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New Orleans, Louisiana 1922
Aziraphale was flushed. His clothes clung to his skin from the midday sun, his brow damp with sweat. The humidity was getting to him, but he refused to remove any of his fashionable layers. He had standards, after all. New Orleans wasn’t Aziraphale’s typical scene, but he’d been called on a mission from above about a man and snake oil. Apparently, a degenerate human was getting quite a few people ill with his mystery concoctions and local police were having a hard time finding him. Many had fallen victim to the salesman, and Aziraphale’s job was to bring a stop to it.
But the angel always felt lost whenever he came to America. Everything was always moving at an unreasonably fast pace, and he liked to take his time. The city felt alive and somewhat eerie, brick roads paved the way to dark alleys and vegetation grew through and around buildings. Music swelled around him, deep notes both rich and sorrowful, tugged at his attention. Jazz blared out from shops and streets alike. People, there were so many people, accents of all kinds played on in the background. People shouting, beckoning customers to come inside, men on the streets handing out flyers for just about anything. Aziraphale took one of the pamphlets for a church advertisement and fanned himself with it. His work had only just begun.
Aziraphale had clear instructions, knew where he’d find the human and where he operated, but still, he stalled. Thoughts of a certain serpent possibly involved, had him feeling nervous. Poisoning innocent people wasn’t something that Crowley seemed like he’d do, yet in the back of Aziraphale’s mind, he wondered. Snake oil brought up certain imagery, and he was having a hard time shaking his head free of the demon. And he hadn’t seen the wily demon in so long, not since their quarrel in St. James Park. His chest hurt at the thought. Crowley’s handsome face stayed with him always, and at times Aziraphale could swear he heard ‘angel’ when he felt particularly alone.
As he walked down the pavement, he smelled something absolutely divine. He glanced ahead and saw a café, where fried dough and powdered sugar filled plates. People were smiling, drinking coffee under the opened restaurant that read ‘Café Du Monde’. Aziraphale longed to go. But then, someone bumped into him from behind, muttering under their breath. Aziraphale straightened himself and pressed on. Heaven had become stricter about the timeframe of his work and expected a lot from Aziraphale. He had a job to do. He promised himself he could return for that delicious reward if he completed what he came here for.
-
The snake oil salesman had a hideout not too far from the city. There was a poorly built home standing high up from the ground, surrounded by swamp. It was more of a wooden shack than anything, with long pillars that made the house look like it had legs. The sun was setting now, and the warm reflection spilled onto the murky waters below. It was almost charming, in a horrific kind of way. Aziraphale knew there were all kinds of reptiles lurking in those depths, from alligators to snapping turtles. With care, the angel walked up the worn, wooden steps that groaned as he went. Aziraphale couldn’t help but knock, polite habits hard to shake, but when no one answered, he snapped his fingers to unlock the door. Inside it was dark and smelled so intensely of alcohol that it burned Aziraphale’s nose. He flipped on the switch. The lightbulbs flickered a few times before staying on, but the lighting stayed dim.
“Good Lord,” Aziraphale muttered, eyes examining the mess around him. Bottles, both empty and filled with mysterious liquids were sporadically placed throughout the room. Stains had soaked into the walls and floor, some looking too close to blood for his liking. Then a sound startled him.
A low hissing noise came from one of the rooms in the back. Aziraphale side-stepped the bottles, making his way through, letting out a gasp at what he saw. There was a large rattlesnake coiled against dirty glass. Its dark eyes saw him, watched him as Aziraphale went further into the room. Its scales were brown and spotted black, tail raised high. The poor snake was visibly stressed, and the angel’s heart swelled with sympathy. He couldn’t help but think of Crowley again. Aziraphale moved with determination, eyes set on the caged serpent before him.
“Poor dear,” his voice was soft and sweet. “Let’s free you, hm?”
Aziraphale lifted the lid, wincing when he heard the rattle of its tail. Before he could move out of the way, the sound of a gun clicking from behind echoed in the room. Stunned, Aziraphale turned his head to see the very man he was after. The salesman had a gun pointed directly at him, his dark eyes making it clear that he meant to shoot if needed. Aziraphale was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. He couldn’t afford to use any more frivolous miracles.
