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It was more of an oddity than inconvenience. It helped that Aziraphale had a system. All it required was privacy. She had worked out the timing of it more or less and how her essence would start to feel more like a pressure under the skin of her corporation, as if she had to use effort to hold back her divinity.
Her back would ache for a week before the other part started.
The first time was just before the ark. Crowley had just left for a temptation and Aziraphale had ended up holed up in her lodgings feeling miserable.
When the golden ichor had started to leak from her nipples, she thought she was discorporating in some strange punishment sent down for angels alongside the humans who were set to drown.
But no, alone in the night she spilled onto the dirt, gradually growing more aroused with each tug on her aching teats until she came untouched. It was the first orgasm of her existence. She hadn't even manifested genitals.
Of course, she did after that and the experience, strange and overwhelming and messy as it was, became much nicer indeed.
Afterward, she'd casually inquired about it in Heaven, this golden expulsion, and had been informed that human corporations required periodic expressions of divinity due to excess accumulation or else there were potentially...distasteful consequences. She didn't share exactly how her excess manifested, but she doubted it was meant to be quite like that.
So every thousand years, her divinity was milked from her chest by her own hands, and she ached and no masturbation could even match the sorts of orgasms she could achieve while she was in throes of it.
It was a system. It worked. No one ever needed to know.
**
“Crowley, stop teasing me,” she said, wiggling away as Crowley nipped at her hip.
“But you like teasing,” Crowley said as he pushed open her legs and slid down between them. He pressed his fingers against her gently, and they slipped over the lips of her sex, not sliding inside or even touching her where she wanted. She squirmed and tried to press down against him but he kept the pressure light so that she chased it.
“You wouldn’t like it if I did this to you,” Aziraphale challenged.
Crowley scoffed and gave her a filthy lick for her troubles. “An outright lie and you know it.”
They’d been meant to go to dinner, but one pre-dinner drink at Crowley’s had turned to two, and then he’d put his hand up her skirt, and somehow they’d ended up furiously snogging until clothes ended up mostly elsewhere, and it had come to this. It was dreadful really. They’d missed at least five dinner reservations because of this sort of behavior. Aziraphale was going to have to institute a new rule. Either no pre-dinner drinks or enough time before dinner for a fuck. Though, knowing Crowley, there wasn’t enough time in the world.
Crowley slid his hands up her calves and behind her thighs, his fingers tickling the sensitive skin as he nuzzled up to her hip. “Do you want my mouth? My hands? What?”
“Is it greedy if I ask to skip right to penetration?” Aziraphale asked. She was aching, inner muscles clenching and begging for more. Her corporation felt strange, hungry and needy.
Rising up on his knees with all the speed of a striking cobra, Crowley kissed her. “Yeah, of course. I thought you’d just…you know, want a pre-dinner show.”
“I thought this was the pre-dinner show.”
Crowley tweaked a nipple and it was like a light show going off behind her eyes, far too much for the simple touch, and it made her clutch at him.
“Crowley, please, I - I -”
“Fuck, never thought I’d see the day you’d beg for me,” Crowley said, half to himself as he rushed to unzip his trousers and shove them off before bearing her back onto the couch and resettling himself between her legs.
She pulled him into a deep kiss that did nothing to relieve the heavy tension inside her. She ached with the heady pull of need anchoring her to the moment as Crowley sank inside her, groaning into her ear. But the sensation of being full gave her no relief. Dull pain radiated from the base of her spine and, in a flash, she realized what was happening.
“Crowley, stop.”
Crowley froze and she pushed him off her. “Stop,” she said again, hurriedly putting herself back together, buttoning her shirt and getting off the couch in search of her skirt and kneesocks.
“What just happened?” Crowley asked, clearly flabbergasted. His hair was sticking up at all angles and his face was flushed with effort, lips swollen from kissing her, and Aziraphale’s heart clenched. She needed to go.
“I’ve got - I forgot - “ Aziraphale said, finally giving up and miracling herself to rights. “Something at the shop to attend to.”
Without waiting for a reply, she snapped herself into the flat above her bookshop and tossed herself into the bed she so rarely used, ready for a week of misery that preluded what was to come.
**
Look, angel, I don’t know what I did, but if you’d just tell me, you’d know I didn’t mean it.
Aziraphale winced as she listened to Crowley’s voicemail, massaging the pain in her chest. She stretched and her back popped before the next voicemail played on.
Angel, please, I’m getting worried here. I’m sorry… please.
Aziraphale felt quite guilty about the whole thing really, but she didn’t think she could tell Crowley. It would be dangerous to be around him while her divinity was quite literally leaking out of her. He’d likely be all noble and try to help and who knew what the substance would do him. Poison him? Burn him out of existence?
