Archive of Our Own

Aziraphale sighed quietly, passing the bottle of wine back to Crowley. They were sitting back on his sofa the night of the failed apocalypse. It was odd entering Crowley’s flat at first, but Aziraphale was too mentally exhausted to do much else but raise a curious eyebrow at the decor. What was more deserving of his attention was that he was actually in Crowley’s flat, in his living space for the first time in 6,000 years. Somehow, it felt like home. Before today, he would have denied Crowley’s invitation to his flat, but he didn’t owe Heaven anything anymore, did he? Their closeness angered them, which frightened Aziraphale to the point of rejecting Crowley more than once. He said awful things to him, but it was over now. They could move on. Right?

He felt a twinge of guilt as he felt the bottle brush his fingers. He took it and drank. Sharing a bottle was something they hadn’t done before, but neither commented. Aziraphale stared down at the floor. He could do this now, spend time with Crowley wherever and whenever he pleased. There was no way Heaven would stop being angry with him, so what was the point of pretending? They were on their own side.

Crowley’s foot nudged his. “All right, angel,” he started lazily, “you’ve been quiet since the bus ride here. You normally never shut up. What’s on your mind?”

Aziraphale snorted, passing back the bottle. “We stopped the end of the world, and you’re wondering what’s on my mind?”

“Yeah, I mean, anything more specific?”

Aziraphale rubbed his eye with a knuckle. They had been drinking slowly, at least by their standards, so he wasn’t anything more than a little tipsy. “We’re on our side.”

“Hm?” Crowley hummed as he took another sip. “Yeah, I know, ’s what I said,” he said when the bottle left his lips.

“It feels strange,” he admitted, finally turning his head to look at him. “I’ve been following what Heaven says for my entire existence, and now, I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.”

Crowley smirked. “Your entire existence? Not really, Mr. Gave Away My Flaming Sword.”

Fair point. “But that was nothing compared to this.”

“You’ll get used to being an outcast in Heaven. Trust me.” The smirk was still there, but dimmed.

Remembering what Michael said, he frowned. “Or outcasted by Heaven.”

“What d’ya mean?” he refilled the bottle and handed it back with an eyebrow raised over his glasses.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, because here he was, more comfortable with here with Crowley, a demon, than he’d ever been and in turn more at ease than he’d been in a long time, but it still nagged at the back of his mind. “Michael called me a fallen angel.” 

The words hung heavily in the air, and Aziraphale regretted saying them.

But then Crowley shook his head with a scoff. “What, you? I know what a fallen angel is, hello, you’re talking to one, and you’re not.” He put on a theatrical scowl. “You’re too good. Michael’s just a piece of shit.”

Aziraphale giggled abruptly, nearly spilling wine down his mouth in the process, and Crowley joined in.

“When did this happen?” Crowley asked, still smiling. “She wasn’t there to see you thwart the apocalypse.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t about that,” he said. Remembering the context, the smile slipped away from his lips. Should he tell Crowley about this? Well, perhaps he had kept enough secrets from him. He wasn’t necessarily revealing anything about his feelings, either. “Heaven found out I spend time with you.”

Crowley’s expression was unreadable behind his glasses. “Oh. They came for you, too?”

His eyes widened. “Hell went after you for this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged a shoulder, “and the whole botching the anti-Christ thing, but this, too.”

Aziraphale remembered when he told Crowley in the 1800s that Heaven would be angry if they knew he was fraternizing with a demon, but obviously Hell would feel the saem. Yet, Crowley always went out of his way to be with him. Aziraphale was foolish, and selfish. He wanted to apologize, but just handed back the bottle instead. “I got punched in the gut.”

Crowley spit out his wine. “What?”

“Michael, Sandalphon, and Uriel, when they confronted me about our—er, about being around you. Sandalphon punched me.”

He wiped his mouth. “I’ll kill them.”

Aziraphale felt touched. He had felt outraged over being treated in such a manner. “You’re overreacting. I was shocked, though, I must tell you.”

“Fucking bastards,” he muttered darkly.

“Why are you angry? If I remember correctly, you shoved me against a wall a week ago.”

Were Crowley’s cheeks actually flushing? Perhaps it was the wine. “That was different. You called me nice. And I didn’t hurt you.” He paused. “Did I?”

