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“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed, watching Crowley as he slept, his body curled up in the snug reading chair. “Rough time, was it?”
“Mmm,” Crowley mumbled, lifting his chin to accept a kiss. Aziraphale brushed a light one against his lips, stroking soft fingers along his jaw before pulling away.
It had been a long trip, Crowley had been asked, not ordered, of course not, not anymore, but asked if he would be willing to perform a temptation as a “special favor” for Lord Beelzebub. Crowley, being in a particularly good mood on account of having spent a lovely day in the company of a certain Angel had readily agreed, on one condition—that he was given at least 6 months of reprieve afterwards.
Aziraphale had missed him terribly, he’d grown used to having Crowley around the shop. Sometimes in his human form, sometimes as a large serpent, but always, always Crowley. So now he had returned, temptation completed, Aziraphale was looking forward to nothing more than popping open a bottle of excellent wine and curling up with Crowley in his arms.
Aziraphale sipped his tea in quiet contemplation, and soon realized that something was amiss. His demon was looking at him with—alarm? Surprise? Confusion? Aziraphale couldn’t quite place it. But to put it bluntly, Crowley stared. Swallowed. Stared some more. Then went blank.
“Crowley, my dear, what is it? You look positively poleaxed.” Aziraphale lowered his tea and studied him. He leaned forward, grasping Crowley’s hand between both of his own.
Crowley continued to stare listlessly. He had fully gone offline, and the closer Aziraphale moved to him, the more his brain seemed to malfunction. Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand up to his face and pressed his lips tenderly to the inside of his wrist. “Crowley. Stop this now. Speak to me. Are you alright?”
Crowley gasped softly, and Aziraphale studied Crowley as he softly kissed his wrist again, watching as his eyes widened and a blush spread high on his cheeks. An idea clicked, and Aziraphale smirked. “Ahh. I think. I’m beginning. To understand.” He punctuated each phrase with kisses, nuzzling the underside of Crowley’s wrist against his face. “I take it you like the new addition.”
Crowley nodded, closing his eyes. Aziraphale watched avidly as Crowley shifted in his chair, and he glanced downwards to notice that Crowley’s trousers had become a bit snug. Aziraphale smiled wider and slipped out of his own chair to kneel at Crowley’s feet. He leaned up, rubbing his face alongside Crowley’s, the rough scrape of his beard grating along the sensitive skin of his jaw. “I can’t read your mind, my dear, what has you so…” Aziraphale brushed his lips over Crowley’s earlobe. “Afflicted?”
Crowley bit his lip, holding back a whimper and Aziraphale continued his assault, rubbing harder, nuzzling like a cat against Crowley’s neck. He inched closer to Crowley’s mouth, stopping when he was just a millimetre away. Crowley turned his head, meeting Aziraphale’s lips with his own in a soft kiss. The kiss was tender and unhurried, but with each brush of lips Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s skin being marked, reddened. Abraded. The thought ratcheted up his already simmering arousal.
Crowley reached his hands up, grasping Aziraphale face and angling his head to deepen the kiss. And oh, that was better. He opened his mouth, and Crowley immediately pressed his advantage, his tongue sweeping to meet Aziraphale’s, before withdrawing and pressing in again. Aziraphale couldn’t get enough. He wanted. Harder. Rougher. More.
Aziraphale pulled away, rubbing his thumb across Crowley’s bottom lip. “Oh, I do believe I am leaving marks on you my dear.”
“Angel.”
“Oh, like that, do you? You like the idea of me marking you up, rubbing you raw?”
Crowley shuddered, opening his eyes to stare into Aziraphale’s. He extended his tongue, touching it to the tip of Aziraphale’s thumb, causing Aziraphale to moan softly. “Pleassse,” Crowley whispered, before surging forward and recapturing Aziraphale’s mouth.
This was no chaste kiss, Crowley was demanding, sucking on Aziraphale’s tongue, nipping at his bottom lip. Aziraphale, for his part, wasn’t giving in, he wanted Crowley’s surrender.
Crowley broke away. “I want you to mark me,” he plead. Aziraphale sucked in a breath, the idea exciting him more than it ought. But to leave his mark, his brand, on Crowley, he wanted it more than anything. Needed it. Almost as if in doing so he could mark Crowley’s very soul, impart a tiny piece of himself.
