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The bookshop was more beautiful than ever. A soft, golden light bathed the ancient bookshelves, as if time itself were holding its breath. In the centre of the room, where Aziraphale's desk had once been, stood a majestic apple tree, its branches laden with bright red fruit. Its roots meandered gently between the floorboards, as if the tree had always been there.
Crowley approached slowly. His slender fingers glided over the smooth bark, almost tenderly. He caressed the trunk as one caresses an old friend.
Aziraphale looked at him, his heart heavy. His voice trembled slightly when he asked the question:
“What do you really want, Crowley?”
Crowley did not reply immediately. Then, in a low voice, he explained his choice to Aziraphale.
Aziraphale turned abruptly. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could block the words from reaching him. A wave of despair overwhelmed him, so violent it took his breath away.
He will sacrifice everything. Even this "us" that we never truly had.
In his head, the phrase resonated like a sentence:
We will never be an "us".
His hands were trembling. He felt the tears rising, burning hot. And yet, amidst this heart-rending pain, another truth, even stronger, asserted itself:
I love him. I love him so much. He's still the best of us, the best of all person. Even now, he chooses sacrifice rather than choosing us… and I love him even more.
“Did I say something stupid?” asked Crowley, surprised by the sudden silence.
Aziraphale shook his head slowly, without turning around immediately. He took a deep breath, then turned. His blue eyes, shining with suppressed tears, met Crowley's. His voice came out low, almost doomed, resigned, and yet full of immense tenderness.
“We have made our decision.”
A sacred silence fell over the bookshop.
They reappeared, facing God and Satan, who were talking. When they saw them, God asked them what their choice was.
Crowley explained his choice.
God watched them. A very faint smile seemed to brush against His presence. “You know that if you do this, you will never exist.”
Crowley and Aziraphale took each other's hands and Aziraphale said,
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Then say your goodbyes,” God replied.
Aziraphale felt his heart break. He was still holding back his tears. He approached Crowley, raised a trembling hand, and placed two fingers on his own lips. He kissed them slowly, with all the love he had held back for six thousand years. He returned the kiss Crowley had given him before he left for Heaven.
Then, with infinite devotion, he placed those two fingers on Crowley's lips.
He kissed them in turn, gently.
The emotion became too much. Aziraphale let out a stifled sob and violently pulled Crowley against him. His arms wrapped around him as if he wanted to melt him into his own skin. He clung to his back, to his jacket, to anything he could hold onto, his face buried in his neck.
“I love you,” he murmured in a broken voice. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I love you, Crowley. My love, my everything.”
Crowley tightened his embrace, one hand in Aziraphale's blond hair, the other on his back, as if he wanted to protect him from the world one last time. His voice was hoarse, trembling with emotion.
“Me too, angel. I love you. I’ve always loved you. It has always been you. I didn't want it to end like this. I... I wanted an us.”
They remained entwined, trembling, weeping silently, their bodies pressed against each other as if they could defy death itself.
Then, slowly, their forms began to disintegrate. Luminous particles, like stardust, rose from their entwined bodies. They continued to embrace until the very end, forehead to forehead, breath to breath.
And they disappeared in a shimmering cloud, beautiful and heartbreaking.
They opened their eyes at the same time.
The bookshop was exactly as it had been. The same shelves laden with old books, the same smell of paper, tea, and wax. The apple tree was gone. Everything seemed normal… and yet nothing was anymore.
Aziraphale blinked, disoriented. His gaze met Crowley's, only a metre away. They stared at each other for a long time, incredulous, searching each other's faces for an explanation that neither of them possessed.
“Crowley…?” Aziraphale murmured hesitantly.
Before Crowley could reply, a warm, golden light suddenly filled the entire room. It wasn't blinding, just... present. Like a caress. From the centre of this light, the voice of God resonated, soft, calm, almost affectionate, like a mother finally laying down her burden.
"You have proven that you care about this universe more than anything. More than your own nature. More than your salvation. More than your fears. So that your own love for one another may prevail."
A respectful silence fell.
