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The infernal wards worked like a dream. Crowley let out a breath he didn’t realise he'd been holding as he watched, from the doorway of his remote cottage, the hulking figure of his freshly transformed werewolf claw at the invisible boundaries of his territory in a vain attempt to reach the vast forest looming in the east.
The wolf was being lured by both the irresistible call of the full moon above as well as other creatures of the night, creatures like him, that stalked the ominous shadows of the forest. Creatures that shifted form and were beset by instincts they could neither choose nor fight off.
And he was lured by another power, one that could not be attributed to nature (cruel though such natures already were), that befell him and him alone. Had he been able to escape, Crowley shuddered to imagine the state he would find him in later. Witnessing it once had been horrifying enough… At least in Crowley’s arms, he would be safe and his needs tended with care. Not like in the forest, not like what the others would do to him.
Thankfully, that wasn’t a worry to carry this night. Against all odds, Crowley’s wards were a success, creating an impenetrable barrier that herded his poor werewolf back towards the cottage. Sighing in relief, the demon stepped outside fully, his bare feet sinking into the cool grass. The sound drew the other’s attention, bringing icy blue eyes in a snarling face to focus directly on him.
‘Aziraphale,’ Crowley spoke gently, knowing that his voice could be heard. The werewolf’s ears twitched. ‘I’m here, like I promised. Like we talked about before. Remember?’
He could see the tremors shaking Aziraphale’s body, his pale-furred limbs taut as he crouched just within Crowley’s wards. Crowley maintained eye contact as he took two steps closer, noting the way Aziraphale followed his every move. His werewolf’s poise seemingly indicated a readiness to run or pounce, but it was the eyes that truly mattered — shining with the intelligence and emotions Aziraphale had worn on his sleeve for the past month, before the full moon.
Even in his transformed state, he understood every word out of Crowley’s mouth, recalled everything that had been said between them. Aziraphale had assured him of it before and Crowley could see it.
But the pull of his instincts, the raging need that he’d been cursed with, could win over all too easily. Aziraphale had warned him about it, pleading to be allowed to run off and find a wolf to sate him if their plan fell through.
Crowley wouldn’t allow failure, however. Not where Aziraphale was concerned, who deserved better than an animalistic fuck by some nameless werewolf who would nearly rip him to shreds.
Aziraphale, who had come to mean more to Crowley than he could’ve ever imagined.
~***~
After nearly six thousand years of wandering and working on Earth, Crowley had thought he knew everything there was to know about its residents. At least, all the important bits.
He’d been interested in humans from his very first jaunt to Eden, and then afterwards as he observed and followed the descendents of Adam and Eve across the world.
He was less interested in the monstrosities the Almighty had seen fit to also unleash, the last of Her planned Creations and, in Crowley’s opinion, the most unnecessary. But Heaven had declared them another test against humanity’s faith and fortitude, and seeing what became of the poor mortals that fell victim to the blood of the lamia and the bites of lycanthropes among other creatures, Crowley had made it his business to learn as much as he could about them. It had become a necessary evil especially after the denizens of Hell discovered that the human corporations worn by demons could also be turned into hybrids of such monsters.
Crowley had tried to imagine an existence of being cursed into a vampire or shapeshifter, and the thought had been so horrific that he’d vowed to never fall victim to a creature of the night.
He’d never considered the possibility of an angel falling victim to them.
Crowley would never forget the night he found Aziraphale only a month ago, on the very edge of the forest that lay beyond his lonely little cottage. He remembered the bile rising in his throat as, in the faint light of dawn, he’d stared at the werewolf with his coat of pale fur soaked and matted with blood, the red of it gushing out of the wounds left on his neck and along his back. Wounds that could only be left by the fangs and claws of another wolf.
He’d been around long enough to know what kind of werewolf encounter could leave those kinds of marks.
More than that, however, what had Crowley speechless was the ethereal aura emanating from the nearly unconscious wolf. The creature hadn’t been suppressing his energy, couldn’t have in that state, and underneath his monstrous form Crowley could easily sense the true essence of his nature — this was no mortal turned werewolf, but an angel .
For millennia, Crowley had steered clear of any and all of Heaven’s emissaries and field agents on Earth, focussed only on carrying out his infernal assignments and avoiding ugly entanglements. His first instinct had been to leave the werewolf where he lay; he didn’t know how an angel had been turned but at most he would merely discorporate. Zip right back to Heaven. No permanent harm, surely.
