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Crowley loved sleep. Aziraphale very much enjoyed watching him sleep. It was rare to see the demon look so peaceful, and the angel took it as a compliment that Crowley would comfortably dose off on his bookshop sofa, firstly in little catnaps, and more lately, in a prolonged deep sleep.
Aziraphale would sit happily by him for hours, reading a book, sipping a drink, just charmed by the restful expression on Crowley's face. Crowley would occasionally stir, see his angel, murmur contentedly, and slip back to sleep. On a day like today, however, Aziraphale had much to do, so had left Crowley to fall into a very deep sleep indeed.
Aziraphale had been busy entering financial information into the old computer in his back room. He was managing his accounts in the most painstaking way possible. He had refused to miracle them because he was trying to do the right thing. So Crowley had skulked over to the couch, feeling somewhat alone. He drank a few glasses of wine and fell into a very deep sleep, much like the marathon sleeps he would have at his own apartment. As he dropped off, curled up on Aziraphale's sofa, he mumbled an expletive to a houseplant who 'should take this time to grow better', and began softly snoring.
After tapping away for several hours, Aziraphale was satisfied he'd done his bit to truthfully inform the economy, and came over to sit in his chair opposite where Crowley was snoozing on the couch. He beamed at his demon, and opened the book he'd been reading.
The hours ticked away, with Crowley occasionally snoring loudly, then breathing lightly, and rolling over, and curling up. Aziraphale noticed he was becoming more restless and studied Crowley for a moment. Was he dreaming? Was he dreaming that he was driving the Bentley? He missed it, for sure.
Crowley was now lying on his back like a cat, snoring at medium volume until they stopped abruptly. The angel put his wine down, hoping his friend would now awaken and keep him company. Instead, Crowley pushed a hand between his thighs and wiggled. The peaceful face seemed troubled.
Aziraphale pretended not to watch, slyly glancing over his glasses and his book, but blushed when he witnessed Crowley squeeze his penis through his jeans. The angel thought for a moment he ought to cough or something, to remind Crowley where he was, but just as he was about to, the demon rolled over onto his belly with a loud sigh, his hand still underneath him.
The angel watched him for a moment, then shook his head fondly, and returned to his book. Until, that is, he heard a light hiss and the sound of material being saturated with liquid, accompanied by light moans.
Aziraphale peered over his glasses to see a dark stain emerging from underneath Crowley and soaking into the sofa. He gasped. Crowley was clearly relieving himself. The angel watched as Crowley wiggled his hips and gave a pleasured moan as the hissing abated.
The angel was gawping at the scene in front of him. Crowley had just ‘wet the bed’ but on HIS sofa. He leant in to study Crowley’s face. The absolute fiend groggily checked his watch, and rested his head back down. He’d been awake. Then to add to the insult of it all, he rolled his hips into the wet he’d created, half a dozen times, along with deep breaths. But he stilled, apparently too sleepy to continue, and then snapped his fingers. The wet stain disappeared from the sofa, and Crowley rolled onto his side, completely dry. The snoring resumed immediately.
Aziraphale had to take a moment to fully process what he’d just seen. Slowly he became aware of a burning impulse to give Crowley a whack.
‘My couch!’ complained Aziraphale loudly.
Crowley jerked awake, blinking as he came to. He saw Aziraphale, frowned, looked around, then realised where he was.
‘I thought I was in my flat,’ he said, the horror of the situation dawning on him.
‘Well you’re not, and you just urinated all over my sofa!’ Aziraphale was cross. He put his book down and started to check the couch for damage.
‘I did it in my sleep! I’m sorry!’ said Crowley urgently sitting up. ‘I miracled it away, angel it’s fine!’
There was the sound of a sharp smack and a sting of pain, and Crowley realised the back of his hand had been slapped by a very cross bookseller.
‘Ow!’ he yelped.
‘That was a lie! You weren’t asleep! You woke up and decided not to get up to relieve yourself,’ scolded Aziraphale. He raised his hand as if to give Crowley another smack, this time on the thigh. The demon recoiled, still sleepy, hair all over the place, and bottom lip poking out. It was heartbreaking, and Aziraphale thought better of it.
‘I’m sorry!’ Crowley said feebly. ‘I forgot where I was.’
The angel put his hands on his hips. ‘Do you wet the bed often, rather than get up?’ he asked tartly.
Crowley blushed furiously and looked away in shame.
Aziraphale took a deep breath. ‘All right. I’m sorry I got cross, but you can't just urinate on my sofa!’
Crowley was bunched up in the corner of the couch like a frightened spider. He looked utterly pitiable, and Aziraphale was starting to feel bad for smacking him.
‘I miracled it better,’ he croaked weakly. ‘I’m really sorry, angel.’ The yellow eyes were big and pleading. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say.
Crowley bit his lip. ‘I’ll go if you want me to. Or…’ he sniffed.
‘Or what?’
‘Anything you want. I’ll do anything you want me to do. And if you want to hit me, it’s okay.’
Aziraphale winced and sat down next to Crowley. ‘It’s not okay, Crowley. I smacked you to wake you up properly, if nothing else. And I shouldn’t have done that, I suppose. We usually discuss your punishments.’ His blue eyes twinkled softly at Crowley, whose punishments usually consisted of a good ticking off and a few swats on the bottom - a very serious business for a 6,000 year old demon.
Crowley looked at his angel earnestly. ‘If you peed on something at my place I’d probably throw you out of the window. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to. Honestly.’
‘Come here,’ said Aziraphale kindly, holding his hand out. ‘Come on.’
