Work Text:
Aziraphale: Two appointments tonight, love, don’t expect me home early. x
Crowley: think of me angel xx
Aziraphale: Oh darling, you know I have to give them my full attention. Be a good boy and finish up the laundry while you wait for me.
Crowley: yes angel
Crowley huffs a sigh and sets his phone down. Two appointments means Aziraphale won’t be home for four hours, at the very least. It’s seven pm already, so that puts arrival home at eleven pm. Or later. Perhaps he’s meeting his first client tonight for an intimate dinner before escorting him up to a hotel room with silk sheets and plush pillows.
Aziraphale and a faceless, nameless stranger, tangling their bodies together for an hour of passion. Crowley pictures it, the sweat glistening on their skin, Aziraphale’s sweet sighs in someone else’s ear, someone else getting all of Aziraphale’s attention and praise until it coalesces to a peak. The stranger will tip Aziraphale well, and angle for another kiss before he’s gently prodded out the door so Aziraphale can make ready for his next customer.
Imagining the scene isn’t doing Crowley any favors. He adjusts his hard-on in his jeans and snatches up the laundry basket. Both of them need clean underwear for tomorrow, so he hauls the load over to the wash and pours in the soap and tries not to imagine Aziraphale’s body covered in suds in a hotel suite shower. Preening for the second partner he’ll take to bed.
Crowley’s hand drifts down and rubs his cock, just a bit to take off the edge, but he snatches it away again. Aziraphale’s text had said “while you wait for me,” and Crowley knows the subtle command there. Aziraphale wants him hard and denied by the time he gets home, and if he asks if Crowley pleasured himself, he won’t be able to lie.
So instead he forces himself to ignore his persistent erection. In the living room he turns on the telly to a Star Trek rerun for background noise while he waters the house plants and straightens up the clutter. Aziraphale isn’t expecting him to clean the whole house, but on a night he’s serving clients, Crowley is too full of nervous, horny energy to sit and mindlessly scroll twitter on his phone. Cleaning at least keeps his hands busy so he doesn’t touch, even if it remains a poor distraction from the images dancing through his mind.
Aziraphale on his knees sucking off a pretty young thing. Aziraphale bouncing his plentiful arse on someone else’s cock. Aziraphale bending someone else over and fucking them so hard they see stars. Aziraphale with countless men Crowley will never see or know, fulfilling their secret fantasies, giving them mind-blowing orgasms.
Crowley is a wretched, wanting thing.
Sometimes he thinks he’ll be satisfied if only he can watch, even just once, just to see what Aziraphale looks like while he pleasures a perfect stranger. Crowley could be unobtrusive, could sit tied up and gagged in a corner so he wouldn’t be a bother. Silent and forgettable so he doesn’t interrupt the hour the client has paid for with his partner. Surely that would be permissible, if Crowley wasn’t in the way.
He just needs to know if Aziraphale moans for them the way he does with Crowley. If his eyes look just as sappy, if he runs his fingers over their pulse points the same. If they get all that angelic devotion Crowley craves so madly.
His untouched cock throbs.
The door creaks, announcing Aziraphale’s return home.
It’s late, far past midnight. Crowley hasn’t slept a wink yet.
He scrambles to stretch out across the sofa in what’s supposed to be a nonchalant pose as Aziraphale steps from the entryway into the living room.
Aziraphale raises an eyebrow and clicks his tongue. “Naughty boy.”
Crowley grimaces in mortification. Neither of his hands are touching his cock now, but his erection still pokes out of his pants. It’s so hard that the wet tip pokes out of the foreskin. The scene obvious to Aziraphale that Crowley had been stroking himself without permission.
It’s just that as the hours passed and Aziraphale stayed out, Crowley got far too wrapped up in feverish imaginings of the hot, filthy sex Aziraphale must be engaging in without him.
It’s utterly humiliating how much this arouses him, knowing the love of his life is having sex for money, leaving him all alone, his own needs unregarded.
Aziraphale shakes his head but makes no more remark on the shameful state of him.
“How was your night?” Crowley croaks, voice strained.
“Oh, it was lovely, thank you for asking. The first gentleman had such a wonderfully big cock. It was quite the exciting challenge, trying to fellate him.” Aziraphale smiles now, dreamy, as he remembers his client’s impressive package. Then his eyes drop back to Crowley’s lewd display. He grimaces apologetically. “Not that yours isn’t perfectly adequate, of course,” he adds.