But as fate would have it, the moon had set right then and the half-dead werewolf transformed back in front of Crowley’s eyes. The bloodied fur sank away to reveal bloodied skin, his long large limbs contorted and shrank until what was left was a stout man-shaped body, and the only thing bright and alive about him was the pale fluff of his short curly hair. There had been a flutter of eyelashes, the glimpse of blue eyes that looked haunted and on the brink of death.
A silent plea for help.
And Crowley had shut down every voice screaming warnings inside his head, gathered up the broken angel into his arms, and carried him back to his cottage.
It was more than three days later when the angel awoke to find himself in a demon’s bed, his wounds tended to and carefully dressed. Crowley later supposed that had been a largely contributing factor as to why he wasn’t smote on the spot as soon as he entered the room.
Although still poorly, colour was returning to his cheeks, and with the blood and grime gone, it wasn’t lost on Crowley that the angel was lovely to look upon. Fair curls, piercing blue eyes, soft curves on a plump body.
And a right mouth on him.
After a somewhat awkward exchange of introductions, Aziraphale observed warily, ‘I suppose I ought to thank you for the services you’ve rendered me. I wouldn’t have expected any of this from… well, I mean… you’re a … demon?’
‘Well spotted,’ Crowley replied dryly, not bothering to hide his eyeroll as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. ‘And you're an angel that turns into an oversized wolf once a month. Don’t think you’re in a position to judge, love.’
Aziraphale visibly cringed and sank into the mattress, nearly disappearing under the covers. Crowley usually wouldn't give a rat’s arse about tact, but remembering the state of the angel just a few nights ago made him want to punch himself.
‘Sssorry about that,’ he mumbled, shifting on his feet. ‘I’ve seen a couple demons get bitten and mmrrhh yeah, ’s a shitty thing to happen.’
‘Yes. Shitty,’ said Aziraphale, his tone even and cold, and that was all he would say on the topic.
Nonplussed and still somewhat concerned for the angel who was clearly not all right, Crowley had muttered an offer for Aziraphale to stick around until he recovered. The angel reacted with a mix of surprise and suspicion, though Crowley couldn’t exactly blame him for it.
After a few hours of silence, Crowley’s offer was accepted with a stiff but polite thank-you. Crowley responded with a boorish snort and put the kettle on. The tea received a warmer thank-you.
~***~
The werewolf still hadn’t moved a muscle, his gaze locked on the demon.
‘Aziraphale,’ he repeated, keeping his voice low and dark. The tone he’d started taking in the bedroom over the past two weeks, one he knew the other would recognise. ‘Hey, look at me.’
As he spoke, Crowley let his hands rove slowly over his body, palms dragging over the cool satin of his black robe; the only garment he’d worn in preparation for tonight. He tugged at the loosely tied belt, letting the robe fall open and slip off his shoulders carelessly, leaving him entirely in the nude. Baring the body he’d let Aziraphale become intimately familiar with so recently.
The werewolf turned to face the demon, his eyes blown wide, body still tense. A whine escaped him, high and needy.
‘I know what you need.’ Crowley took another step forward. He let his fingers graze over his cock, which hung half-hard and heavy between his legs. He took himself in hand, a steady grip with which he stroked himself, watching Aziraphale’s jaws part to reveal the loll of a pink tongue.
‘And I can give it to you,’ he continued breathily, trying to entice his wolf to give in. ‘Fuck, I can give it to you better than any of those other beasts you’re trying to find.’
Aziraphale made a sound caught somewhere between a whimper and snarl. He was on all fours now, his fur shining white in the moonlight. He looked even bigger than on the night Crowley had first found him, his body strong now that he was returned to full health. And it would stay that way if Crowley could help it.
‘And I have been giving it to you these past several days, haven’t I, angel ?’ Crowley crooned, delivering the killing blow. He dropped his hand to his side, leaving himself vulnerable and inviting. ‘Nice big cock for your empty cunt. To fuck you until you can’t think. Fill you until you’re bred.’
That final remark was the only untruth Crowley had spoken. Procreation was not a gift bestowed upon either the occult or the ethereal. But it was what Aziraphale needed to hear, the answer to the raging instincts that took over with each full moon.
The werewolf moved so fast he was almost a blur.
~***~
It had taken ten days for Crowley to discover the truth behind Aziraphale’s hybrid transformation. Nearly the same amount of time went into the angel’s healing.
