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It was the storm of the decade. God was testing Job and she wasn't messing around. The roaring tempest was shredding crops and trees in its path and every time a lightning bolt struck, it shattered the ground. Crumbling buildings and falling boulders rumbled outside and the wind howled through every cleft it could find.
Inside, however, it wasn’t as bad. Hearing the rattling in the distance, knowing they were shielded by sturdy walls, made it rather comfortable. Sure, the cellar had taken a hit when they had crashed through its ceiling, and the interior was rudimentary at best but at least they were safe and sheltered. And most importantly: They were alone. Except for three baby lizards, but those were safely stowed away in a handmade pot in a corner.
Crawley took another sip from his chalice. The wine left a mildly dry taste on his tongue and spread more pleasant warmth in his throat and down his stomach. It wasn’t the best wine he had ever drunk but it had a solid bouquet, just like his improvised lounging chair was reasonably comfortable. And just like he would rather have loads of mediocre wine than nothing at all, he preferred to lounge on a pile of straw bags than stand in a corner for the entire night.
And it was a seat with a view to boot. Crawley’s eyes had been lingering on the angel across the room for quite a while now. Since their inconclusive conversation about sides, Aziraphale hadn’t turned back around to him and Crawley wondered if he had said too much. It was unlikely that the angel would inform Upstairs, but Crawley wasn’t worried for himself. For just a second he had seen what his well-chosen words had planted behind the blue eyes. At the moment, it was only a little seed of doubt, easy enough to ignore, but he wasn’t so sure anymore if Aziraphale was able to handle what it could grow to be.
If his current response was any indication, he was one to indulge himself in pleasure to suppress unwanted thoughts. Pleasure, in this case, was vociferously eating half an ox. Crawley still could only see Aziraphale’s back, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have guessed the sounds he made originated from some other activity than eating. Something a lot more sinful than gluttony.
Crawley quietly chuckled to himself before taking another sip of wine. So much for the superstition that Angels couldn’t be tempted. It seemed like he had just uncovered another one of Heaven’s holier-than-thou lies. Or maybe Aziraphale was a particularly temptable angel, which would put Crawley in even bigger trouble. He had long since suspected, that the former Guardian of the Western Gate was particularly susceptible to demonic influences. And if that was the case, Crawley wasn’t sure for how long he could refrain from doing something stupid.
He took the last sip of wine from his chalice and asked, “How’s the food?”
Aziraphale turned around, holding not one but two gnawed-off ribs in his hands. He was still chewing, and his mouth and chin were shiny with smeared grease. “Heavenly,” he enthused and a small crumb of ox meat fell from his mouth. “Absolutely delightful. I can’t believe humans get to have this every day.”
“Mhm,” Crawley replied. At least from the distance, he couldn’t read anything unusual in Aziraphale’s eyes. If his words had caused either aversion or curiosity, they probably had been pushed very far in the back of the angel's head. “Hard to believe God keeps such a delight from us, eh?”
“Indeed it is,” Aziraphale agreed and reached for a piece of cloth to clean his hands and mouth. Then he paused, startled, and looked in shock at the half-eaten ox in front of him. A horrified expression formed on his face, so apparent Crawley saw it clearly from afar. The napkin fell to the floor as he stumbled away from the table. His hand flew up to cover his mouth but Crawley heard his whispered words. “I sinned.”
“Nah, you didn’t,” Crawley replied, carefully keeping the frustration out of his voice. He had had almost an hour of angelic gluttony to prepare himself for this inevitable conversation. And Aziraphale’s face turned into the exact look of contradiction Crawley had expected. “I mean, yeah, technically you did,” Crawley added. “But it’s barely a real sin. It’s just gluttony. It’s not like you lied to thwart the will of god.” He shrugged. Being the demon he was, he likely was biased, but for his money, half the deadly sins couldn’t even account to be actual sins. And had Aziraphale actually lied to thwart the will of god, he probably would have applauded him. Not that that was likely to happen any time soon.
“It’s fine,” Crawley said and looked Aziraphale firmly in the eye. “Trust me.”
For a moment the undeniable question of “Why should I trust you?” hung in the air between them. Crawley saw it form behind Aziraphale’s lips, but it remained unspoken. Finally, he nodded, stepped further away from the ox’ remains and didn’t dare look at it again.
Crawley continued to eye him. With his shoulders slumped down and him wringing his hands in front of his belly, the angel gave a rather poor impression.
