Archive of Our Own

For forty days and forty nights, Aziraphale remained with Noah and his family and all of the animals they’d saved for the Almighty aboard The Ark. They never once questioned his presence, as if they could sense what he was underneath his corporation, and didn’t want to question it. While all of Mesopotamia drowned below their feet, Aziraphale did his best for the sake of morale, expending miracles only to ease the suffering of those on board with him.

Aziraphale was sure he’d see Crawly there too, ensconced somewhere in the recesses of the hay-filled lower deck, skulking in a dark corner, biding his time until the floodwaters recede. He reached out for any faint trace of demonic energy and found nothing, and if Noah noticed one more snake than was meant to be on board, well, he never said anything. 

Perhaps Crawly had managed to find higher ground. Perhaps he’d returned to hell once he found out even the children were going to drown. Perhaps he– there was no point in wondering. Crawly was a demon; clearly he had decided to take his wiles somewhere drier, for the time being.

“Not the kids. You can't kill kids.”

When the flood waters finally receded it left the air humid and thick, the heady scent of rot clinging to cloth and skin and hair as drowned plant life was exposed and began to decay in the sun. They exited the ark stumbling, unused to walking on dry land, and blinked in bleary awe up at the rainbow She had gifted them.

The family was understandably ecstatic when they finally came upon fresh water. Dirt and grime seemed to avoid Aziraphale, but Noah’s family had long since started stinking, sequestered as they were below deck with no way to wash themselves. At the foot of the verdant hills where Noah would cultivate grapes for the rest of his days, the family splashed about and rejoiced in Her glorious gifts. 

Sure that the family would be fine on their own, Aziraphale slipped away into the evening without a word.

The air around Aziraphale shivered with miraculous energy, and with a short step between the vibrating particles of existence Aziraphale had left behind the ruined flood zone and instead found himself in the bustling markets of Memphis.

There were no orders from Above, as of yet; he simply felt that Egypt was the place to be. It felt right. This hub of civilization was teeming with people in a way that was unfamiliar but somehow still comforting; life and time moving ever forward. The market smelled of beasts of burden, cooking food, and warm bodies. It was pleasant after so long in a tight, damp space. Emerging from the ark there was nothing but moldering ground as far as the eye could see; here the humans milled around him in the dry heat, peddling fabrics soaked in dye of every color imaginable, and other goods, too. 

Later that week, Aziraphale would lay his hands for the first time on papyrus, in the land where it was invented. But for now, time seemed to slow around him as over the sea of heads he saw a mess of beautiful red curls, swathed in green linen and shining glossy in the sun.

Aziraphale’s tortuous heart, which did not even need to beat, stuttered with excitement as the figure turned and he saw in profile the hook of a familiar nose, the soft pout of his pink mouth–  Aziraphale jerked with the force of smothering that line of thinking. Some things once thought about even in the privacy of one’s own mind could never be unthought. 

As he fluttered about trying to find somewhere to dart away unnoticed, a stall to hide his face in, anything – Crawly’s spine straightened, brow furrowed, his tongue darting out into the air as if to taste it, wetting his lips. A rich smile spread across his face as he turned to look directly at Aziraphale, squinting into the sun’s rays to see him.

“Angel!” Crawly’s shout cut across the noise, the words of the new language sounding so beautiful in his mouth. Crowded as the market was, the humans parted for them both automatically, as if sensing on some level that they were bigger than the bodies they inhabited. It was obvious that Crawly had no such hang-ups about boundaries, however, as he came to stand toe to toe with Aziraphale, cutting into Aziraphale’s carefully maintained personal space. 

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Crawly said with a slight edge to his voice, crossing his arms over his chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“Quite,” Aziraphale croaked, his stomach lurching as the unspoken after The Flood filled up the already slim space between them. The look on Crawly’s face when he’d realized that even the children would not be spared. Her wrath was still firm in Aziraphale’s mind, echoed now in the tightness at the edges of Crawly’s mouth, the unnatural straightness of his spine. “Here to work your wiles, then?”

The silence stretched between them uncomfortably as Crawly stared at him a beat longer than was strictly polite. Aziraphale wondered what Crawly saw in his face; whatever it was, his sharp gaze softened, his spine relaxing into something far more natural.

“Nope. Had some business to take care of. Now ‘m just awaiting orders. Figured I’d wait somewhere dry, at the very least.” Crawly looked up and down the length of him. “You? You look pretty good for having spent a long time on board that death trap Noah called a boat. Here to dispense some miracles, do some good deeds? ” 

“It was an Ark, not a boat,” Aziraphale said primly. “While I have no orders as of yet, I am sure there is plenty of good to be done here in Memphis.” 