"So I offer you this chance for all the sacrifices you have made. I am leaving for another universe. Become the gods of this one, since you love it so much. Reshape it according to your desires. Protect it. Cherish it. And above all... live the life you truly want."
The light flickered one last time, tender and almost melancholic, then went out gently.
God had disappeared.
Silence fell again, absolute.
Aziraphale remained frozen, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. His angelic mind seemed to have completely ceased functioning. Crowley, on the other hand, was breathing more heavily, his chest heaving with emotions too violent to contain.
Then, suddenly, Crowley crossed the space that separated them in two great strides and literally threw himself into Aziraphale's arms.
He clung to him with all his might, his face buried in his shoulder, his hands clenched in the back of his vest. His shoulders were trembling.
One can be We. "Angel… we can finally be us!" he murmured, his voice breaking with tears.
Aziraphale felt his own heart burst in his chest. He closed his arms around Crowley with desperate force, one hand sliding into his red hair, the other pressed against his back as if to prevent him from disappearing again. He felt Crowley's tears dampening his shirt, and this made him weep in turn, silently, with pure joy.
They remained like that for a long time, pressed close to each other, trembling, laughing and crying at the same time.
Then Crowley raised his head. Their eyes met, so close that their breaths mingled. Crowley's golden eyes shone like never before, overflowing with hope, fear, and love.
Aziraphale placed a trembling hand on Crowley's cheek, caressing his cheekbone with his thumb. An uncertain, wonderstruck smile appeared on his lips.
And they kissed.
It was a kiss of six thousand years of restraint, fear, unspoken words, and desire. At first tender, almost hesitant, as if they still feared this moment was only a dream. Then deeper, more passionate, more urgent. Crowley cupped Aziraphale's face in both hands, Aziraphale clung to his waist, and they kissed breathlessly, as if the rest of the universe had ceased to exist.
When they finally separated, breathless, foreheads pressed together, Aziraphale let out a trembling, joyful, almost incredulous laugh. His eyes were still full of tears, but they shone with absolute happiness.
“Yes…” he murmured against Crowley’s lips. “Yes, my love. We can be ourselves. At last.”
Crowley remained for a long moment with his forehead pressed against Aziraphale's, his eyes closed, as if he were afraid that everything would disappear if he opened them too quickly. His hands were still resting on the angel's hips, his thumbs gently caressing the fabric of the vest.
He finally pulled his head back slightly. His golden eyes, still glistening with tears, sought Aziraphale's blue gaze. His voice was hoarse, a little lost, almost childlike.
“And now… what do we do, angel?”
Aziraphale let out a soft, almost wonderstruck laugh. He slipped a hand into Crowley's hair, gently pushing it away from his forehead, then stroked his cheek with his fingertips.
“Well… it would seem we have to recreate the universe, my love.”
The words hung suspended between them, enormous and yet strangely natural. Crowley blinked, then a slow, incredulous, delighted smile stretched across his lips.
“Recreate the universe,” he repeated.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in his. They naturally made their way to the old leather sofa by the window, the one where they had spent so many evenings drinking wine and bickering for show. They sat side by side, very close, knee to knee.
Aziraphale did not let go of his hand. His fingers gently caressed Crowley's knuckles as he spoke, his voice soft and dreamy:
“We can do it all again… but better. We know this world inside and out, Crowley. Its beauties as well as its cruelties. This time, we have the power to make a difference.”
Crowley nodded, his eyes sparkling. He turned more towards Aziraphale, one leg tucked under him.
“First, no more war,” he said firmly. “No more end of the world. We retain free will, of course…”
“Yes, we’ll keep Hell and Heaven because it would be unfair for him to die; they didn’t ask for that,” Aziraphale murmured.
Crowley nodded. His expression became more serious, almost vulnerable.
“They simply won’t have any influence on Earth; they can go wherever they want and socialise, but they can’t start wars or catastrophes. They’ll have the life they want. I want people to be able to love each other without fear. Without having to hide. Without it costing them their family, their home, their life. I want… no one to ever feel what I’ve felt for millennia.”
