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It was a peaceful night in Soho, the hustle and bustle of London quieted by the late hours. The warm glow of antique lamps languidly spreading their rays over the dusty old books of the bookshop, tainting the air with a heavy, honeyed mood. Crowley had his demonic corporation spread about on his favorite couch, a bottle of wine in hand, head resting against the armrest with his legs stretched out towards the angelic presence beside him, and his tongue coated with drunken breath. He was smashed, a usual occurrence now that he had the luxury to be so, having broken out the Pinot sitting in the wine collection since the late 1800s, honey gold eyes sliding over the divine form sitting next to him in a daze.
He watched a pudgy hand slowly bring a wine glass to pink lips, savoring every drop of ruby liquid like it was sacred, despite it being quite the opposite. Aziraphale flitted his eyes to the lanky body splayed out beside him, sighing with content as the alcohol buzzed through his system.
“I really… shhhouldn’t indulge in such… atrocious acts,” Aziraphale mumbled, his words slurring slightly after having several drinks over the hour.
“And yet here we are,” Crowley responded in a similar state, taking a swig of the bottle still in his hand. It wasn’t often Aziraphale agreed to partake in the temptations of alcohol so absolutely, but Crowley certainly wasn’t complaining. Getting completely wasted was always less lonely with a friend sitting next to you, even if they were supposed to be the embodiment of holy abstinence.
And how holy he looked now, cheeks reddened by alcohol and the soft glow of the bookshop enunciating the halo of flossed curls upon his head. Crowley was entranced by how positively beautiful Aziraphale looked, not just now after a multitude of drinks, but over their 6000 years of existence together. He wanted to run his hands through those soft, silk strands of hair and kiss his rosy cheeks and slide the length of his tongue over plump lips colored by wine and-
No, that was the alcohol talking wasn’t it? Certainly not the thoughts one would have for a friend. The wine suddenly felt sour in the back of his throat, and Crowley scrunched his eyebrows together in scorn.
“I need to… ssssober up,” he grumbled, dragging a hand over his face and taking off the dark lens glasses that constantly hid his eyes in the same motion. He threw them onto the side table at his back, grunting as he propped himself up on a bony elbow.
Aziraphale moved, turning towards Crowley. The demon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his body freezing in place as the angel climbed across the couch and settled himself between two lanky legs. Crowley instinctively extended his arm out to brush the angel’s cheekbone with his knuckles, heart pounding against his ribs.
Aziraphale hummed and reached forward….
Taking the bottle still held loosely in Crowley’s fingers, putting it to his lips and tilting his head back to consume the rest of the liquid still sloshing around within the glass.
The demon’s heart dropped to his stomach as his face flared bright red in the realization that this was NOT anything he had assumed it was, and he quickly dropped the hand that had offended the angel’s skin a moment before.
“There we are,” Aziraphale cooed, smiling to himself as though he took Pride in his decision to finish the bottle. “Go ahead now, dear boy.”
But having a divine being kneeling between his legs had Crowley feeling like he suddenly didn’t want to sober up, out of fear that once he did, Aziraphale would do so too and this moment would end. Greed took him then, as the demon shifted to close his legs, lean thighs pushing against Aziraphale’s in an attempt to keep him in place.
The angel made a noise of confusion, eyebrows scrunching together as his drunken mind tried to decipher why Crowley would move in such a way, not allowing Aziraphale to get up.
“You’re quite the eye-candy, angel,” Crowley said gruffly, his yellow irises flicking back and forth to analyze Aziraphale’s reaction. Wasn’t he not supposed to say such things to a friend? “Like, um… like them sssstatues in… Greece? With all the curves. Brilliant, those sssstatues. You’re brilliant, I think.”
“You… aren’t making much sense, Crowley dear,” Aziraphale mumbled, the bottle in his hand dropping to the ground with a soft thump as though he’d forgotten he was supposed to be holding it.
“Mmm, never mind,” the demon grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and thinning his lips. Was there a point to what he was saying? The wine was making everything fuzzy, except for how delicious the angel’s lips looked at the moment and his burning desire to grab his face and kiss him. But was he allowed that luxury? This was his friend. Why was it now that he wanted so badly? 6000 years and Crowley had always managed to keep himself in check. How non-demonic of him to keep his desires to himself when something so tempting was just within his reach.
Crowley slowly pushed himself up, testing the waters as he brought himself closer to Aziraphale’s face, stopping just centimeters before their noses made contact. Aziraphale didn’t move away, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden closeness of Crowley’s face in front of him.