“No, no,” he quickly reassured him. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

The warmth blooming in his human heart was overwhelming, but familiar. He felt it when Crowley saved the books from the church being bombed. It took so long to realize he was hopelessly in love with this maddening demon, but then once he did, he didn’t want to accept it. Angels were not supposed to feel anything but a general love for God’s creatures, but that excluded demons. Romantic love was beyond taboo. But he did love him. God help him, he did. How could he not? Crowley was everything to Aziraphale. He swallowed thickly. “Um, I’m stronger than I look, despite Gabriel telling me to lose the gut,” he poked his stomach.

“He told you to fucking what?” Crowley threw off his glasses, yellow eyes fierce. “Oh, Satan, I really am going to kill those bloody archangels.”

Aziraphale laughed at the absurdity of it, but also with a hint of pleasure at how strangely (sweetly) defensive Crowley was being. “You truly are overreacting.”

“Fucking archangel pricks.” He took another swig from the bottle.

“Normally, I would be displeased with your language, but, well, I’m not sure I disagree.”

“Oh, come off it,” he rolled his eyes. “You hate ‘em. You can admit it in front of me. You’re better off without him.”

In the past, he would have accused Crowley of tempting him, but he now knew he was just being honest. He was always honest with Aziraphale, now that he thought of it. Aziraphale did not give him the same courtesy. “I’m sorry for lying to you, and not telling you where the anti-Christ was sooner.” That statement did not flow naturally outside of the conversation in his own mind, but he said it anyway.

Crowley looked a little surprised. “Nah, you don’t need to apologize. I think I know why you did it. Heaven’s nonsense, and all that.”

“Well, still, I should have listened to you sooner, about being on our own side. You were right. I never gave you enough credit.”

Crowley blinked at him, his round eyes wide. He then grabbed his glasses off the sofa cushion and put them back on. “Uh, yeah, I mean, always thought I was right, but. That’s, nice of you to say. Should I thank you?”

“No need,” he smiled tightly.

Crowley shook his head, seemingly more to himself. “Still don’t blame you, though, and for not coming with me to Alpha Centauri.”

Aziraphale felt his stomach twist. So that did bother him. “Crowley, I...It was better for the world that we didn’t go, in the end, but you were right about that, too. I had such blind faith that Heaven would listen, that God would listen…” What a fool he was. He felt incredibly, incredibly naïve. He sent Crowley away in the middle of the pavement for nothing.

Crowley gave him a rueful smile. “You’re not used to being shut out by God. I am. I can understand, Aziraphale, I can,” he said softly.

Something about this turn in the conversation was making his chest ache. “You...sound like you miss Her.”

“I do not,” he snarled, teeth bared.

Aziraphale held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested—“

“Why would I miss that bitch who threw me out?” he leaned forward, wine sloshing in the bottle in his hand. “I got over it a long time ago,” he nearly growled.

Aziraphale needed to edit his previous assessment: Crowley was absolutely lying to him now. He didn’t know what it was like to have God’s love ripped from your soul, but he didn’t think it was something Crowley, ridiculous and caring Crowley, would ever get over. He probably didn’t miss Heaven and the other angels, but God Herself? Oh, Crowley.

“May you be forgiven,” he said. 

Crowley shook his head slowly, anger radiating off him. “I told you, I won’t. And stop pretending. You may not be a part of Heaven now, but you still love her.”

The furrow in his brow deepened. “Yes, but, what am I pretending to do?”

The fire was leaving his face, replaced with disappointment. “Forgive me,” he said curtly.

“But I forgive you,” he said truthfully. “Crowley, I forgive you.”

“Don’t say that,” he lifted his head with a miserable frown. “I’m a demon. I’m unforgivable. I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m being serious,” Aziraphale insisted, shifting and turning to face Crowley fully. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you, and you’ve been more honest with me than anyone in Heaven, you risked the forces of Hell just to save me over the years, and to save this world and humanity. You objected to human children being wiped out with the Great Flood. You wouldn’t kill the anti-Christ. You saved my bloody books in 1941, and got upset when my bookshop burned down because it upset me. I saw your face. Crowley, whatever you did, you more than made up for it.”

Crowley was speechless, his glasses low on his nose and revealing the top of his golden, shocked eyes. He was completely still, but then a look of hurt entered his gaze. He pushed the glasses up his nose, turning his face away. “I only ever asked questions,” he whispered. “And look what happened today; I was right to ask questions. But I was thrown into sulfur, and my wings turned black.” His voice had cracked on the last word.