As Crowley tended to his wounds (Aziraphale had been reluctant to allow him close at first, but proof of how the demon had obviously looked after him persuaded him to lower his guard), he noticed they had started healing faster as soon as Aziraphale had woken up. From there arose the suspicion that Aziraphale had been cut off from his ethereal powers as a werewolf, the only explanation Crowley could think of as to why an angel, who should have been able to heal physical wounds to his corporation, had been upon death’s door.
He didn’t pose his questions, however, respecting Aziraphale’s reticence. Instead he brought the angel endless cups of tea — he seemed to like tea quite a lot — and eventually, after he’d regained enough strength to leave the bed, trays of food.
That , surprisingly, was the first thing to get a wholly positive reaction out of Aziraphale.
‘You cook?’ he’d exclaimed with undisguised pleasure as Crowley placed a plate of steak, buttered vegetables and roasted potatoes in front of him at his small dining table.
‘I know we don’t need to eat,’ replied Crowley with a shrug, sitting across from Aziraphale with his own plate. ‘But why should the bounty of the earth be only for humans? We might as well enjoy the world while we live in it. Dunno if your lot have rules against that sort of …’ he trailed off, eyes widening followed by a broad grin as he watched Aziraphale tuck into his dinner with unparalleled gusto. ‘I guess there is no rule then.’
Aziraphale made a scoffing sound around a bit of steak that somehow still managed to sound dignified. ‘No, believe me, Gabriel was horrified to find out that I partake in food. He calls it gross matter.’
‘Gross matter?!’
‘He says it sullies our earthly vessels.’
‘And yet you eat?’ Crowley raised an eyebrow.
‘Enjoying the creations of the Almighty as they were intended is not a sin,’ stated Aziraphale, spearing a slice of potato on his fork.
‘Hmm, I don’t have my Guide to a Free One-Way Ticket to Hell on me right now, but I’m sure gluttony is up there on the list of bad ol’ Sins.’
Aziraphale was unfazed. ‘And I’m certain kindness and saving angels are not among the listed desired qualities in a demon, but here you are.’
Crowley gaped at him, open-mouthed, torn between outrage and laughing. Then he saw the hint of a smirk disappear behind the glass of wine Aziraphale raised to his lips.
The laughter won out. ‘You fucking bastard,’ Crowley chortled, stabbing his knife in his steak. ‘I save your arse and then feed you my homegrown potatoes and carrots, and you give me cheek!’
Aziraphale looked down at his plate with wide eyes. ‘You grew these yourself? Oh, you must show me your garden!’
This new turn in their … acquaintanceship continued to burgeon, sprouting little shoots and branches, such that Aziraphale’s steadily hastening recovery was punctuated by the increasing amount of time they spent together. Learning things that surprised them about each other every day.
The angel found the small collection of books Crowley kept in his study, which at first sparked pleasant surprise at the demon’s interests, swiftly followed by indignation upon finding that Crowley owned only a particular genre of Shakespeare.
‘Only the funny ones are worth keeping!’
‘You have no respect for the masterpieces that are Macbeth and Hamlet!’
‘You wanna talk about masterpieces? A Midsummer Night’s Dream!’
‘Oh, come now, you can’t compare that to—!’
‘I fucking well can! Next thing you’ll be harping on about how bloody Charles Dickens was a genius or something!’
‘Well, I—‘
‘Satan’s balls, you are! Ugh, c’mon, the man was nothing but a wordy bitch!’
‘How dare you,’ Aziraphale sniffed. ‘He was loquacious .’
‘I’ll show you loquacious…’
And so it had gone on, until the following week when Aziraphale looked to be almost wholly recovered and Crowley suggested a trip to town. The idea came to him because, from the second Aziraphale had learnt that the clothes Crowley ‘lent’ him had been casually miracled out of the ether, he’d scrunched up his nose in distaste; an involuntary reaction that betrayed so much at once that Crowley had outright laughed in his face.
‘I don’t require new clothes,’ Aziraphale protested half-heartedly as they sat together in a stage coach to London. ‘The ones you kindly … created more than suffice, thank you.’
‘You say that but I have had it with you turning your nose up at them,’ Crowley retorted, shooting Aziraphale a grin to let him know he was being teased.
In truth, Crowley simply thought it a good idea for the angel to have clothes he’d be comfortable and happy in — not that he would ever admit to the sentiment. Not very demonic, that, after all.
It was a lovely day overall. Crowley only ever used to venture inside tailors’ shops to gauge the latest fashions that the dandies fancied wearing; he always miracled up his clothes, keeping them to his own darker tastes. For Aziraphale, however, shopping was clearly a serious adventure and his pickiness about which shops to frequent was both frustrating and endearing. Crowley put up with it, however, indulging the angel’s demands and standards as he got himself fitted for trousers, shirts, waistcoats and jackets. He even purchased a bow tie; tartan-patterned, for crying out loud.
