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“Idiots, the lot of them,” Aziraphale huffed in irritation as he entered the bookshop carrying his shopping.
“Who’s an idiot, angel?” Crowley asked. He was too intrigued by Aziraphale’s mood to wince at his undemonic behavior when he reached for a few bags.
“Hmphf,” he said instead of responding. “It’s a miracle that the human race has been as successful, biologically, with those two as examples of the male breeding stock.”
Crowley still had no clue who had annoyed Aziraphale or how, but he was endlessly amused by the result. “Were they young? The young ones always have a chance to learn to be better, you know.”
“Well, my condolences to the women that end up in their beds before they figure out the obvious, then.” He stomped over to his desk to set his receipt down. It was a testament to his mood that he didn’t file it right away.
“Oh, now you have to tell me what’s got you so irritated. This is too intriguing.” With an eye to not engaging angelic ire in his own right, Crowley said this while walking around to the kitchenette and actually putting things in their designated locations for once. Demon he may be, but he was not actually an idiot.
“You know I was on the human design team?”
“Of course,” he agreed instantly. “And I think your points about the spine have born out. Couldn’t count the number of people that thought they’d been cursed because of lower back pain.”
“Well, I’ve heard a few men over the centuries express absurdities regarding female pleasure, but I had hoped, in the modern age of information, they’d have figured things out.” The shopping put away, he marched them both back toward the shop’s back room.
“Honestly, we expressly designed women with plenty of erogenous zones, and then a number of other nerve clusters at various points around the body. The male member is functional, but a bit unsubtle if you ask me. Since we were getting a second go of it, with Eve, we decided to focus on aesthetics a bit more.” He sat stiffly in his armchair, posture still full of outrage. “Just because we folded things in a bit does not mean they are hard to find.”
Crowley leaned back on the sofa, fascinated by this turn in the conversation. “So, you met a few blokes that had no idea where to find a G-Spot then?”
“Oh, that would be an improvement over these two!” He burst out. “One of them spoke to the other as though the clitoris itself migrates just to annoy him!”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Angel, some people don’t deserve to pass on their genes, I’ll grant you that. But you have to admit that the puritans and their modern counterparts have done the human race no favors.”
“Yes, well, I expected such things from the Victorians, if we’re honest. The poor women of my acquaintance were dreadfully disrespected and more than a little frustrated.” He sipped a cup a tea that appeared by his elbow. “I tried to help as much as I could, of course, but the idea that a vibrator was only for medical use stuck in the minds for far too long if you ask me.”
“At least it managed to help a few of them,” Crowley consoled him. This was, at least, a familiar conversational track. After all, Aziraphale had been quite proud of himself for convincing a few medical men that orgasms were good for women’s health.
Something about the combination of irritated and pedantic intrigued Crowley. He eyed him warmly and draped himself across the sofa in a more inviting pose. “Don’t suppose you have any interest in trying for a practical application of all that knowledge?”
He flicked his eyes across him and licked his lips. “I might be persuaded.” He stood up and crossed from his chair. “Would you like the full experience? Or just a lesser effort?”
Crowley chuckled before he began to focus on his corporation. He took a deep breath, and, as she exhaled, her chest and hips softened into curves. Her hair lengthened into shoulder length ringlets, not particularly necessary, but it was her preferred aesthetic choice.
She left her clothes the same though she did a subtle adjustment to her trousers. Her knit jumper stretched across her breasts, sized to be an inviting handful. Her scarf rested heavily in the valley between them.
He gazed at her appreciatively. “Lovely,” he sighed.
Their physical relationship, being a recent addition to their relationship, still felt novel. This was even more so, and Crowley felt a throb of anticipation. Aziraphale started as he often did, by pressing their lips together.
The kiss lingered, gentle and slow. It ought to have felt the same, but her lack of stubble accentuated the slight scratch of his. She hummed into his mouth.
Those perfectly manicured hands wandered lazily up and down her sides. With two layers of fabric between that and bare skin, it only made her wriggle impatiently. He leaned across her and, pressing down with his torso, kept her still.
Some things would always translate, and her desire to feel him against her, soft and solid, was one of them. “Oh, angel,” she sighed into his ear when he trailed his lips along her jaw.
“The clusters of nerve endings in the face and neck have nothing to do with sex, of course, but the thinner skin and lack of facial hair might make it more sensitive. What do you think?” He attached his mouth to the join of her jaw to her neck.
Her long moan was his answer.
“Good to know.”
He kept traveling along the column of her neck. He switched between sucking kisses, licks and nibbling. When she started to roll her hips up in search of friction, he slid a thick thigh in between them.
“Of course, the folded and inset design is a bit more durable in my opinion,” he murmured into her ear. He pressed into her cunt, and she whined at the sharp pleasure. “For instance, doing that to you with testes in the way would potentially be uncomfortable.”
She ground down onto his thigh while he kept his lips moving along her throat. She vaguely registered a tugging on her waistcoat, but there were far too many sensations flooding in for her to worry about it. “Feels good to me, angel,” she whimpered in encouragement.
He slid her unfastened waistcoat out and over her shoulders. “Glad to know it.”
She rolled her shoulders to get rid of the layer and quickly acquiesced to removing her scarf and jumper over her head as well. The expanse of bare skin invited more of those hot sucking kisses. To her surprise, he avoided her nipple in favor of the lower underside of her breast. The prickles of his facial hair set her ablaze.