“Put the lid back! That snake’s mine,” a gruff voice ordered in a harsh, Louisiana accent. “And tell me what the hell you’re doin’ out here!”
Aziraphale didn’t move to return the lid, but he did nervously swallow. Was this man using snake venom in his snake oil? The very thought had Aziraphale enraged. The human looked tired from being on the run. Dark circles were under his eyes and he was dressed in simple, stained clothes. The weapon in his hand had completely derailed Aziraphale’s attention, so he was late to realize the snake had started to escape its cage and had begun to coil around his thigh.
“Oh dear, oh dear.” Aziraphale started to panic. He didn’t know what to do, not wanting to make any sudden movements, his hands full with the heavy lid.
“Now you’ve done it!” the man yelled at him. He cocked the gun, and the sound startled the snake so that it bit down hard on Aziraphale’s inner thigh. Its fangs embedded deep in his flesh and Aziraphale let out a pained cry. The angel felt weak, dropping the lid on the ground and shattering the glass into pieces. Things weren’t going as he had planned. The snake continued to coil around him, tightening so much that Aziraphale's leg felt numb. Its tail rattled wildly, and it refused to let go. But then, something familiar filled the air, the scent of demonic energy and faint, but comforting cologne. The human’s face stilled, time had stopped, and there standing in the doorway, looking like the dashing devil he was, stood Crowley.
“What’s an angel doing in a place like this?” His voice was smooth, the sound of it brought complete relief to Aziraphale. It had been too long since they’d seen each other, and for the moment, Aziraphale was too overwhelmed to say anything. Crowley walked further into the room. Moonlight cast down on him through the opened windows, illuminating his sharp features. He was dressed well, as always, fitted in a dark suit with a rich, red vest. “Well, Aziraphale, aren’t you going to answer?”
Serpentine eyes trailed over his body in a slow, deliberate manner. Aziraphale felt like he was being undressed by Crowley’s gaze until it stopped on the snake wrapped around him. Something wild flashed in the demon’s eyes before they expanded into their full form, glowing in the dim light. It was almost as if there was a small battle for dominance, an animalistic standoff between Crowley and the other creature. It only lasted for the briefest second. With a low, threatening command he hissed at the snake to ‘let go.’ Instantly, the rattlesnake fell to the floor, slithering its way out of the home and out of their sight.
“T-Thank you,” Aziraphale stammered, feeling a bit lightheaded from having been bitten. Snake venom was dangerous to both humans and heavenly beings. It was all part of the curse after the fall. Aziraphale couldn’t miracle it away, but Crowley could.
Crowley’s angry expression shifted into concern, and he rushed to the angel’s side before he collapsed into his arms. The demon maneuvered him gently, leaning him against the wall while Crowley crouched down. He sniffed Aziraphale’s heated body for the smell of venom. They had never touched this much before, and both the venom and the familiar scent of Crowley made Aziraphale weak. Strong, firm hands squeezed his inner thigh, Crowley’s face mere inches from the angel’s most private area. Both of their faces were flushed, their eyes glossy with desire. With his thumb, Crowley gently pressed against the teeth marks embedded in Aziraphale’s skin, causing the angel to cry out. Possessive fury washed over the demon’s face, golden eyes glued to where he’d been bitten.
“I’ll have to suck the venom out,” Crowley said, voice leaving no room for argument.
Aziraphale might have been lightheaded, but even he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Not by human standards anyway, but then he felt Crowley’s grip tighten, felt those hands he’d long to feel since Eden. Crowley could miracle away the poison. Knowing the demon had come to his rescue put the angel in a more relaxed mood. He had always felt incredibly safe around his demonic companion.
With a snap of his fingers, Crowley miracled them to a hotel room back in New Orleans. The scenery was a dramatic change from where they’d been standing. The colors of the room were royal, yet soft. Light gold wallpaper, with white trim on walls, an ornate rug at the center. A king bed waited in the middle of the room, the plushness of it so inviting. A large window to the right side overlooked the french quarter, the height showing that they were on the top floor. Lost in admiration, Aziraphale almost forgot why he was here in the first place.
