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Twenty years out of the closet, you’d think that Aziraphale would be better at flirting with men. But then again, he’s never been good at going after what he wants. There was a path laid out for him the moment he came screaming into this world and he’s always been good at walking it.
Was good at walking it, he reminds himself, as he flags down the bartender for something that might help him to remember it.
“Scotch. Neat.”
A group of men wearing suits walk through the door with a clamor and Aziraphale’s gaze lingers on them in the mirror behind the bar. Their ties are loose and their inhibitions looser by the looks of things. They’re almost certainly not here for the same conference that brings Aziraphale to this part of the city. Better that way. He’d rather not see the man he takes back to his room in the audience tomorrow, hanging onto his every word as if he actually has a clue what he’s doing. Twenty years wielding a pen instead of a sword, you’d think he might’ve kicked the imposter syndrome too.
Aziraphale nods at the bartender as he tips the bottle up. “Best make it a double.”
“Long day?”
In the mirror one of the men is spreading his legs and taking up most of a tufted velvet booth. He pops the button at his throat. Catches Aziraphale looking at him and grins instead of looking away.
Maybe it's his lucky day. Maybe he won’t need to flirt at all.
“Long night, I hope.”
The bartender grins too. Winks as he pushes the Scotch toward Aziraphale. “Get ‘m tiger.”
Aziraphale chuckles. Brings the heavy glass to his lips and watches as the man in the mirror’s eyes drop in a way Aziraphale can only assume is meant to look coy. He’s lifting them back up with his lip clenched between his teeth when something catches his eye. His head follows, gaze fixed in the direction of the entrance from the hotel lobby.
Aziraphale shouldn’t be so disappointed. It isn’t the first time he’s played second fiddle to whatever shiny new thing walked through the door and it surely won’t be the last. He isn’t getting any younger and it’s been easy to get soft around the middle when he’s spent the last two decades hunched over a keyboard instead of maintaining Her Majesty’s Armed Forces’ fitness standards. Funny how he got out right when it was okay for a man like him to be in.
Aziraphale doesn’t bother to follow the man’s gaze.
Which is why he nearly spills his Scotch all down the front of himself when he finally notices who has sat down next to him at the bar.
"Anthony Crowley?"
Scrawny little brat used to eat him out of house and home every time Ana dragged him over. Which was just about every other night after they met in some ridiculous counterculture club in year eleven. Wiccans for world peace. Pagans for equality. Something along those lines. Thick as thieves since day one and constantly under foot until the two of them left for uni on opposite sides of the globe. Aziraphale always had a soft spot for the boy, really. A good kid under all that bite he used to keep the bullies at bay. Bullies that probably grew up to drool over him not unlike the suit Aziraphale was about to try to tempt into bed.
Not that Aziraphale can blame the man. Crowley was never an ugly duckling, but he's certainly grown into those legs. Which brush against him as he swivels on his stool and leans an elbow on the bar. Aziraphale doesn’t mean to let his gaze drag all the way down to the toes of his snakeskin boots, but he’s only human. There’s a reason the man sprawled in the booth behind them is still staring.
Crowley doesn't even glance in his direction.
"Mr. Fell. What're the odds?"
"Ana didn't tell me you were in town."
Crowley only shrugs and waves a finger at the bartender. Orders a Manhattan, which a few years ago would have made Aziraphale laugh. It seems fitting, though, looking at him today, with his too-tight jeans and perfectly vintage bebop tee pulled into a vee by the designer sunglasses hung on the collar.
"Look at you all grown up. How long has it been?"
"Too long."
"Ana says you've been doing well. Got your Masters last year?"
Crowley runs a fingertip along the edge of the bar and looks up through thick lashes. “Talk about me often, do you?”
Aziraphale hesitates. If he didn’t know better, he might think he was being flirted with.
“All the time.”
Surely this isn't flirting. He’s so bad at it he wouldn’t know for sure, but the grin unfurling across Crowley’s face is far too lascivious to convince him otherwise. Crowley lets him stew in his own discomfort for another breath. Waits for the bartender to set his drink in front of him and takes a long sip before he says another word.
