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Brooklands Racetrack 1933
Many people meeting Aziraphale for the first time formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on Nitrous-oxide. Two of these were correct .
“Dreamy aren’t they? What is it about boys in goggles?”
Aziraphale turned to see a stylish young man with dark hair and a smug upturned nose who had taken the spot next to him in the VIP viewing box. The angel shifted uncomfortably, the implication not lost on him. Car racing wasn’t at all one of his particular interests, but Crowley had asked him to come and watch him test out his brand new Bentley on the racetrack, and well…he just looked so excited. Aziraphale was having a hard time denying Crowley of anything these days. Unsure how to respond to the forward young man, he tried to remain as nonchalant as possible.
“Not usually my scene, actually.”
The young man removed his sunglasses, turned to lean against the ledge and faced Aziraphale, looking him up and down.
“No, I don’t expect it is.” He smiled. “How delightfully savage though, car racing, isn’t it? A great place to find a boyfriend,” and winked.
Aziraphale shot the young man a wide eyed look, shocked at his brazen flirtations, and quickly turned back to the race.
“I- I’m just here to watch…” he said nervously, ringing his hands.
“Of course!” said the young man. “My name's Miles by the way, Miles Maitland,” he said, flashing a provocative smile.
“Fell,” replied Aziraphale.
“Just Fell?”
“Well… Aziraphale.”
Miles’s eyes shined with delight.
“My, isn’t that angelic!”
Aziraphale chuckled nervously.
“Look at that number 666!” Miles said and inched closer, nodding down to the track as the Bentley sped by. “I didn’t know street cars could even enter the race! How absolutely darling ! How comical! That’s where I put my money. Oh, I do love a good joke. And that number? Good Cheek, that is.” Miles giggled and raised his viewing lenses to take a closer look.
Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, he certainly thought so.”
It should come as no surprise that Crowley’s Bentley exceeded everyone’s expectations on the track. Every time Crowley drove by, at speeds far surpassing what was originally intended for the car, Aziraphale could see the wolfish smile plastered across the demon’s face. Crowley was having the time of his life it seemed, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as he watched.
“And the driver is devilishly handsome, I do say!”
Aziraphale furrowed his brow and glanced at the young man out the sides of his eyes.
“Yes…diabolical.”
Miles wasn’t wrong, however. Crowley did stand out amongst the other drivers, and not just because of his car. While the other drivers' coveralls were loose and white in color, Crowley’s black suit seemed to be tailor made for him, his goggles were tinted just a bit more than the other drivers, and he forwent the helmet – risky, but Crowley had an image to maintain, so his fiery red hair blazed behind the wheel.
Flash bastard.
Miles finally excused himself with a wink to watch the end of the race with his friends – a rowdy group of young things getting perhaps a little too exuberant for their own good.
In the final lap, the number 666 car gave the crowd quite a spectacular show as it battled for first place. It swiftly sped around the turns, eventually inching ahead of the lead car. The driver of which was just as astounded as the spectators. At the last minute, with Crowley pouring every ounce of imagination into the car’s performance, his admiration for the beautiful machine growing stronger by the speeding seconds, the Bentley sped into a decisive lead and crossed the finish line.
Aziraphale couldn’t help but join the crowd in their exuberance at the astounding and unexpected victory. The flashy maverick Anthony J. Crowley opened the door of his now beloved Bentley with still perfect hair and a blinding smile that sent the crowd into an eruption of cheers. Aziraphale clapped and cheered jubilantly along with them.
Crowley stood for a few photo-ops with the Bentley before being ushered into the victor’s lounge. Aziraphale couldn’t wait to join him and congratulate him on his win. The lounge was packed full of press and VIPs. It took Aziraphale a moment to even find Crowley. Finally, he spotted the demon’s fiery hair near one of the bars. He had removed his driving suit and was now sporting a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up that was, of course, scandalously unbuttoned to the fourth button, dark gray trousers that were just a little tighter than they should be, his silver driving scarf, and a pair of dark round sunglasses.