Crowley leant across, unfurling cautiously, and cuddled up to his angel. He was still very pink in the face. Aziraphale gently patted his bottom. ‘Naughty snake,’ he said. ‘Now, I want you to answer my question, please.’
‘Which one?’ asked Crowley, playing for time.
‘I asked you if you wet the bed often,’ said Aziraphale steadily, making clear his disapproval of Crowley's evasion. ‘As in making a choice and being very lazy.’
Crowley didn’t answer for a moment. ‘Not really,’ he said.
Another pat landed on his behind. ‘I think that’s a lie, Crowley, and if you lie again, I will give you a proper smack and send you home.’
The demon curled up tight, and Aziraphale cuddled him, and kissed him on the head. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Tell me the truth. It’s okay.’
‘Sometimes I get into such a nice sleep and it’s easier to… to do it, and miracle it away.’
‘Sometimes?’
‘I dunno,’ sulked Crowley impatiently, before quickly covering his bottom with a hand in case his attitude earned him a swat.
Aziraphale saw this and smiled at him. ‘Careful,’ he said affectionately.
‘Not very often,’ said Crowley, embarrassed. ‘Just whenever a good sleep and a full bladder collide.’
‘And you just... wet yourself?’
Crowley buried his face in his angel. He was definitely going to die now. Death by mortification. This was it.
‘Oh you silly sausage,’ chided Aziraphale. ‘It makes sense. Don’t worry. Just please try to confine such activities to your bedroom. Or my bedroom. Just a bedroom, really.’
Crowley kept his face firmly planted in the angel’s chest. All the while, Aziraphale petted him.
‘Naughty snake,’ he said again. As he stroked Crowley’s red sticky-up hair, he remembered another part of the scene he’d witnessed. He felt rather warm under the collar about that bit. ‘My dear,’ he began carefully. ‘Do you also, sometimes, get off on it?’
‘Leavemealoneangel,’ came the muffled reply. 'Gonna discorporate.'
Aziraphale smiled mischievously. ‘Pretty sure I saw you making love to my sofa,’ he cooed. He very lightly tapped his demon’s backside half a dozen times. ‘But that would be devilish behaviour,’ he continued theatrically. ‘To rub yourself off like a puppy on your wet sheets. Tut tut tut tut.’
There was a sort of growl from Crowley.
‘Quite a vision, I’d imagine,’ continued Aziraphale. ‘Watching my sexy demon pleasure himself so indecently.’ His eyes sparkled as he continued to tease Crowley, all the while caressing him. ‘Well, in certain situations I imagine that would be... compelling.’
The red-faced demon peeped up at his angel, and the angel looked down at him, then pecked him on the lips.
Crowley gazed up at him, dumbfounded.
Aziraphale winked. ‘Just, if, that happened to be something you like doing. I might... like to watch.’
‘You want to watch?’
‘In a time and place that’s acceptable to all… yes. I think I might.’
Crowley grinned. ‘So you’re not angry with me?’
‘I think it was a genuine mistake. So you are forgiven. I can hardly judge your... proclivities.’
‘Oh angel. If you want to watch me do that… then… you can do anything you want. Anything.’
'Is that so?' asked Aziraphale lightly. He snaked his hand into Crowley's crotch and cupped his balls. Crowley immediately groaned.
'Wetting your pants. Wicked thing,' scolded Aziraphale sweetly, rubbing the soft, warm flesh through the black underpants which were starting to stretch as Crowley's pleasure intensified. 'Wetting your jeans. Relieving yourself. Pleasuring yourself. Disgraceful. I shall have to beat you.'
Crowley's breathing was becoming ragged. The angel's blue eyes were penetrating, his pupils blown. His hand was now inside Crowley's underwear and was squeezing his cock.
'I'm sorry,' breathed Crowley. His eyes flashed playfully. 'For being wicked.'
Aziraphale moaned, still gazing into his demon's eyes. His terrible fiend. Impossible to stay cross with. And somehow still sexy, even when peeing his pants.
'Oh you're not sorry, you little devil,' said Aziraphale in a chocolatey voice. And I am here to give you hell. Naughty boy.'
The angel quickened his movements, and Crowley started to vocalise his now urgent pleasure with short cries.
Aziraphale stroked him hard. 'You're going to show me just what you get up to when I'm not around. And then I'm going to decide what to do with you.' He said it darkly, but spoiled it with a cheeky grin, which sent Crowley wild.
'Angel!' warned Crowley, before coming all over himself in a series of never-ending creamy spurts.
'Oh dear,' said Aziraphale, as Crowley shuddered through the aftershocks.
-
Aziraphale had poured out two glasses of wine while Crowley was recovering.
'I'm impressed, my dear, that you managed to keep that from me for so long.'
Crowley shrugged. 'Hard to keep things private in quarantine, angel.'
Aziraphale smiled darkly and sipped his wine.
'I'm so sorry about the sofa,' said Crowley desperately. 'I promise you, it's good as new.'
'Never mind,' said Aziraphale in a brusque way that convinced neither of them that it wouldn't come up in every argument from now on. 'At least now I know why you can stay asleep so long.'
'Do you have any idea how many humans are tempted to wet the bed rather than get up when they're really tired?'
The angel frowned. 'Now that's quite a different affair,' he said primly. 'But back to you, my dear.'
Crowley gazed back as innocently as he could, in the face of his rather stern angel. 'What?'
Aziraphale's eyes were dark, and his lips seemed a little swollen. 'When's the next show?' he asked, with a catch in his voice.
Crowley grinned. 'Whenever you like, angel.'
The angel glowed just a little before topping up Crowley's glass with a wily smile.