“Right. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that these markets have some of the finest food and drink known to man,” Crowley said, waggling his eyebrows. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips and said nothing. After all, he owed no explanations to a demon.

“Well, if you’re not interested in all of that, I guess we won’t partake of the new drink that I’ve acquired,” Crawley continued mildly, examining his fingernails. “Not even available at the markets, you know. The good stuff.”

“Well, I can’t have you tempting humans with the good stuff, you wily serpent,” Aziraphale replied. “Better lead the way, then.” 

The sun was setting by the time they got to Crawly’s dwelling, and they chatted all the way. The one room hut was up on a hill on the outskirts of the city. All-in-all it was far more modest than Aziraphale had expected. Hearty tufts of dune grass had sprung up around it, as well as a lush garden full to bursting with all manner of bright, colorful flowers. Aziraphale, who knew nothing of plants, was sure most of them didn’t actually grow in Memphis, or even in Africa at all. 

In the distance it was possible to see the almost-completed pyramids, illuminated by the full moon, cutting inky-black triangles into the horizon. Pure human ingenuity, wonders of the world She gave them, taking shape before his very eyes.

“Coming, angel?” Crawly leaned casually against the threshold of his home, the start of an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  

“Apologies, dear boy. Just caught up in,” Aziraphale gestured vaguely at the tableau before them. “Well, in all of this.”

Crawly shook his head, the twitch of an almost-smile pressing the start of laugh lines into that cheeky, sun-kissed face. Aziraphale wondered what it meant, that look of amusement that Crawly sometimes had when looking at him; not laughing at him, per se, but as if there were some joke that perhaps Aziraphale hadn’t been clued into. 

Before Aziraphale could get another word in, Crawly had disappeared through the doorway, leaving him to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as he considered whether it was strictly wise to follow the demon into his dwelling. Or indeed, whether he should be here talking to Crawly at all.

“We’ll drink outside, yeah?” Crawly said from inside, as if sensing his hesitation. “Good night for stargazing.”

Well, surely it would be rude to object– 

and

–as an Angel it’s my job to keep an eye on him, just in case–

“Here we are!” Crawly called, swaggering back through the door completely ignorant of Aziraphale’s dithering, bottles of what was presumably some sort of alcohol held under each arm. “Real nice stuff, bet you’ll love it.”

The demon bustled around to the front of the house with the bottles. In the garden there was an incredible view of the sky. In the center of all of the flowers was a small clearing of soft, short grass, slightly flattened as if someone had recently and frequently laid in it. A small paradise in the middle of a vast desert..

Resolving to stay (strictly to keep an eye on Crawly), Aziraphale expended a minor miracle to create a large woven blanket in the Egyptian style, and spread it out on the grass for them both. Crawly settled the bottles to the side of it, and sprawled out comfortably on the blanket.

Aziraphale settled beside him with a respectable amount of space between them, and was offered a cup of dark liquid in earthenware that certainly hadn’t existed moments ago. The sizzle of a demonic miracle clung in the air for a moment before dissipating, leaving his corporation a little itchy in its wake. Aziraphale sniffed the drink, and then took a dainty sip of it. He couldn’t contain the hum of contentment that escaped him as the bitter flavor of aged grain burst over his tongue.

“Oh, that is marvelous,”  Aziraphale said, taking another deep sip. “Very moreish. What is it?” 

“They call it beer!” Crawly said, taking a sip himself. “Miracled up some of the nice stuff that the Pharaohs usually keep for themselves.”

 “You stole it?” Aziraphale paused, frowning into his cup as if it had personally offended him.

“Nnnnghhhyeahhhherrrrrrr well,” Crawly hemmed and hawed, drawing out the syllables in that way that he does, as if he’d forgotten how to form words for a moment. “The current Pharoah’s a horror, really. Doesn’t deserve it. Plus I gave most of it to the workers over at the pyramids.” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale looked up. Crawly looked surprised to have said it; his mouth twisted, as if he’d just sucked a lemon. “How k–”

“Don’t,” Crawly grimaced. “You’ll make me itchy. Really, I’m tempting them to drunkenness. They’ll probably do all sorts when they’re off their faces. Win-win, really.”

Aziraphale hummed noncommittally, taking another deep drink of beer. 

“Nehebkau, Nehebkau!” 