“You still don’t want the wine?” Crawley asked, knowing how well wine worked when it came to suppressing unwanted emotions. Aziraphale rejected it again and a fleet of guilt overcame Crawley. The angel might be temptable, but handling the aftermath wasn’t his strong suit. Crawley grimaced and downed the chalice he had prepared for him earlier, the very last bit of wine they had had in this cellar.
—-
The storm outside was still raging and rumour had it, it would last the entire night. Crawley had started to fiddle with the empty chalice. When he couldn’t think of any more ways to spin it around his hands he started to knock it against the depleted clay jug to see how many different sounds it could make. Eventually, he ended up pulling single stalks of straw out of the bags he was lounging on. Crawley sighed. He better found some sort of activity for the night or he would discorporate of boredom.
His eyes roamed the room for something interesting and found Aziraphale. He had sat down on a stool that seemed so uncomfortable, it hurt Crawley’s buttocks just looking at it.
“What?” Only the irritated question made Crawley realise he had been openly staring at the angel. He deliberately kept looking, noticing how Aziraphale’s face went from confusion to suspicion. He also saw the little creases forming on his forehead and the minuscule pursing of his lips. Clenching his jaw, Crawley tried to keep his thoughts in check. He didn’t want to cause the angelic mind any more trouble, but he did wonder how far he could take it. What else could Aziraphale be tempted to, when it was only the two of them and long hours to kill?
In a knee-jerk decision, he got up from the bags and sauntered across the room. “So,” he said, stretching the vowel and letting it get caught in the tension between them. “Any plans for the night?” He lifted his chin with a cheeky smile, donning his best temptation face.
Aziraphale either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. “I was planning on just waiting it out,” he said flatly and something about the indifference stung Crawley.
“On that little stool?” he teased. “Whew, you must be really meaning to punish yourself for your sins.”
“Well, what’s your suggestion then?” Aziraphale asked and Crawley noticed the impatient annoyance in his voice with delight. The angel was better at masking it, but he also wasn’t keen on spending an entire night doing absolutely nothing.
“Dunno,” Crawley lied. “But I figured with one temptation already accomplished, I could as well do with another one.”
The emotions, ever so readable on Aziraphale’s face, cycled rapidly through rejection and indignation before they landed on careful curiosity.
“Like what?” he asked, unsure if he was already committing a sin just by considering.
Stepping into Aziraphale’s personal space, Crawley leaned down, bringing their faces even closer together. “Have you ever tried to make an Effort?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
Aziraphale didn’t flinch or retreat but his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I... all the time. I believe. I take my duties very seriously.” He squared his shoulders and Crawley smirked. The angel not getting his suggestive hints was adorable as always, although he still hadn’t figured out if he did that on purpose.
“I mean an Effort down there.” His eyes darted down to Aziraphale’s lap. The angel followed his gaze and when he finally got the hint, he quickly looked back up, aghast. “No! Why should I?”
Crawley just shrugged one shoulder and said, “For fun.” Then he took a step back, restoring a reasonable distance between them and giving Aziraphale room to ponder. Crawley watched him closely, waiting for any reaction and hoping for an unlikely one. The silence stretched infinitely before Aziraphale spoke again.
“So, I assume that means you have... made an Effort?” he said, wringing his hands in his lap.
“Oh yeah!” Crawley snorted. He couldn’t help it. “You bet I have. Several times, actually. I like to switch it up now and then,” he admitted without shame. Usually, he wasn’t peddling it, but he felt perfectly confident and safe conceding it to Aziraphale.
“Switch it up?”
Crawley’s amusement faded away at the question. He had meant to play it as a quick temptation, a fun adventure to help them through the night. He hadn’t expected the angel to know that little.
“Weren’t you involved in human creation?” Crawley asked. Surely the angel had to know about human anatomy and the quirks and differences that came with the variants. Crawley was sure, Aziraphale knew all about that, he just hadn’t connected the dots yet.
“I sure was,” Aziraphale replied with pride. “I’ve seen all the creation blueprints top to bottom...” His voice faded away when the realisation emerged in his eyes. They dropped down to Crawley’s crotch. For a moment, Aziraphale’s curiosity was bluntly visible, before his gaze quickly went back up. When he noticed that Crawley had noticed, Aziraphale blushed. The demon grinned and Aziraphale’s face went even redder.
“S... so...,” he stuttered, “you... have..?”
