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Crowley remembers the look on the faces of Adam and Eve that night in the garden, wrapped in each other whilst committing the original sin. Crowley felt a spark in his gut, and although a demon, couldn’t help but feel guilt from watching the two. They seemed pleased, but he knew where this would lead them. He tucked away the thought for at least another two thousand years. He hadn’t given Eden another thought until the rise in popularity of bathhouses in Rome. Crowley had chosen an effort at this point, one with similarity to Eve’s, and would sit in the water watching the others with an intensity, his face and chest flushed pink from both the heat of the water and the display of arousal from both men and women.
Crowley doesn’t remember where he stayed that night, but he remembered toying with his effort in the darkness, running his fingers between his folds and figuring out his own anatomy. He didn’t understand the popularity of such acts. Yes, the spark in his gut was pleasant, but the cries and moans coming from the people seemed unwarranted. It wasn't that nice of a feeling, it was pleasant enough, but Crowley could keep himself quiet.
At the time, he wanted to ask Aziraphale. Ask him if heaven ever told him the point of these bits and pieces, Crowley knew hell didn’t tell him anything, he assumed that he was already supposed to know.
He would continue his personal research the next few evenings in the darkness of night, finding what felt more pleasant and what was a hard no. It seemed to come naturally to Adam, Eve, and the people amongst the bathhouses, but he found himself losing focus. He would think of his work on Earth, or about failed temptations from the previous day. He finally became frustrated and rubbed at himself until it almost hurt, his mind wandering to the thought of Aziraphale sucking the juices of a plum off his fingers. Crowley had to cover his mouth as he shook, eyes scrunched up in focus as he pulsed around his fingers.
Ok, he got the jist.
The next years followed with what could be described as a dry spell. It wasn’t like Crowley didn’t burn for it. His stomach would twist into knots at the memory of the sounds Aziraphale made when enjoying food, it sounded pornographic when he slipped a bite of honey cake between his lips. The burn was more than pleasant, but if Crowley were to do anything about it, he would have to force himself to the point of pain overbearing the feelings of pleasure. Crowley instead decided to take comfort in the burn, running feather light touches over his lower stomach until he soothed himself to sleep. He would figure it out later.
*
“Would you be a dear and help me with these, Crowley?” Aziraphale pushed open the door to the cottage with his hands full of bags from local shops, brimming with essentials for the next few weeks. Crowley took about half of the bags from the angel and brought them to the kitchen area to be sorted through.
The two had decided against miracles after the last incident and were living comfortably together in a small cottage in South Downs. Aziraphale’s books stocked the shelves around the home as well as a very put together C.D. and record collection. Crowley’s plants seemed to grow better in an environment where they could feel the love radiating off the two, the leaves of the plants seemed to nuzzle into the hand of whoever was inspecting for signs of brown spots.
Crowley sorted through the bags, placing things where they belonged, perishable foods in the fridge and such. Crowley opened a small paper bag from the farmers market left on the table. Plums , he thought and smiled to himself. He looked to Aziraphale across the kitchen for any sign of cheekiness, but instead saw him place a small box inside a discarded bag before putting it to the side.
Crowley finished putting the fruits into a bowl to be washed later on and snuck his arms around the angel’s stomach, laying his head on his shoulder to watch as he sorted elegantly through the different flavors of tea. Aziraphale hummed lightly when he felt Crowley’s body against his own, and continued placing each tea bag into its assigned flavor compartment. When he finished his task and reached his warm hand to feel Crowley’s face, he sighed gratifyingly, brushing his thumb down his jawline and absorbing the brief intimacy.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered after minutes of only hearing the other’s breathing. Crowley’s face felt warmer when he tucked his face to his neck, leaving chaste kisses where the angel’s soft skin was exposed.
“‘Ziraphale,” Crowley replied quietly, muffled by his mouth being on his lover's neck. Thoroughly distracted, Crowley reached for the small brown bag he knew the object was being held in. However, Aziraphale was not distracted enough. He lightly swatted at Crowley’s hand and gave him a light scold.
“After dinner, dear,” he said with a hint of sterness in his voice, then intertwined his fingers with Crowley’s. “Now, help me with supper if you will?” and left a small peck on his cheek as he walked to the cabinet, taking the bag with him and tucking it away.
