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Aziraphale flipped the hanging sign marked “closed” to face the street. It was getting dark out and he believed he’d deserved a pleasant cup of herbal tea, maybe with some honey poured in. He’d owned that bookshop for a couple decades now and he’d become tired of owning a shop with such demanding customers. Sometimes he’d ward off the customers by saying he didn’t have the novel they were looking for just so that he could keep it to himself. And so, to finish off his night, he found a record he’d bought from his tennant next door. But as he was about to settle himself, he heard a ringing from the bell chained to the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry, we’ve just closed,” he called out, setting down the record. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
He walked out to see who’d entered. And what he found was what he would consider; a tall glass of water. He was lean, dressed entirely in black. He had black sunglasses perched on his sharp, witty nose and flamed hair that Aziraphale could not take his eyes off of. The man was looking around before he realized Aziraphale was standing there.
“I was just, uh…” the man’s words wandered away before he caught them, “a book! That’s right, I’m here for a book.”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. This man was acting suspicious, but he was too good looking to keep him skeptical.
“Well, although it’s past hours, what kind of novel are you looking for?” Aziraphale said, walking closer. They were at a good spacing now.
“Uh, maybe human anatomy? Or fine cuisine? Either one, same thing,” he scratched at his tooth. Aziraphale tried not to speculate on the strange comment.
“How about cuisine? I always love a good cook book. I’m Aziraphale, by the way,” he said, beginning to bob towards them with excitement.
“Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley, but just skip the first part,” he meaninglessly followed after him. He seemed to be nowhere near as interested in books as Aziraphale.
Aziraphale began to ramble on the many books written by Irma S. Rombauer and Fergus Henderson, when all of a sudden he found himself slammed against the bookshelf. It was all within an instant, but Crowley’s fingers were dug into his shoulders.
“I—what do you think you’re doing? Get off of me,” Aziraphale said, shoving at him. He wouldn’t budge.
“I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal. I just… I haven’t eaten in days. You seem nice, though. I’d love to chat when I’m not about to starve,” Crowley said, his eyes wandering to Aziraphale’s neck.
“What are you talk—”
Crowley’s sharpened canines dug deep into his raw flesh, bloody and hot, the warmth wrapping around his lips. Aziraphale gasped in pain, shocked at the sudden bite. His own hands pawed at Crowley’s shoulders, using them as a way to hold his ground. He should be fighting back. Why wasn’t he fighting back? Crowley continued to drink him, swallow him whole. Aziraphale keened against the bookcase, pulling him closer. He did not expect himself to do that. Crowley looked up, his bright hungry yellow eyes now obvious. He noticed Aziraphale’s strange behavior and kept eating him kindly. Aziraphale became deletions, the blood loss making his mind fuzzy. Before he could pass out, Crowley ripped his fangs away, licking up the remaining droplets.
“Are you okay? Can I get you… water or something?” Crowley asked, suddenly acting worried. What a strange man, was what Aziraphale had probably been thinking. But he couldn’t remember, he was so exhausted. Crowley helped to a chair to sit down.
“What are you? Some kind of… creature from The Lost Boys?” Aziraphale said, holding his neck.
“Thank god you didn’t say Twilight, that hurts every time,” Crowley chuckled. “Sorry about all of this. I should have asked, it’s just really hard to find someone who lets you drink them up, y’know?”
“No, I don’t know. I’m not a monster, or whatever you are,” Aziraphale was slowly finding consciousness.
“Well, good to know I shouldn’t come around this neck of the woods for a blood partner then, huh? I’ve been all through London, Edinburgh, up and down Australia— everywhere! I’ve been having to just snag quick snacks from strangers. It doesn’t feel right!” Crowley said, now complaining.
“Gosh, it must be hard. Hungry, all the time? How much are you supposed to drink? Once a day? Or something?” Aziraphale questioned, now curious.
“Same as humans. Three times a day, sometimes a little dessert,” Crowley explained.
“Three—? Well, I personally wouldn’t want to be living like that. That sounds awful,” Aziraphale pitied him.