Oh… Good Lord, Aziraphale thought and rolled his eyes at the demon’s revealing attire.
Now, of course, he expected Crowley to be surrounded by people eager to congratulate him, being the winner after all, but he did not expect to find Crowely engaged in a tight conversation with the same young aristocrat that had chatted him up in the VIP box! Aziraphale stopped and watched from a distance as Miles shamelessly flirted with Crowley. He passed Crowley a glass of champagne and they toasted. The angel felt his cheeks flush at the sound of their glasses clinking together. He was meant to toast with Crowley! But he stood back for a few moments, even though his heart was pounding in his ears. He watched Miles converse with Crowley, curious to see how far the demon would let the flirtation go. He had to admit, Miles was handsome. Sprite and young and excited, he seemed down to try anything as long as it sounded like a good time. Insecurity crept into Aziraphale’s mind, but also a fierce possessiveness that he had never really felt before. He hoped that Crowley would glance up and look around for him. If he had, he would see an extremely unamused angel waiting to be acknowledged. He heard Miles compliment the unconventional Bentley by saying:
“...it looks like something I would expect to see neatly parked and polished and pretty in Barkeley square!”
“Oh, she will be,” Crowley replied with a flash of his signature wicked grin. Then, as if reminded of something, Crowley raised his head to look around. But at that point, Miles amorously leaned in and whispered something in Crowley’s ear. Crowley inhaled sharply and stiffened, a blush bloomed across his cheeks, his tell tale sign that he had been startled by something unexpectedly suggestive. Aziraphale saw Crowley smirk and then softly whisper back, “Is that so?”
Then, Miles reached up and removed the scarf from Crowley’s neck, pulling the silky fabric down with a modest, but still unmistakably provocative, flourish. At this, Aziraphale’s blood flooded with rage and he finally approached the two of them and cleared his throat. Miles frowned at the interruption – the look of a spoiled snob who was not in the mood to share. Crowley however, was ecstatic to finally see his angel.
“Ah! Aziraphale! There you are! Here, have a glass of champagne!” he said, separating from the young man and handing Aziraphale a drink.
“Thank you,” said Aziraphale with pursed lips.
“Aziraphale, this is Miles. He - “
“We’ve met,” the angel said curtly. “May I have a word with you please?” Aziraphale asked, setting his glass down and taking the demon by hand, quickly dragging him through the crowd. He turned only once to snatch the scarf out of Miles’s hand, leaving him alone at the bar.
Aziraphale pulled Crowley out of the victor’s lounge and into the stairwell that led to the garages. He took Crowley by the shirt, slammed him against the wall under the stairs, and kissed him hard. It was rough and angry, and Crowley yelped in shock.
“I came to congratulate you, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a patronizing voice.
“You put on quite a show today! I am so very proud of you and that handsome machine of yours. I was very glad that you pestered me into coming to watch you. So, imagine my surprise to find you canoodling with such a frivolous little boy. Did you know that he was flirting with me in the VIP box? Before he saw you, he called me angelic ! Did he tell you that he bet on you as a joke?”
Crowley snorted.
“Jealousy looks good on you, angel. I’d hardly call him a little boy though, you should have heard the things he said to me, he seems seasoned enough.”
Aziraphale slammed him against the wall again.
“You fiend!” Aziraphale growled. “Seasoned enough?” His eyes darkened as his displeased pout morphed into a sneer. He forcefully spun Crowley around, hips firmly pressing the demon to the wall.
“How dare you,” he snarled, and ground his hips against the demon’s ass, feeling himself growing insanely hard. But then he stopped.
“My dear, what gear are you in?” he asked, panting.
Crowley laughed darkly.
“Right here? Under the stairs like a couple of rabbits where anyone could just walk by? Oh, you bastard! Drive, angel.”
Consent confirmed, Aziraphale quickly unfastened Crowley’s trousers and pushed them down just below his ass.
With one forearm across Crowley’s back pinning him to the wall, Aziraphale miracled his fingers slick and delicately teased the rim of the demon’s entrance.