“Crowley, the- that human, I need to—”
“He’s taken care of, angel,” Crowley said, walking forward while Aziraphale walked back. He did so until the back of his knees met the bed, the weakness of his legs giving out as he fell onto the mattress. “Put the bastard into the hands of the local police. Now, no more stalling. I’m going to fix this.”
As Crowley’s voice quieted, he placed his right hand over the angel’s chest, fingers splayed on top of Aziraphale’s clothes. The angel let his eyes close reluctantly. He fought to see as much of Crowley as he could, but he felt so drained from the poison. Aziraphale started to feel his blood move, the rhythm of it interrupted under Crowley’s command. Nausea and the fog that had formed within began to lessen, and he could feel the venom inside of him pooling into a collected stream, separated from his own blood. Crowley’s hand pressed down with more intensity, the pressure causing Aziraphale to let out a soft groan. Instantly the force shifted back into a caress, the demon’s hand left his chest and trailed down his body. Strong fingers traced a line from his heart down to the bite, barely bypassing the angel’s hardening prick.
“Do you want me to miracle it away, angel?” Crowley’s voice sounded heady and desperate. Aziraphale opened his lids to look at the demon. The room’s mini chandelier lit behind Crowley and the bleariness of Aziraphale’s eyes made it seem like a crown atop the demon’s head. “I can take it away, right now, or...” And the angel knew what Crowley was trying to ask. This was all so new, the physical touch, the amount of closeness. They had both been craving each other so fiercely. It was undeniable. There were no word games, no hidden glances, just raw desire. Seeing his companion now, having been rescued yet again after years of separation, felt so overwhelming. Their last fight seemed so far away. Heaven and Hell seemed so far away.
“Or,” Crowley swallowed, his serpentine eyes fixed on Aziraphale, “I can remove the venom with my mouth. Draw it out with my teeth. It’s all right here, pooled just under my touch.” And Aziraphale could feel that it was true. Being a snake demon had its perks. Power over poison, having the ability to make his own, this solid dominion over a way of death. Crowley was remarkable. And Aziraphale loved him, and he knew from the way Crowley always came when he needed him most, that the demon loved him too. He could see himself drowning in that love from Crowley’s stare alone. They had been so careful about their relationship. Crowley had always been extra sensitive to the intense fear Heaven instilled in Aziraphale. But now, now there was venom inside him, and it needed to come out. And who better to extract it than the serpent of Eden himself?
The venom was an excuse, a drawn-out reason for Crowley to touch him. Aziraphale could see that now, and he wasn’t about to end it.
“Please,” he replied, throat dry. “Use your mouth.”
Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. He miracled away the angel’s trousers, revealing more of Aziraphale than anyone had seen before—except for his maker. His underwear was tartan, his socks white, held up by garters around his calves. If Aziraphale thought he had seen Crowley’s eyes at their widest, he was wrong. The serpent’s gaze drank him in like a parched soul, slow and filled with worship. He leaned in, the warmth of his breath tickling Aziraphale’s thigh. A clawed finger brushed the angel’s underwear up higher to show off the bite.
“As you wish,” Crowley replied, and then his mouth was on him.
It felt like fire, that devilish tongue lapping against his skin like flames of heat. Aziraphale relaxed on the bed, head tilted to the side as Crowley worked his wound, looking out at the city below. His breathing had changed, becoming more quick and airy. He shuddered when Crowley gripped his thigh tighter than before, leaving indents behind. And then, the demon bit down. His teeth aligned with the holes, completely erasing the rattlesnake’s mark, covering the old with his new. Crowley was leaving his claim behind, Aziraphale could feel his intentions as he worked.
“Ohh,” he groaned, feeling the venom pull away from his body. Aziraphale's head began to clear, his dizziness dissipating, but the fire between them remained. The angel brought his hands down to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair, savoring every new experience between them. As he lovingly stroked his companion’s locks, Crowley started to explore on his own, bringing his thumb right where Aziraphale’s underwear began, stroking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He was dangerously close to touching the bulge under the tartan fabric. Aziraphale swallowed, rolling his body ever so slightly so that Crowley would rub there.