At each stop, Crowley paid for the purchases, waving aside Aziraphale’s protests. ‘’S fine. Look, it’s not a big deal. Besides, you don’t have money right now.’
‘Of course I have money,’ Aziraphale exclaimed indignantly. ‘I’ll have you know I have a lot saved up. Enough to open a bookshop and more! I’ve been on Earth for thousands of years, you know.’
‘Why a bookshop, specifically?’ Crowley asked, curious.
That brought an unexpected wash of colour to Aziraphale’s round cheeks and he averted his gaze. The silence wasn’t unlike those Crowley had received during the first few days Aziraphale had spent under his roof, so he closed his mouth and busied himself with arrangements to get them back home.
It was halfway through the ride back that Aziraphale spoke to him again, his voice quiet and laden with wistful sorrow as he spoke about the impressive collection of books he’d bought and locked away in various locations across the world, hoping to one day display them all in a bookshop of his own.
‘I suppose it’d be a home,’ he said, looking not at Crowley but the passing scenery outside. ‘All these thousands of years of moving from one assignment to another… I thought it would be nice to have a place I could call my own.’
‘So why don’t you?’ Crowley asked. ‘Open a bookshop, I mean. You said you have the money.’
Aziraphale gave him a brittle smile. ‘My plan fell through about a hundred years ago. When …’ He looked down at his lap.
‘When a werewolf bit you?’ Crowley tried to keep his voice gentle.
‘When the Archangels had me bitten by a werewolf.’
There was a beat of stunned silence.
‘What?!’ Crowley almost shouted.
The truth came out then, uttered in a dejected hopeless voice, as Aziraphale recounted a heavenly assignment from more than a century ago when he’d been tasked with smiting a village of ‘sinners’.
‘Heaven called them sinners, but the truth is…’ Aziraphale sighed. ‘Most of them were werewolves.’
‘A village of weres living together?’ Crowley had never heard of such a thing.
‘Bitten humans only lose control during the full moon, you know. They’re not driven by bloodlust any other time. So a few dozen of them who found each other decided to build their own little village. It was a remote place, surrounded by woods that stretched for miles. They thought they could keep themselves isolated from anyone else.’
‘That’s … wow.’
‘Yes. But…’ Aziraphale sighed wearily again. ‘I’m sure you know Upstairs’ … doctrine. Regarding creatures of the night.’
‘That they’re damned,’ said Crowley bluntly. ‘Vampires, werewolves, whatever. They say they have no souls, so they’re damned anyway.’
‘Precisely. And I … I was ordered to smite a village of the …damned.’
Crowley looked at him shrewdly, eyes widening as he understood. ‘But you didn’t.’
Aziraphale shook his head without looking at him.
‘And you … the Archangels had you turned … to punish you?’
A ghost of a smile, empty and haunted. ‘So that I can experience for myself, for the rest of my existence, just how wicked and debased the creatures I refused to kill are.’
‘Fuck! That’s … that’s fucked up. Shit, that’s the sort of thing you’d expect from my lot…’
The two of them fell quiet for a long time, the only sounds were the clip-clop of horses’ hooves outside and the wind rustling through the trees. Crowley mulled over what Aziraphale had revealed, over and again, until a thought occurred to him that chilled his very blood.
‘Aziraphale… What exactly happens when you turn? The night I found you, you were… you were…’ He couldn’t finish.
‘It’s not bloodlust I feel, when I’m a werewolf. Gabriel wanted a special punishment for me, you see. He twisted my transformation to ensure I could never escape it.’
‘What?’
‘It’s lust. And not just plain sexual lust.’ The angel closed his eyes, his face twisting in pain. ‘When I’m a wolf, I feel … my instincts compel me to find another werewolf to… to take me. To… breed me. Three nights, every month.’
In the horrified silence that followed, Aziraphale smiled at Crowley without mirth.
‘You must be aware of how violent such couplings can be. When you found me, it was right after the worst mating I’ve ever been through.’
~***~
An unarmed human wouldn’t have stood a chance in the face of a charging werewolf, regardless of whether the creature’s lust was for blood or carnal needs. But angels and demons could call on strength mere mortals could only dream of, including the ones cursed to shift into the monstrous.