"Would've probably never gone to uni without her, you know? Without you."
Aziraphale laughs. He doesn't mean to, but he wasn't expecting such an abrupt turn in the conversation. And besides, it’s not like he ever went to uni. Straight to the military after he finished secondary. Had taken up the family mantle just like he'd always been expected to. And sure, he'd hoped his daughter might follow her own path rather than his, had encouraged her to get an education and follow her dreams like he wished he'd done right out the gate, but he doesn't know what any of that has to do with Crowley.
"I'm serious. Only reason I tried in school. Got the grades for that scholarship in the States. Was only ever trying to impress you."
Aziraphale nearly falls off his barstool. "Impress me?"
"Of course!"
"Why me?"
Crowley’s grin hasn’t budged. He bumps Aziraphale’s knee with his own. "Oh, c'mon. You know."
"I don't."
"You do." This time when Crowley’s knee knocks into him it stays there.
"I really don't."
"I've had a crush on you since I was sixteen. I remember one time I came by to study maths with Ana and you came out of the bathroom in these wee pants… Ana was mortified. I spent the afternoon with a pillow in my lap. Still think of that sometimes." He laughs and leans his elbow on the bar. “Ok, all the time.”
"You're teasing me." Aziraphale can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to that skinny knee still pressed against him.
"I'm serious! It was a sexual awakening. Spent the next week chafed. Fuck, who am I kidding? Spent the next year chafed."
Aziraphale can't help but be flattered even though he's still not entirely sure Crowley isn't just taking the piss. He must be wearing his uncertainty on his face. Crowley swirls the drink in his glass and leans close, brow lifted.
"Why do you think I was always hanging around? Mowing the grass in the summer? Was hoping you might notice when I took my shirt off. Fulfill all those fantasies I couldn't get out of my head."
"You were a kid."
"I'm not a kid anymore."
No. He certainly isn't. He looks a bit like he could sell luxury cars or expensive watches. Like he could pick up absolutely anyone in this bar with nothing more than a wayward glance.
And yet here he is, knee tucked up against Aziraphale's own, plucking a cherry from its stem with his teeth in a way that makes Aziraphale wonder just how grown he is.
"You have a tattoo." Crowley's fingertip lands on the top of Aziraphale's thigh. "Right here. Remember it like it was yesterday." His finger traces the shape of it. Drags up toward his crotch and back down the outside of his hip. A simple touch, but one that makes Aziraphale's heart thump.
"I got that when I was young. It's silly, really."
"The one here, is it just silly too?" The fingertip still lingering on his thigh lifts to his chest to trace the poppies that are hidden under his shirt. The actual reason he hung up his best blue and never made officer. Which would have been enough to get him disowned even without everything that had come after.
When Crowley's circled the last petal, he trails his finger to Aziraphale's bicep.
"And what about this one?"
He spells out each word.
per ardua ad astra
Funny how that one always felt more meaningful after he left the RAF.
Crowley finally draws his hand away, but Aziraphale can feel his eyes tracing every single one of his secrets. For better or worse, the bits that made him into the man he is today.
"It was a formative experience, ya know? Seeing you all inked up under that posh exterior. All the guys I dated in college had tattoos. Some of em even looked like you. Blond. Thick."
He says thick like it's something filthy. Like he's getting turned on by the feel of the word in his mouth.
Or maybe that's just Aziraphale projecting.
He always did have something for a twink. Someone that made him feel strong.
"S'that so?"
"No one’s ever quite lived up to the real deal."
“You wouldn’t know, though, would you?” Aziraphale’s treading into dangerous territory and he just can’t seem to stop himself. It’s like walking into quicksand. Every step is making it harder and harder to turn around. The more he tries to convince himself that he should pay his tab and retire to his room alone, the more enticing the prospect of doing the opposite becomes.
