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After sharing a Sunday night dinner of takeout pizza and beer with his roommate Crowley, Aziraphale had a wank in the shower while fantasizing about fucking said roommate. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that by the time he put his pajamas on and crawled into bed, he was horny again. Normally, his shower wank would put him right to sleep, but evidently not tonight. So he pulled out some lube and had another wank. He did manage to fall asleep for a bit, but woke up a couple hours later from a horny dream, which meant he woke up rock hard, unable to do anything but bring himself off yet again.
The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way: fall asleep for a short while, wake up impossibly horny, wank, fall asleep, wake up horny again. Aziraphale had never experienced anything like it, even in his teenage years. After the fourth or fifth cycle of this, Aziraphale’s alarm clock went off, and he rushed to get ready for work. But he couldn’t even brush his teeth without thinking about other long, hard things that could be in his mouth right now. He tried to ignore those thoughts, getting dressed and making himself some tea. But then Crowley came out, dressed only in black boxers, fiddling with his fancy espresso machine that was possibly the most expensive thing in the flat.
“Morning, angel. Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale knew that nickname didn’t mean anything, that it was just shorter than his actual minor Biblical angel name, but in his current state, it made him imagine Crowley whispering it in his ear while fucking him from behind.
“I sure did,” Aziraphale lied, walking around the counter to hide his growing erection. This was hardly the first time he’d seen his dear friend and roommate in this state of undress, and he had always been able to prevent himself from reacting like this before, but in his current state, his body couldn’t stop itself from responding very potently.
“Really. You don’t look it.” Crowley looked him up and down, then took a deep breath before speaking again. “And it didn’t sound like you were sleeping a whole lot.”
Aziraphale paled. He thought he’d been discreet enough, at least while he was awake. “I did have some…vivid dreams,” he admitted, hoping Crowley would drop the matter.
Crowley’s response was interrupted by a text on his phone. “Oh, shit…it’s Doughn’t Ask. The cheese on yesterday’s pizza was contaminated with omega-69.”
Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said. “Does that mean I’m…?”
“One of the lucky 2%?” Crowley finished. Aziraphale wanted to kiss that smirk right off of his roommate’s stupidly handsome face. Well, do more than kiss, actually, but kissing would be a nice start.
Aziraphale had, of course, heard of omega-69, the toxin sometimes found in dairy products that gave about 2% of betas symptoms akin to an omega’s heat as well as a sweet omega scent, but he’d never been exposed before. Contamination incidents were on the rise over the last decade for reasons scientists were still debating. He’d read some poor reviews of Doughn’t Ask, and the name didn’t help matters, but Crowley had insisted it was far tastier than their usual Big Brutus and so he’d trusted the alpha’s judgment. Granted, even the finest dining establishments had had contamination incidents, so Aziraphale knew he would have to be more cautious in the future.
“I’ll go to the pharmacy and get some alpha-69 spray. That should do the trick,” Crowley said.
“That would be very kind of you,” Aziraphale replied. That would be the sensible solution to his predicament. But he wasn’t feeling sensible. He wanted to touch his friend, to taste him, to feel their bodies pressed together in carnal bliss. He’d always wanted that; this affliction was only intensifying that desire. And surely the effects of the omega-69 would make Crowley want to assist the old-fashioned way. Aziraphale could have everything he wanted, if only for a short while. He’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip by. “However, I’ve heard the, um, traditional cure is more effective.” The antidote was alpha-69 which, as the name suggested, was most potent in alpha semen. Scientists had synthesized it in the lab, but the sprays took longer to take effect and didn’t provide prolonged immunity to further exposures like actual alpha semen would.
“Technically, yeah, but the spray should still fix you up.” Was Crowley not catching on? Or was the thought of curing Aziraphale himself so repulsive to him that he wasn’t even considering it?
Aziraphale decided to be more direct. “Crowley, you’re an alpha, aren’t you?”
Crowley stared at him blankly. “Are you asking me to, what, fuck you back to good health and then pretend this never happened?”
“Precisely,” Aziraphale lied. Ideally, he’d want this to last far longer than his pseudo-heat, for their friendship to turn into something more. But that was too much to ask. As a beta, he’d never be able to satisfy Crowley’s needs even if Crowley did find him attractive, which was a big if.
Crowley shook his head. “Then I can’t, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll get dressed, then go get the spray.”
Aziraphale nodded, trying not to cry. Was he truly so unattractive to Crowley, even in the most omega-like state his beta body could muster? Then he spotted the bulge in Crowley’s boxers, tented in interest. Clearly, Aziraphale’s state was affecting him. “Oh really? Because it appears to me that you’re quite capable of administering the cure yourself.” He gestured vaguely at Crowley’s groin area, pleased to get some revenge for the commentary on his noise last night.
Crowley looked down and groaned, then looked back at Aziraphale. “Fine. You really want to do this right now?” He sighed and set his coffee down. “It’s not a physical thing, angel. It’s an I’ve-been-in-love-with-you-for-six-thousand-years thing. And now you’re in heat and you smell like an omega and I can’t just fuck you platonically knowing you don’t feel the same way. Happy?”
Aziraphale blinked, unsure how to process all of that. Was Crowley really in love with him? Despite the face that he was a beta? “We’ve only known each other for six years,” he couldn’t help but correct.