*
Crowley has long forgotten about the bag in the cabinet when he readied himself for sleep alongside Aziraphale. His hair was pulled from the elastic holding it up and away from his neck. He stripped down to his underthings and decided on the simple pair of silk nightclothes he was gifted by Aziraphale long ago. Although, he decided against the matching long sleeve shirt and would just bundle extra tight if he was to become too cold. Aziraphale appeared behind him in the shared bathroom, already dressed for bed. His warm, cotton night clothes fit just right, although the pants were a bit baggy around his calves. The soft cream color was soothing and a distinct opposite to the dark grey of Crowley’s own clothing.
“I have a suggestion,” Aziraphale purred, “Finish up readying yourself, you know where I’ll be dear,”
They had this conversation when they first began making love to each other. In short, Crowley explained to his angel that “you aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re doing everything so damn right in fact. It's just… It isn’t gonna happen and that isn’t your fault,”
Aziraphale understood, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try. He would try as long as Crowley would let him, or until his jaw would refuse to pleasure him anymore due to being sore. He had made him reach climax before, but only with the assistance of monthly ovulation, when Crowley would practically tackle him down and beg to be fucked into the mattress. Even then, it sometimes just wouldn’t happen, and Aziraphale was okay with that even if Crowley wasn’t.
Crowley closed the door behind him as he walked into their bedroom. Soft lighting barely illuminated the room, but it was just enough for Crowley to see Aziraphale sitting up in bed, holding the folded bag that had been concealed from his view earlier in the evening. A soft smile framed Aziraphale’s face as he held out the gift he had been saving for this night. His arms snuck around his waist as he waited patiently for Crowley to reveal the gift.
First, Crowley pulled a ripened red plum from the bag and had to stop himself from bursting with laughter. Aziraphale had known about his fantasy, and would purposefully groan around the ripe flesh of the fruit just to see his lover turn redder than the plum. The next item, however, was unexpected. The box hidden at the bottom of the bag read Adam and Eve. He leaned back into Aziraphale as he actually did laugh at the irony. Their eyes met and he kissed him as a thankful gesture.
“Do you want to try it?” Aziraphale asked when they pulled away, “It’s different than the other ones we’ve tried, it should be softer against you and the lady at the shop did say it focuses on the clit?”
“Hmm, and the plum?” Crowley whispered.
“I know how you feel when I indulge in them, yes?” he replied, tightening his grip around Crowley’s waist and breathing the words softly in his ear, “When the juices drip down my face as I groan in pleasure..”
Crowley’s breath caught in his throat and he felt the all too familiar burn in his gut. The burn that signified his arousal, how he would soon start to become wet with desire. He didn’t expect the ending. The fireworks and his vision going white. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to indulge his angel. Crowley nodded and met Aziraphale’s lips once more, deeper and more sloppily. Soft hums could be heard in between the sounds of lips meeting.
“Thank you,” Crowley whispered in between kisses, “I don’t know if it’ll work but…either way I love seeing you like this, like you,”
Aziraphale moved from under the warm comforter to have Crowley in his lap. He could feel the evidence of Aziraphale’s arousal straining against the cotton enclosure of his pants when he adjusted over his lap.
“Y’know,” Aziraphale said, “Back in Rome, I did always imagine you with me,” He flipped the two of them so Crowley could feel the pressure of his body grounding him into the mattress. He kissed him again briefly before moving to his collarbone, biting lightly as Crowley keened. Small gasps escaped his lips as he continued to feel the blinding burn. Almost as if the butterflies in his stomach had started a revolution, he needed out of his sleep clothes now.
“‘Ziraphale, please,” he whimpered. Crowley knew Aziraphale was going to take his time to make him fall apart underneath him. He hooked an arm underneath Crowley’s thigh to spread his clothed legs, settling between them as he continued to lick and bite at the sweet spots on his chest and stomach. Crowley could live like this, sandwiched between the bed and his lover, for all eternity. The pressure grounded him and made him feel safe. It made him feel like nothing bad could ever happen to them again.
Aziraphale’s lips dripped praise into his ear. Soft exclaims of “I’m so proud,” and “That's it, I’ve got you,”. His hands met the hem of his sleep pants and assisted in undressing Crowley, leaving him bare on the warm bed. He was swollen with want, arousal dripping from his cunt and messing the quilt on the bed with the thick, clear liquid.
Aziraphale had retrieved the gift from the nightstand, a small miracle making it fully charged. He dipped a finger through the liquid and smoothed it over the head of the toy. He teased his folds momentarily, preparing Crowley for the stimulation and not wanting to overwhelm him with the vibrations.
“Right here?” He gently teased, placing the suction right above his clit. Crowley felt like crying from the lack of stimuli and he felt like the light pressure could’ve brought him there, although unlikely.