No, Aziraphale had been handling it for millennia and she would continue to do so.
She made herself some tea and fiddled with the tie of her robe. She’d given up on wearing a brassiere once her breasts had started to swell. It was easier to go without than to miracle her clothes larger for a singular event and besides that, if she wore a brassiere, she'd likely leak through it once the milk began to flow.
She sighed and pressed the meat of her palm into her aching back. It was coming soon. Perhaps that night. Her skin felt tight on her body, every inch of her tingling in anticipation. The lights of the bookshop seemed somehow brighter. The scents of vanilla and old books and sweet wine all mingled and reached her nose and beneath it all the present scent of smoke, reminding her of Crowley.
A moan slipped from her mouth at the thought of him. The last time she had gone through this they hadn’t slept together yet. She’d satisfied herself with her touch alone, and her fantasies had never strayed, but now she had so much to imagine. The thought of Crowley’s mouth on her while she leaked, while she fell on her hands and knees and pressed the divine milk from her teats and he fucked her from behind.
She groaned as the pain in her chest grew like pinpricks across her nipples. In her mind's eye she could see her divinity flowing freely, and it caused warmth to pool between her legs, that strange connection between the milking and her arousal flaring to life. She needed to begin.
**
The only thing that could be said for the whole process was that whatever fluid was leaving Aziraphale’s body, it’s divine properties were immense. It smelled sweet. It blessed everything it touched. When it fell on fresh soil, flowers grew. In the safety of her bedroom, leaning over her bed to begin expressing the divine milk, the golden liquid spilled onto her sheets and turned it to silk.
She grasped her breast and with every spray of milk, another wave of ecstasy washed over her, curling her toes, racking her body with the sort of pleasure she never felt otherwise. It splashed off the bed and onto the floor, wetting her feet and the bottom of her dressing gown. The flow was endless. More than any human could produce. The excess from the thousands of miracles she had produced over the last dozen centuries, flowing from her in shining golden drops.
“If you’re cross, you could at least tell me why and not avoid me -”
The door slammed into her dresser and she fell back against her side table. Just in her knickers, she flailed to cover herself with her dressing gown. There was Crowley in the doorway to her bedroom, worked up into a fine lather as his mouth clicked shut. A blush was cascading down his shocked face as Aziraphale’s breasts began to soak her dressing gown.
“What’s going on?” Crowley demanded, frozen in place.
“You should leave,” Aziraphale choked out. The sight of him there given her current state was not doing her any favors. She felt like a cat in heat and when he pushed his hands through his hair, drawing attention to the strength of his fingers, the delicate play of his knuckles, she whimpered as her knees went weak.
“What is that?” Crowley asked, stepping closer to the bed as the milk Aziraphale had left behind continued to shine, golden and glittering with divine grace. “Are you leaking ?”
“I’d appreciate some privacy for a-a-an angelic ritual that might be dangerous to you.”
And then Crowley shoved his hand into the pool of grace left on the foot of the bed and cocked his head. “Oh, it tingles. Why’s it look like glitter glue?” he asked as he held it up to the light.
Aziraphale fidgeted, the need to relieve the pressure in her chest starting to become unbearable once more. Her cunt ached , and she rubbed her legs together just to feel something. “My…excess divinity I suppose you’d say, every few centuries has to be…expelled. That’s what I'm doing. Right now.”
“Doesn’t seem dangerous,” Crowley said, considering the substance on his hand which glittered in the light filtering in through the window. “Feels kind of…nice?”
“Oh, it-it does?"
Crowley reached up and took off his sunglasses, leaving a streak of divinity behind on his temple. He set them on the side table by her hip and said, “Show me.”
Shaking more than she’d ever admit to, Aziraphale opened her robe and exposed her chest. Her nipples were stiff and peaked, the right still weeping drops of gold. She hadn’t begun expressing the left and it ached still, nipple tingling and begging to be milked.
Crowley blinked down at it before looking up to meet her gaze. “This is how it comes out.”
Aziraphale bit her lip and nodded.
“So I could…help?” Crowley offered, reaching out to swipe one of the drops from the very tip of her breast. She shivered at the touch and a truly wanton moan fell from her mouth.
“Only if it - only if it doesn’t hurt you.”
“The opposite, I think,” Crowley breathed, and when Aziraphale looked at him again, the sclera of his eyes were wide and yellow.
"Show me-" Aziraphale was shaking but she had to be sure. She had to hold firm. "Show me your hand."
Crowley held up the hand he'd touched the bed with, and the only evidence of his interaction with her grace was a faint glow. No burns, no scalding. Fears somewhat abated, Aziraphale hesitated as she took Crowley's hand. She heard his intake of breath.