Aziraphale squeezed his hand tighter. His eyes were shining.
“We keep the rain, because I like it when you complain about it… but we make it softer. Warmer in winter. Cooler in summer.”
Crowley burst out laughing, the kind that brought out the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He rested his forehead against Aziraphale's shoulder.
“Silly angel… Okay.” They continued like this for a long time, talking in low voices, almost intimately, as if they were building their future together. Each idea was accompanied by a caress, a smile, a light kiss on the temple, on the fingers, on the jaw.
Aziraphale looked at him and said somewhat hesitantly.
“I want a cottage in the South Downs for weekends, and when we get tired of London, I want us to live together if you agree.”
Crowley smiled at him.
“Anything you want, Angel.”
For the first time in six thousand years, they were no longer afraid. There was only them. And the universe to reinvent. Just an eternity to shape together.
Aziraphale watched Crowley for a long moment, their fingers intertwined. His gaze was bright, almost dreamy, but laden with a new gravity. He brought Crowley's hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on it before speaking.
"I want everyone to be able to love each other without having to wonder if it's right or wrong," he murmured. "Without fear of being judged, rejected, or destroyed. I want love to finally be free. May no one ever have to suffer again for loving whomever they choose... whether it's a human, an angel, a demon, or any creature in this universe.”
He paused, then looked up at Crowley with infinite tenderness.
"How should we do Heaven and Hell, my love? How to make them fair?”
Crowley remained silent for a moment, thinking. His thumb absently caressed the back of Aziraphale's hand. A half-smile appeared on his lips, both amused and serious.
"No more opposing camps," he finally replied. "Everyone will have free will, truly. Angels, demons, humans... all free in their choices. If they want to come to Earth, if they want to discover humans, live among them, fall in love, learn, grow... let them do it. Without permission. Without punishment.”
He straightened up a bit, gaining confidence as he spoke. "But there will be simple and clear rules: no chaos on Earth. No manipulation, no orchestrated wars, no unnecessary suffering. The angels and demons will mainly be there to guide. Like guardian angels, but without heavy interference. They will be able to help, advise, protect... but humans will always decide for themselves. And if an angel wants to become a demon, or the other way around, or simply live a quiet life... let them. Without judgment. Without falling. Without damnation.”
Crowley shrugged slightly, almost shyly suddenly.
"We stop the nonsense of absolute 'good' and 'evil'." We just keep... the balance. And freedom."
A gentle silence settled.
Aziraphale looked at him with deep admiration, his eyes shining. He leaned slowly and rested his forehead against Crowley's, closing his eyes for a moment, as if to better absorb all that love and wisdom.
"I love this idea," he murmured in an emotional voice. "I love it so much, Crowley. It's... exactly what the world has always needed. No cold and rigid paradise. No cruel hell. Just... freedom. And kindness, when possible.”
Crowley let out a small, trembling laugh, almost relieved. He slid a hand into Aziraphale's neck, caressing the nape with his fingertips.
"We're really doing this, aren't we? We're going to redo Heaven and Hell... the two of us. The most useless angel and demon in history.”
Aziraphale laughed softly against his lips, a joyful and light laugh.
"The most perfect for that, you mean."
They remained like that, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air, bathed in the golden light of the bookshop.
It had taken them time. Remaking an entire universe, even when you are a god, requires care, love, and many late-night discussions by the fireside.
But they had succeeded.
The universe was as they had always known it… only better. Gentler, fairer, freer. And above all, everyone had returned.
Soho had found its soul again. The cobblestones shone in a warm light, the shops had reopened with their colourful facades, and the air smelled once more of coffee, old books, and London rain. The bookshop was exactly as it had been, perhaps even a little more beautiful. The books seemed happier on their shelves, and Crowley had brought back some plants.
In front of the shop window, the Bentley waited patiently, its engine purring softly like a contented cat. It sported new rims of a bright, almost golden yellow. Inside, there was a lovely tray of travel sweets. Crowley had rolled his eyes when he saw it, but he hadn't said anything. After all, it was their car and their library.