Aziraphale felt his own lip quiver, and clenched his jaw to make it stop. Why did God hurt this creature, who always knew what was truly right and wrong, and always, despite himself, felt things so deeply? “I forgive you,” he said roughly.

Crowley sniffed, fingers tight around the bottle. “Maybe I don’t need an angel’s forgiveness,” he said lowly.

“I’m not saying you do. I want to give it to you because you deserve it.” Because Crowley shouldn’t have been cast out. God, what were you thinking? Look at him!

“Why’d you have to do this, angel?” he asked, sounding dejected. “We were relaxing. It’s been a bloody long day and now you do this,” he waved his hand in between them.

“Sorry.” He has no idea where to go from here.

“Just, stop lying to me,” Crowley said tiredly.

“What? I’m not.” He was glad he wasn’t more drunk, because he felt confused as anything.

“I’m incapable of being forgiven, no matter what you say,” he tipped his head back on the sofa cushion. “I know it. Don’t lie to me to make me feel better.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a long moment. “It’s not an act,” he realized. “You’re not just saying that as part of your demon aesthetic, or what have you. You truly think this. Crowley, what I just told you is the truth.”

“Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m a beast, a damned, vile creature that used to be as holy as anything. I know what I am,” he spat. 

“You’re wonderful,” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “What—how much did you have to drink?”

“Not that much.” He felt wretched. He had no idea Crowley carried around this much pain. The air of confidence he carried around fooled him. Well, Aziraphale was always easily fooled, wasn’t he? He needed to make Crowley understand. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one brainwashed by Heaven’s propaganda. “I’m not saying any of this for any other reason than it being the truth. You’re better than all the angels in Heaven, Crowley, and—“ he felt angry, “and I don’t know why God can’t see that!”

Crowley sat up straight. “Shh! She’ll hear you!”

“She should!” Aziraphale shouted, looking up at the ceiling, standing. “She should know the massive mistake She made!” He never shouted at God like this, but his hands were shaking. How could She not see what he saw? Crowley wasn’t like the other demons, not ever. The worst he ever did was give humanity a choice, and Aziraphale finally understood that decision.

Crowley jumped up, swaying a little and leaving the wine bottle on the sofa. “Stop it!”

“Why?” Aziraphale looked at him, feeling more defensive on his behalf than ever. “It isn’t right! I know you, and you do not belong in Hell!”

Crowley grabbed the lapels of his coat. “Stop!” he hissed. “Not another word. I will not have you Fall because of me, Aziraphale! I know you definitely don’t belong in Hell, either!”

Aziraphale realized how heavily he was breathing, despite not needing oxygen. They were so close, and he loved him so much. He was so hurt for him. Even now, Crowley was the one looking out for him. He calmed down, but his heart still beat hard in his chest. “I do think you’re wonderful,” he said softly.

They were close enough for the widening of Crowley’s eyes to be visible through the glasses. He let go of him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re not supposed to think that,” he muttered.

“And you’re not supposed to be with me, but you always have been.” Love was bubbling in his chest. “You wanted me to run away with you, just the two of us. A demon shouldn’t want that.”

“We-well who else was I going to flee the world with?” he stammered.

“It’s all right,” Aziraphale’s voice softened further, almost a whisper. “We’re on our side, remember? You can feel whatever you want.” Now that he didn’t care what Heaven would do, he found the words leaving his lips easily. They were free. They could do this. He could love him. Heaven and Hell weren’t done with them, but they’d figure it out. They always did. For now, he could give himself to Crowley. Enough love squeezed his heart to make the lights flicker.

Crowley looked up. “Was that you?”

“I believe so.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath he didn’t need. Somehow, all the fear he once had was fading like a bad dream. He needed to show Crowley how much he loved him, but he didn’t want to frighten him. “Because I’m having a difficult time controlling my emotions.”

Crowley’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

Aziraphale took a step forward, and they were in each other’s personal space again. “Oh, because of everything, really. Being free of Heaven’s judgmental stare, being angry because of how much you didn’t deserve what happened to you.”

Crowley sighed deeply. “Can we go back to drinking?”

“No,” he said firmly, surprising Crowley. “Everything almost ended today. It’s been 6,000 years and I’m tired. You need to know how much you mean to me.” 