Aziraphale's palm lands on the apple tattooed on his thigh while his eyes climb up and down the forbidden fruit grinning at him over the rim of his rocks glass.
“You could always enlighten me.”
The moment the lift door closes Crowley's got his fingers on Aziraphale's belt, dragging himself close since he can't seem to make Aziraphale budge.
"There are cameras in here."
"And what, you think the guy keeping an eye on things is gonna send the video to Ana?"
"Same smart mouth you've always had, I see."
"I dunno." Crowley grins. The tip of his tongue touches the point of a canine. "Might've picked up a few new tricks."
The doors slide open and this time it's Aziraphale that drags Crowley around. Takes him by the waist and yanks him into the corridor. Pushes until his back hits the wall opposite.
Crowley's chest swells and his lips part and Aziraphale can already feel his cock poking into his leg as he wedges a knee between his thighs. Crowley nods his head at the empty corridor as he runs his palms up Aziraphale's chest and stretches up on tiptoe.
"Room's that way. Six six six. Very end."
When he can't quite reach Aziraphale's lips he kisses his throat instead. His breath on the damp left behind makes Aziraphale shiver, although nowhere near as badly as the words that are carried on it.
"But just say the word and you can have me right here."
Fuck.
Aziraphale can't believe he's doing this. Or that his hands have found Crowley's belt buckle seemingly of their own accord. He's nearly got it undone when a peel of laughter from a door opening down the corridor brings him to stillness. Aziraphale darts his eyes toward the sound and then back to Crowley.
"Six six six?"
Crowley pushes Aziraphale away with a single fingertip. The same fingertip that had dragged up his thigh not five minutes ago. He hooks it through Aziraphale's belt loop and it holds just as much power now as it did then. Aziraphale goes without protest. Follows Crowley with his eyes cast low and wonders just when exactly he started to walk like that. Follows him all the way to the room at the end of the corridor and keeps going until he's pressed flush against Crowley's back while he slots the key card into the reader.
Crowley presses back into him. Grinds his arse against Aziraphale's crotch while the light on the door turns from red to green.
Aziraphale mutters toward the ceiling, "We shouldn't do this."
They shouldn't.
But that doesn't stop him. He's already got Crowley's zipper down as the door swings open. It’s barely clicked shut behind them again when Aziraphale shoves his trousers down around his hips and takes his cock in hand.
Crowley’s belly seizes against his knuckles. His head falls back against Aziraphale’s chest and he tips his chin up to meet his gaze, pupils wide in the dim glow of a bedside lamp.
"Mmm, daddy."
Aziraphale's hand freezes. He can feel a grimace twisting his mouth.
Crowley cringes back at him.
"No?"
"No."
"Az-"
"Mr. Fell."
The words have left his mouth before he can stop them. He'd shrivel with embarrassment but that smug grin is back on Crowley's face. Bitten in the middle this time. Perfect white teeth catching his bottom lip in a way that makes the blood rush back to Aziraphale's cock as quickly as the word daddy had left him limp.
"I always knew you were a bit of a freak."
The shame burning in Aziraphale's gut only makes his cock throb harder. He can hardly believe it when he opens his mouth again.
"Say it."
You wouldn't think, after everything Crowley's confessed tonight, that Aziraphale would be surprised by the look on his face. Like it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard. And yet somehow Aziraphale's breath hitches at the sight of it. And then again when Crowley wraps his hand around Aziraphale's where he's still got a hold on his cock and squeezes.
"Please, Mr. Fell." His hips cant up and he slides through Aziraphale's grip. "Fuck, I want it so bad."
Aziraphale drags his palm up Crowley's belly. Spreads it wide across his ribs and pushes his own hips against Crowley's arse.
"How hard are you willing to work for it?"
He only gets a groan in response before Crowley's slipping out of his grip and stripping his shirt off over his head, sunglasses clattering to the ground and immediately forgotten. He bends at the hip, bare arse snug against Aziraphale's groin, to unlace his boots and Aziraphale's hands are trailing up his spine in an instant. He has to wonder, once again, if they have a mind completely of their own. Especially when they work their way back down Crowley's waist and over his hips to shove his trousers down his thighs. By the time they drag back up and spread Crowley's cheeks, he's sure of it.