“Yes!” Crowley sobbed, “Damn It, Aziraphale, please!” He felt like liquid in a glass when Aziraphale finally switched on the small toy with a cruel chuckle. Crowley’s gasps turned to shuddering sighs. His hands grasped onto the sheets, then onto Aziraphale’s wrists to make sure his hands stayed there.
The sounds in the room would be burned into Aziraphale’s mind for years to come. The combination of soft, even gasps and the unrelenting buzz of the suction on Crowley’s clit excited him. At the same time, Crowley was struggling. His legs searched for nothing as he squirmed. He wrapped them around Aziraphale’s waist but the next second they were back on the bed. He scrunched his eyes in focus, waiting for the building burn, but it didn’t come.
“Aziraphale, it’s not…I can’t,” he cried, frustrated with the toy not having the intended effect. Tears threatened to fall from his golden eyes and he hit the soft fabric of the bed with a groan.
“Give it a moment, dear,” Aziraphale soothed. He massaged his hip with his free hand, hoping it would assist as well as his books said it would. However, the suction on Crowley’s clit went from pleasure to a dull buzz. “Don’t force yourself, it will happen naturally,” Aziraphale whispered and continued to try the external stimulation and pressure points.
After another few minutes, Crowley had enough. He tried to relax, to give in to the sensations as Aziraphale had instructed him, but he was sweaty and discouraged. He knew his lover didn’t mind, that he would try his best until Crowley either came or just lost hope.
“Angel, I need a break,” he said disappointed. His body was flushed red and he tried to calm his breathing as he sat up in bed. Aziraphale switched off the vibrator and put it to the side, then held Crowley close to his body as he felt the tears fall onto his shoulder. His own body betrayed him by edging him purposely.
“I’s sso stupid,” he sobbed, grasping onto Aziraphale, “Can’t fuckin’ come? Why? What's wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aziraphale cooed, “You’re doing so well in fact,”
Aziraphale’s fingers worked into his hips, both soothing and using the pressure points to his advantage and Crowley was still soaked. He pressed small pecks to his tear stained cheeks for comfort.
“If you’re done for the night, let me get us a warm cloth and I’ll-”
“No, no no no,” Crowley softly begged him, “Please, I just need a moment,’
"Let me get you some water, darling," He replied and was back with a cool glass before Crowley could barely blink. He accepted the water and it was pure relief as it trickled down his burning throat.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispered, brushing the sweat slick hair from Crowley's eyes.
*
Crowley truly considered for a moment what would work. He thought of past experiences when his release came naturally, however, the experiences in mind didn’t have a common denominator. He enjoyed Aziraphale's dirty talk, but on other occasions the simple act of penetration would get him off. Other times, it was Aziraphale’s face tucked between his thighs. His mind raced until he remembered the other gift in the brown paper bag, the plum.
The fruit, the first representation of desire that ignited Crowley's arousal. The idea of the succulent juices trailing down Aziraphale’s fingers where the cool nectar would drip down to his chest and abdomen. Then, Aziraphale would indulge in Crowley as if he was the ultimate delicacy. His breath caught the idea and Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. The quiet mention of the plum from Crowley’s lips had brought joy to the angel. He retrieved it from where it sat abandoned on the nightstand.
“Bite it,” he mumbled, his breath hitching and shakily guiding the plum to Aziraphale’s lips, “Savor it like you would savor me,”
Aziraphale bit into the tender yet firm texture of the fruit. Sweet juice dripped down his chin and fingers, cooling as it cascaded onto Crowley's hot skin. The sensation tingles as the welcoming burn grows stronger in Crowley’s stomach. Aziraphale proceeds to use his other hand to tenderly caress his collarbone, spreading the juice over the warm, flushed skin and creating a resemblance to drying blood. He leaned down, a hushed breath making Crowley’s nipples pebble as a rush of different sensations ran through his body. The sensation of the cooling juice didn’t last long however, as Aziraphale delicately traced the tip of his tongue along the trail of the staining liquid. It was slow and deliberate as he savored it with each gentle lick.
Crowley’s breath was heavy, a tremor in the rhythm that held a whisper of his lack of certainty. Not that his uncertainty was in a negative light, just the idea of his body betraying him during this intimate moment.
“Love?” Aziraphale interrupted his negative mentality once more, “Watch me dear, distance yourself from those thoughts and fix your gaze only on me,”
Crowley watched with an intense focus as Aziraphale kissed and nibbled down his body, keeping his eyes locked with him the whole time. He nuzzled into the crease between his thigh and his cunt, the tuft of red hair scratching his face. Crowley whimpered above, still keeping his gaze on Aziraphale as he was instructed.