“I want… to.. um..” Crowley couldn’t bring himself to continue with his request, his voice getting lost behind the pounding in his chest. “Well, see I think I like you very much, more than a friend should in any sssense. It’s quite bothersome really. All the… feelings. That I may or may not have. For you.”
The gears in Aziraphale’s brain could practically be seen stuttering behind his eyes as he tried to piece together the meaning behind Crowley’s words.
“Oh, I see…” he mumbled as it finally clicked. Crowley wanted. Of course he wanted, he was a demon. Demons were creatures of desire, and this one in particular yearned for intimacy. With him.
“But I’m.. an angel…” Aziraphale said quietly, almost as though he was saying it to himself, uncertain and slightly fearful. Because despite said angelic status, Aziraphale had wants as well. Although he’d never openly admit it, a thick layer of desire had been eating at him all evening, desire to touch and caress and… kiss the demonic entity drinking bottle after bottle of wine beside him.
And he’d tried so hard to cast those thoughts to the back of his mind, to ignore the temptations that Lust wanted him to explore, but every so often they’d poke their heads out from behind the locked doors of his brain and mock him with the idea that he, an angel meant to serve God and all Her heavenly directives, could possibly be head over heels in love with a demon.
But Crowley wasn’t just a demon, was he? Aziraphale had known him since the beginning of time. He could recognize when his demonic corporation had entered a room solely based on the way the dust particles shifted around him, the soft clack of the soles of his boots as he snaked into the bookshop every afternoon, the drawl of his voice when he talked to customers looking for a particular book that would never actually leave the building. He brought comfort to Aziraphale, his demonic presence calming eccentric nerves whenever they sat together on that wooden bench while feeding the ducks and swans. Frozen peas, Crowley had told him sternly, the good in his heart he refused to acknowledge keeping the birds safe from clumsy fingers throwing bread.
And now, looking at the bony figure of Crowley in front of him, his heart melted with the desire he’d kept sealed away for so long.
“Angel, shmangel, doesn’t bother me,” Crowley shrugged, the slits of his pupils dilating slightly against golden irises, a color Aziraphale thought was just delightful. “Unless it… bothers you? Does it bother you?”
“It shouldn’t, really,” Aziraphale admitted. “But, gosh Crowley, it’s all I’ve ever… all I’ve ever known. ‘Don’t fraternize with the evils of Hell, don’t adhere to demonic temptation,’ I can’t just… throw that away.”
“Well, you’ve done an atrociousss job at that, haven’t you, angel?” The demon pointed out, bravely bringing a shaky hand to brush Aziraphale’s cheek with his thumb. “Knowing me for thousands of years completely contradicts those… blasphemous ideals of yours.”
“They’re not… they aren’t blaspha-whatever you said, you fiend,” Aziraphale complained, leaning into Crowley’s touch with a hum of approval.
“Who’s even… paying attention these daysss, anyway,” Crowley slurred, frowning. “I think…. I think we should just do whatever the hell we wanna do, yknow? Just… go craaaaayzy. Fuck ‘round and find out. Whaddya say, angel?”
Aziraphale hesitated, the wine still heavy in his system corrupting his thoughts. Crowley lightly pulled the angel’s face just a few centimeters closer, noses sliding into place against each other with their lips barely a breath apart, foreheads touching. He didn’t move any further than that, not having gained Aziraphale’s explicit consent to continue and not wanting to rush in when the angel wasn’t ready, despite how smashed he was. Hearts were pounding against corporations, excited, nervous, and fearful as drunken, hazy thoughts shot rapidly around anxious minds.
“Crowley…” he breathed, clearly scared but not spooked enough to run for the hills.
“Do you not want to?” The demon asked quietly, suddenly unsure of himself.
“Well, we’re both quite ineb- in- drunk… are we sure this is what we.. what we want?”
“We can ssssober up then. See how we feel after,” Crowley suggested. Not that he really wanted to yet. It wasn’t referred to as liquid courage for nothing. But Aziraphale nodded and Crowley obliged, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced the alcohol out of his system with a drawn out groan of displeasure. Aziraphale followed suit, and the discarded bottles littering the floor and coffee table were filled once again.
Their heads quickly cleared up and everything came back into focus. Aziraphale became hyper aware of Crowley’s thighs straddling his, how close their faces were that he could feel demonic breath tickling his skin, sending goosebumps up his arms. That feeling of want settled in his chest as he brought his hand up to gently hold onto the ruby hairs of Crowley’s nape, the other trailing down to rest on the black fabric covering his thigh.