Aziraphale surged forward, capturing Crowley’s mouth again in a fiery kiss, his tongue sweeping inside seeking submission. He wanted him pliant, and soft. He wanted him begging. In truth, he wanted him at his complete and utter mercy, things he’d never spoken out loud.
The thought made him suck Crowley’s bottom lip between his own, biting gently, reveling in the long sibilant ‘hiss’ that sprang from deep in Crowley’s throat. He worried the tender flesh with his tongue, and softened their kiss, resisting Crowley’s attempts to re-ignite the passion of moments before. They needed more space.
Aziraphale pulled back and stood up, extending a hand to Crowley where he lay sprawled in the chair. Crowley eyed it, warily. “Up my dear. We need considerably more room for what I have in mind.”
With alacrity, Crowley obeyed, grasping Aziraphale‘s hand and pulling himself to stand. He swayed slightly and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, leading them into his bedroom, pausing once inside to gently push Crowley down upon the bed.
Aziraphale stood between Crowley’s spread thighs, content to just look his fill at the creature he had captured for his own. He was mesmerized, not for the first time at the glorious beauty of the being before him. He was an angel once, and though he’d fallen, Aziraphale thought he’d not lost an ounce of that ethereal beauty. He was like fire contained. Dangerous and explosive and glorious to behold. Not for the first time, Aziraphale wanted to be consumed. To burn.
They broke simultaneously, meeting in the middle in a crush of lips, passionate and fierce, yet tender. Aziraphale’s hands rested on Crowley’s jaw and he held him right where he wanted him as he plundered his mouth again and again. Crowley sighed, and grabbed Aziraphale tightly by the hips, pulling him closer to the junction of his thighs. Aziraphale wanted desperately to get closer. He could see with each kiss, each nip, a thousand tiny red marks stinging marking sensitive flesh and each one made his desire soar.
Slowly and reverently, Aziraphale began removing Crowley’s clothing, laving each bit of revealed skin with his tongue, brushing his whiskers against the tender skin, leaving both goosebumps and abrasions in his wake. He could move quickly, could remove everything with a snap, but he wanted this slow. He wanted Crowley begging, writhing underneath him. Aziraphale pushed Crowley backwards on the bed and continued his slow downward journey. His mouth gave no quarter, every inch of Crowley’s body was soon claimed. Vicious sucking on nipples, nibbles on ribs, tongue swirling in Crowley’s navel. And Crowley? Crowley was begging in 14 separate languages for more.
Aziraphale leaned back, working to remove Crowley’s trousers, pausing to suck and lick along the junction of his thighs. Crowley eagerly spread his legs, angling his pelvis upwards to try and get Aziraphale where he wanted him most.
With a smirk, Aziraphale sat back on his heels, stripping the garment off, and lightly trailing his chin along the length of Crowley’s inner thigh from groin to knee.
“Bastard,” Crowley growled.
“Patience is a virtue.”
“Let’s not discuss exes in bed, Angel.”
That earned a bite. Crowley gasped, his hands flying up to tangle in Aziraphale’s hair as he arched off the bed.
Aziraphale sat back further to admire his handiwork, rubbing his thumb over the mark of his teeth, surrounded by the raw, raised marks of his beard on Crowley’s inner thigh. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
“Angel, pleasse...”
Aziraphale paused, admiring the vision in his bed. Crowley was resplendent. Flushed and bruised. Scraped raw, with marks from teeth, from nails, rough red abrasions from Aziraphale’s scruff. His pupils were fully reptilian, two narrow slits eclipsed with yellow. Aziraphale glanced downward, taking in his full, hard cock, copiously leaking, begging to be touched. Satan himself couldn’t have developed a more decadent temptation. Here. In his bed. Begging to be marked. To be fucked. To be his. It was nearly too much.
Wasting no more time, Aziraphale removed his clothes and stretched out on top of Crowley, straddling his narrow hips. Crowley grabbed generous handfuls of thigh as Aziraphale leaned down to capture his mouth. He swept inside, their tongues meeting and melding. Aziraphale rocked his hips, thrusting down, rubbing himself against Crowley’s hard length. Moaning, he sucked on Crowley’s tongue, their kisses turning impossibly hotter as each tried to win the other’s submission.