Crowley’s plea for more is an orchestra to Aziraphale’s ears, he has an undeniable sense of yearning as his hands reach for the half eaten plum, pulling it to his mouth and running his lips to the teeth marks left behind.
“Patience my love, you’ll go too fast and it will all crumble down,” Aziraphale explained, however, he gave in and rubbed at Crowley’s hipbones to relax his muscles, “How will you have me?” he purred. Crowley contemplated the question for a moment before he replied.
“Can we try both?” he asked softly, reaching for the neglected vibrator. Crowley’s uncertainty about himself was long gone once Aziraphale smoothly traveled up his body and released a low, enticing growl. One Crowley could feel in his chest while the pressure from his angel anchored him to the mattress. “Please, I need.. I want you hard ” he begged, his voice soft yet filled with his continued unrelenting desperation.
Whether it was the actions Aziraphale executed on plum itself or the change in mindset, Crowley didn’t know. However, the combination of sensory input he was experiencing made his brain fall blank. Aziraphale’s effort was pressing through his tartan boxers against Crowley’s vulva, effectively soaking them as Crowley mindlessly ground against him.
“There we are, love, I’ve got you,” Aziraphale whispered as he slightly changed their position. He wrapped his arm around the small of Crowley’s back and held onto him with a tight intensity, he freed his effort from the confines of the tartan boxers and positioned the vibrator to his dripping clit. Sealing the moment with another passionate kiss, the vibrator ignited once more.
A shared anticipation lingered heavily in the air. Crowley focused on the heightened feelings as Aziraphale delicately pressed himself inside.
“You feel so lovely,” Aziraphale gasped against his collarbone, “So warm, all for me?” Each passionate moment was sealed with a messy kiss. Their bodies melded in a feverish dance, the room now a sanctuary for only the two. There was a throbbing pulse where their hearts beat in sync. Time seemed to stretch when the essence of their desires was fully captured. Crowley's responsive gasps and subtle quivers fueled the intimate dance, turning the encounter into a demanding tango. However, they had fully surrendered to the rhythm, lost in one another. Every touch, every breath, every kiss was etched into the fabric of the bed.
Gasps of curses filled the air as the overwhelming and euphoric sensations engulfed both of their bodies, growing tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Tears began to prick at Crowley’s eyes once more, the raid of physical stimuli became too much to contain in his mind alone. As the unintended tears began to fall down his flushed cheeks, Aziraphale slowed to a stop.
“No!” he cried, frustrated as the sensations tried to dampen, “No! Fuck, don’t fucking stop! I’m saying yes, please!”
Apologetic whispers dripped from Aziraphale’s lips as he returned back to the even pace, brushing against his g-spot with gentle, but pressured thrusts. To compensate for his shortcomings, he flicked the vibrator up in intensity, the vibrations not only affecting Crowley but also through Aziraphale as he felt the sensations while buried deep inside.
Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, one hand digging into his shoulder and the other grasping lightly in his cloud-like hair.
“‘Ziraphale, oh fuck, its happening~ Yes!,” he cried, his voice catching in his throat as he pulsed around his cock. Aziraphale caught the moan with a deep kiss, holding Crowley close and fucking him through it. His mind became suspended in a state of bliss, he was vulnerable but stronger.
“Oh darling, there it is,” Aziraphale whispered sultry. After just a handful of fervent thrusts, he succumbed to his own pleasure, spilling himself inside Crowley.
Their combined heavy breaths filled the air with a post-orgasmic haze, hearts off beat yet somewhat in sync. It was a silent acknowledgment of the profound experience the two had shared. The bedroom, previously holding an ambience of lust, now held only a profound bountifulness to it, forged through their language of touch and vulnerability. They felt closer to one another, more than before.
“Thank you,” Crowley chuckled, the tears had stopped flowing from his eyes long ago but Aziraphale still brushed his thumb under his eyes as if to clear them away, “Honestly? I needed that,”
Aziraphale hummed softly as he gently kissed Crowley, both uncaring about the sticky mess that covered both them and the bed when they finally drifted off to sleep, sleepy words of affirmation still dripping from Aziraphale’s lips.
*
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow to the two celestial beings. Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, still lost in the throws of slumber, and watched as his chest slowly fell up and down. Their connection was written from over a millennia of ups and downs, but Aziraphale felt he could finally be in the moment for once in his life. Glancing at the bedside clock that read “8:32”, he decided the shop's work could wait a few more hours, or maybe a day, as he drifted back to sleep with an arm gently tucked around his love.