Crowley groans and works his trousers the rest of the way off while Aziraphale's still groping and gawking. Takes longer than he probably needs to slip them over his feet before he straightens up and stalks away, hips swaying. He crooks that one single finger over his shoulder and Aziraphale's at his mercy once again. Steps into the circle of lamplight illuminating the room and has a seat at the end of the bed the moment Crowley points. As his arse hits the mattress he realizes that Crowley might make him feel strong but that doesn't mean he's in charge.
He pretends anyway. Snags Crowley by the bicep and yanks him down onto his lap. The wanton thing moans when he does it. Then takes a fistful of Aziraphale's hair and moans again as he brings their mouths together.
Somehow, even though he's had Crowley's cock in his hand and his lips on his throat, this is what makes it all feel real. Anthony Crowley is naked in his lap and unbuttoning his trousers and Aziraphale shouldn't, but he most definitely is, about to fuck him within an inch of his life.
It makes him feel filthy.
Which only makes his cock throb harder.
There's a smile spreading across Crowley's face that forces their mouths apart. He takes a moment to study Aziraphale before he finally laughs.
"I can't believe this is finally happening."
Aziraphale's heart is thundering in his chest, and still he shakes his head. "It won't happen again."
Crowley's smile doesn't slip. Doesn't even twitch.
"Do me a favor then? Don't let it end too soon."
He moves like liquid. Slips off Aziraphale's thighs and puddles between his knees. And he looks so damn good there Aziraphale isn't sure he couldn't come just like this. Just from the anticipation.
Crowley sits back on his heels and yanks Aziraphale's waistband until he lifts his hips and lets him pull them down to his ankles. His hands climb over the sword inked into the back of Aziraphale's calf and then up to touch the flowering apple branch on his thigh. Outlines the plump fruit nestled among the leaves. Traces the missing bite with his fingertip and then matches it with his teeth. Crowley’s nose tickles all the way across the crease of Aziraphale's thigh until his cock is pressed against his cheek.
"Big everywhere, aren't you, Mr. Fell?"
"Is it too much for you to handle?"
Crowley wraps his hand around him and Aziraphale watches his eyes go big when his thumb and middle finger don't quite touch.
"Not at all."
Aziraphale doesn't have time to say anything else before Crowley's tongue is running up his length and back down again. He looks so pleased when he finally takes Aziraphale between his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and his eyes crinkling at the corners, that Aziraphale can't help but tilt his hips up to push himself toward Crowley's throat. It only makes Crowley's smile get bigger. Big enough that he has to slip back off Aziraphale's cock entirely.
"That the best you've got then?"
"Oh, Mr. Fell. I'm just getting warmed up."
As Crowley takes his cock again he finds Aziraphale's hand where it's fisted in the blanket draped across the foot of the bed. Pries his fingers loose and puts them in his hair where they clench just as tightly.
Every time Aziraphale slides into his mouth Crowley hums like he's the one getting sucked off and it catapults him straight to that razor's edge. The feeling of those long fingers wrapping tight around either ankle while Aziraphale slowly fucks his mouth threatens to send him over.
Crowley's eyes flutter and roll back in his head and Aziraphale would like to believe he's being benevolent when he wrenches his cock out of his throat, but really he can't conceive of this ending so soon either. Not when that tight little body is just waiting to be wrecked.
There's a trail of saliva connecting Crowley's tongue to his cock and it makes Aziraphale feel mad. Feverish. Before he can properly get a hold on himself he's ripping his shirt over his head and hauling Crowley up onto the bed. Flipping him onto his stomach even as he's reaching over his head toward the bedside table. Aziraphale's already sucking a bruise into the back of Crowley's thigh before he sees the lube and condoms waiting there. He works a finger between Crowley's cheeks and teases as he crawls far enough up the bed to snatch them up.
