on every single thrust. The demon had never been more grateful to be anatomically correct than in this moment. If he had been lost in pleasure before, he was never to be found now. And he could see that the angel was starting to falter now as well, hips growing erratic even as he brought Crowley close to another ruining orgasm. And he knew it too. The fucker knew exactly how to please him.
“I’ve w-wanted to do this for so long.” Aziraphale babbled. “To worship you like this, to spoil you for anyone else, to show you everything I wanted to do to you” He gasped, eyes fluttering shut. “It’s so wicked, to worship a false idol. And that just makes me want you more. To want to do sinful things to you. Make sure you’re -fuck, ruined for anyone else.”
Oh but how could this be sinful, for Aziraphale to feel so good. To make him feel so wanted. Surely this was god’s plan. He was fucking him sporadically now, his voice wrecked and his breathes panting. He held Crowley’s hips for leverage as they both groaned. His words began to devolve into murmured praise, and whispers of “Mine, all mine.”
They were both close, and both beyond full sentences by now. Crowley wanted to feel them cum together, to feel his angel fill him up, to the brim, he wanted to feel it dribble down his thighs when they were done. He wanted to be marked inside too.
Aziraphale leaned low to find skin, burying his face where he found it there. He was so close, he was so, so close. The pair held each other, stomachs tight and skin sensitive to every touch. Crowley rutted desperately into him, coming violently again with a shout. Seconds later his angel finally came too, spilling hot and deep inside of him. Crowley’s brain went completely blank, time stretching into itself endlessly as he shuddered through it, ripping expensive sheets in his fists.
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Aziraphale’s breath panted hot against him as they both gradually came down, flopping against each other. They stayed there. Minutes passed before either could move, and even then only to curl arms around one another, nestled in each other’s necks. Aziraphale was soft and inviting. Crowley ran his tired hands through the angel’s hair, leaning in closer for warmth. Snake habits die hard.
“How are you feeling, dear?” Aziraphale mused, voice hoarse.
“Mm, good.” Crowley’s voice was equally hoarse. “Are you feeling alright, angel?”
“Yes, quite happy, love. Anything you need?”
“You.”
Aziraphale chuckled, the rumbles buzzing through Crowley’s chest. He smiled.
“I shan’t leave your side, Crowley.” He kissed him on the top of his head.
Aziraphale moved his hand from where it lay trapped, miracling them both clean of sweat (quite an achievement for divine creatures, to make each other sweat) and... various fluids. One of them maybe blood. Amazing. Crowley mumbled dejectedly. So much for his earlier plans. But they were both far far too worn out for the ritual of cleaning, much as he knew the angel liked those little touches. There was love in them, he said. And Crowley could live without that trickle of cum down his legs, he supposed. Plenty else to remind him of tonight. And speaking of…
Crowley struggled to rise, but he got up, apologizing to his angel as he did so. He only needed a moment. He sauntered floppily over to the tall antique mirror that Aziraphale kept in there, and examined his body. He looked like he’d been attacked by a legion of hellhounds. And, was that… Yes, yes it was.
“Angel...”
Aziraphale looked up sheepishly from the bed.
“Yes, my dear?”
Crowley gestured to the bright red “A” made out of extravagant hickeys on his neck.
“You didn’t.”
Aziraphale squeaked, cleared his throat, and replied.
“Sorry dear I, uh, got a little carried away…”
Crowley squinted at his reflection closer.
“Is it A for angel? Or…”
“A for Aziraphale.”
“… There’s one on my left thigh as well.”
“Um, yes. Well, you see- “
“Shut up, love.” Crowley rasped, crossing the distance between them to sit on his lap with a sudden vigour, he had no idea where from. He kissed at Aziraphale’s lips tenderly, but with a force. They both moaned gently, and he felt the angel’s hands come up to grab at his back, his waist, to cup his face. They didn’t last long, both breaking to gasp for air, though they didn’t really need to breathe. There was something nice about doing it anyway.
“Round two?” Aziraphale croaked.
“Round two.”