His face was red. “You, you can’t. You’re an angel, you’re made to care, but not for the damned,” he said nervously. “Y-you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, ducking his head. “Damn it, what are you doing to me?”

Taking a risk in their relationship, perhaps for the first time, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his thin frame and pulled him close, closing his eyes and telling himself not to run away when he heard a startled gasp.

Crowley was very, very still in his arms, muscles frozen like stone.

Love filled Aziraphale to the brim, making the lights flicker again. 

Then, Crowley’s arms slowly came up to grasp his coat, and his head dropped onto his shoulder. “You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t actually feel this.”

Aziraphale breathed in the scent of his cologne. “You’re not supposed to feel this, either, as a demon, but here we are.” He could feel it, Crowley’s aura melding with his and, oh, it was love. He shut down his emotions for so long, as Aziraphale did, but now with his guard down in this embrace, his love was absolutely palpable. Of course Crowley loved him. Signs were there the whole time. The swooping in to save him, the books, the dinners, the invitations to run away, the look on his face when rejected...Aziraphale realized, with horror, that he had been hurting Crowley over the years. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the crook of his neck. “I feel what you feel now, Crowley, and I’m sorry for not knowing it earlier, but I feel the proof in my soul.”

Crowley wriggled anxiously in his arms. “What do you think you feel?”

“You love me,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley pulled away, face visible, but features crumpled in anguish. “No, no, I—“

“You do,” Aziraphale placed a shaking hand on his cheek. He was a being of love, but he still never felt so much of it before. This was infinitely more blissful than being in the most beautiful parts of Heaven. He was loved. His eyes felt warm and wet. Was he crying? “In spite of everything, you still love. You’re extraordinary,” his voice trembled.

“What does it matter?” he mumbled, eyes downcast under the glasses. “So, I love you, okay? Fine. It doesn’t matter. You don’t want this.”

“Crowley,” he said gently, “I’m rather tired of being told what I should or shouldn’t do, or want or don’t want. You taught me a thing or two about free will. Can’t you feel how much I love you, too?” He sniffed, definitely crying now. “Please, Crowley, feel it.”

“You don’t love me,” he shot back, but there was no venom in his voice, only fragility. “Aziraphale,” he looked at him directly, voice wrecked, “please, don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, voice scratchy. This was who he was meant to be: a being made to love Crowley. “I can finally say it now.” But Crowley needed to believe it. Why not show him the human way? He leaned forward and ever so gently pressed their lips together, eyelids fluttering closed. It was warm, and his lips were soft. Kissing was definitely one of humanity’s best inventions. It felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He pulled away with a little wet smack, opening his eyes.

Crowley was as red as the wine and he gaped helplessly, mouth working to form words, but nothing coming out.

Aziraphale removed his glasses, staring into his frightened eyes. “It’s all right now,” he whispered, stroking his thumb over his cheek. 

Crowley’s eyes were shining. “You’re glowing,” he rasped.

“I love you,” Aziraphale explained simply.

Then, Crowley broke. He gripped Aziraphale’s face and smashed their lips together, breathing hard and ragged.

Aziraphale stroked his cheek more and he thought his human heart would stop beating when moisture dripped onto his thumb. He murmured a little shh in between sloppy kisses. Crowley parted his lips and coaxed him to do the same. They both tasted of wine.

Crowley broke the kiss, staring at him, his expression raw and unguarded. “I don’t get it,” he said roughly, “remember when you said I go too fast? What happened to that?”

“I’m not afraid of Heaven anymore,” he said, “or my love for you.” He kissed the corner of his mouth. “Or yours for me.”

He nuzzled into the side of his face, hands moving to grip Aziraphale’s curls. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

“Your bookshop, I went running in and I saw flames. Thought it was hellfire. Thought you died without knowing I loved you.” He breathed a laugh against his skin. “And yet you were the one to make a move. You always did surprise me.”