Aziraphale whipped around in place, nearly spilling his beer on his robes. Running up to the garden was a gang of more thant a dozen very happy and very dirty children, all calling out to them. Most of them seemed to be speaking the local language, yelling out something that Aziraphale couldn’t quite parse, but as they approached he noticed, quite curiously, that some of them were speaking in Sumerian.

“Crawly!”

“Crawly, Crawly!”

Aziraphale turned to Crawly, his eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. Crawly blinked slowly, then broke out into a wide grin.

“Hellions! Where are you off to at this time of night?” Crawly rose nimbly from the blanket and strode over to the children, who all excitedly crowded in around him as soon as he was in reach. “What have I told you about wandering the desert at night? ‘S dangerous. You need to look out for each other. Do your families know you’re here?” 

A small girl tugged excitedly at Crawly’s sleeve, holding out a large sachet clutched tight in her pudgy little hand. Crawly bent to her level to speak with her..

 “Crawly, crawly! Father wanted you to have this,” She said excitedly in lispy, youthful Sumerian. “Fresh meat for your table!”

“Take this offering, Nehebkau! Fruit from the orchards!” Another child said in the local dialect, nearly dropping a bundle of fruit in their enthusiasm. 

There were more, each child with offerings big and small for Crawly. Was he being worshiped as a local deity? Were these offerings in deference to him, so that he wouldn’t bring evil upon the local populace? Some of the children called him Nehebkau in Egyptian. Others called him Crawly in Sumerian. Aziraphale watched, perplexed, as Crawly accepted each gift with a hug, as if it were at all usual for demons to go around accepting gifts and hugging children.

“Now, what have I told you all?” Crawly stood, sternly addressing the group, arms full of packages. “Tell your families they have my thanks, but I’ve got everything I need here. No sense in endangering the locals with you lot running amok all over. Disperse! Get yourselves home safe!” 

The children giggled and bowed, filtering out of the garden and taking off over the hill. Crawly took his parcels inside, and it was then that Aziraphale noticed a little girl remaining, staring at him curiously from the edge of the garden.

“Hello, little one,” Aziraphale said. She frowned at him then, and he didn’t understand why until she opened her mouth to speak.

“I don’t understand yet. I’m getting better, but I still need practice,” the girl said in Sumerian, looking bashfully down at her feet.

Aziraphale smiled warmly at her and spoke back in Sumerian. “Of course, my dear girl, my apologies." 

“Are you a protector too, like Crawly?" Her face was guarded, but a cautious smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Only, he doesn’t really have any friends but us.”

"I... am something of a protector, yes. You have nothing to worry about from me, dear girl. How do you know Crawly?”

The girl looked at him with a seriousness well beyond her years, and before she even spoke Aziraphale knew in his heart exactly how it was that she came to know Crawly, here in this desert, miles and miles from where Sumerian was even spoken.

“There was water,” she said to her feet, toeing at the sand with her dirty sandals. “There was so much water and it swallowed everything up. I didn’t have parents then. No one would help us and my friends and I can’t swim, so we climbed up on a roof but the water got too high. Crawly saved us, and took us here, and helped us find families of our own.”

Aziraphale was frozen in place, eyes stinging with unshed tears, breath stalled in his chest. 

“Oh, my dear girl. You've had quite the ordeal,” Aziraphale said, voice cracking as he tried to hold back his tears. “And do they… do they treat you well? Your new family?”

“Oh, yes. Very well. There’s always enough, too. Back in my old home, there was never enough of anything. We had to steal a lot.” The little girl considered him for a moment. “I’m glad Crawly has a protector of his own. He protects us all. Someone should protect him too.”

The girl smiled at him warmly, and then with a wave she left to rejoin her friends. Aziraphale sat in stunned silence, staring off at the hill where the girl had disappeared, until Crawly returned, throwing himself in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs onto the blanket. He heard him take a long drink, draining the goblet he’d abandoned when the children came calling and pouring himself another. 

For a long time, neither said a word. Crawly looked at his goblet. Aziraphale turned his face towards the sky.

Crawly broke the silence first. 

“You’re gonna love the markets, Angel. They’ve got this bread there, sweetened with big fat figs and dark honey. Too sweet for me, mind, but I think you’ll lo–”

The sentence came to a choked halt as Aziraphale placed a hand on his bare thigh, just where Crawly’s robes had ridden up as he sprawled carelessly on the blanket. With his eyes fixed on the sky, on the stars just beginning to show through the dark, he felt rather than saw Crawly shiver under his palm. The long, taught thigh was so warm against his skin. He could feel the demon's true form pushing up at the edges of his corporation.

