Work Text:
The angel and demon had just returned from an evening out in London, and Aziraphale felt fire in his veins as Crowley slinked ahead of him, the slim cut turtleneck showing off his lithe body, hips swaying in that frankly unreal way that they did, every movement tantalizing and tempting. The entire evening had been an exercise in self control for the angel, who burned with a pulsing, throbbing ache, who had nearly dragged the demon down a deserted alley round the corner from the shop in order to devour his prize.
He watched Crowley stalk towards the back room of the book shop, carelessly pulling his customary tie from his neck and letting it fall to the ground into a pool of silver, and something about the gesture was just enough to make that carefully honed self control within Aziraphale crumple into ash.
Within a flash, the angel crossed the length of the shop to where the demon stood, and pushed him, face first, into the wall, buried his face into the nape of Crowley’s neck and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, delighting in the spicy, heady scent of the demon. Crowley’s little gasp of startled pleasure was entirely too much for Aziraphale to bear; the demon brought a hand up to grasp at the ornamental molding adorning the wall. The angel pressed his hips flush with the demon’s ass and ground into him with a dizzying force, and Crowley whined as he was effectively pinned with a heavenly strength, feeling vulnerable and as spread open as a butterfly that had been mounted to a board.
Aziraphale nosed at Crowley’s neck and shoulder, obsessively breathing him in, moaning as he brought his broad hands up under the demon’s arms and around to his chest, frantically trying to feel every part of the demon, trying to absorb him, still grinding his hips forward, the sensation of finally having what was rightfully his in his arms and under his control so very right, so perfect. He bit Crowley’s earlobe sharply and reveled in the demon’s yelp and answering grind back into the angel, and Aziraphale let out a shaky, strained groan.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmured lowly into the demon’s ear, licking the sensitive skin below at the juncture of his jaw, burying sharp teeth into the tender flesh until a crimson mark bloomed, “how ludicrously impossible it was to resist you this evening, my wanton little slut?”
Crowley’s strangled keen was only interrupted by Aziraphale roughly lifting the demon slightly by his chest and whirling him around to face the angel, shoving him back up against the wall so fiercely that the entire bookshop rattled; surely more than one unsteady stack of books clattered to the ground, and the chandelier swayed as the hanging strands of crystals clinked and sang together. It was a testament to Aziraphale’s state that he didn’t even think of the books in that moment, and instead slid a hand up Crowley’s heaving chest, pressing his fingertips into him as he panted and vibrated with barely contained desire. The hand that was not caressing the demon planted itself on the wall behind him, keeping Crowley where he wanted him.
Crowley reached back to helplessly grab at the molding again before wrapping his other arm around the angel’s back, looking up at Aziraphale demurely through his eyelashes, his yellow eyes glowing gold as he met Aziraphale’s stormy sea ones. They just stared at each other for a few moments, drinking in the other’s hungry gaze before Aziraphale pounced again and slid his hands under the silky fabric of Crowley’s turtleneck, lifted him once more, and held him up to the wall as easily as if he weighed nothing.
The demon threaded one hand around the angel’s head and laid the other by his neck as Aziraphale’s warm, greedy hands encircled his slim, willowy waist, his fingers nearly being able to completely wrap around him. He craned his neck upward to peer up at the demon as he caressed the impossibly soft skin of Crowley’s sides, his back, his taut stomach.
“My darling,” Aziraphale’s wrecked groan ended in a growl as he thumbed at peaked nipples, digging his nails into the sensitive skin, drawing breathy whimpers from the demon, “my tantalizing, darling slut, oh, how I can never get enough of you.” He pushed the turtleneck up even further and latched a hot mouth onto Crowley’s bared chest, biting down enough to leave reddened marks of teeth, sucking and licking the demon’s nipples until he howled and began to shake. His sharp nails dug into the nape of Aziraphale’s neck as he wildly thrust his hips forward as the angel ravaged him.
“Fuck, please, please, angel, I—” the demon broke off into a choked cry as Aziraphale reached down to lift one of Crowley’s thighs around his waist, before doing the same with the other and rutted against the demon roughly, the delicious pressure sending sparks of glowing pleasure throughout the demon’s body.
“You torture me so,” Aziraphale said almost brokenly as he mouthed at Crowley’s sharp jawline, “you torture me and tempt me and ruin me, Crowley, my dearest, and Heaven help me that I want to do the same to you in return, over and over until you are a writhing, begging mess, pleading for relief that only I can offer.” Crowley’s mewl echoed through the bookshop, Aziraphale’s words melting him and fanning the flames of his need.
Aziraphale grabbed the turtleneck and pulled it up and off of the demon once and for all, tossing it to the floor before turning his focus to Crowley’s neck, one of his most favorite parts of the demon, but his thirst could not be quenched. He snapped a finger and Crowley’s ridiculously tight jeans vanished, and finally Aziraphale could look at every part of his lover, drink in every expanse of skin, every freckle, every wiry muscle and sharp canyon.