Crowley winces. His cock isn’t that small. Right? It’s average, decent. Okay, maybe slightly below the average and a bit thin to boot, but it’s proportional to his body right?
His face flushes hot down his neck, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.
“Don’t look so forlorn, love. I’ll give it a quick suck another time, hm?” Aziraphale pats Crowley’s cheek as he walks past him, headed for the bedroom.
A quick suck. Because of course it’ll be no work at all to blow Crowley’s humiliating size. Hell, Crowley will probably shoot his load within two minutes of having those plush angel lips wrapped around him. It’s been so long since Aziraphale touched him sexually at all, much less stooped to get on his knees for him.
The frantic, irregular wanks in the shower when the want boils over into mindless, shameful need never quite satisfy the burning ache for Aziraphale’s touch.
He won’t call a stop to this, though. He’s never been so goddamned horny in his life since Aziraphale took on this line of work, as maddening as it is.
Despite being aware that it’s entirely futile, Crowley pleads his case anyway. “I’m so hard for you angel. Been thinking about you coming home all night. Couldn’t we at least—”
Aziraphale cuts him off, voice floating through the open door down the hall to Crowley. “Not tonight. I’m much too tired after that last fellow. He was incredibly vigorous. Quite the stamina in those legs.” Aziraphale is sounding a bit giddy again as he recalls it.
Crowley flounders. His cock is leaking a wet spot onto his trousers — throbbing as much as if he was still stroking it, due only to seeing Aziraphale in his mind’s eye bent over a mattress and taken by a vigorous, skilled stranger.
“W-what if I just — can I suck you?” he calls, the whine threading through his words particularly unbecoming. If he could only be with Aziraphale in some way. Get any part of him, hands, mouth, anything, on that fat uncut cock. Have the privilege of pleasuring him.
“No, no,” Aziraphale tsks. “I’m done in. I’ve already climaxed twice this evening. There’s nothing left in me.”
Unbidden, Crowley’s hands curl into fists. His nails bite into the palms.
Aziraphale came twice in one night? At his age? Just how good were these paying customers tonight? Is sex with Crowley really so unremarkable that being with anyone else excites Aziraphale that much?
His cock spurts another drop of precome, the dark spot on his trousers growing.
“Come to bed, love. It’s late.”
Crowley follows. Of course he does. There's nowhere else for him, no one else he could love with his entire, pitiful heart.
Settled into bed, Aziraphale rests against a pile of pillows with his hands tucked over his belly. His face is the picture of peace.
Through the dark Crowley strains his eyes to watch him from where he's curled on his side. He's awake long past Aziraphale, his aching cock keeping him from drifting off as his mind summons increasingly filthy images of the activities Aziraphale got up to without him to leave him so perfectly content.
He doesn't know when sleep claims him, but he wakes pressed up against plush heat. His morning wood is insistent, pulsing wet and hot where the tip peeks out of his foreskin and drips into his pyjamas. It feels so good, too lush to resist, as Crowley lets his hips rock, sliding his cock against the soft heated body in bed next to him.
"Wake up. Crowley, wake up."
The irritated voice and a firm hand jostling his shoulder rouses Crowley from the final dregs of sleep. He opens bleary eyes to see Aziraphale glaring with a pinched expression.
"That's a rather rude way to wake up. You can't even contain yourself for one night? I swear it's like I live with a horny puppy! So ill behaved."
Crowley whines at the harsh scrape of the words even as he stills his humping, face rapidly growing scarlet at the realisation that the sound only confirms Aziraphale's description of him.
The ensuing deep sigh from Aziraphale is both displeased and resigned. "Fine. If you wish to disgrace yourself you may finish this way, but don't come begging to me later with your little penis hard and needy again."
Another mortifying whine pries out of his throat as Crowley hides his face against Aziraphale's shoulder. He complies immediately once given permission, however. The pace of his hips is frantic as he ruts against his husband. It's rare to even be granted this release recently, with how many clients Aziraphale has been taking on, depleting his libido with others.
Every thrust is blessed, terrible friction. The cotton pyjamas are a soft material, but still not as easy as the grip of a slick fist or wet mouth. Yet he's been denied long enough his cock is dripping a veritable fountain, and soon the cotton is soaked through enough to provide a bit of slipperiness.