“Currently?” Crawley asked amused and looked down on himself. He had been named Bildad the Shuhite, an old male friend of Job, and he was depicting him from top to bottom, including all details. However, those details weren’t set in stone. “Whatever you like,” he offered. “Although, for a first, I’d suggest the classic combination.” His voice sounded casual, but Crawley was working hard for that impression. That Aziraphale was still having this conversation with him, was more than he had expected to happen, but up until now, he had been prepared - more or less. But they were approaching subjects he hadn’t even dared imagine, fearing they would never come true.
But contrary to those fears, Aziraphale hadn’t backed out yet. Although he was still deeply blushed and nervously fiddling with his hands. “And you would... with... me? I mean...?”
Crawley shrugged, not letting on how much the thought alone accelerated his heartbeat. “Why not? It’s a fun way to spend a night.” He was playing much more suave than he felt and hoped his pretending would be covered by Aziraphale’s nervousness. Crawley’s practical experience was limited, but that wasn’t something Aziraphale needed to know.
The angel shifted around on his stool uneasily, before he uttered the impending question: “So how does one make... an Effort?”
Crawley cracked an honest smile. “Get up,” he said and immediately reprimanded himself for rushing it. But Aziraphale practically jumped to his feet, showing that the demon was not the only one with somewhat restrained eagerness.
“You need to access that weird incorporation corner of your brain,” Crawley tried to explain the inexplicable. “And then concentrate on what you want your body to... form.” He cringed at the vagueness but it sounded awkward no matter how he called it. “You need a clear vision. Much like changing your hairstyle or your clothes, but... more intense, I guess.” He was at a loss for accurate explanations, he just hoped Aziraphale would know what to do, once he did it. That had been his own experience at least.
Aziraphale’s face twisted as he tried to concentrate, on Crawley’s insufficient instructions. Then he looked expectantly down on himself. “Did it work?”
“You’d know if it did,” Crawley replied and Aziraphale's shoulders sunk in disappointment. “It’s called effort for a reason,” Crawley added before thinking more thoroughly about it and how he himself had explored this part of incorporation. “Well,” the word hung in the air, as Crawley remembered some particularly embarrassing details about that certain night. “It’s easier if you actually have a reason. Sort of an intrinsic motivation.” He really hoped Aziraphale would never ask him about his motivation.
“Like a muse?” the angel asked instead, with the excitement of someone who had finally figured things out.
But Crawley chuckled at the word that was way too poetic for what was basically an elaborate jerk-off template. “Or a muse, yea, that’s one way to call it.” And now he was at his wit's end, or at least at his word's end. He had tried the words and they had failed him, so he took a tentative step forward. “May I..?” he asked softly and waited for Aziraphale's nod before placing his hands on the angel's hips. He shuffled closer until their chests almost touched. “Close your eyes,” Crawley said.
Aziraphale followed the instructions without further question. As soon as the blue irises were hidden Crawley had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. Seeing them from up close had considerably affected his composure, but he couldn’t let himself get carried away. Not yet.
“Picture it in your mind.” Crawley leaned forward and murmured into Aziraphale’s ear. “Visualise the details. The length, the thickness, whatever you can think of. Imagine the penis of your dreams. Keep it reasonable, though, or you will have a lot more trouble than you like.”
The angel trembled just a little under Crawley’s hands as he pressed their hips together. The fact that they had come this far already, suggested there was at least some kind of lust involved. And even if it wasn’t directed at Crawley personally, the physical contact would maybe be enough for Aziraphale to find his intrinsic motivation. Whatever it might be.
The surprised gasp was telling. Crawley let go of him but he didn’t miss the opportunity to watch Aziraphale examining his robes, likely speculating on what he had just created underneath. The flushed cheeks of inappropriate angelic interest were a look Crawley had always been very fond of and his own effort wasn’t hesitant in reacting to it.
Changing an Effort, especially an aroused one, was a lot harder than just creating one from scratch. But Aziraphale was too busy perceiving and understanding his incorporation, to notice Crawley’s strained face. He closed his eyes and pictured an Effort that a classic male-presenting angel with a penchant for traditions would likely fancy. Nothing too experimental, just an average shape, with particularly soft lips below some red fuzz. An intriguing playground for an inexperienced angel.
He felt the area between his legs changing and when he reopened his eyes, it was Aziraphale who was openly staring. Crawley decided there were no words, that wouldn’t sound awkward in this situation, so he let his hands speak. They were back at Aziraphale’s hips, but this time they didn’t stop there. Crawley let them roam upwards to gently caress Aziraphale’s sides, feeling the shape of him beneath the robes and sensing the warmth his body emanated. Slender fingers travelled up his shoulder blades and down his back. When Crawley cupped Aziraphale’s butt, the latter made a surprised sound, that immediately alarmed Crawley.