“Eh, you get used to it,” Crowley shrugged it off.
“Well, if you need somewhere to stay before you leave, I have an extra room,” Aziraphale offered, reminding himself that the vampire standing before him was still gorgeous.
“Nah, I’d better leave, find a new place to snack,” Crowley said, about to stand.
“You could always feed off of me,” Aziraphale said. “For a few days, at most. Just until you get enough strength back for traveling.”
“Seriously?” Crowley asked. “That would be amazing, thank you.”
He hadn’t smiled yet, at least seriously, until now. It made Aziraphale warm, soft. It was almost uneasy, but it was bearable.
“If you feel hungry anymore tonight, let me know,” Aziraphale smiled.
“Oh, I don’t want to bleed you dry. It’s impolite!” Crowley chuckled.
“I wouldn’t mind all that much,” Aziraphale muttered, not meaning to say it. Crowley’s eyes widened.
“Well, um,” he cleared his throat, shifting closer, “if you’re offering…”
Aziraphale tugged at his bowtie and unbuttoned his top button, revealing the unmarked side. He turned his chin to the right, inviting him in. Crowley shivered, gazing at his neck, thirst overcoming him. Instead of the first time, which was rough and painful (not that it was a bad thing), he licked the area he desired, making it wet and wanting. Aziraphale elicited a pleasurable moan, shoving a knuckle between his teeth to stop it. Crowley fed off of it, both the bite and his pleads. He deepened his bite and pressed his fingers into his form-fitting clothing. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, pressing his ankles into his thighs to bring him closer. He wanted him, he needed him, anything he gave him would be enough. As Crowley drained him sufficiently, the unattainable feeling of being whole and above life itself, he felt his body croak. His cock was rough and hard, needing to be pleasured and pressed, pampered. He subconsciously grinned himself into Aziraphale’s own erection. He gasped, his body shaking, his legs unable to stay still. He dug into his back, his nails creating crescents that would remain in him for as long as he pleasured the wanton angel. This persuaded him to thrust against him harder, faster, any bit of friction that would make him moan.
“Please,” Aziraphale moaned, “I’m begging you, kiss me, fuck me, something.”
Crowley ripped harshly out of Aziraphale’s neck, the blood sputtering off of his teeth, staining his collared shirt. Crowley dragged a needing thumb across his sharpened teeth, licking it off.
“Anything you want, as long as I can repay you,” Crowley pecked his throat, licking around his Adam’s apple. As he kissed, he trailed his hand underneath his waistband, palming his aching cock. It was wet, warm, and larger than he’d expected. But he pumped his gripped fist around it as soon as he managed. Aziraphale whimpered, latching onto Crowley’s hair, tightening deeply.
“I—I don’t want to be teased. I need you inside of me,” Aziraphale fussed, groaning between words.
Crowley obeyed and tugged his pants to the center of his thighs. He glanced towards Aziraphale’s open wound, dripping needily. He dug two fingers into the blood and let it run down his hand. He slicked the loving blood around his cock, reinforcing that his entrance would be smooth and uninterrupted. Aziraphale’s cock twitched as he watched him use his insides to create a sight so beautiful. Crowley aligned himself, the blood dripping to the edge of his tip, and shoved himself far into his ass, almost immediately touching his prostate. Aziraphale threw his head back, mouth wide, praying for this feeling to last. Crowley hammered himself into him, sweat slipping from his forehead. Aziraphale pulled him close, kissing him. He tasted his own blood within his mouth, and he couldn’t get enough of the taste. He licked his mouth as he was fucked thoroughly, craving the feeling. As Crowley felt his climax coming to a close, Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s neck to his jaw and bit down. Crowley yelped, realizing why he found this so entertaining. He came inside of him, his spend filling him entirely. He kept thrusting regardless until Aziraphale came across his own stomach, and Crowley collapsed onto him.
“I could get used to this,” Crowley chuckled.
Aziraphale laughed with him and kissed him one more time before they fell asleep, washing the evening away.