He was caught between being relieved Crowley was sounding less upset, and feeling even worse for him. “Oh, my dear,” the term of endearment slipped past his lips without his knowledge, “I hadn’t thought of that. I won’t leave you.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him in earnest. This time, it was slow, deep, and the lights flickered once more. Aziraphale moved his hands down to grip his waist to steady himself more than anything else. He had enjoyed the earthly pleasure of sex a few times in his life, but he never kissed like this. He felt drunk on it. It felt like they were merging as one. He didn’t know how long they kissed—not needing air was a big benefit—and by this point, they were enjoying long, open-mouthed kisses. Aziraphale gently nibbled on his bottom lip, then started sucking. He shivered when Crowley took his upper lip and did the same. The heat and pressure was exquisite. To feel more of him, Aziraphale switched things up. He started to kiss the side of his neck before Crowley could whine at the loss of contact on his lips.

“Oh,” his voice tumbled in his throat, “that’s good.” His fingers tightened in the white-blond curls. 

Encouraged, his kisses grew deeper, teasing the sensitive skin with his teeth and—oh, his own body was reacting to this. He felt tingling heat trickle down his abdomen and into his groin. He knew this feeling. It had been a long time since he felt acute arousal. The idea of making love to Crowley made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He wanted to have this with him, too. He knew sex could be an act of affection, and he wanted Crowley to feel his love as much as possible. He lifted his head.

Crowley looked thoroughly debauched, a beautiful pink flush from his cheeks to his neck, strands of hair falling over his forehead and eyes hazy. 

Aziraphale absently looked down, but did a double take when he saw a tent in Crowley’s trousers. “Oh.”

The pink turned scarlet, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not much better,” he grumbled.

“No, it’s good.” He took one of his hands. “I would very much like to make love to you,” he said hesitantly, biting his lip. “Is that all right with you, my dear?”

Crowley looked gobsmacked, his brain going—what did the kids say these days?—offline. He spluttered. “Uh, ah, eh, dxkihf, y-yeah! Um, sure.”

“Are you sure?” he asked worriedly. “We don’t have to if—“

“I do,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Just, fuck, angel, I never thought I’d hear those words from your holy little mouth.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. “You and me both, but I find myself very happy being this way with you.”

Crowley’s eyes turned tender, and he squeezed his hand. “Yeah,” he said thickly. 

Aziraphale placed chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Let me love you, Crowley.”

Tears definitely appeared in his eyes. “Okay,” he croaked. He grabbed Aziraphale by the coat, but this time, he kissed him. He slid it off his shoulders. Aziraphale thought they’d just miracle their clothes off, but Crowley doing it the human way was somehow sweet. So, he followed his lead, and they were both fumbling with buttons and fabric and zippers while their tongues lazy glided together, warm and wet and smooth.

Then, his hands were on the elastic waistband of his pants. He hesitated, but then Crowley undressed him completely, so he did the same.

Crowley broke the kiss to look down. “Oh, good,” he smirked. 

“What?” he asked, growing self-conscious.

“I know angels don’t come with anything, so a part of me was afraid to pull down your pants and it turns out you didn’t have anything down there. Woulda been inconvenient.”

They started giggling, tension melting away from Aziraphale. “No, I made the Effort a long time ago. How else would I have had sex?”

Crowley stopped laughing. “You’ve had sex before?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “You haven’t?”

Crowley couldn’t pull off a look of cool nonchalance while standing there naked, erection and all. “I, it was never my job to be an incubus.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly. “Oh, Crowley—“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand. “Shut up, shut up.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “Don’t tease.”

“Never,” Aziraphale chuckled, kissing his cheek. He found it inexplicably heartwarming that after all these years, Crowley never went to bed with anyone, but he would drop the subject. He looked at the sofa. “That might be a little narrow.”

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, they were in his bedroom.

“You have a bed?” he eyed the black covers.

“Yeah, I actually sleep from time to time. It’s nice. We can talk about it later,” he said pointedly.

“All right,” he laughed.

Now, they were on the bed, kissing with Aziraphale kneeling over Crowley, who was sprawled out on his back. He ran a warm hand down Aziraphale’s chest, stopping to grip his love handles. “Fuck Gabriel,” he muttered into his mouth.

Aziraphale merely smirked, more caught up with how good it felt to have Crowley touching him. His chest was starting to bubble with love again, and without their knowledge, flowers bloomed from the plants in the other room.

Crowley hissed, literally, when Aziraphale licked his nipple, tongue slowly dancing over the sensitive skin. This was the first time anyone was doing this for him, and Aziraphale could have cried from how much he loved him. The skin puckered under his lips, and he sucked. Crowley bucked his hips up, their erections meeting. Aziraphale shivered and moved to the other nipple.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Crowley moaned, writhing his hips for more friction. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

Aziraphale moved off his chest and grinded his hips downwards, biting back a moan. “It’s meant to be,” he said shakily.