“Angel?” Crowley asked quietly, seeking Aziraphale’s final word, to advance and ruin their relationship with something better than inconspicuous glances at one another or brushing hands while passing wine glasses at the Ritz. Something better than just wanting. To finally have.
And have they did, as Aziraphale finally gave into temptation and closed the distance, brushing his lips against Crowley’s once, twice, a third time with each one being more desperate than the last. Crowley made a soft noise of content, closing his eyes and holding onto Aziraphale’s face with both hands to keep himself centered. It was clumsy, almost rushed in nature, 6000 years of pent up emotion spilling out into the warm air of the bookshop.
Crowley was feeling quite brave this evening, and he hadn’t yet lost that confidence along with the alcohol he’d expelled from his system, so he opened his mouth and let a wet, forked tongue brush against the angel’s lips, a silent ask for Aziraphale to open his mouth. The angel made a stuttered noise of surprise, and Crowley’s eyes flickered open with concern, letting go of his face and pulling away just barely so he could speak.
“Sorry, angel, too much?” He asked with uncertainty, cursing himself for possibly pushing too far.
“No, no, it’s quite alright, my dear. Just a bit of a shock is all,” Aziraphale replied with a soft chuckle. “I apologize for ruining the mood.”
“I don’t see any ruined moods anywhere,” Crowley pointed out with a raised eyebrow, shifting his body weight slightly. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands again and brought him forward, kissing him softly. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“Right,” Aziraphale mumbled with a smile, eyes crinkling at the edges as he leaned into the kisses Crowley was placing upon his lips. The demon tried again, pushing his tongue against the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale didn’t reject it this time, separating his lips and letting him in. It was a bit strange, as neither of them had much experience in this category of intimacy, despite their thousands of years of life. Their movements were sloppy, soft sighs of pleasure wafting amidst the limited space left between them as their tongues danced around within hot mouths.
Crowley caught the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s swollen bottom lip between his teeth, pressing down in an experimental bite. The angel groaned at the sudden sensation, squeezing the hand placed comfortably on the demon’s thigh in retaliation. His other hand slid to Crowley’s chest, lightly pressing him back down against the couch. The demon allowed him to do so, shifting his body about so he was comfortably settled underneath the angel hovering over him.
Aziraphale licked his lips, gazing down at Crowley with a hungry look hidden behind his eyes. “You… you look absolutely lovely, my dear,” he cooed, smiling at the flustered expression now painting the demon’s face. His cheeks were flushed red, no longer something he could blame on the wine, and his hair had lost its impeccably styled appearance, loose strands tickling the sweat beading on his brow.
“Shut it,” Crowley mumbled, blinking rapidly. “M’not anything of the sort.”
“Agree to disagree then, darling,” the angel told him, leaning forward to slot their lips together once more, his hands grabbing onto Crowley’s legs to firmly pull him closer, the back of his thighs now resting against Aziraphale’s. The demon laced his fingers within the lightened curls of Aziraphale’s hair, grunting quietly against his mouth when he felt his bottom make contact with the angel's ample thighs.
Aziraphale moved both hands back up to Crowley’s chest, clumsy fingers fumbling to undo the buttons of his enticingly tight black dress shirt. The demon squirmed as the fabric was pushed away to expose the heated flesh of his torso, stomach flexing with quickened breaths when Aziraphale placed his hands over his protruding ribcage, slowly dragging them down to his waist and back up over his chest lovingly.
Crowley made a disgruntled noise of pleasured complaint, the sudden anxiety that Aziraphale would perceive his corporation negatively clouding his mind. But Aziraphale had no such thoughts, for he firmly believed Crowley was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on and deserved all the adoration one could possibly receive. He moved his lips away from Crowley’s mouth, wetly placing kisses onto his sharp jawline and down the side of his neck. The demon tilted his head to the side for better access, one of his legs lifting up to curl around Aziraphale’s lower back, holding him down.
“Wait, wait, angel,” Crowley stuttered, a bit breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of Aziraphale’s shirt to stop him. “Take this off. I wanna touch… I wanna see you too. Off. Please.”
Aziraphale pulled away, clearly nervous but obliging to the request, pulling the buttons of his blue Oxford shirt apart in a tantalizingly slow manner. Crowley hissed in disapproval, impatiently snapping his fingers to remove the article of clothing getting in the way of his desires. Aziraphale yelped and threw his arms around himself, attempting to cover his abrupt bareness.
“Crowley!” He complained, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “How crude of you!”