Inside, Aziraphale sat in his favourite armchair, legs crossed, an open book on his lap that he no longer really read. Crowley lay on the sofa, his boots resting casually on the armrest, a glass of wine in his hand. They often looked at each other in silence, still amazed that it was all real.
“Do you realise?” Aziraphale murmured with a tender smile. “Everyone is here.”
Maggie and Nina were back. They were often seen holding hands in the street, laughing as if the world belonged to them. Mutt had returned too.
Muriel had decided to stay on Earth to explore it. To everyone's surprise, the demon Eric had followed her. The demon seemed curious and proved particularly enthusiastic about exploring the human world. They were often seen together: Muriel with her wide, wonder-filled eyes and Eric blushing whenever she smiled at him. They seemed to get along well. Very well, in fact.
In Heaven and Hell, things had changed in astonishing ways. Michael now spent a great deal of time between the two realms. It was said that she had long conversations with Dagon… conversations that often ended in knowing silences and glances, and surely even more. When freedom replaced pressure and fear, even the most rigid seemed to soften.
Aziraphale closed his book and looked at Crowley with infinite tenderness.
“Should we be getting ready to leave for the cottage?” he murmured.
Their cottage was in the South Downs; it was their refuge. They spent weekends there and escaped whenever they felt the need. Crowley had created a magnificent garden: red roses climbing the walls, aromatic herbs growing wildly, and an apple tree at the bottom that bore perfectly sweet fruit. He would spend hours working there, sleeves rolled up, cursing affectionately when a plant dared to resist him.
Aziraphale loved watching him from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in hand, his heart swelling with love.
Crowley turned his head towards him, a lazy smile on his lips.
“I suppose we can go, yes.”
Aziraphale stood up, crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. He placed a hand on Crowley's cheek, gently caressing his cheekbone with his thumb.
“Thank you, my love. I have everything I've ever wanted. A gentler world. Our friends. Our bookshop. Our car. Our cottage… and most of all…”
He leaned down slowly and placed a tender kiss on Crowley's lips.
“Especially us.”
Crowley suddenly gripped Aziraphale tighter, his fingers clenching in the fabric of his vest. He rubbed against him shamelessly, hips to hips, letting out a small, hoarse sigh when their bodies pressed together.
“Crowley…” said Aziraphale, amused, excited.
“I’m tired of waiting,” Crowley growled against his mouth before kissing him more deeply, more voraciously. “Six thousand years, angel. I have no more patience.”
He began to unbutton Aziraphale's vest with impatient gestures, popping a button that rolled onto the parquet floor. Aziraphale laughed softly, a breathless and joyful laugh.
“Easy now, my dear. This vest is vintage.”
“I don’t care. I want to feel you,” Crowley replied, biting his lower lip.
He slid down the vest, then the shirt, revealing Aziraphale's pale, warm skin. His hands immediately explored his torso, his thumbs brushing against his nipples, pinching them lightly until the angel flinched and moaned.
“You’re still as sensitive as ever,” Crowley murmured with a devilish smile. “It’s adorable.”
“Shut up,” Aziraphale replied, laughing, his cheeks red. “You’re no better.”
He pulled Crowley's black shirt up over his head, revealing his thin, pale body. Aziraphale stroked his stomach, moving down to his waist, then slid a hand lower, pressing his palm against the already hard bulge beneath his trousers.
Crowley let out a strangled groan and pushed into his hand.
“Angel… stop teasing me or I’ll take you on this couch without any foreplay.”
“Promises, promises,” replied Aziraphale with a small, mischievous smile that he rarely showed.
They finished undressing each other amidst laughter and awkward kisses. Once naked, Crowley pushed Aziraphale onto the sofa and straddled him. He rubbed against him slowly, their genitals sliding against each other, sending shivers through both of them.
“Look at you,” Aziraphale murmured, stroking Crowley’s thighs. “You’re magnificent. So impatient… Have you always been like this?”
“Only with you, idiot,” Crowley breathed before leaning down to kiss him on the neck, sucking the skin until he left a light mark.