“Treacherous little thing! You invite me here, sit me up pretty in the VIP box, just to flaunt your fans in front of me? Dressed like this?” Aziraphale emphasized the last question with a sharp smack to the demon’s ass. Crowley yelped in surprise.
“Lift your feet, dear, let me see the bottoms of your shoes.”
Confused, Crowley lifted his feet one at a time so the angel could take a look.
Aziraphale chuckled, “I half expected to see chalk on them. Only whores wear their shirts that open in public, Crowley. No wonder Miles was so forward.”
Crowley whimpered as the angel slowly pushed his fingers past the tight ring of muscle of his ass. The hot stretch sent shivers of intoxicating pleasure throughout the demon’s body.
“At least the boy has good taste. You did look, what did he say? Devilishly handsome in your driving suit,” he said and nuzzled his nose against Crowley’s hairline, dotting it with light kisses that sent goosebumps across Crowley’s skin. Aziraphale took his time, slowly stroking the demon’s prostate with his commanding fingers. Soon Crowely was delirious, chest heaving and legs trembling with devastating need.
“Angel! Please angel! This is… angel I need more. Please. I need… I need you to...NGK!”
Hearing Crowley beg always made Aziraphale crumble. He could listen to the demon whimper and plead and yell until all of creation came to an end. But they had to be more careful.
“Sshhh! My darling, you have to be quiet. If someone walked by and caught us like this it would be big trouble, you know it.”
Crowley crossed his arms in front of his face and rubbed his forehead against them.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, just… please angel, stop torturing me!”
“Hmmmm,” Aziraphale hummed against the demon’s neck. The tightness in his trousers was becoming unbearable.
“You know, my plan was…” The angel’s voice softened, almost to admiration but with an unmistakable air of condescension that drove Crowley insane. He placed gentle kisses along Crowley’s neck to just behind his ear. Keeping his fingers knuckle deep in the demon's ass, the angel finally unfastened his trousers with his other hand and freed his cock.
“...to drag you somewhere and suck you dry,” he said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against the demon’s ass cheek. “Would you have liked that?” Aziraphale slid his miraculously slick cock between the demon’s thighs, thrusting it back and forth.
“Imagine me here on my knees for you as I swallowed down your long, glorious cock – reward for a race well won.” He hissed through his teeth. “I can taste your delicious cum filling my mouth now. I think I would have come completely untouched.”
Crowley whimpered as the angel removed his fingers and lined himself up with his entrance.
“But it seems I must remind you of who you belong to,” he said as he entered him with a sharp thrust. “Fuck you like the whore you are.”
Crowley bit into his forearm as the angel finally stretched him full. Aziraphale wrapped one arm around Crowley's abdomen and brought the other hand gently to his throat to hold the demon against his body as he fucked into him. Crowley tried to grasp his length, which was now absolutely throbbing and desperate for friction.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” Aziraphale growled into Crowley’s ear, tightening his grip on his throat.
“You will take what I give you and you will come only if and when I tell you. Do you understand, serpent?” Crowley let out a devastated whimper, but moved his hand back against the wall.
“Good boy.”
“Please, Aziraphale. It was nothing. I don’t want him. I never wanted him. I only want you,” Crowley pleaded.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Aziraphale snarled. “You looked awfully keen to me, learning in, whispering naughty little things back. You encouraged him!”
“It was just a bit of demonic fun, angel! Nothing more! I just couldn't help myself! You know it means nothing!”
“Do I? Devious little devil! Tell me, who do you belong to?”
“You, angel.” Crowley’s voice was shaky.
“Say my name.”
“Aziraphale!” he cried out.
“Ssshhh! If you can’t be quieter, darling I’m going to have to gag you,” Aziraphale said, as he pulled Crowley’s silk scarf out from his back pocket. Crowley shook, but nodded.
“Now, say it again. My full name, I should think. Tell me, who fucks you? Who brings you to ecstasy? Who makes you beg for it like a hungry dog?” he said, thrusting harder into the demon for emphasis.