But Crowley wasn’t listening, admiring the soft pudge of Aziraphale’s curves with his eyes, face slack in awe. “Gorgeous, angel. You really are.”
“Oh, you fiendish creature,” he mumbled in disapproval, bathing in the demon’s praise.
Crowley lifted his hands to gently pull Aziraphale’s arms away, wanting to see more of him. Hesitantly, the angel allowed his arms to move away and drop back down to Crowley’s legs, nervously avoiding eye contact as the demon observed him.
“I’m terribly sorry if this isn’t suitable for you, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered anxiously. “I can change my corporation if you wish.”
“Shut up, you’re perfectly fine the way you are,” Crowley chided, scrunching his brows together.
“But… but I’m soft,” the angel mumbled sadly.
“Did Gabriel tell you that? He can fuck off. Shove his opinions up his arse, I’ll tell ya.”
“How crass,” Aziraphale chuckled, the demon’s harsh language doing its job to cheer him up. Crowley gingerly placed his bony fingers upon the angel’s chest, silk hairs gently brushing against his palms. He slowly slid them up his neck and hooked them under his jaw and ears, pulling him forward in a gentle kiss.
“I really mean it, angel. You’re perfect,” Crowley mumbled against his lips. Aziraphale’s eyes felt wet with the love oozing from Crowley’s corporation. He was so lucky to have such a friend- no, a lover as sweet and caring as him. So he let the demon kiss and touch and caress as much as he desired to, melting into every point of contact with pleased sighs and quiet moans.
It felt like hours before Crowley pulled away, gasping for air that he didn’t actually need, his hair matted to his forehead from sweat. He groaned, moving a hand to press down against the front of his too tight pants.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” Aziraphale fussed, unsure what the problem was.
“No, no, I- fuck, angel, I’m sorry,” Crowley grunted through gritted teeth. “I’m having a bit of a… reaction of sorts, I think. Dammit.”
Aziraphale’s face went redder than Crowley thought possible, a quiet gasp escaping his lips as he realized what was happening.
“Oh dear me,” he whispered, glancing down at the bulge tenting at Crowley’s front.
“Christ, don’t look at it,” Crowley complained, using both hands to grab at his crotch, covering himself completely and pulling his legs inward as much as he could with the angel still sitting between them. “I’ll go take care of it in the bathroom. Get offa me.”
“Crowley-“
“No, Aziraphale, get off,” the demon strained, attempting to push the angel away but failing to do so.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale said sternly, grabbing the demon’s wrists and holding them on either side of his torso. “It’s okay.”
“But it’s unsightly isn’t it? Especially for you holy entities of heaven, I wouldn’t want to cause any corruption,” Crowley rejected, eyes slightly widened with poorly concealed anxiety.
“I’d say it’s rather natural actually,” Aziraphale suggested with a shrug before averting his eyes. “In fact, I’m not entirely clean myself right now.”
Crowley blinked, taken slightly aback by the implication before quickly glancing down to see if Aziraphale was telling the truth. While it wasn’t as blindingly obvious as Crowley’s, the angel was definitely sporting an erection just beneath the caramel cashmere of his pants.
“Oh.”
“Quite.”
“Fuck, angel, I dunno if I’m ready for that yet,” Crowley mumbled, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even know where to start with that kinda thing.”
Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But you’re a demon, aren’t you?”
“Not in that department,” Crowley hissed out, squirming in embarrassment.
“So you’ve never-“
“No.”
“Oh gosh…”
They sat in silence for a moment, Aziraphale still dumbfounded at the fact that Crowley wasn’t experienced in acts of Lust, despite his demonic titles.
“Not even a little bit-?”
“Aziraphale,” Crowley warned gruffly, his hands curling into tight fists.
“Right, sorry, it’s just a bit difficult to believe, as I’m sure you can understand,” he said apologetically, waving his hands about. “Ah, but no matter! I’ve read plenty of books about this sort of thing, I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“You read pornos? Didn’t think you were the type for that, angel,” Crowley judged, his mouth quirking up slightly in a smirk.
“I do not! They are love stories, Crowley,” Aziraphale interjected with an offended gasp. “And they can be very educational at times, I’ll have you know.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed about reading dirty books. Everyone has guilty pleasures,” the demon chuckled and Aziraphale huffed in disapproval. “Well since you’re so ‘educated’ on the matter, where do we start?”
“Well, we’ve already started, technically, with all the kissing and whatnot,” Aziraphale corrected, his eyebrows pulling together in thought.