“You saved them,” Aziraphale said, voice barely a whisper. “They were going to die and you saved them.” 

Grey eyes met gold. There was something hard in Crawly’s face; a defiant look that said very clearly I did this and tell me I was wrong and I’d do it again. But underneath that was also fear of a kind that Aziraphale was more than a little familiar with, that he often shrugged over himself like a shroud. The fear of wondering Did I do it right? 

The thing is. The thing is– all of this went against Her plan. And yet– and yet.

“Not the kids. You can't kill kids.”

Ambiguity was meant for humans. Angels were never meant to have free will. They stared into each other's eyes, unblinking. Something complicated building up between them, an exquisite but difficult kind of tension. There was a grey area here that Aziraphale didn’t know what to do with. What Crawly did went against Her plan. And yet– and yet. 

“Gonna smite me, Angel?” Crawly said with affected casualness, betrayed by the way his voice came out raw, little more than a growl low in his throat. “Thwart my wiles? Kill the kids off after all?”

 I wanted to save them, he thought. I wanted to save them, but She told me I couldn’t. She told me I couldn’t so I boarded the Ark, safe and sound, while all of Mesopotamia drowned below my feet. Even the children, who had barely begun to live at all, who had lived short, brutal lives only to die gasping in the waves. Choked away by the water.

Crawly couldn’t hear his thoughts, but holding that steady gaze he so desperately wished that he could. If only Aziraphale could wish hard enough and have his thoughts dumped directly into Crawly’s brain, so he could understand everything Aziraphale wanted to say without any of it being said aloud where God could hear him and accuse him of doubting Her plan.

I did nothing. I’m an Angel, and I did nothing, but you– you–

They were kissing. 

Aziraphale’s hand went tight on Crawly’s thigh as he leaned in, as he cradled the demon’s jaw in the palm of his hand like something fragile, something precious, as he captured his mouth with his own. He reveled in the gentle, wet slide of it, eyes closed, nose pushed tight to Crawly’s warm cheek as they pressed into each other.

Crawly broke the kiss, shuddering, panting sultry puffs of air into the space between them.

“ Angel. ” Another sipping kiss, punctuated by the barest smacking sound of their mouths separating. “ Angel.”

Aziraphale had never done this, had never thought about it–

He had thought about it, he had wanted, but only ever with Crawly, everything came back to Crawly.

But he had seen it done, and he had watched, and his body seemed to have a fair idea of what to do. Surging forward he tossed his stoneware cup to the sand beside them and hauled a gasping Crawly into his lap. This kiss was something deeper, something messy that satisfied some base urge to get closer, as close as they can get, to push his way inside and stay there.

Crawly’s groan was very affecting; Aziraphale’s effort pulsed where it was now trapped beneath Crawly’s weight, right against the core of him. It was altogether glorious, the tight pressure of Crawly’s body against his newly manifested cock. Crawly bucked his hips and Aziraphale broke the kiss with a shocked gasp as a jolt of pleasure shot him straight through.

Aziraphale grasped desperately at Crawly’s robes, pulling them up over the cascade of red curls until the demon’s perfectly bare body was left shivering in his lap. He tipped Crawly forward onto the blanket and sat up, removing his own robe in one deft movement. Looking down at Crawly spread out before him, he found himself shaking, too. 

Aziraphale was so soft; with the gently sloping hang of his heavy belly, with thick, strong thighs and arms. He had a light dusting of white-gold hair from his tits trailing all the way down, growing in thickness just above his short, fat cock. He was built for strength and endurance; the body of a warrior. He was built for comfort, and comforting.

Crawly was ever-changing. Always thin and wiry, with soft, spare thighs, harshly angular hips, the ladder of his ribs showing just barely against the pale skin of his torso. But in the form he’d chosen today his small, supple breasts and taught belly were hairless; in contrast, a wild nest of bright red curls hid the soft, sweet lips and hot, wet center of his effort. His wild curls spread out over his head like, dare he even think it, a fiery halo. Everything about him somehow screamed both come here as well as don't touch. Aziraphale could almost see his wings spread out below him in another plane.

What a picture they must make together; how Crawly’s sharp form hides an inherent softness, an inherent goodness , just below the surface. How Aziraphale’s soft form hides such a capacity for devastation, an Angel who would let children die in the name of following Her orders, who would turn the other cheek to the suffering of innocents simply because he was told he had to.