"Do you know how?" she asked, every bit of her insides felt adrift in the moment, waiting for Crowley's answer.
"Not with my hands," he said simply before grasping her waist and pressing her back onto the bed. His knee pushed between her legs as her robe fell to either side of her body and then his mouth was on her breast, and he sucked.
Aziraphale cried out at the sudden sensation, hands going to Crowley's hair as she ground down against his thigh. The milk flowed from her breast and into his mouth with each suck. She had never felt relief like this, the tender press of his tongue, the gentle way he drank from her as he closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering, breathing through his nose as he took as he much as he could, but the gold liquid began to spill from the corners of his mouth, hotly trickling down her breast and smearing on his shirt. The ecstasy of it was almost too much, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.
He paused, breathing hard. "Aziraphale."
His voice was thick as he pressed his hand to her other breast. She felt his cock against her hip, hard in his jeans.
"I want - I want to take off my clothes," Crowley said, already dragging his shirt off. His skin was hot to the touch.
"Are you alright?" she asked as he rose on his knees to shuck off his trousers.
His hand went to his chest, eyes wide and manic. "Yeah, I-I feel really fucking good. Like it’s - I don’t know."
"Could you-" she arched her back, presenting her leaking chest and he groaned as he kicked off his shoes and shoved his jeans off the rest of the way.
Then he was back, skin on skin, laving her left nipple with little licks before treating it to deep sucks that made her moan. She felt the heat of her divinity leaving her and resting for the barest moment in Crowley's mouth before he swallowed, drinking her down, all she could give as she spilled and spilled and spilled. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, pulsing between her legs in time with Crowley’s mouth.
Crowley palmed her other breast as it leaked over his hand. The excess milk he couldn't swallow dripped down the sheets painting them both gold as Crowley slipped between her legs, hard length pressed tight against her soaked underwear.
He released her left breast and kissed her, their mouths smearing with the golden divinity as Crowley shuddered and shook and came all over the gusset of her lace knickers.
"Fuck," Crowley gasped, hips still rutting against the fabric now soaked with both of their fluids.
"Did you-"
Crowley grabbed her and rolled so that she was straddling him. He pushed off her robe, shoving its milk stained sleeves until they pooled on his thighs.
He was still hard. The milk was doing something to both of them. It was - It was - Everything was growing soft and her skin was buzzing. She wondered if Crowley felt it too.
Divinity leaked down her chest, running over the rolls of her belly and beginning to pool on the flat of Crowley's stomach.
He tugged her knickers to the side and slid his cock along the wet line of her sex as he pulled her down atop him. "More. I can take it."
Aziraphale fell forward, breast swaying heavy and still full of milk over Crowley's lips. He took the nipple into his mouth and at this new angle he grasped her breast with his hand, releasing another flood of divinity.
Aziraphale ground down on his cock where it was nestled between her legs, not yet inside her. She felt barely coherent and the friction began to spark inside her along with the waves of relief.
She grasped Crowley's hair, holding him tight to her chest as she shook through a shock of release. It was as if every feather on her wings was alert, every hair on her body standing on end, then a great cascade of pleasure forced her to clamp down around Crowley, holding him tight. She buried her face in his hair, gasping in silent profanity, and beneath her, she felt the hot gush of his answering release, flooding between her legs.
"Fuck," Crowley said when she fell back. Her other breast was still leaking and she reached up to massage it in a stupor. All her muscles struggled to return to function, like they were cast in gelatin.
"I’m almost…" she began muzzily, "I'm almost done."
Crowley licked a drop from the tip of her breast and said, "Do me a favor, angel?"
"Nguh?" Aziraphale asked.
"Sit up a bit."
Aziraphale lurched up onto her knees and was rewarded by Crowley pressing his drenched cock inside her.
She groaned as he pulled her back down, far too lost in sensation to think of any sort of sarcastic rejoiner. Later.
If she remembered. Reality was going a bit sideways.
There was Crowley's mouth, the delicious feel of him inside her, the relief flooding from her, warmth and warmth until she collapsed against him and let the tide of her orgasm wash her away.
**
The next morning over breakfast summoned to bed, Aziraphale did her best to explain her behavior much to Crowley's general incredulity.
"So every thousand years-"
"Give or take."
"You have to milk yourself like a divine cow so you don't explode."
Aziraphale frowned at him over her toast.
"When you put it that way, it sounds silly."
Crowley shrugged and sipped at his tea. "And nothing about heaven is ever silly."
Aziraphale acknowledged, at this point, that was a fair enough assessment.