“You mean the snogging.”
“A rather rude way of putting it, but I suppose so,” the angel muttered scornfully at the demon’s choice of diction. “Technicalities aside, I believe the next step would be to properly declothe ourselves from our lower garments.”
“Mmm, right, yes of course,” Crowley mumbled with a nod, bringing up his fingers to miracle said clothing away. Aziraphale grabbed his wrist to stop him, a pleading look in his eye.
“Could we do it the normal way? I think it’s a bit more… romantic to do it normally.”
Crowley blinked at him, a bit befuddled by the request but not against the idea. “Yeah, sure, romantic. Whatever you want, angel.”
“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale sighed out with a relieved smile. “I know you like to rush things, but we really do have all the time in the world for this. To do it proper.”
“Right. Course. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Crowley’s impatience still shining bright despite lack of access to miracles, quickly undoing the snake adorned belt around his waist and throwing it to the ground beside the couch. He moved onto the button holding his pants together, popping it with his thumb and index finger and dragging the zipper down with a small groan as some tension was relieved from his hardened front.
Aziraphale swallowed with anticipation, watching the demon as he hooked his thumbs underneath the waistline of his pants and pulled, tugging them over his bony hips with some struggle.
“Bastardly things,” Crowley mumbled in frustration, wiggling about to get them off.
“I’ll never guess how you manage to wear those pants without losing your mind,” Aziraphale said with a short laugh.
“Hey, don’t just watch me, you get moving too,” he snapped back, looking at the angel crossly.
“Oh, right. Of course,” he muttered, cheeks growing hot with nerves. Aziraphale began to do what was asked of him, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them down his legs, leaving his underclothing on as a final form of protection he was afraid to expose. After some shifting around and plenty of effort, both Aziraphale and Crowley were left with only their boxers left to cover their indecency.
“Okay, now that's sorted. What’s nExTtT~ oh Jesus-“ Crowley groaned out, interrupted by Aziraphale’s abrupt maneuver to hook his arms under his legs and dig his fingers down into the exposed flesh of his thighs, lowering an angelic head over the demon’s crotch and pressing a hot mouth against the very prominent bulge underneath the fabric of his boxers. “Bloody Hell, angel, you can’t just- fuck!”
Crowley’s hands reached for leverage, one tangling itself into Aziraphale’s silk curls and the other digging into the fabric of the couch by his side as strong hands pulled apart legs that threatened to close. His head shot back with a stifled moan as he felt Aziraphale’s wet tongue poke out and touch him gently through the textile separating them, feeling nearly at the brink of discorporation.
“Angel, hold on, you- fuck, you’re bloody brilliant at that… Aziraphale, please-“ Crowley was having trouble keeping up, his body practically shaking with pleasure as Aziraphale’s mouth ran him in circles. The stimulation he was receiving was nothing like anything he’d done for himself, when all he had was the isolation of his apartment and a clumsy hand to do the job. It was exhilarating and new, terrifyingly new, almost impossibly so, something he had never experienced in his 6000 years of demonic existence.
“Crowley…” Aziraphale spoke softly, almost pleadingly, looking up at the demon in longing. “Can I? Um, take these off? If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. S-sure. If you want,” Crowley replied breathlessly, a bit miffed that Aziraphale had stopped and craving more of his warmth. And if Aziraphale was willing, he certainly wasn’t going to stop him.
The angel untangled his arms from around Crowley’s legs and gingerly brought his hands up to the waistband of his boxers, hooking plump fingers underneath that final layer of fabric and carefully pulling them down. Now exposed to the eyes of his lover, Crowley felt incredibly vulnerable, bringing shaky hands to cover his face and peeking at the angel through his fingers.
“Gosh, how lucky am I,” Aziraphale whispered, admiring him with such sickly adoration that Crowley thought he might melt. “You really are gorgeous, my dear.”
Crowley responded with a small noise from the back of his throat, unable to properly speak in fear that he would unravel completely. Aziraphale smiled at him lovingly, sliding his hands back underneath the demon’s thighs and bringing his mouth down to place itself gingerly on flesh he previously didn’t have access to. Crowley inhaled sharply through his teeth as the angel went down on him, a string of curses pooling out of his mouth as his bony hips trembled with the need to buck forward.
“F-fuck,” he whimpered, the warmth of Aziraphale’s mouth completely encasing him in a hot pleasure he couldn’t describe. His hips jerked forward unexpectedly, an uncontrollable urge that Crowley accidentally let slip, pushing his length farther back into the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale groaned at the heat now practically hitting the back of his throat, and Crowley responded with a whine of his own, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure up and down his body.