Aziraphale brushed a thumb over the wet curls at the apex of Crawly’s thighs. Gently, so gently. Crawly let out another choked off gasp, hips rising up to meet the Angel’s fingers, and he watched transfixed as Aziraphale brought his now-wet fingers to his lips, tongue darting out to taste.

“Oh, darling,” He breathed, closing his eyes. Crawly tasted like the briny sea, like the salt water of the Great Flood. Like the rising waters, feelings of such magnitude poured in and filled Aziraphale up, an overwhelming rush of new and terrifying emotion. Whatever they had been before, it was nothing like this; whatever they had been before, they could not be it again. 

They looked upon the rainbow after the flood, gazing at the promise of something better, and knew nothing would ever be the same again.

“Angel, please. Please, just– can you, just– please–”

It was unclear what he was asking for; it was unlikely he even really knew. Aziraphale slid his body down into the cradle between Crawly’s hips, mouth level with glistening, wet curls.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Aziraphale says gently, pressing a sweet kiss to the soft skin of Crawly’s inner thigh. Pushing the Demon’s legs to the blanket, he used one hand to spread his labia wide, like a flower, like an orchid blooming. Carefully, so carefully, he lapped delicately at the slick skin he found there, tongue dragging from the hole to the sweet bud of flesh at the top

“Holy shit! ” 

Crawly keened, a long, desperate sound, hips jerking into the air, pushing his cunt into Aziraphale’s nose

Eager to get a repeat reaction, Aziraphale eased Crawly’s legs back down and moved to suckle the nub of his clit, taking it delicately into his mouth, lapping at with his tongue until it swelled and tightened beneath his tongue. Crawly began to drip on the blanket below, moisture glistening as it trickled out of his body. His thighs trembled with the effort of remaining spread open for Aziraphale’s greedy mouth.

Thick, wet sounds filled the night air in the quiet of the garden, alongside Crawly’s soft moans and gasps. Aziraphale worked him over with tight, even pressure of his fingers, plunging his tongue inside his hole in time with his hand. Noises of delight slipped out of him as Crawly’s whole body shook and tightened, his cries pitching higher and higher.

“Angel, I’m– ” Crawly’s sentence ended in a choked off gasp, hips moving in short, abortive thrusts, his cunt pulsing over Aziraphale’s mouth and fingers. This continued for several seconds, his head thrashing back and forth, chin tipped back towards the sky. Finally he went still, stirring only with the occasional aftershock of his pleasure.

Pleased, Aziraphale moved up Crawly’s body and pressed their mouth together, his slick face spreading Crawly’s own spend over both of their faces. The kiss was intense, mostly tongue, and Aziraphale groaned into it as he thrust his throbbing cock against Crawly’s smooth stomach to relieve the pressure growing in his belly.

Their eyes met, wide and frantic with need.

“Want you inside, Angel. C’mon,” Crawly urged, capturing Aziraphale’s lower lip briefly between his teeth.”I’ll make it so good for you, Angel. Please.”

“Oh yes, Crawly. Yes. Anything, anything. ”

Aziraphale pressed him into the blanket, into the sand, easing his legs up, calves over his shoulders, and pushed his way inside with one smooth, slow stroke. Crawly was bent nearly in half with it, and still it didn’t feel close enough. The air trembled with their breathy sighs, the unspoken “ at last” and “ I’m here” and “ please” passing between them. Crawly threw his head back as Aziraphale pulled back, back, back, paused, and then pushed forward again until he was cradled back inside of him, warm and wet and tight. 

For a moment he could see wings pass in and out of the world, extended into the sand, sleek black feathers leaving an imprint in the earth. The inky-black, shining glory of them, shimmering into existence as if reflecting the night sky.

But why shouldn’t it be so, for She made Crawly as she made the sky; as beautiful as the stars he hung for Her. 

And

“O, that way madness lies”; the wise words of a poet who hadn’t yet lived to speak them. 

Aziraphale must have paused too long, lost in thought and sensation, because Crawly mewled beneath him, pressing up desperately for more contact against Aziraphale’s body. The Angel kissed the corner of his lover’s – his lover’s – mouth, and held him tight as he began to move, fucking into his tight, slick cunt, chasing the closeness of it as he had seen the humans do. Making love as Adam and Eve had made love in a garden while an angel and a demon watched with curiosity before turning away from the intimacy of it all.