“Tell me about last night,” Crowley gasps. “Were they hot? Was it fun?”
Aziraphale sniffs disdainfully. “They were more polite than you.”
Crowley clutches at Aziraphale’s nightshirt as he humps his thigh, and it’s terribly rude. His awareness of the fact doesn’t stop him or slow the harried thrusts. “Please. Please. You said you came twice. How did they make you come?”
The sigh Aziraphale heaves is annoyed. “I’m indulging you far too much. I ought to make you behave. But fine. The first gentleman, as I told you last night, had a truly impressive cock. I took my time sucking it because it deserved to be appreciated. And of course I gave those lovely, large testicles attention with my hands. So perfectly round and full, and he made delicious noises every time I gave them a bit of a squeeze.”
With his eyes shut Crowley shudders against Aziraphale’s frame. The shame twists like a blade in his belly as he pictures the beautiful cock Aziraphale enjoyed worshipping. Aziraphale hasn’t sucked him off with that sort of devoted attention in ages.
Aziraphale ignores him and goes on. “He didn’t want to finish that way however. Eventually he asked to ride me on the bed. He had quite a tight little arse, and I finished him with my hand before I came inside him.”
Crowley garbles a swear mixed with a cough. “You came inside him?!” He hasn’t felt the rush of Aziraphale’s come in far too long, and he gave it to a nameless twat? The edge of horny humiliation turns sour in his stomach.
“In the prophylactic. Really, Crowley, what sort of slattern do you take me for?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Crowley mumbles. The reassurance steadies him, but quickly on the heels of that feeling roars more embarrassment. Of course Aziraphale isn’t foolish enough to fuck clients without a condom.
All the while his hips work, keeping up that pressure and friction on his cock. His foreskin rubs deliciously against the frenulum. He’s on the verge of coming and it’s been barely five minutes, but he grits his teeth and waits to hear the rest of Aziraphale’s tale.
“The second gentleman had a cock that was a bit smaller than the first, but still quite girthy. A specimen to be proud of, most certainly. He asked to watch while I prepped myself and then he took me with a great deal of prowess. I climaxed on his cock alone, and the feeling was positively transcendent! All the lovely deep pressure on my prostate. My orgasm lasted so long. After my legs were shaking too badly to hold myself up and I collapsed onto the bed below him. He drew out and finished on my back, the cheeky thing.”
Crowley sucks in a tight breath, his jaw clenched as he tries to stave off his own finish. He’s so close now, from hearing how heavenly Aziraphale’s hands-free orgasm was, and it burns like spilled tea. With so many talented and gorgeous men to fuck now, how will he ever compare?
“It was spectacular fun. I should have taken up this work years ago,” Aziraphale continues, heedless of Crowley’s whiny, desperate pants. “It’s hardly even work. I do hope one or both of those men return for more. I may have suggested as such to the second. It’s not every day you find a man with a cock so blessed that penetration alone does it after all!”
Crowley comes with a cry. It’s rather pathetic really, his voice gone nasally and his semen spurting into his nightclothes like a pubescent brat having a wet dream. It soaks through his own pyjamas and leaves Aziraphale’s sticky as well.
Aziraphale waits for him to be finished, and when the humping stops at last, he peels away from Crowley. With a wrinkle of his nose he examines the come stain on his pyjamas. “Hm. Well it seems you have more laundry to do now.”
“Fuck the damned laundry,” Crowley mutters. He rolls onto his back and flops an arm over his burning face while he waits for his heartrate to slow.
A moment later, Aziraphale’s hand cards through his sweaty hair. “There now, love, do you feel better now that you got it all out?”
The urge to pout and refuse an answer is strong, but the fingers petting his scalp are too sweet to resist. Crowley scrunches up his face as he replies. “Yeah. Thank you for letting me come.”
“You’re welcome. Shall we get you into the bathroom for a shower? I’ll clean your messy little cock for you, hm?”
Crowley peeks a hopeful eye out from beneath his arm.
“With a cloth, not my mouth,” Aziraphale tuts.
Crowley grumbles at that, but lets himself be prodded into the bathroom. It’s reassuring anyhow, of Aziraphale’s care for him as they step into the spray together.
And maybe, just maybe, as they wash up, Crowley thinks if he’s good enough the rest of the day, tonight he can try proposing his little idea of watching Aziraphale with a client. Aziraphale truly loves the sight of him bound and denied after all.