Just watching himself disappear behind wet lips, rubicon cheeks hollowing out with each push and pull of Crowley’s body, had the knot resting behind his lower abdomen fighting tooth and nail to stay bound together. He arched his waist upward, rolling his hips experimentally as his body ached for more, craving movement. And Aziraphale welcomed the attempts, encouraging them even, because of course he would. Of course he would cater to satiate Crowley’s desires and wish to please him in every way possible, to let the demon mouthfuck the divinity out of him as though the very touch of their bodies carried the weight of Sin.
“W-wait, I think I’m- fuck, angel, I’m not gonna last,” Crowley warned, threading his fingers back into Aziraphale’s hair and pulling weakly in an attempt to get him off. “You don’t have to… Aziraphale- shit-“
Aziraphale didn’t listen, continuing to move faster even when Crowley slowed down, holding onto the soft flesh of demonic thighs like his life depended on it, the demon nearing the point of no return. Crowley’s head jerked back with a choked gasp, his entire body tensing up with his release, hot ecstasy pouring out of him and into the receiving party below.
Crowley’s body went limp, blinking the wetness away from his eyes as he situated himself, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He peered at Aziraphale through hazy vision, watching as the angel brought a thumb to his lips to wipe away the remaining residue of Crowley’s pleasure.
“Oh, dammit, I’m so sorry angel, I didn’t mean to- fuck, I messed that one up,” he apologized hastily, lifting a shaky hand to caress Aziraphale’s cheek.
“It’s quite alright, my dear,” Aziraphale reassured him hoarsely, a small smile playing at his lips. “I didn’t mind it at all.”
“Are you okay though? I wasn’t too rough, right? Does anything hurt?” Crowley babbled, eyebrows creasing with the anxious thought of having ruined it, having done something wrong and making Aziraphale regret ever getting close to him in such a way. Perhaps he’d hated it and would never want to do anything remotely intimate with him ever again.
“Crowley,” the angel said sternly, halting the worry still pouring from the demon’s lips. “I don’t know about you, but that was the most exhilarating experience I have ever had the pleasure of partaking in. Do NOT start freaking out now, dear boy. If I hadn’t wanted to, I wouldn’t have. Simple as that.”
“I- right. Of course,” he muttered, mentally slapping himself. Aziraphale could absolutely rock his shit if he so desired, and Crowley was a fool for thinking this wasn’t something the angel enjoyed. Aziraphale was right, if he hadn’t wanted to, he simply wouldn’t have done it.
“Did you, um… are you still…” the demon gestured vaguely towards Aziraphale’s pelvic area, raising a brow in a silent question.
“No, I…I thoroughly enjoyed myself and the problem was thus taken care of. No need to do anything,” he told him with a sheepish chuckle. “I suppose I got a bit too… excited during all of that.”
“You- in your- oh my dear Satan, you naughty angel,” Crowley laughed in disbelief, shaking his head.
“Oh, hush, you fiend. You were much more elated than me at the moment, don’t you forget,” he scolded, leaning forward to place a light kiss on Crowley’s forehead.
“Right. Well, I’m properly fucking exhausted,” Crowley mumbled, stifling a yawn as Aziraphale moved his mouth down to the side of his neck, placing gentle, loving kisses along his skin. “How ‘bout a nap, angel?”
“Perhaps for a few minutes,” Aziraphale agreed reluctantly, raising his head to yawn into his hand. “Human activities certainly are draining. I don’t know how they are able to do it all the time.”
Crowley grinned, shrugging, and with a quick snap of his fingers all was clean and put back where it was before, discarded clothes replaced with silk pajamas, smooth black for Crowley and patterned tartan for Aziraphale. Both of them stood up from the couch, the demon stretching his lanky arms above his head with a groan, the fabric of his shirt lifting slightly to reveal the reddened skin of his hip bone, a small reminder of what they had just done.
Falling asleep together was like drinking warm cocoa on a chilly day, snuggled up underneath the plush comforter of Aziraphale’s bed on the second floor of the bookshop, holding onto each other like their paradise would be snatched away from them any second. Crowley was unconscious within minutes, soft snores enunciating each breath he took like punctuation at the end of a sentence, lulling Aziraphale into a tranquil sleep of his own, the peaceful streets of London embracing them both in the soft shine of the streetlights just outside.
And for them, that’s all they needed. A quiet night in their bookshop, a comfortable bed to sleep in, and the promise of each other.