Aziraphale slipped a hand between them and began to caress them both at the same time, with slow, firm movements. Crowley moaned, his forehead pressed against Aziraphale's.
“Faster… please…”
“Are you begging already?” Aziraphale teased, amused. “We’ve only just begun.”
“I hate you,” Crowley gasped, laughing nonetheless.
“No, you love me.”
“Yes… fuck, yes I love you. Now stop talking and fuck me.”
Aziraphale pushed him down gently but firmly, laying him on his back. He took his time: he kissed every inch of skin, licked his nipples, nibbled at his hips, then moved lower. When his mouth closed around Crowley, the latter arched his back with a hoarse cry.
“Aziraphale! Oh… damn… you’re too good for an angel.”
Aziraphale raised his head just enough to smile.
“I am your angel. And I love seeing you like this.”
He continued until Crowley was trembling and truly begging him, his fingers digging into his blond hair.
“Angel… please… I need you inside me.”
Aziraphale went back up, kissed him deeply and prepared him with great tenderness and patience, adding one finger, then two, all while murmuring compliments:
“You are so beautiful when you open up to me… You take everything so well, my love. Look how perfect you are.”
When he finally entered him, slowly, inch by inch, they both moaned. Aziraphale froze for a moment, forehead to forehead.
“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly.
“Move,” Crowley replied, raising his hips.
The rhythm began slow and deep. Aziraphale gave measured thrusts while continuing to speak.
“I love you… You are everything to me. My demon. My Crowley. You are so good… so tight around me…”
Crowley would sometimes laugh between moans, especially when Aziraphale teased him by deliberately slowing down.
“Bastard,” he growled.
“A little,” admitted Aziraphale with a smile before suddenly accelerating, eliciting a cry from Crowley.
They made love with passion, tenderness, and joy. Crowley clung to him, scratched his back, and kissed him everywhere he could. They changed positions twice, laughing when they almost fell off the sofa.
When the orgasm came, it was intense and long. Crowley came first, shouting Aziraphale’s name, closely followed by the angel who collapsed on top of him.
They remained entwined for a long time, covered in sweat, breathing heavily, kissing each other gently between breaths.
“I love you,” Aziraphale murmured, stroking his hair.
“I love you too, angel… Even if you’re a nasty tease.”
Aziraphale laughed softly against his neck.
They remained entwined on the sofa for a long time, breathing slowly, skin against skin. Crowley traced lazy circles with his fingertips on Aziraphale's back, a sated smile on his lips.
“We should probably go take a shower,” he finally murmured in a hoarse, amused voice. “If we want to get to the cottage on time tonight… We did invite everyone, after all.”
Aziraphale let out a small, guilty laugh and kissed Crowley's forehead.
“My God, I had completely forgotten. Muriel and Eric, and… Adam and Jesus too. We can’t keep them waiting.”
They got up reluctantly, still a little shaky. In the shower, the caresses resumed, gentler this time, full of soap and tenderness. Crowley let Aziraphale wash his back, almost purring, then returned the favour by kissing his wet neck.
An hour later, the Bentley sped towards the South Downs, its yellow rims gleaming in the setting sun. The cottage awaited them, warm and inviting, with its magnificent garden.
*****
Aziraphale and Crowley were in the kitchen. Aziraphale was slowly stirring the contents of a saucepan, focused on his sauce. Crowley silently came up behind him, slipped his arms around his waist, and embraced him tightly. He pressed his lips to the angel's neck and kissed him tenderly, just below the ear.
“Mmh… that smells good,” he murmured against his skin.
He reached out, grabbed some fresh aromatic herbs and added them to the pan before stirring with Aziraphale.
The angel smiled, put down his spoon, and turned back into Crowley's arms. He embraced Crowley in turn and kissed him gently on the lips. Then he took a small spoon, dipped it into the pan, and brought it to Crowley's lips.
“Taste it, my love.”
Crowley opened his mouth, tasted the sauce, and nodded his head in satisfaction.
“Hmm, yes… that’s perfect.”