“Lucky that you never felt inclined to experience any of this with humans,” he remarked idly just before he sucked a mark into her breast.
She tried for a seductive laugh, but it came out a high giggle. Despite that, she asked, “Jealous, angel?”
He stared up at her heavily. “My tendency to protect what I consider mine is no secret.” He pressed hard into the apex of her thighs and smiled slowly when she whined. “In this case, I actually meant that the men that might find a demoness lover attractive would be less likely to be generous lovers.”
“They’re usually bloody arseholes.”
He swept his hands up, down and over every inch of her naked torso. He sucked and licked kisses into her lips. “As I said.”
Their conversation, such as it was, faded into a moans and hums of encouragement as he nibbled little marks into her rib cage. The sensations kept Crowley at a low simmer of arousal. She nearly melted into the sofa at the bliss of it.
“Now,” he continued in his lecturer tone, ”There are a few brilliant things about the female corporation that I think are particularly of interest.” She howled when he found a particularly sensitive patch of skin along what a crass man might call his happy trail. “That’s a minor one.” He chuckled like the bastard he could be.
Impatient, Crowley fumbled at her trousers, desperate to be naked for the rest of this. “Please, angel,” she pleaded when his heavy weight kept her from taking them off.
“Do you need something, my dear?”
“You know that I do, you bastard.” She panted with desire and need.
“So, you see why I find it frustrating when people declare that women are less sexual than men,” he asked idly as he helped her out of that tight denim. “After all, if there was truly a biological element to desire,” he punctuated his words with a firm press of his hand against her cunt. “If that were the case, then a simple shift of form would change your libido.”
“‘m still bloody mad for you, angel,” she hissed.
“Quite so, and that’s to my point.” He returned to tangling their lips and tongues for a long moment. When he pulled back, he continued. “I think that any fool assuming that a woman can not feel desire to this level should suffer through the consequences.” How he managed to be so coherent as she writhed naked beneath him she would never understand.
She started tugging on his clothes, and it finally caught his attention. He grabbed her hands and held them over her head. “Now, my dear, there are two intriguing options we could try at this point.” He spread her thighs and ground his hard cock up against the seam of her cunt. “We could see how you like being edged.” He nipped her earlobe as he whispered the offer. “I could drive you up to the point of orgasm, and bring you back down, and up again…”
She moaned loudly at the idea of it.
“Or,” he dove in for a passionate kiss and pierced her with two seeking fingers. “Or, I could show you the true potential of the design.” He ground the heel of his hand into her clit. “I’m particularly proud of this, so I hope you’ll like it.” He kept going with that genius hand as she pleaded for him, begged for anything.
“No miracles,” he murmured as he increased the pace. “Nothing but the magic of a woman, and you can orgasm so many times. I could keep going until you beg me to stop, and I might still make you scream in ecstasy.”
“Yes, angel,” she sighed out. For someone’s sake, the idea of it was enough to drive her mad.
He dropped down, trailing his teeth along his path as he went. “My dear, I could make you come until you beg me to stop.” She screamed out when he latched down on the bone of her hip and sucked.
He pulled one thigh up over his shoulder. She shuddered in anticipation. LIke the bastard he was, he simply blew a cold stream of air onto the moisture beading along her ginger curls. “Please,” she whimpered, all pride abandoned.
“Oh my dear,” he murmured directly against her inner thigh. “I will be glad to please you.”
Before she could come up with a sarcastic response, he buried his lips between hers and sucked hard. She howled in delight. Her hips ground down against his chin in a desperate search for friction. He took pity on her and returned his fingers to their place inside her.
She tried to focus on the sucking sensations on her clit and the thrusting fingers filling her, but he stroked his free hand up her ribs and palmed one breast. She rolled her hips into him and let him drive her up and up to the apex of pleasure. When she begged, “Please, angel,” he sucked harder. The flood of sensations swelled between her legs and then flooded outward. She could feel her muscles clench hard onto his fingers.
At another time, he might have let her wind down and relax into being held. This time, he rose up along her body. With one hand, he savored her juices like he might a particularly decadent sauce. With his clean hand, he unfastened his trousers and shoved them down with his pants.
“The clever thing about the orientation of the clitoris,” he told her with the same lecturing tone he would use with an antiquities student when describing the care of a rare volume, “is that the right angle of penetration can still stimulate it.” He notched his girthy effort at her hole and pressed steadily inward.
The beautiful feeling of being full was familiar from their other lovemaking. Then, he rolled his hips in a particular way that caught that hypersensitive nub. Crowley arched up into him and moaned his name.
“There you are, my dear.” He whispered it into her ear tenderly right before he nipped the lobe sharply. He grabbed her hips and hauled them up into him. “Come on now, take your pleasure. I know you can.”
She ground up into him and clenched down. The promise of another orgasm teased her. She chased it with rolls of her hips and high pitched whimpers. Aziraphale did nothing more than encourage her.
“You can have what you want, my dear. I know you can take it.” He held her steady as she felt it wash over her again. She clenched down on him and pressed into the angle of his pelvis.
Warmth and rippling muscles overtook her. She melted into the sofa cushions and enjoyed the sense of him gently thrusting into her clenching channel. He tangled his hand into her curls.
“Doing alright, my dear?”
She whimpered in response.
“Hmm…” he rocked his still hard cock into her. “Perhaps you’ll need a bit of practice. The design was for between three and five orgasms before the body gave out.”
She laughed drunkenly. “You are such a bastard.”