"Optimistic."
"I'm good at getting what I want."
Aziraphale slicks a finger and slips it inside Crowley. The gasp he gets in response is almost too good. Aziraphale thrusts his finger deep and works his other hand between Crowley's legs. Finds Crowley's cock where it's trapped between his belly and the bed to try to get him to make that sound again. Crowley's hips inch off the mattress and he presses them backwards. His fingers curl in the duvet and he scrambles to get his knees under himself while Aziraphale strokes his cock in long, slow pulls toward the mattress. With just the right quirk of his finger he gets Crowley to gasp again.
"What if you hadn't found something you wanted?"
"You're the keynote speaker. I knew I'd find you eventually."
So that chance encounter at the hotel bar wasn't so random after all.
Maybe Aziraphale should care but it's getting easier to ignore should every time he does it.
That peek of pink between Crowley's parted lips as he turns over his shoulder helps too.
"More, Mr. Fell."
Crowley's fists squeeze. He shoves his hips back. And Aziraphale was already going to give him what he wants but he still likes it when Crowley rasps, "Please," against the duvet.
Aziraphale gives him another finger.
Leans down and gives him his tongue too. Laps at the place Crowley's squeezing his knuckles tight.
So tight.
His heart races as he imagines replacing his fingers with his cock. Still, he lets Crowley take his time. Finds that familiar little swollen patch inside him to rub as Crowley thrusts his hips back against his fist until he finally says please again.
Aziraphale doesn't ask if he's sure again. Just spreads Crowley's legs with his knees while he rolls the condom on. He tries to tease, but the moment his cock touches him Crowley's pushing his hips backwards and once Aziraphale's inside him he can't stop. Grabs Crowley by the hips and curses as he pulls and pushes all at once.
Crowley curses too. Then grabs Aziraphale's wrist and squeezes. "Shit, slow down."
"Sorry." Aziraphale freezes. Realizes he's gripping Crowley hard enough he might bruise. The dimples under his fingers go from white to pink as he loosens his grip. "I'm sorry. You just… you feel… god."
The hand still wrapped around Aziraphale's wrist tugs. "Said slow down, not stop."
Aziraphale laughs. Crowley sounds every bit the bratty teenager he once knew. Which makes him feel like a lech. Which is all it takes to get his hips moving again. Slow, shallow thrusts that make Crowley whine. A little deeper every time until finally he wraps his hands around Crowley's waist and pulls his arse flush against his belly.
The sound Crowley makes when he does is going to haunt Aziraphale in the best possible way. He has to pause again to catch his breath and convince his body it's too soon to come. Staring down at his thumbs touching at Crowley's spine is apparently a pretty good counterpoint. His cock jumps and Crowley groans and he must groan back because Crowley turns back and grins at him over his shoulder as he works his hips in a circle. It’s all so good that Aziraphale's body threatens to buckle. He drapes himself over Crowley while it's still his choice. Lets his weight press Crowley flat against the mattress.
Crowley shudders beneath him. Murmurs, "Oh my God, yes," as he spreads his legs wider and stretches out long, hands reaching up toward the headboard.
Aziraphale follows them. Interlaces their fingers and keeps them there as he rolls his hips up. Lets himself enjoy the way Crowley's eyes squeeze shut. The way his lips part for a single choked groan.
He nips the shell of Crowley's ear as he does it again. "Is it everything you imagined?"
Aziraphale only gets a half nod in response.
"More?"
He gets the same half nod.
"Let me hear you."
Crowley smiles at that. Opens his eyes and cranes his neck so their lips are nearly touching when he says, "Yes, Mr. Fell."
It's almost a shame to be fucking in such a sturdy bed, Aziraphale rather enjoys the shudder and squeak that reminds him how much he can give. But then again, Crowley is doing a pretty good job all on his own. Is just as noisy as his bed frame back home. Every heavy thrust of his hips makes Crowley gasp or curse or, when he gets the angle just right, shout.