Panting, Aziraphale pulled back, rubbing his thumb along Crowley’s chin and lightly scratching. He climbed off Crowley’s body, moving to his side and cuddling in close. Teasing, he ran his fingers softly down Crowley’s body, until he reached the object of his desire, wrapping his hand firmly around Crowley’s thick leaking cock. He pumped him once, twice, rubbing his thumb along the slit and underneath the sensitive head before pulling off.
Crowley’s bitten-off curse was enough to show his frustration. “Roll over,” Aziraphale commanded.
Crowley flipped, settling on his stomach, his fingers digging into the sheets, breathing heavy. Aziraphale swung one leg over his body and leaned down to kiss his shoulder, the middle of his back, moving ever downward, tracing his path with his tongue and marking his way as he went. Crowley writhed and whined, soft whimpers and soft exhalations, muffled curses, his hips undulating in a serpentine rhythm as Aziraphale moved lower.
Grabbing Crowley’s arse with both hands, Aziraphale roughly spread him open, licking one long firm stripe up the crack. Crowley moaned and pushed back, seeking more. The first slap reverberated through the quiet room, as Aziraphale slapped one muscled cheek. The pinking mark looked gorgeous on his skin, almost too much for Aziraphale to take. He wanted to do it again. The second slap landed harder, and Crowley keened. “Settle,” Aziraphale admonished.
Once Crowley did, Aziraphale bent again to his task, licking broad stripes around his hole, torturously slow movements, until at last he pushed inside, fucking him with his tongue. “Angel, oh…fuck..” Crowley moaned, rocking his hips, rubbing his cock against the bed in time with Aziraphale’s thrusting tongue.
“Please, pleasse…”Crowley begged.
Aziraphale lifted his head, pressing a kiss to one cheek. “Please what, my dear?”
“Pleasse fuck me Angel, I can’t…I can’t…”
“Shhh,” Aziraphale crooned, moving up to press his hard length along Crowley’s behind. Aziraphale rocked his hips, pressing him down, and moaned loudly as his cock slipped between Crowley’s arse cheeks, ghosting over his glistening hole. “Yes?” He grated, nuzzling Crowley’s shoulder, his hips trembling from the force of restraining his desire.
“Yes. Yessss. Now.”
“Up,” Aziraphale bade, grabbing Crowley’s hips and raising his lower body off the bed to place a pillow underneath. Aziraphale’s fingers dug in harder as he pulled Crowley’s arse up higher, ready for his taking. Aziraphale spread Crowley wide open, watching as Crowley’s body swallowed his cock, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully seated.
“Oh, my Crowley,” he moaned, pulling out before pushing back, snapping his hips sharply. He set an unhurried pace, rolling his hips, teasing every last drop of pleasure he could from Crowley’s sinewy frame. Aziraphale pressed his lips to the back of Crowley’s neck, licking, nipping and sucking in time with his thrusts, and soon Crowley was falling apart, his body trembling, hands grabbing, pulling, reaching for Aziraphale’s thighs and holding on tight.
Aziraphale was slowly unraveling himself, the feel of Crowley’s body, his scent, surrounding him sending him quickly to the edge. He pulled sharply on Crowley’s hips, digging his fingers into the lean flesh, changing the angle, brushing Crowley’s prostate with each thrust and causing Crowley to cry out. Crowley snaked his hand down the front of his body, jerking his cock in hard pulls as Aziraphale thrust harder, faster.
“That’s it, my beautiful, that’s it,” Aziraphale soothed as Crowley’s orgasm crashed over him, slowing his thrusts as Crowley fell apart below him. “You perfect, divine creature,” he crooned, and then sped up his rhythm again, slamming into Crowley’s body as he chased his own pleasure. Five or six more thrusts brought him to the precipice, and he cried out Crowley’s name, spilling in hot pulses, filling him up before collapsing against his back.
After a moment, Aziraphale gathered his wits, and cleaned them both with a snap of his fingers, before rolling onto his side. Crowley turned with him, instantly tucking himself under Aziraphale’s chin. “Oh, my dear, we should put something on those,” Aziraphale remarked, motioning to the myriad of marks he’d left. “I’m sure that can’t be comfortable.”
Crowley stretched, rolling his entire body, his eyes bright with lazy delight. “It’s perfect. This way, I can carry you with me.”
Aziraphale couldn’t explain the bite behind his eyes. He dipped his head, brushing his lips over Crowley’s softly before pulling away. He placed his hand over Crowley’s chest, thumb brushing one particularly large welt, right over his heart. “You always do.”