“You can stop me at any time,” he said seriously, forcing himself to look into the blue eyes to lend his words even more weight. He himself was all in, he had been since the beginning. But they were rapidly approaching the point of no return and Crawley knew where this would go if Aziraphale didn’t raise any objections. He hoped he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure how well he could handle that kind of rejection, but the alternative was worse. If he by accident pressured the angel into something, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Aziraphale didn’t stop him. Instead, he himself brought his hands to Crawley’s hips and started to explore his body. They travelled up his sides, to his shoulder blades and down his back, mimicking the only reference he apparently had: The exact movements Crawley had just made. His insecurity was palpable and yet so insanely cute, Crawley fought back a fond smile. That was a line to cross another day.
To redirect himself back to the desires he could have, Crawley pressed their hips together again. This time, the sensation was different. The robes they wore, were not made to hide anything and Crawley could very much feel that Aziraphale’s effort had been crowned with success. Through the fabric, it was pressed against his lips, their height difference being just right for it to fill the space below. Heat accumulated in between them, getting hotter with every second they stayed like this, just sensing the closeness of another body. Crawley had never let anyone be that close to him, but with Aziraphale he not only was fine with it, he wanted it to never end.
The demon had to look down a little to see Aziraphale’s face and for a second he forgot how breathing worked. Motionless the angel was captured in Crawley’s grip, completely clueless and restrained by shyness, but his eyes were open and longing, and his hands curious and eager to learn. The realisation hit Crawley like one of the lightning bolts outside: This was real. They really were about to do this. Emotions welled up inside him and he barely prevented himself from kissing Aziraphale right there and then. It was already unbelievable the angel was willing to share this intimate experience with him, he wouldn’t push his luck any further and risk ruining everything.
Walking backwards, he gently pulled Aziraphale with him. With frequently entangling limbs, they stumbled over to the lounger Crawley had improvised. It was far from ideal, but the bags of straw were the softest surface available in this stone-floored cellar. They’d had to do. Praying the bags hadn’t moved, Crawley gently pushed Aziraphale down, but with the angel still firmly clinging to him, they both toppled over.
Aziraphale landed reasonably soft on the lounger and Crawley landed reasonably soft on Aziraphale. His white robe got shifted, revealing a lot of bare leg, much to Crawley’s delight. He placed a hand on Aziraphale’s naked knee and that alone felt like he was touching the forbidden fruit. The thrill of breaking a taboo mixed into the pervasive desire even before Crawley started moving his hand along Aziraphale’s thigh. His fingers disappeared underneath the white hem, but his wrist pushed the fabric upwards, revealing even more angelic nakedness. Crawley felt how the skin passing below his palm became softer and warmer until he reached the dip of Aziraphale’s hip bone. The temptation of his newly grown Effort was just centimetres away, ready to be explored and played with, but Crawley waited, elongating the tickling of anticipation until it became unbearable.
Aziraphale gasped, when Crawley’s fingers brushed over his cock, and Crawley held his breath. He vividly remembered feeling that sensation for the first time. It had been electric, an explosion of unknown nerves and that had only been with his own hand, not someone else's. Aziraphale’s face spoke volumes of previously undiscovered delight and Crawley wanted him to savour this moment of first felt pleasure that would never repeat.
The throbbing between his own legs demanded him to hurry, but he took his time exploring Aziraphale. He moved his fingers slowly on the thin skin, circling through the pubic hair and carefully cupping his balls. For Aziraphale, he was playing the experienced one but his heart was beating in his throat when Crawley finally enclosed the growing hardness with his whole hand.
“Oh!” Aziraphale made and looked startled. Crawley instantly froze, preparing himself to be told off. It lasted no more than a second before Aziraphale overcame his initial bewilderment and relaxed again. But Crawley’s hands kept trembling from the brief moment of tension. In an attempt to cover it up, he returned to tending to the angel’s cock, giving it a few good strokes. As he felt the length swelling in his hand Crawley longed not only to feel but to see him in all his divine glory.
He pushed the white robes up, uncovering Aziraphale’s middle. If the angel was embarrassed by suddenly being so on display, he didn’t show it. Crawley took in the gorgeous view as he was working Aziraphale to quickly become rock-hard. There was something alluring about seeing his own hand glide up and down around Aziraphale and it didn’t take much for Crawley to imagine replacing his hand with other parts of his body.