“Don’t recite poetry,” Crowley put an arm over his eyes. Somehow he always managed to hide his eyes. Not now.

Aziraphale grabbed his hands and pinned them against the mattress, holding them there. Crowley’s eyes searched his, so bright they looked more gold than yellow.

Aziraphale was working a steady grind against his hips, watching his mouth drop open in a moan with awe. How gorgeous. His heart was beating so hard he’d be worried for his health if he was human. Their cocks were starting to leak now. His nerves were singing with pleasure. The heat between his legs was almost unbearable. They could just do this, rut against each other until taken to the edge. But he wanted more. He tried it once, and he craved doing it with the demon he loved. “Dearest, can I be inside you?” he asked, somehow keeping his voice calmer than he actually felt. Being vulnerable like this wasn’t easy for him, but wanting to make Crowley feel good was.

Crowley squeezed his hands hard. “Fuck, don’t call me that when your cock is against mine,” he groaned.

“Sorry, love,” murmured against his lips, pressing soft kisses to his face now, the tingling below his gut growing more intense. He needed to stop before he ended things too early.

“Ugh, not what I meant,” Crowley bit his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Aziraphale scolded. He shook his head. “Whatever. Crowley, I would like to be inside you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Uhhh,” Crowley gave an awkward shrug as best he could, “I don’t exactly have lube.”

Aziraphale thought about it, and felt his neck grow hot. “Um, up for a quick miracle?”

Crowley stared at him blankly. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“Do I have your permission?” he sat up on his knees, freeing his hands. 

“Yeah.”

He snapped his fingers.

Crowley gasped sharply. 

Panic overtook him. “Did that hurt? Oh, I shouldn’t have--!”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt,” Crowley pulled him down by his shoulders. He kissed him hard. “It just felt weird.” He flashed him a nervous grin. “Not used to miracles being performed down there.”

Aziraphale put his face in his hands, giggling and mortified at the same time.

“You’re ridiculous!” Crowley laughed. “Your cock’s dripping on me and now you’re embarrassed?”

“Hush,” Aziraphale told him, shifting and kissing the side of his neck. He put his forearms down on the mattress on either side of Crowley, nudging his tip against his loosened hole. The anxious laughter disappeared, and the atmosphere was instantly serious. Crowley wrapped his arms around his shoulders as Aziraphale slowly pushed in, his thighs shaking with the effort to hold himself back and not pound into him. His cock was being enveloped by tight white-hot heat, and he had to bite Crowley’s shoulder to stifle a moan. This was divine. He had forgotten how overwhelming this felt, but his previous experiences all paled in comparison to this. Crowley’s chest was heaving, his fingernails digging into Aziraphale’s skin. He wrapped his legs around the back of his thighs, breathy little ahhhs leaving his lips as he adjusted. 

Aziraphale gave him a few moments, taking calming breaths to keep himself motionless. When Crowley rocked his hips, he took it as a sign to go. A gasp escaped both of them when he pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in. Aziraphale, feeling more human than ever before, let his body set its own pace. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one making him tremble. The light inside him was overflowing and emitting a glow, he was vaguely aware of, but he heard hissing enter Crowley’s breath and knew he wasn’t the only one rapidly losing control. The hiss was arousing, and Aziraphale dug his teeth into his skin again with a deep groan.

“Angel, I, ungh, can’t see you.”

Aziraphale lifted his head immediately, heart clenching when two golden amorous eyes met his. He moaned, shutting his eyes for a moment, feeling how much Crowley loved him in his soul, and that combined with his own love made his eyes sting. Hands were brushing his sweaty curls back from his forehead and on his face, stroking down his neck. Aziraphale opened his eyes, whimpering when he saw the look on Crowley’s face. “It’s overwhelming,” he admitted, thrusting harder.

“What is?” he asked, now panting.