Crowley met Aziraphale halfway, nimbly sidestepping the wolf’s lustful attempt to pounce on him; he grabbed Aziraphale around the middle, twisting to pin him down on the grassy ground with all of the demonic power he possessed. He could feel the ripple and shift of powerful muscles between his thighs as he straddled the wolf’s back, bearing down on him.
Aziraphale panted, his clawed paws scrabbling at the dirt as he tried to both buck Crowley off and twist around to snap his jaws at him. A reaction designed both to test a potential mate as well as a coy invitation for further seduction.
A challenge to dominate him.
Recalling what Aziraphale had told him before, Crowley freed his right hand to wind his fingers into the thick fur between his shoulder blades and pushed him down forcefully until he was pressed to the grass. Were it a werewolf in his place, it would be cruel fangs sunk into Aziraphale instead of fingers — fangs that would break skin, tear out muscle, and spill blood freely but still not let go until the wolf beneath had been properly ravaged and used and bred . The memory of Aziraphale in the aftermath of that ordeal still made Crowley’s stomach turn.
Humanoid fingers were a far cry from what a true werewolf mating entailed, but it had the desired effect nevertheless. Aziraphale gave into the submission this body of his craved so desperately, whining and wiggling as he let himself be overpowered.
‘There you are,’ Crowley muttered, his breath ragged already from the excursion. ‘Nice and easy.’
Aziraphale made a soft noise, pushing lightly against Crowley’s hand on his back. His hind legs were still braced against the ground and he shifted them rapidly. A demand that was more than clear.
Crowley couldn’t help but huff a laugh. The rush of adrenaline hadn’t subsided, still riding high on the thrill of having successfully put Aziraphale in position — and what he needed to do next.
In retrospect, it would’ve been easy to shut up and just go for it. Simply shift back and push inside Aziraphale. That had been his intention all along, what they had both expected out of this. But Crowley couldn’t have said what compelled his next action in that moment, or the words that accompanied it.
‘Look at you, angel,’ he murmured as he let his left hand sweep out from under Aziraphale’s stomach to caress his side, the dense fur running through his fingers.
The werewolf trembled underneath the unexpected touch, tensing slightly. A low rumble sounded from him.
‘You’re beautiful, did you know that?’ Crowley’s hand slid up past the fingers still fisted in the scruff of Aziraphale’s neck, to stroke his head and play with his soft ears. ‘Beautiful before too, but like this? I’ve never seen a lovelier wolf.’
And that made Aziraphale rumble again, but this time his body relaxed under Crowley and he turned his face slightly, flashing a blue eye at the demon on his back. It lowered quickly, looking away.
The reaction made Crowley smile. What he’d said was true but he’d never imagined giving voice to those words. They were easy to spill at this moment however, when the angel was in this shape, docile and wanting and eager. To be fucked and bred. By Crowley.
And they weren’t words he’d ever get to hear while being ravished on a forest floor by another werewolf.
‘You liked hearing that, didn’t you?’ Crowley pulled his hand back to squeeze Aziraphale’s side fondly. ‘I could say it more, if you like.’
The wolf shifted his hind legs again, bucking up into Crowley abruptly. His frustration was obvious, and the drag of fur over the underside of his balls made Crowley groan.
‘So impatient. But I suppose the other wolves weren’t very, what’s that ridiculous word again? Ah yes, loquacious .’
For a second, Crowley wondered if it had been a mistake to bring up Aziraphale’s past couplings, but the werewolf made a growling sound that he could’ve sworn was a laugh.
Crowley grinned, relieved. ‘But first, let’s give you what you need, yeah?’
~***~
It hadn’t taken five days since Aziraphale’s shocking revelation for Crowley to approach him with the turbulent suggestion that had begun brewing in his mind not long after they returned from London.
The angel had given him a look of such sheer disbelief and dismay that Crowley almost regretted speaking his mind. Almost.
‘Absolutely not, are you mad?’ Aziraphale had gasped, stepping away from Crowley in a manner that stung.
‘Nope, I’m perfectly sane and I mean it,’ Crowley replied firmly. He resisted the desire to step closer. ‘If it would help you.’
‘You’re not doing this. We’re not doing this.’ Aziraphale’s tone brooked no arguments, and for good measure, he stormed out of the living room.
Crowley didn’t bring it up again until two days later. Over mugs of their morning drinking chocolate, he gently spoke with Aziraphale.