Crowley pulled back from the angel’s thigh, venom completely gone from Aziraphale’s corporation. Golden eyes studied his work, admiring the new bite left behind. Crowley’s fang marks were like a permanent tattoo, and Aziraphale would certainly be keeping them. His long, serpentine tongue lazily licked along the bruised flesh. Tasting what he could, savoring his first taste of what he wanted most. The demon shifted his gaze towards Aziraphale’s face, the glow of his eyes demonic and full of lust.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale was surprised at how rough his voice had become. “I— I need.”
“Yes,” Crowley replied, curling one, long finger underneath the waist of Aziraphale’s tartan panties. “Yes, it’s obvious what you need , angel. You need a lot of things, and badly, but I want you to say it.”
Aziraphale tried to wiggle up the bed so that his covering would pull down. He wanted to tempt Crowley into making the first move, too embarrassed to beg for it himself. The top of the angel’s fat member was now visible, the head poking out from behind the tartan. Crowley’s gaze darted there, unable to hide his hungry expression. The demon’s head dipped down, just so, but then he stilled, lifting his attention back to Aziraphale’s blushing face.
“Tempting a demon is never a good idea, angel. I know what you’re doing. I know you . You’re going to have to say it, plead for it. I’ve waited years to have you underneath me, I can wait a little longer. I need you to tell me what you want.”
As if to amplify his words, Crowley let out a slow breath, a phantom sensation to brush the head of Aziraphale’s aching prick. Aziraphale was desperate, but he still hated to lose. He brought his hand up, snapping away the top of his suit, and underwear, leaving himself bare beneath Crowley.
“I want— I want to thank you, for the rescue. I know what you want, and I’m offering it.”
Crowley miracled away his own attire, leaving him just as naked as the angel. Crowley was all sinewy and lithe muscle, and Aziraphale wanted him badly. The angel dared to peek at Crowley’s effort, pleased at what he saw. His mouth watered, his control gone. Crowley seemed just as wild, just as desperate, his eyes begged him to say it. Time seemed to stop again. There was a pause, a moment where their eyes took each other in. Crowley leaned closer, the heat of his body mixing with the angel’s own. Aziraphale decided to bend.
“I want you,” Aziraphale said, bringing his hand down to wrap around Crowley’s erection. “I want this .”
Crowley was on him then, their mouths crashing together in primal need. A shock went through Aziraphale as their lips met. Crowley kissed him like his life depended on it. He nipped along the angel’s bottom lip, until Aziraphale gave way, opening his mouth for the serpent to come inside. Crowley sucked Aziraphale’s tongue, drawing out muffled moans from him. While his mouth was explored, Crowley brought his hands up to squeeze Aziraphale’s chest, nails pinching his angel’s erect nipples. Aziraphale threw his head back to let out an eager plea for more. The demon wasted no time moving his mouth down to Aziraphale’s neck, leaving kisses along his jaw as he went.
Aziraphale wanted this, had wanted this for so long. And he knew from every kiss, every glance, and gesture that Crowley had as well. Their desire had built up to the point of breaking, and once started, it could not be stopped. Crowley’s teeth lovingly met with his skin, where they belonged, marking even more of the angel. Their efforts were hot and rubbed against one another as they rocked. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck, holding on for the sensual ride, half afraid it would stop.
“Crowley, I need you, I’ve been miserable without y— oh — you.”
The demon drew back, admiring his work on the angel’s skin. He looked deeply into Aziraphale’s eyes and curved his mouth into a genuine smile. Crowley took his thumb and brushed the angel’s swollen, bottom lip.
“Then don’t leave me, angel. Stay,” Crowley’s voice sounded soft, vulnerable. “Stay right here, where you belong.” Aziraphale swallowed. Just as he nodded his head, Crowley reached down to grab the angel’s member. Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered while Crowley pumped, stroking his cock in slow, adoring swipes.