Aziraphale drives down into him for as long as he can. Pushes himself until he's teetering on a knife's edge and he's sure that one more thrust into that perfect, tight little hole is going to end him.
Crowley makes a sound like a wounded animal when Aziraphale pulls out and sits back on his heels. The look he casts over his shoulder is verging on wild. When Aziraphale laughs it goes fully feral.
"Bastard."
Aziraphale strokes Crowley's thigh as he struggles to get his hands under his shoulders. "I want you to come first."
Crowley presses up to all fours with trembling arms, cock hanging heavy between his legs. "Could've come just like that. Was so close."
There's a satisfying yelp as Aziraphale gets an arm around Crowley's waist and pulls his back flush against his chest. And then an even more satisfying groan as he lines up his cock and lets Crowley sink down. "I want you to come like this."
Aziraphale keeps one arm wrapped around Crowley's belly and takes his cock in the other hand.
"Want to see you work."
"Yes sir." Crowley's already flexing his thighs to bounce in Aziraphale's lap. Hard and fast right from the start. Every time he comes down his belly quivers and Aziraphale can tell he's holding out. Clinging desperately to the edge to make this last just a little longer.
But despite Crowley's best efforts, Aziraphale's orgasm is rushing up on him fast. His heart is pounding and his toes are beginning to curl and it’s starting to sink in how badly he wants this to last too. He kisses the back of Crowley's shoulder and mumbles against him. "I want to suck your cock next time."
Crowley's head tips back and Aziraphale puts his teeth on his throat. Thrusts up into him as Crowley's legs start to tense.
"I can promise you," Crowley's fingernails dig into Aziraphale's arm. His jaw drops but all that comes out is a squeak. "Not one of those cheap imitations comes close to the real deal."
The come that spills over Aziraphale's knuckles is as hot as the searing clench of Crowley's body, but it's the broken "Mr. Fell," that comes out of his mouth that makes Aziraphale come too. His vision blurs. His breath catches. It's all he can do to hold on tight to Crowley. Hold him close to his chest as his orgasm rips through him. Keep him there even as his body gives out and they collapse onto the bed together.
Tremors are still making their way from Crowley's belly to his toes when he turns his face and catches Aziraphale's lips. He grins as he lets his mouth fall away.
"Next time?"
"Jesus, fucking Christ, don't stop. Fuck! Don't stop."
Aziraphale should have left last night. Should have put his trousers back on and slunk back down to his own room and prayed that Crowley never mentioned it again.
What has should ever gotten him in life, though?
Should didn't get him out of the military. It didn't get him out of a loveless marriage. It sure as shit didn't get him a best-selling book. And it didn't get him a twenty-three-year-old fox riding his cock like there's no tomorrow. Asking him not to stop like he's doing anything but holding on and enjoying the show.
Fuck should.
"Mr. Fell…"
Aziraphale squeezes his arse and meets him halfway. "Aziraphale."
Crowley's brow crinkles. He mouths his name as he comes all over Aziraphale's belly without either of them having touched his cock.
This morning at least.
Eventually last night Crowley had pried himself from Aziraphale's arms and drawn a bath. Ordered up a bottle of wine that sat untouched while Aziraphale brought him off again. And then a third time.
When Aziraphale woke up this morning with Crowley draped across his chest, the morning sun lighting him up like some kind of fallen angel, he couldn't resist having him again.
Crowley folds forward and kisses Aziraphale while his cock is still spitting weakly. Gives Aziraphale the opportunity to hold him by the hair with one hand and the arse by the other and fuck him until he can't stave off his orgasm a moment longer. Until he's moaning Crowley's name into his mouth and trying to remember when he last came four times in twelve hours.
"You've still got a couple hours before your talk." Crowley's lips are wandering across his jaw. Up to his eyelids and back down to his mouth. All Aziraphale can seem to do is hum in response and hold him closer. "We could get breakfast."
Aziraphale should really say no.