“You angel! You! Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden. You fuck me! You bring me to ecstacy. You make me beg for it like a dog. You make me feel good… so good… sooo sooo good. ” Crowley shivered and cried, trying his absolute best to say it quietly. But he wasn’t doing very well.
“Ssshhh! Very good… very very good. But, this is the last time I’m going to ask you to be quiet,” Aziraphale said, kissing the serpent by Crowley’s ear.
“Now remember, Crowley, I’ve been fucking you like this for more than a dozen of that boy’s lifetimes, no matter how seasoned he may be for a human, he would hardly know what to do with a being like you.”
Aziraphale’s breath started to falter and he picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster right against the demon’s prostate.
“Fuck! Angel! Angel, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! Oh, Satan please, look I’m apologizing! Let me come, angel! Pleeeaaase let me come. I can’t — “ Crowley begged, the words dribbling from his mouth like saliva.
“Sshhh!! Alright. I forgive you. Yes, you can come now. But I am going to have to gag you, my sweet, you’re echoing up the stairwell.”
Aziraphale stuffed the scarf roughly into the demon’s mouth to quiet him, then with one hand back on the demon’s throat, giving it a light squeeze, he took hold of the demon’s cock and stroked him as he thrust faster just the way he knew would make the demon see stars. Within seconds Crowely lost control, moaning against the gag in his mouth, clenching tighter around the angel’s cock, and lathering Aziraphale's hand with his warm cum. Aziraphale had to bite into Crowley’s shoulder to keep himself quiet as the demon squeezed around him, making his vision blur. His teeth left deep red bruises on Crowley’s skin. Crowley’s knees buckled from the intensity of his orgasm, and Aziraphale had to hold him up by the waist to keep him from falling over. Aziraphale could smell the strong scent of motor oil and sweat that emanated from Crowley’s pores from the race. It mixed with Crowley’s signature designer cologne and intoxicated him. Within moments, he too was spilling into the demon’s ass in dizzying euphoria.
The two stood there leaning on each other as they reeled from the intensity of their orgasms. Aziraphale held Crowley’s hips against him for a moment, slumped against the demon’s back and still stuffed inside his ass, ears ringing. When he finally caught his breath, he gently pulled out and watched in satisfied admiration as his cum leaked out of Crowley’s well stretched hole. Crowley pulled the scarf from his mouth and slowly turned to take the angel’s face in his hands and kissed him.
“While I do love when you manhandle me, angel, you do know you have nothing to worry about right? I’m not interested in anyone but you,” he said, smiling.
“Yes. I know,” The angel replied, sucking Crowley’s cum off his fingers with a lewd pop, looking very much like the cat that got the cream. Crowley laughed and kissed his angel again.
“I will say,” began Aziraphale as he buttoned his and Crowley’s trousers, intentionally leaving the demon uncleaned and leaking, “I understand why some humans become aroused by cars, now.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows in delighted surprise.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well… oh I don’t know.” Aziraphale blushed. “Something about seeing you drive so fast, the way the driving suit fit you, the exhilaration of the win, the smells. I would have never thought the scent of petrol and hot rubber would be so arousing!” he giggled.
Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s lapels gently and smiled.
“Well, I’ll have to take you around the track then, won't I?” he said, leaning in for another kiss.
“Oh no! I don’t think so, no, not for me. No, I’ll stay back here, thank you,” Aziraphale stuttered.
Crowley chuckled. “As you wish, Angel.”
They continued to kiss and enjoy the feel of each other for a good while longer, but eventually agreed to depart for a celebratory dinner at the Ritz.
Crowley held the passenger door for Aziraphale as he slid into the seat. Afterwards, he started the engine and gently pulled out of the garage, but instead of turning onto the street towards home, he shot Aziraphale a naughty look and jerked the wheel towards the track.
“Crowley, what are you doing?!” the angel cried.
“Victory Lap, Angel!” Crowley laughed and sped down the track, ripping around the first turn practically on two wheels. Aziraphale squealed in terror and flailed his arms about desperate to grab anything for purchase.
“No! No! No! Nooooooooooo!!!! Crowley! Slow down! You go too fast for meeeee!!!!”