He gathered his black robe, to be able to properly straddle Aziraphale’s hips. The base of his cock gently dabbed against Crawley’s lips, whose stomach immediately jolted in a falling sensation. For quite a while he had been wondering how it felt, being touched down there by someone else. And saying he hadn’t desperately wished for Aziraphale being that someone, was bluntly lying.
His hands hung to both sides over the bags of straw, paralyzed by overwhelm, and Crawley reached out. The angel’s eyes followed, filled with bashful interest, and he offered no resistance when Crawley guided his right hand to the wet slit between his legs.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but this was surpassing. Shaking fingers were searching and exploring him, occasionally finding a sensitive spot. Aziraphale’s movements were insecure and little targeted but it was the unpredictability that drove Crawley wild. One second he was almost exploding with pleasure, the next it had already faded away before getting replaced by a whole different sensation.
Grinding against the hand and its owner's hip, Crawley was seeking for more friction, more pressure, more contact. Just anything to keep the electricity crackling. He felt Aziraphale’s cock sliding along the wetness between his lips but he wanted more.
Crawley moved up, trying to position himself and his legs somewhat comfortably and then paused to find Aziraphale’s gaze. His fluttering eyes were everywhere but on Crawley’s face.
“Oi,” Crawley said softly and the angel’s gaze darted back to look at him. “You’re still into this?”
Aziraphale didn’t vocally answer, but his chin fell down in a messy nod. The revolting heart in Crawley’s chest was impeding his ability to breathe, as he went on. He pushed himself up, just enough to make room to direct Aziraphale’s effort. They struggled a little with arranging both their hands, hips and a rigid dick before Crawley felt the tip probing at his entrance. It was hot under him, soft and hard at the same time and it wasn’t just anyone. It was Aziraphale. They now were only separated by Crawley fighting gravity, and he slowly surrendered, sinking down.
He gasped when his body gave way to Aziraphale. Hot and thoroughly he stretched him out and blanked his brain. He precisely felt every inch of Aziraphale spreading him open as he lowered himself and even before he was all the way down, he heard an angelic moan. Crawley joined in when he reached the bottom. This was something else entirely. Nothing of the curious playing he had tried on his own could have prepared him for this delightful feeling. And it was Aziraphale, deeply buried inside him, he shared this experience with. The desperate urge of wanting to tell him surged through Crawley, but he managed to divert the words into the huffy sound of a clogged teapot.
Aziraphale’s flushed face painted his overwhelming pleasure in bright colours. Their gazes locked on their own and Crawley allowed himself to sink into the familiar blue for just a few seconds, before closing his eyes. It was safer this way.
Tentatively, Crawley started moving. He was completely out of his depths at this point, and almost as clueless as Aziraphale. Unlike the angel he at least was familiar with the general concept, but that was about it. They had beaten all odds by making it this far, but he didn’t know how to advance. How did one do this?
He tried rolling his pelvis forward and circling his hips, feeling the small movements of Aziraphale rubbing his insides at the change of angles. His hands were on Crawley’s body again, holding on to his waist. The grip was neither firm nor confident enough to direct Crawley’s motions, but the fingers digging into his flesh kept him grounded in the present. He was sure, if it weren’t for this anchor his consciousness would float away on the high of new sensations, and he didn’t want to miss a second of this. He wanted to remember every little thing forever.
Still trying to find the right way to go about this, Crawley lifted his hips a little to reposition. The sensation it elicited between his legs took him by surprise but it was the tiny moan it coaxed out of Aziraphale that was decisive. Crawley repeated the movement to find that something about it felt just right.
Propping his hands to both sides of Aziraphale’s shoulders he aimed for more leverage and started lifting his hips up and down with more determination. The hard cock slid out and back in again and Crawley felt it so clearly between his legs, he couldn’t withhold a moan. Along with confidence, Crawley gained speed, finding a steady rhythm to ride Aziraphale. Everything about it was addicting. The slick sounds of their bodies colliding, the hot touch deep inside him, the unprecedented trust of this intimate connection and Aziraphale’s suppressed groans.
Crawley dared open his eyes. The angel’s head had fallen back onto the bags of straw. His lips were firmly pressed together, his nostrils fluttered with every strained breath and his closed lids twitched.
“You good?” Crawley asked, as concern was creeping into him and he slowed down.
A choked noise escaped Aziraphale when he first opened his mouth. “Don’t stop,” he whispered and Crawley had never heard his voice sound so desperate. Aziraphale’s grip on the demon’s waist tightened and now he was directing him, pushing his hips up and down on his cock. He set the speed and Crawley followed. The sudden determination of the angel had caught him off guard, but Crawley couldn’t deny how hot it was, seeing Aziraphale taking the wheel.