‘If you really don’t wish to, I won’t say another word about this. But the full moon is less than a fortnight away, and my offer still stands. If —’ he raised his voice slightly when Aziraphale opened his mouth to interrupt him, ‘ — my standing in would help you in any way, if it means you won’t come to harm, then I want to do this for you, angel.’ The word slipped out without conscious thought, soft and heavy and with all the shades of an endearment.
Aziraphale looked at him with eyes that were bleak, shadowed. ‘And you? What if it means you’ll come to harm?’
Crowley raised his eyebrows. ‘Will I? You told me your instincts compel you to find a mate who would breed you.’ He kept his voice even and calm, without the slightest inflection of mockery or judgement. ‘You said you weren’t driven by bloodlust. And you remember everything that happens while you’re turned.’
‘I …’ Aziraphale frowned. ‘I am fully sentient as a wolf, yes. Not like the… not like mortals.’
‘So you can control yourself?’
‘I —’
‘Aside from the lust, I mean. You wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone.’
‘Crowley…’ Aziraphale now looked a little lost. Drawn to Crowley’s suggestion and yet equally frightened by the unprecedented prospect of it.
‘If you could accept me as a suitable partner instead of another werewolf during the full moon,’ said Crowley slowly, ‘then I could see you through those three nights. You won’t have to endure all that pain again.’
‘Why are you offering yourself to me?’ Aziraphale’s voice turned sharp. He put his mug down on the table, hard enough to spill some chocolate over the side. ‘Who are we to each other but an angel and a demon? You — you barely know me!’
Crowley stared at him, fighting down the swell of emotion those words had ignited within him.
‘Sure,’ he said slowly. ‘Maybe we don’t know a lot about each other. But I daresay over the past couple of weeks we’ve learnt enough to know we’re not exactly Heaven and Hell’s best fits. That’s why we like each other.’
Aziraphale’s jaw slackened, blue eyes going round.
Crowley swallowed and tried not to look too affected. ‘Least, I like you,’ he said before his nerves failed him.
The angel looked away and didn’t reply. Sighing, Crowley returned to his drinking chocolate. As concerned as he was for Aziraphale and what the next full moon would bring, it was ultimately the angel’s choice. Crowley would have to accept it, even if Aziraphale decided to take his chances with the werewolves again.
But then that night, as they shared a glass of wine after dinner, Aziraphale looked at Crowley from his cosy nest on the armchair, and said very softly,
‘If you’re truly committed to your offer, we ought to practise intimacy a few times before I turn.’
Crowley almost choked around a sip of the fruity alcohol, gaping at Aziraphale with fire-bright eyes. ‘What?’
The angel licked his lips, his cheeks, already rosy from the wine, blushing an even deeper shade of red.
‘Even if I retain my sentience as a werewolf, I don’t know how my breeding instincts would respond to you as a potential partner. So I believe that we should learn to be physically intimate beforehand, so that my body…’ He coughed delicately into a fist. ‘So that my body might possibly recognise you as a lover, even if my baser needs are searching for a wolf.’
It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for Crowley to parse all the layers of what Aziraphale had just said, and to boil it down to the fact that the angel was saying yes . When it all clicked for him, he carefully placed his wineglass on the mantelpiece and knelt between Aziraphale’s legs in front of the armchair.
‘No time like the present,’ he whispered, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes with a mixture of uncertainty and arousal.
The angel flushed all the way down his neck and his lower lip trembled. But he shifted his hips, allowing Crowey to ease his trousers and drawers off his legs, along with his brogues, to spread him open for the demon’s hungry mouth.
‘Perhaps you’d prefer me to wear other genitals,’ Aziraphale murmured, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Crowley thumbed the lips of his cunt open to reveal a tight pink entrance and small clit. ‘But I ought to tell you now this is the configuration I always have when I transform. I can’t change it…’ His mouth turned down. ‘I suppose it’s part of the … breeding curse. And I don’t have access to my powers during the full moon.’
That confirmation of Crowley’s suspicions made his blood boil at Heaven, but he chose not to comment on that.
‘I don’t mind. This is lovely.’
Then he put his mouth to Aziraphale’s cunt and didn’t lift his head until much, much later, when his chin was dripping with the angel’s sick, a swollen clit throbbing against his tongue, and Aziraphale sunk bonelessly in the armchair, his voice hoarse and thighs shaking.
Crowley gazed up at him, a little concerned, mostly dazed by what they had just done.
‘Not bad for a start, yeah?’
Aziraphale smiled at him, his face still pink. Beautiful. ‘It’s not your mouth I’ll need on the full moon, though.’