“More” Crowley growled into his neck, meeting his slow thrusts with minute twitches of his own hips, half-serpentine body writhing beneath him to chase his release. Sharp teeth scraped against his throat where his blood hummed in his veins, urging him on. “ Fuck, Angel, please. I need, I need–” 

There was a noise of frustration. In the space of one habitual but unnecessary blink, Crowley had reversed their positions so that he sat astride Aziraphale. With his hands braced on Aziraphale’s shoulders he rode him in earnest, his soaking cunt making lewd noises as he bounced on Aziraphale’s cock. A gorgeous flush crept over his chest, trailing down almost to his navel, and the look on his face — good lord, the sounds he made. Small gasps of air punching out of his lungs with each thrust, expressed through his mouth into the hot and damp space between them.

The angel surged up then, legs spread wide, slowing Crawly’s breakneck pace down to a lazy, shallow-thrusting grind. Aziraphale reverently moved one trembling hand to caress the soft swell of his lover’s breast, pinching a rosy nipple to a deep red between his fingers. Clinging to that angular body so that he could continue to control the pace, reaching up to suck the hot flesh of the reddened nipple carefully into his mouth until Crawly was whining high in his throat, undulating in tight, controlled circles in Aziraphale’s lap.

There was so much of this feeling that Aziraphale could hardly name. Not just inside him, but all around him, around both of them.There was so much he wanted to say, so much that Crawly deserved to hear. It wasn’t enough; how could it ever be enough?

“You’re beautiful like this, you know,” Aziraphale gasped out, mouth still pressed to hot skin. He moved to the other nipple and rejoiced in the drag of his tongue against salt-slick flesh, in pressing his teeth to it and feeling it throb in his mouth. The barely-there movements of their hips rubbed Crawly’s swollen clit against the base of Aziraphale’s cock, and the demon gasped and trembled and shook with the feeling of it. “So, so good. So good to me. So good for me. Taking me inside, keeping me safe, letting me cherish you. Letting our bodies speak to each other this way.”

“Only you Angel. It’s only ever been you,” Crawly sobbed, wriggling to try and increase the pace but stuck fast in Aziraphale’s tight grip. “I want to be good for you. I want it to be good. Please, tell me it’s good, tell me– ”

“It’s so good. Crawly, it’s so good. Don’t stop. You deserve this, darling. You deserve everything you want.” 

Crawly let out a broken whine in response, head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

“Oh, my dear boy, look at me. Please, look at me.” 

Their eyes met. Crawly’s thighs shook with their exertions. His whole body is drawn tight as a bowstring above Aziraphale. It was inspiring, life-changing.. The feeling was suddenly so easily named in this moment, it struck him like an arrow through the heart, and he knew, he knew it in his bones, he knew it with everything he was, and Crawly should know it too.

“You were made for this. Crawly, you were made for this, made for me, made to have me inside of you, for me to have you, for me to lo–”

Crawly forward and crushed their mouths together, swallowing up the words before they couldn’t be unsaid. He came undone in Aziraphale’s lap, hips stuttering with the force of his orgasm. Crawly let out a long moan as Aziraphale once again quickened his pace, fucking up into his waiting body in sloppy, desperate strokes, slamming into him until at last Aziraphale grasped at Crawly’s sweat-slick hips in his bruising grip and came inside him in several deep, thick pulses. 

Aziraphale pressed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of Crawly’s throat, lips dragging through the salt of his sweat. He wanted to stay this way forever, tucked up inside of Crawly’s beautiful body, joined together with nothing between them. They remained that way for some time, both of their bodies trembling, until Aziraphale’s cock slipped out of Crawly entirely, soft and wet between his aching thighs.

Crawly hoisted himself to the side to collapse bonelessly on his back on the blanket. Aziraphale followed him down, scooting over so that they were touching from shoulder to foot. Their hands met in the middle, fingers grasping together. 

“Would you have meant it?” Crawly asked after a time, voice fragile as he’d ever heard it. “If I’d let you say it, would you have meant it?”

A barely perceptible nod. 

“Because you’re an Angel?” Crawly pressed, voice pitched low. The unspoken question is all too apparent. How do you love me? In what way? Is it different from how you love everything? Is it special, just for me?

“No. Not because I’m an Angel at all.” Summoning up some measure of bravery he turned, only to find the tears stinging his eyes mirrored in Crawly’s. The Demon squeezed his hand. The Angel squeezed back.

“Okay,” Crawly whispered, nodding decisively and turning his face up towards the stars with a small and secret smile. “Okay.”