Aziraphale braced himself on his hands and pushed up, needing a firmer grip on the mattress as pleasure started to drive him mad. His thrusts were harder now, rocking Crowley’s body upwards. Crowley twisted his face to the side and let out a deep-throated, unadulterated moan, long and loud. “How much I love you,” Aziraphale confessed, mesmerized by the beautiful creature beneath him. “I feel it everywhere.” No one ever had the privilege to see Crowley like this; no one made Crowley feel like this before. This was Aziraphale’s doing, and he treasured how much Crowley trusted him to let him be this vulnerable with him. He was amazing, his lack of experience nothing but endearing. His body was Aziraphale's to worship. “You’re doing so well, Crowley. You feel incredible, you don’t even know.”

Crowley moaned again at that, tossing his head to the other side, eyes squeezed shut. A tear was at the corner of his eye. “I can feel it,” he whimpered, sucking in a quivering breath. “Aziraphale, I d-dunno why you, ahhh, love me like you do, but I feel it.” He arched his back, exposing his long throat. “Unnh! Azira--!” he choked out.

Aziraphale gripped the bed sheets tightly and used his free hand to wrap it around Crowley’s cock, the skin hot and wet and surreal in his grasp. “You’re marvelous,” he told him sincerely. “You’re all I want in this universe. None of the angels in Heaven could compare t-to, uhhh, to you," he managed to say, desperation entering his voice.

Crowley’s eyes shot open and his mouth formed a perfect O, his teeth now sharp and snake-like, breath coming to a halt. He spurted in between them, wetness shooting onto their stomachs. His breath came back to him in a harsh sob, and then he clamped a hand over his mouth to moan the rest in his palm.

His walls rhythmically squeezed tightly around his cock. Aziraphale’s bollocks were drawn up and he buried his cry into Crowley’s neck, hips moving erratically until he was spilling inside of him, all the lights in the flat going out as the warmth of Crowley’s love embraced him and refused to let go. He thought he was panting something, something that sounded like Crowley and my dear and I love you so much, God, so much, my darling fallen angel, but he was so out of it he couldn’t be sure. He stayed on top of him as his heart beat slowed back to normal. He noticed a hand was rubbing his back. He sat up a little.

Crowley’s smile was pure, no hint of his usual sarcastic smirk. “Hey,” he said shyly, voice a little hoarse.

The smile was one of the greatest creations Aziraphale ever saw. “Hello, Crowley.” He pulled out and got rid of the mess with a snap of his fingers. It was strange, because he didn’t get sleepy in 6,000 years, but his limbs felt heavy. He yawned. “Oh dear.”

“Tired, angel?”

“I believe I am,” he replied.

“Sleep feels nice. You should try it. Lie down.”

He did, settling on his back. The pillow was soft and the sheets were, “Silk?”

“Of course,” Crowley said with a lazy grin. “Feels really good when you’re naked, huh?”

Aziraphale giggled. “Yes, it does. Oh, your fangs are still out.”

Crowley blushed, retracting them. “Oops.”

“They don’t bother me,” he said.

Crowley wasn’t smiling, but his face was at ease. “You really love me.”

“I do,” he rolled onto his side. 

Crowley pressed his lips together, eyes flickering down. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For,” he cleared his throat, “making me, you know, feel it. No one’s cared for a long time. Didn’t think anyone would, um, ya know, love me again after I Fell.” He looked at him from under his lashes. “This is the best I’ve ever felt, and it’s because of you. So thanks.” He shut his eyes, face rosy. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Aziraphale released his wings and wrapped his arms around his thin torso. He lowered his wings around them, creating a little cocoon on the bed, wanting to enclose them in their own little world. “You’re more than welcome,” he said past the lump in his throat. You don’t have to thank me. It’s what you deserve.

“Go to sleep,” he growled in faux annoyance. “We’ll have to think of how to survive our former sides’ punishments tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I think we’re safe for the night.”

“Me too.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. Despite never sleeping before, his body was welcoming it rather quickly. His body felt pleasantly limp and comfortable, his eyes feeling heavy even under the lids. His breathing was getting deeper and slower.

Crowley must have thought he was already asleep, because he gently ran a hand through his hair and pressed a careful kiss to his forehead. “I adore you, my angel,” he whispered.

Aziraphale would let him think he hadn’t heard that. For now. They needed to rest and had unfinished business to resolve. But, he couldn’t wait until he could bring it up and then kiss the flush that would inevitably dust Crowley’s cheeks. Tonight, however, he enjoyed his first sleep while allowing his aura of love to cover Crowley like a soft blanket.

At last.