With a scoff, the demon stumbled to his feet. ‘Not a problem, angel,’ he said, beginning to unfasten his trousers and then, growing impatient, snapped his fingers to vanish everything he was wearing from below the waist.
Aziraphale’s eyes roved over his body, lingering on the newly exposed skin. The tip of a pink tongue swept over his bottom lip as he studied Crowley’s cock, which had quickly filled while he’d been between the angel’s legs, and now stood proud and erect.
‘Good lord.’ Aziraphale tilted his head, still staring. ‘You’re… impressive.’
Crowley almost snorted and tried not to preen. ‘Would that pose a problem later?’
‘Oh. Actually,’ the angel was turning red again, ‘no, I — in fact, I think that, um…’
‘The wolf wants a massive prick to ride, eh?’
His lewd quip finally made Aziraphale laugh, and he relaxed into the sofa. ‘You could say that. Yours is only missing…’ He waved an aimless hand.
Crowley began to frown. ‘What? What do you need?’
‘Well, you might have heard but wolves, even werewolves really — when they engage in intercourse, they … they, um, they lock together —’
‘A knot,’ Crowley interrupted, snapping his fingers. ‘Right, ’course. I’ll take care of it, no worries. Anything else?’
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide and impossibly blue. ‘No.’
‘Hmm, great. So…’ Some of the awkwardness trickled back in. Crowley felt a little ridiculous suddenly, to be stood in front of the angel with his dick out. Still hard and aching.
‘D’you wanna…’ He gestured vaguely at his groin area. ‘Try for more intimacy? Maybe we should leave the next step for tomorrow night?’
Aziraphale’s gaze flicked between Crowley’s face and his cock. He stood up so that they were almost nose-to-nose.
‘As you said, my dear, no time like the present.’
~***~
He had to let go of Aziraphale’s neck to properly get behind him, the length of the large wolf body too long for Crowley to be able to properly hold on. Instead, he called on a surge of demonic power to bear down on the spot where his hand had been, forcing Aziraphale back to the ground.
His wolf whined eagerly at the miraculous manhandling of him, pawing at the ground and thrashing his tail which whacked the side of Crowley’s leg. He grasped the base of the tail as he knelt behind Aziraphale, forcing it up to finally expose him where he was wet and ready; the sudden grip made Aziraphale yelp.
‘Fucking hell, I’ve barely touched you,’ Crowley drawled, but the intensity of Aziraphale’s reaction made his cock throb, and he was careful to not release Aziraphale’s tail.
He dragged his free palm over the curve of the angel’s rump, smoothing down the coarse fur before letting the tip of a finger trace the lips of Aziraphale’s vulva, the surrounding fur already glistening and matted. The sound of panting grew louder as Crowley stroked him gently, playing with the wetness before he pressed two fingers to his hole; they sank easily inside the snug heat of Aziraphale’s body.
‘Shit,’ Crowley swore. He slipped his fingers in and out of Aziraphale, teasing along the hot walls of his cunt. ‘I dunno much about werewolves, but I didn’t expect to have you dripping for me like this…’
Aziraphale wiggled his rump and Crowley heard him snap his jaws, clawing at the ground again. He was tempted to bury his face in Aziraphale, to lick into him like he’d eaten out the angel’s human pussy only days prior, but he had already dragged out his agony with enough talk and teasing that his instincts didn’t need. He’d borne them so well already, waited on the frayed threads of his patience for Crowley to give him what was promised.
‘Lovely thing,’ Crowley murmured again and then shuffled forward.
Aziraphale went still when he felt the tip of Crowley’s cock, blunt and big, nudge against his opening. Uttering a low whine, he rested his head on the grass, his powerful body lax and open; submissive and yet there was something utterly demanding in his presentation. A roundabout order for Crowley to stuff him full, give him everything he needed.
The sight of Aziraphale below him made Crowley groan out loud as he fisted his cock and gently eased it in, pushing forward until Aziraphale’s hole closed around the head of him. He was tight and wet and warm around Crowley, tearing a shudder from his lips. The wolf whimpered and flapped his tail against Crowley’s hold on him; a louder demand.
Crowley wouldn’t hurt him. Aziraphale wasn’t fragile. He had to remind himself of that to finally let go and snap his hips forward, plunging the thick length of him inside the wolf.
Aziraphale made a sound Crowley hadn’t heard from him before, a desperate yowl that fell apart into a stream of ragged panting and yelps as the demon fisted one hand in the middle of the wolf’s back, holding him in place before he began to move. The first few thrusts were slow, experimental, trying to get his bearings and get used to the feel of Aziraphale wrapped around him in this shape.