“You’re delicious like this, Aziraphale. I’ve dreamt about this moment since Eden. You’re better than I could have imagined,” Crowley whispered in his ear as he teased him. “I can’t let you go, angel. I won’t. Heaven be damned.”
He kissed him again, passionate and slow. But it ended much too soon, and Crowley brought his head down until his tongue wrapped itself around the angel’s shaft. He licked and sucked the fat prick until Aziraphale came, sobbing like a broken record of his love for Crowley. The demon licked away the milky, white cream that spilled on Aziraphale’s stomach and thighs.
The angel felt out of breath from his orgasm, blissed out and drained, but then Crowley’s tongue met with his hole. The demon licked inside, working the angel open for him. He growled when Aziraphale tugged on his hair, and it fueled him to work faster. Soon he was three fingers deep in the angel, making room for what was to come. Crowley removed his digits, eyes alight with anticipation as he lined up his own aching effort.
The demon stroked himself as he stared at the mess he left Aziraphale in. Another miracle later and Crowley’s dick was fully lubed. His lips shifted into a wicked grin, showing off his fangs once again. And then he slowly slid home. The stretch burned in the best way, and Aziraphale felt euphoria like he’d never known. Crowley’s thrusts were slow and shallow at first, and he pressed kisses along Aziraphale’s forehead.
“It feels, it feels too good,” Aziraphale had to admit. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of them being one.
Crowley’s low groan was an agreement. He gripped Aziraphale’s legs, anchoring them just so, to better plow into his bottom. Crowley’s pace quickened, his thrusts rough and primal.
“Yes, yes!”
“This is what you needed, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice was demanding. “This is what you were made for. I’m the only one who gets to have this! I’m the only serpent ever allowed to touch you. Sssay it!”
“Only you! I’m yours!”
“Mine, you’ve always been mine!”
Crowley continued to thrust as he reached down to play with Aziraphale’s hard member once more. The sensation was too much. Aziraphale was begging him, eyes blurred and mouth drooling. Crowley was hitting that delicious spot inside him, causing his pleasure to mount until it burst. The angel came again, all over Crowley’s hand and their stomachs. His tight channel milked Crowley’s cock until the demon relented and spilled deep into him. He groaned low as he came, the liquid heat poured into Aziraphale until it overflowed. Crowley lay on top of him, both their breaths ragged from their lovemaking.
“I’m so sorry about the holy water,” Aziraphale let out, his voice shaky from the aftermath of his orgasm. He’d been holding in the apology since he left St. James Park. Crowley shushed him, stroking the side of his face with love.
“No, I shouldn’t have asked that of you. It was my fault. And I shouldn’t have disappeared for so long after. If my scent had been stronger on you, that snake would have known better than to touch you. Forgive me.”
Crowley didn’t even need to ask. Aziraphale brought his arms around the demon and held on tight. He chuckled into Crowley’s hair, thinking of how jealous the demon had been over a snake.
“Perhaps we should thank the little fellow,” Aziraphale said, “He helped push us to this moment after all.”
“You’ve got to be careful around snakes, angel,” Crowley grumbled, “they’re nothing but trouble.”
“The serpent of Eden too, right?”
“Especially him,” Crowley replied. Aziraphale could feel his smile against his skin.
-
Morning had come. The light of the sun woke Aziraphale up with its warm caress. He was in the hotel bed, curled around the quilt, still naked underneath. The angel stretched, pleasantly sore from last night, smiling to himself at the thought, but then he became fully awake. He sat upright on the bed, eyes searching for his demonic companion. Just then Crowley came through the door, bag in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.
A heavenly scent carried its way to Aziraphale’s nose, a familiar scent. Crowley was dressed in his sleek suit, dark glasses hiding his eyes from view. But Aziraphale saw the pleased grin he wore just fine. The bag read ‘ Cafe Du Monde’ on the front, and Aziraphale’s heart swelled with love.
“Good morning, angel,” there was a lightness in his tone. It sounded like happiness, like wholeness. “I thought you might like something sweet.”