The angel lowered his hands to secure an iron grip on the globes of the demon’s ass and held fast, and Aziraphale knelt to the floor slowly, and once his knees hit the ground, he ran his hands down under each of Crowley’s bare thighs and rearranged them so that they were resting on the angel’s shoulders, the demon’s back still against the wall.
Aziraphale’s hands traveled to hold Crowley’s narrow hips firmly as he turned his head to kiss and lick the demon’s inner thigh, the taste of him so intoxicating, and he inhaled the scent of him and his mounting pleasure with desperation. He looked up at Crowley and took in his apple red cheeks, his even redder leaking, painfully hard cock, his mussed hair, his wide, bright eyes that were nearly enveloped by blown pupils.
The angel’s hands were moving again, this time their mark was the undersides of Crowley’s knees. He paused, asking, “Do you want me to ruin you, darling? Do you want me to devour you, my sweetest slut?”
“Pleasssse,” Crowley immediately hissed, his voice becoming wavery and tearful, “I’m yours to ruin, angel, Aziraphale, pleassse, I need you, I’ll take anything you give me—“ the demon was cut off by the angel lifting his knees up and backward in a fluid motion, exposing Crowley even more to him, spreading him open, and when a blistering, wet tongue began licking his entrance with a barely contained, starving ferocity, Crowley could not stifle a high pitched, surprised wail.
Aziraphale moaned obscenely, closing his eyes as he fucked the demon open with his tongue, languidly licking and kissing and sucking, the taste of the most intimate, secret part of the demon overwhelming in its sensuality, its smoky sweat sharp sweetness, and it was as if the angel were transported back to the land of Uz, to the the cellar where Crowley had first tempted him to indulge in earthly delights. He could feel himself nearing his own peak just from feasting on his most cherished delicacy. He went on and on, unwilling to let it end, so voracious was his desire, so all encompassing.
Crowley’s cries devolved into long, high pitched moans as the minutes passed, moans that ebbed and flowed whenever Aziraphale changed his technique as he consumed him, and he threaded shaking hands into the fluffy white curls of the angel, prettily hissed words spilling out of him, “angel, ssso close, pleassse, angel, angel, angel—“ his lovely mouth opened in a silent, nearly agonized scream as Aziraphale finally wrapped a merciful hand around the demon’s neglected, slick cock and slowly twisted.
Aziraphale only slowed his passionate mouthfucking of the demon long enough so he could encourage Crowley, to gift him the words that he know would send him careening over the edge.
“Come on my tongue, my darling, show me what a desperate slut you are for my mouth, for my touch,” he ground out between sharply biting Crowley’s shivering inner thighs, expertly stroking the demon in time with the nips and kisses, “come, my dearest Crowley, come for me now,” and he plunged his tongue inside the demon as deeply as he could, over and over, matching the rhythm of his hand on him, and the demon sobbed as his release ripped through him, hips bucking wildly as he felt Aziraphale close his mouth over his cock just as he began to come, swallowing down every bit of his spend like he was starving to death. Aziraphale felt his own release tear through him as well, and let out his own muffled groan as he rode out the bone shattering climax.
The demon’s release seemed to go on forever, and Aziraphale only slowed his tongue and sucking mouth and shifted to soft, sweet kisses and slow, barely there licks once the demon had begun to almost violently shake as he neared overstimulation.
Aziraphale wrapped strong arms around Crowley as he shuddered and cried and pleaded through his orgasm and blinding afterglow, held him closely to his chest as he brought him down from the wall and gathered him into his grounding embrace. The demon gave a soft sound of protest as he reached for the angel’s trousers, elegant fingers still trembling, but Aziraphale gently shook his head.
“Shh, my sweet love, shh,” Aziraphale whispered as he gathered the demon’s wandering hands in his own, brought them up to his mouth and tenderly kissed them, “I reached my peak while indulging in you, my darling demon. You did so, so beautifully; all I need you to do is relax now, sweetheart, let me take care of you. Let me hold you, let me guard your sleep.” He then pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead as he settled them both down against the wall, their heaving breaths slowly quieting and smoothing out while Aziraphale played with the demon’s curls, muttered soothing words to him, sheltered his beautiful, ravished naked body with his own.
He could feel Crowley begin to dance between wakefulness and dreams within moments, and he felt the demon go completely lax as his breathing turned steady and deep. Aziraphale smiled as he listened to the sweet sound of his demon’s breathing, waved a hand to summon one of the throws from the sofa round the corner and blanketed his lover with the plush fabric. The angel closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall as a rare, lovely slumber took him as the out of control inferno that had been burning him finally quieted to a sweet, comforting little flame.