At that precise moment, a head suddenly appeared through the kitchen window, eyes wide open.
Muriel watched them with an ecstatic expression.
“Oh! They’re so cute!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad they can finally love each other freely like this!”
Eric, standing right next to her, nodded vigorously.
Adam and Jesus, also leaning in the window, smiled silently, clearly in agreement.
A few seconds later, Crowley turned his head and saw them. He rolled his eyes and groaned.
He walked towards the front door and opened it with a sharp jerk.
"Weren't you taught not to spy on others in their own homes?"
Aziraphale arrived behind him, a warm, broad smile on his lips. He placed a soothing hand on Crowley's back.
"Come now, my dear, don't start grumbling about our friends."
He opened the door wider and welcomed everyone warmly.
"Come in, come in! You are most welcome."
Everyone greeted each other cheerfully. Muriel hugged Aziraphale, Eric gave a small, shy wave, Adam patted the couple on the back, and Jesus gave them a gentle, grateful smile. They all went into the living room, where the fire was already crackling in the fireplace.
Over the course of the evenings the couple hosted, Adam and Jesus had grown closer. Adam had recounted how Aziraphale and Crowley had helped him confront Satan, and Jesus had spoken of his travels with Crowley. Little by little, during these evenings, a deep connection had formed between them, until one evening they arrived hand in hand.
Muriel and Eric had grown very close during their long journey across the Earth, as they learned everything there was to know about humans and the planet. When they finally returned home, they held hands without any embarrassment, a shy but happy smile on their lips.
Eric had found a small job in a cafe, where he prepared latte art. Muriel, on the other hand, worked in a library, surrounded by books that she cherished like old friends.
Aziraphale looked at them all with great tenderness.
"You are all so lovely," he said warmly. "I'm so happy to see you like this."
Muriel smiled from ear to ear and squeezed Eric's hand a little tighter. She looked back and forth between Aziraphale and Crowley, her eyes shining.
“We wanted to thank you both,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “It’s thanks to you that we were able to experience all of this. That we were able to travel, learn, and… fall in love without being afraid.”
Eric nodded, a little red but sincere.
“Yes… Thank you. Before, I would never have dared. Now I can live on Earth, work peacefully, and be with Muriel. It’s thanks to you.”
Adam in turn, his hand still in Jesus' hand.
“I thank you too. Without you, I would never have found the courage to truly be myself. And I probably would never have encountered Jesus in this way.”
Jesus smiled gently, his gaze full of gratitude.
"You changed the universe so that beings like us could love each other freely. And we are truly happy for you both as well. You deserve more than anyone to finally be happy together."
Aziraphale felt his throat tighten with emotion. Crowley, beside him, grunted slightly to mask his distress, but his hand found the angel's and squeezed it tightly.
“Yeah… well, stop looking at us like that,” Crowley muttered, a little embarrassed.
Everyone laughed softly, the atmosphere filled with warmth and affection.
Like all their previous evenings, this one had been warm and full of laughter. They had eaten, drunk good wine, and talked for hours. The atmosphere was light, joyful, filled with love and gratitude.
When everyone had finally departed, Muriel and Eric hand in hand, Adam and Jesus shoulder to shoulder, the cottage became calm and silent again.
Only Aziraphale and Crowley remained.
Aziraphale was comfortably settled on the large sofa, Crowley's head resting on his knees. The demon stretched out fully, his legs extended on the armrest, completely relaxed. The fire crackled softly in the fireplace, casting an orange glow into the room.
Aziraphale tenderly stroked Crowley's red hair with his fingertips, slowly running them through the strands with infinite gentleness. From time to time, he let his nails lightly brush against his scalp, which made Crowley purr with pleasure.
“You know,” Aziraphale murmured with a small, amused smile, “you grumble a lot when our friends arrive… but you always end up having a great evening.”
Crowley opened one golden eye and looked down at him, a sly smile playing on his lips.
“False. I tolerate their presence. There’s a difference.”
Aziraphale let out a small laugh and gently pulled on a strand of hair.