It felt good, devastatingly good to be surrounded by the heat of him. The angel’s cunt was silken and slippery, and it was too easy to remember the previous day when Aziraphale had been a warm weight in his lap, riding Crowley’s cock with that beautiful desperation that was now seared forever in Crowley’s memory.
And it was too easy to realise that he wouldn’t mind fucking Aziraphale in whichever form he took, in his beautiful human corporation or this lovely werewolf shape. As long as it was Aziraphale he was buried in, willing and wanting and all for Crowley.
‘Fuck, fuck, angel,’ Crowley moaned, tightening his grip in Aziraphale’s glowing white coat as his hips sped up, fucking hard and fast into the whining werewolf.
He leaned back, adjusting the angle of his hips, and was delighted to hear Aziraphale’s wailing response. Looking down, he was greeted by the lewd sight of his cock swallowed up by Aziraphale’s wet hole over and over again. Biting his lip, Crowley moved his hips harder so that he nearly pulled out every time, the fat head of his cock barely slipping past the tight grip of Aziraphale’s vulva before he fucked back in, watching his balls slap his furry rump.
Aziraphale panted loudly as he was driven harder into the ground. Recalling his earlier reaction, Crowley tugged on the base of the wolf’s tail, hard enough to pull Aziraphale back onto his cock with every thrust. It made the angel yelp and snarl, his whole body starting to tremble.
‘Like that too, huh?’ Crowley grunted. ‘You like having my hands on you as much as my cock up your pussy. And you like it more than the other wolves, don’t you…’ He tugged on the tail again, eliciting a pleased little yip. ‘That you don’t have to bleed to be ruined on my cock.’
He eyed the scruff of Aziraphale’s neck, the spot where other werewolves had held him, marked him, while they claimed his body. He couldn’t comfortably reach it but he sent another surge of power, closing insubstantial fingers in Aziraphale’s fur there, strong and relentless but not painful, never painful, holding the wolf down again. Aziraphale’s reaction to that was loud and thrilling, his cunt starting to spasm around Crowley’s cock.
‘Shit…’ It was almost time.
Closing his eyes, Crowley concentrated, focusing his infernal energy. It wasn’t terribly difficult since he’d practised, but it still felt odd, in a good way, for his human body to shift in a way it wasn’t strictly meant to.
The base of his prick began to swell, spreading Aziraphale wider as Crowley fucked him. The wolf pawed at the ground as he felt it, the increasing size of the knot being nudged in and out of his hole. Moaning, Crowley let go of the angel’s tail to instead grab him around the middle, leaning forward to bury his face in the thick fur of his back as he pulled out and then pushed in one last time; the bulb of his knot caught on the lips of Aziraphale’s cunt, pressing against the resistance until the wolf opened for him, stretching around Crowley until his knot finally slipped inside, locking them together.
‘Hell, yes,’ Crowley breathed, nearly dizzy from the pleasure of it, so intense in its novelty and oddness.
He ground his cock inside Aziraphale, shuddering loudly at the tightness constricting around his knot, and he came with a suddenness that was shocking when the wolf’s cunt clenched rhythmically around him. Aziraphale’s voice sounded out, harsh and raspy and unmistakable in its pleasure.
Crowley let himself collapse on Aziraphale’s warm back, shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm. The wolf was so snug around him, his cunt warm and wet with Crowley’s spend; all of it locked inside by the knot plugging Aziraphale up.
He felt more than heard the werewolf purr and he chuckled into Aziraphale’s fur.
‘How was that, angel? Have I bred you well?’
Aziraphale whined low in his throat, wiggling his body slightly. Crowley hissed at the sudden pressure on his knot.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
He looked up, admiring the expanse of soft pale fur. Whole and beautiful and not a speck of blood in sight. Not when Aziraphale was with him.
‘This isn’t over yet, I know,’ Crowley murmured, daring to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s back. He didn’t know if the wolf could feel it. ‘But I’ll be here. I’ll breed you for as long as you need, angel. I’ll knot you and fill you up however many times you want me until the moon wanes without spilling a drop of blood, I swear.’
Crowley caressed the fur over his neck, the patch hiding recently healed skin.
‘And then maybe, if you’d like,’ he continued quietly, bravely, ‘we could talk about making this a… permanent solution for your needs.’
Aziraphale made a soft noise, almost questioning. Shy.
‘An arrangement, if you will.’