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Brown. Yes, that was the colour of the desk. A soft wood grain with a minuscule dent or scratch here and there. All in all Aziraphale considered this desk to be in damn good condition considering he had obtained it at the first opening of his shop circa. 1870, a sturdy handmade oak desk with a varnish finish and a boxed front panel with enough room underneath to stretch one's legs. Or just an entirely different person.
"Crowley..." Aziraphale's toes were curled in his little shoes as he warned his lover of an approaching customer under his breath. Crowley of course did not give an indication whatsoever of stopping at any moment soon, his hands still planted firmly on Aziraphale's thighs as he sucked on a nice, plump cock.
"Ah, let me total that for you..." It was so much affecting Aziraphale that he did not even check the book to approve of the selection, merely logged the purchase and collected the money, the redness of his face a catalyst for the customer's departure anyway. Aziraphale drooped as soon as she had cleared the door, his fingers burying into Crowley's hair with a trembling fervour.
"Demon, you are sure to get a wringing once I am done with you." Aziraphale fumbled lowly allowing for his head to fall back against his chair as Crowley relentlessly continued the ebb and flow of his mouth and tongue with Aziraphale's fingers threaded into his hair. He really could take no more.
"Crowley - I must..." Aziraphale whispered, his grip somehow lightening on Crowley's hair.
'Good,' the demon mused internally, 'I cannot feel my knees,'
However, as his pace started to build and a climax became more imminent by the second, the sing-song tinkle of the bell hung just over the shop door sounded out and Aziraphale froze in the terror of threatened exposure once more.
He should have been far more scared.
"Aziraphale." That voice scared even Crowley who came close to choking but managed to keep it in...barely.
Archangel Gabriel did a once over of the old shop, skimming his eyes over the aged books. It was starting to get a little cool again outside, though it was considerable cooler with Gabriel's judgement falling upon the quaint little shop.
"Aziraphale." He piped up after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the archangel turned towards Aziraphale and the wind suddenly picked up and rattled the windows as the sun darted momentarily behind a patch of clouds. "Don't look so worried. I'm merely here to check up on you." A shiver went through the collective mile radius of Soho at that misleading grin. But no one was terrified as Aziraphale.
You might think that Crowley had the decency to perhaps pull away and miracle Aziraphale's trousers back up.
You would be wrong.
Aziraphale wasn't going to talk to him for a fortnight. Not with how he kept going. Thank goodness at least there was a little music playing on Crowley's shitty gramophone to cover up the sounds of his suckling.
Aziraphale would skin him, were he actually capable of such malice.
"I wonder whatever for? All is well." Aziraphale managed to answer, just wishing his blush away along with the perspiration on his temples. Crowley pulled off with a pop, the sound not gong unnoticed.
"You're a poor liar," Gabriel uttered more than nonchalantly. "And I shall be post-phoning this talk a few days..." he muttered, and it was evident the angel's curiosity was trying to hold him back. As well as his love for humiliating Aziraphale. Anything at Aziraphale's expense, he enjoyed.
Aziraphale's heart was still racing as he watched Gabriel leave and he let his head drop onto his folded arms onto the table, feeling Crowley sulk back a little. "Don't even bother." Aziraphale uttered as he felt an apology coming up.
Aziraphale groaned and jerked as he suddenly felt Crowley latch onto his wet cock and he jerked a little, his head rested against the table surface.
"I hate you." Aziraphale managed to whispered quietly with no real sting. Aziraphale grunted and his nails scored the desk surface lightly , his entire being tensing as he climaxed with a groan and let his eyes fall slowly shut, feeling Crowley lay his head on his thigh in a silent apology which Aziraphale could do nothing but to accept.