“Well, it feels like six thousand,” Crowley muttered. “You know why I’ve been on so many first dates? I keep trying to find an omega who makes me feel like you do, and they all fall fucking short. Every minute with you is Heaven. Every minute without you is Hell. And getting to sleep with you, but as ‘just friends’ because you got poisoned by dodgy pizza? That sounds like…no idea where that would fit on Dante’s map, actually, but it’s not a good place.”
Crowley fell silent, and Aziraphale took a sip of his tea, fortifying himself. “I…I might have lied about wanting this cure to be administered in a platonic manner. Crowley, I’ve…I’ve been in love with you for quite some time as well. I kept my feelings to myself because I thought you deserved better than me. And while this isn’t the ideal scenario I would have picked for our first time…I want you in my bed, Crowley. Not just any alpha. And I very much do not want you to leave once the toxin has worn off.” He set his tea down, then walked back around the corner so that he was standing right in front of Crowley, daring the alpha to close the gap between them.
“You sure, angel?” Crowley whispered, his face perilously close and yet still too far away. “Because if we do this, and then you change your mind…that would be the ninth circle of Hell.”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you, darling. I’m quite sure about this. About us.” He decided to close the gap himself, pressing a simple kiss against Crowley’s lips. It was just a small taste of what he wanted, what he needed, but it still made his lips tingle.
Crowley responded by pulling Aziraphale into his warm embrace and deepening the kiss. He tasted like espresso and cinnamon, his scent emanating a smoky musk that even Aziraphale’s beta senses knew was arousal.
“D’you have any idea how fucking good you smell right now, angel?” Crowley grazed his teeth along Aziraphale’s neck, searching for nonexistent scent glands. Aziraphale gasped, his pulse racing with want. Then Crowley pulled away, frowning. “Before we do this…I gotta call in sick to work. You should, too. Then I’ll see you in your bed.”
“Yes, alpha,” Aziraphale whispered, his body vibrating in excitement. He managed to call his boss to inform him he wouldn’t be in today, though the call felt like a Herculean labor in his altered state. Once that was settled, he went back to his bedroom, undressed, grabbed his lube, and started preparing himself. The toxin did not, sadly, make a beta body slick as an omega’s.
“Fuck, angel. Look at you,” Crowley said, looming in Aziraphale’s doorway, still in his boxers.
“Look at you,” Aziraphale echoed. So many times, he had been blessed with the sight of Crowley’s near-nudity, but had to pretend it had no effect on him. He wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. He could look as much as he wanted, and so he did, with unabashed hunger.
Crowley walked over to the bed, eyes grazing over Aziraphale’s naked body in appreciation. “So hard and wet for me,” he said, the slight growl in his voice sending shivers up Aziraphale’s spine.
“I am,” Aziraphale said, his body burning with need. “Alpha, please, I need you so bad…”
“Don’t worry, angel. You’ll be all better soon.” Crowley wasted no time teasing, spreading Aziraphale’s legs open, then crawling on top of him. Crowley kissed him again, but this time, with nothing between them but bare skin and friction. It was electric. Aziraphale drank his alpha in, hungry and greedy like never before.
“Fuck, angel. I’ve dreamed of you devouring me like this for so long. Hard not to, with all the slutty moans you make while eating.”
“I do not!”
“Do too.” Crowley ended the argument by guiding his cock into Aziraphale’s artificially-slicked hole. Aziraphale could not deny the moan that escaped from his lips at that. “You hungry hedonist. How many times did you dream of me last night?”
“Too many. But none of them felt like this.” Having Crowley inside him satisfied Aziraphale in a way none of last night’s wanks could.
“No. This is better. It’s real,” Crowley said, his voice soft and reverent. “I can really touch you and hold you and kiss you.” Fully ensheathed in Aziraphale, he paused to run his hands along Aziraphale’s overheated body. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley’s fingers pinched his nipple, so sensitive from the toxin’s effects.
“You can really fuck me is what you can do.”
“Oh, I will, angel,” Crowley growled, then made good on his promise, railing Aziraphale into the mattress. Aziraphale was hardly a virgin. He had tried giving other betas a chance, as society expected, just like Crowley had tried dating omegas. But every time, he’d felt unsatisfied, like something was missing. Now, with Crowley on top of him, Aziraphale just knew he’d never feel that way again.
“What a perfect naughty little angel you make,” Crowley said between thrusts. “Can’t believe you’re really fucking mine.”
“I’m yours, alpha. Always have been.”
Finally, Crowley thrust all the way inside Aziraphale and his knot swelled. Aziraphale had never felt so full, but thanks to the effects of omega-69, he felt only a delirious pleasure at being stretched and knotted by an alpha. Crowley reached his climax, shooting loads of the white fluid and its curative alpha-69 inside Aziraphale. His own climax quickly followed, a full body orgasm that felt deeper and more fulfilling than his attempts at self-relief.
“Feel better now, angel?” Crowley asked.
“Much.”
“The symptoms might still come back later. I’ve heard it can take a couple rounds.”
“Well, I hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere, then.”
“Never. Not going anywhere without you ever again, angel.”
Aziraphale chuckled. He knew that wasn’t literally true, that they’d have to return to work and the rest of their lives outside of this bed. But it would be different now, getting ready to leave each morning, knowing he’d be coming home to Crowley every night as more than just his roommate.