"Liar. You laughed when Eric recounted his latest disaster with the coffee machine. And you even complimented the wine Adam brought."
“It was a very good wine,” Crowley defended himself. “It has nothing to do with affection.”
He turned his head slightly to rub his cheek against Aziraphale's thigh, like an affectionate cat.
“And what about you?” Crowley continued in a drawling voice. “You blush like a tomato when Muriel says we’re ‘cute’.”
Aziraphale blushed slightly, exactly as expected, and patted Crowley gently on the forehead.
"I'm not blushing. It's the heat of the fire."
"Of course, angel. And I'm a saint."
They remained silent for a moment, soothed only by the crackling of the fire. Aziraphale continued to lovingly stroke Crowley's hair, while the latter closed his eyes, perfectly at peace.
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's free hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it.
Crowley remained silent for a moment, enjoying the caresses in his hair. Then a small, crooked smile appeared on his lips.
“You know what I sometimes think about?” he murmured. “That time you pretended to be a demon… I really, really wanted you to bite me with your sharp teeth.”
Aziraphale stopped stroking his hair in surprise, then a slow, teasing smile stretched across his lips.
"Oh really ? "
He lowered his voice, adopting a deeper and slightly dangerous tone:
"Would you like to play a little role-playing game, my dear? Where I'll be a nasty demon... a very nasty one."
Crowley looked up at him, a mischievous and defiant smile on his face.
"Why not… "
Aziraphale felt a warmth rising within him. He slowly ran his tongue over his lips.
"Tell me exactly what you want, Crowley."
Crowley sat up a little on the sofa, his eyes shining.
"I want you to tie me to the bed. Tight. And do whatever you want to me... demon."
Aziraphale's expression changed instantly. A burning, bubbling desire appeared in his blue eyes. He smiled slowly, and deliberately let his teeth lengthen and become sharp, gleaming, and dangerously pointed.
Crowley stared at those teeth with an almost animalistic fascination. His blood began to boil in his veins. Suddenly very excited, his breaths already quicker.
"Fuck..." he breathed, his voice hoarse.
Aziraphale leaned towards him, brought his lips close to Crowley's ear and murmured in a low, sensual voice.
"Then go to the bedroom, my pretty serpent. Lie down on the bed... and wait for your demon."
Crowley swallowed hard, a visible shiver running through his body. He stood up quickly, almost too impatiently, and headed towards the bedroom without taking his eyes off Aziraphale.
With a simple snap of his fingers, Crowley found himself completely naked, his wrists securely tied to the bed with black silk cords. He instinctively pulled on them, but the cords held firm.
Aziraphale stood at the foot of the bed and took his time undressing. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, a demonic smile on his lips, revealing his pale skin inch by inch.
“This is torture…” growled Crowley, already hard and frustrated.
“Of course it is,” Aziraphale replied in a low, hoarse voice. “I’m a demon tonight, remember? Demons love to torture pretty, insolent snakes.”
Once completely naked, Aziraphale climbed onto the mattress and positioned himself above Crowley without actually touching him. He leaned down and began to slowly kiss and nibble at the exposed skin: the throat, the collarbone, the torso, the nipples, which he sucked and bit just hard enough to make Crowley jump.
He carefully avoided his erect penis which was throbbing against his stomach.
After several minutes of this gentle torture, Crowley pulled at his bonds, breathless.
"Aziraphale... Goddamn it, please... touch me."
Aziraphale raised his head, his eyes shining with desire.
"Plead better than that, snake."
“Please… please… ang… demon, touch me,” he said with tears in his eyes.
Aziraphale leaned down and kissed him deeply, voraciously, their tongues intertwining. Then he finally lowered himself and took Crowley's penis into his mouth in one swift motion, swallowing it completely. Crowley cried out, his back arching.
"Oh yes... like that... damn, angel... demon... whatever!"
Aziraphale sucked him ardently for a moment, then moved back up to kiss him. He slipped two fingers inside Crowley, then three, moving them precisely while watching him squirm. When he withdrew them, Crowley let out a frustrated moan.