The storm outside was still raging on, as they worked together, incessantly building up a climax while lewd sounds filled the air between them. As a lighting strike lit up the cellar, Aziraphale’s hips bucked up hard into Crawley and threw him out of rhythm. A few clumsy thrusts followed and then all of Aziraphale’s muscles clenched at once, his fingers leaving bruises where they dug into Crawley’s waist. The angel's face twisted and an unstoppable groan ripped from his throat, as he experienced his very first orgasm. Crawley felt the spasms inside him and savoured every little twitch, as Aziraphale was spending himself on the demon’s subsiding movements.
It lasted merely a few seconds but it appeared closer to forever before Crawley felt Aziraphale return to earth. His hips sunk down to the ground falling back into the lounger and as his muscles deflated his hands slackly slid down Crawley’s waist. Looking down at the totally spent angel underneath him, Crawley tried his best to keep the traitorous fondness off his face. This was a look he wouldn’t mind seeing on Aziraphale more than just once. But he certainly wouldn’t so he scanned every inch of post-orgasm Aziraphale to etch it into his brain and store it there forever.
When Aziraphale opened his eyes, Crawley didn’t look away for once, but he had put on the mask of the demon again. His yellow eyes were sparkling deviously and his smirk declared that he had just accomplished another temptation.
“So?” He asked casually as if he was just gathering feedback for a particularly well-thought-out work. He purposefully ignored the fact that he could still feel Aziraphale inside him, although the stretch was lessening by the minute.
“That was…,” Aziraphale huffed, shaking his head at a loss for words, and Crawley hid his genuine delight behind a cheeky grin and a knowing wink. When he pushed himself up he felt their connection slip away, but he didn’t allow himself to mourn it. His robes fell back down and covered the mess Aziraphale had caused in him - at least the physical part. Not bothering with searching for a piece of cloth he could use to clean himself, he miracled the dripping wetness between his thighs away. And then, in a sudden need for even more disguise, he reinstated his effort from before, removing all possible evidence of their sinful actions.
When he noticed there was no sound in the cellar but the distant rattling of wind, he turned around. Aziraphale hadn’t moved. He still lay on the bags of straw turned lounger, his robes pushed upwards where Crawley had left them, his slacked effort awkwardly exposed and stared at the ceiling. Crawley tried and failed to read his expression.
“You alright?” he asked, not sure he really wanted an answer. There were so many facades to sex that could screw people up in nasty ways. Back in Hell, he had seen them all and then some. It was one of the reasons he had insisted on making sure Aziraphale was comfortable, in control and on board at all times. But maybe he had let it slide. Maybe he had missed a sign. Had he screwed the angel up?
“Yes,” Aziraphale snapped out of it. “I’m good.” He hesitated. “At least I think so.” Looking up at the demon, he became aware of himself, pulled the hem of his robe down and hurried to cover his naked body. Crawley eyed him, wondering if he could or should believe his words. That Heaven’s principality was bluntly lying to his face was absurd, but so was him having intercourse with a demon. Still, adding a lie to Aziraphale’s list would make for three deadly sins in one night. Highly unlikely.
“Sun is rising,” Crawley said, looking out the narrow window where the dark blue sky was usurped by a light streak at the horizon. The palm trees and bushes were calmly swaying and no debris were churning in the air. The tempest was over and so was the night, both memorable in their own right. “Better get a move on if we want to save these kids.”
Aziraphale nodded, then his face turned into a horrified expression and he looked around the cellar frantically.
“Don’t worry,” Crawley reassured him and pointed to the little handmade pot in the corner. “They were fast asleep. Didn’t see a thing.”
“Good,” Aziraphale sighed in relief. He didn’t follow up on it but with his once again flushed cheeks it was obvious what his concerns were. Although he hadn’t yet entirely come to terms with everything he had just experienced, he was absolutely sure it was nothing a child should witness. Or just any stranger, who could possibly spot him in a compromising position during a sinful activity. Not something Crawley fancied either, albeit for different reasons. The result was the same: He had made very sure no one had been disturbing them the entire night, not even a baby lizard.
Crawley picked up the pot and headed for the door, without looking back again. “Let’s go.”
Aziraphale adjusted his robes once more, double-checking that no one could see he had made an effort underneath. Then he followed the demon, leaving the half-eaten ox and the stuffy air behind.