Aziraphale positioned himself between his spread legs, grabbed his hips and penetrated him with a single long and deep thrust.
Crowley threw his head back with a hoarse cry.
"Yes... fuck... like that!"
Aziraphale began kissing him wildly, slamming his hips against him forcefully. Each thrust was deep and powerful.
“You like that?” Aziraphale growled in a hoarse voice, continuing to pound into him. “To be fucked by a demon? To be taken like a docile little thing?”
“Yes… yes! Harder…”
Crowley tugged at his bonds, his body covered in sweat, completely lost in pleasure. Aziraphale quickened his pace even more, one hand gripping his hip, the other resting on his chest. Sweat pooled between their bodies, the smacking of flesh echoed amidst the incessant moans, their scent mingling with that of sex.
After a while, Crowley pleaded in a broken voice:
"Bite Aziraphale, I beg you... Bite me hard! Mark me!"
Aziraphale bared his fangs with a predatory grin. He leaned forward abruptly and sank his teeth deep into Crowley's shoulder. Crowley screamed with pleasure, his whole body convulsing violently as he came between them without even being touched.
Aziraphale turned his head and kissed him during his orgasm, groaning against his lips. He, in turn, came a few seconds later, buried deep inside Crowley, with a long, hoarse moan.
They remained trembling and breathless for a moment.
Then Aziraphale became gentle again. He withdrew slowly and, with a snap of his fingers, the bonds disappeared. He got up, fetched a warm, damp cloth, and returned to sit on the edge of the bed.
With infinite tenderness, he gently cleaned Crowley's body, wiping away the sweat, semen, and blood. He lingered particularly on the bite, carefully wiping it with a warm cloth before placing his lips on it for a very soft kiss.
“Are you all right, my love?” he murmured, having completely reverted to his Aziraphale form. “Was I too rough?”
Crowley, still out of breath, gave him a tired but contented smile.
"It was perfect... demon."
Aziraphale smiled and continued to lovingly care for him, stroking his hair and placing little kisses wherever he had left marks.
After tenderly cleaning themselves, Aziraphale and Crowley lay down in the bed, embracing each other. Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale's chest, one leg passed over his own, while the angel slowly caressed his back.
“I love you,” Crowley murmured against his skin. “So much…”
“I love you too, darling,” Aziraphale replied, placing a kiss on his hair. “You are everything to me.”
They fell asleep like that, tightly entwined, their breaths mingling, still murmuring a few words of love until sleep overtook them.
Life had become wonderful. So wonderful that sometimes they were still afraid someone would take this happiness away from them. But each time that fear returned, the universe seemed to gently remind them: they were free now. They had the right to love each other.
And Crowley had the right to be kind.
One evening they were in their garden. The sky was clear, filled with twinkling stars that Crowley himself had made even brighter. He was snuggled up against Aziraphale's side.. A glass of red wine swirled slowly between his fingers.
Aziraphale had put an arm around him, holding him possessively while caressing his arm with his fingertips.
Crowley looked up at the stars and remained silent for a long moment before whispering:
“You know… sometimes I think back to the past. To all those times I secretly helped someone and was afraid of being punished. Today… I can save whoever I want. Be kind. Love you openly. And no one will blame me for it.”
Aziraphale tightened his embrace and placed a kiss on his temple.
“Yes, my love. You have the right to be exactly as you are. Kind. Gentle. Cuddly, whenever you want. And above all… mine.”
Crowley turned his head slightly to look at him, a peaceful smile on his lips.
"We're really lucky, aren't we?"
“The greatest blessing in the universe,” Aziraphale replied emotionally. “We have everything we’ve ever wanted. A home. Freedom. Our friends. And most of all… ourselves.”
Crowley closed his eyes and snuggled a little closer to him, his nose in his neck.
"I love you, angel. For eternity."
"I love you too, Crowley. For eternity."
The gentle night breeze made the apple tree leaves shiver. In their garden, under a sky they themselves had created, the two new gods of the universe were finally enjoying a peace and love they had deserved for six thousand years.
And this time, nothing and no one could take it away from them.
