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The Bentley did not make the most comfortable of beds. Week-long naps were a thing of the past, since Hell had taken back Crowley’s flat. In fact, most of his shorter naps now took place on the sofa in the bookshop which, while not exactly ideal, at least afforded him the ability to lie down.
Still though, there was the possibility that he might outstay his welcome, so the occasional return to the Bentley for a few hours was sometimes necessary.
The first grey light of a new day was just filtering through the Bentley’s windows, and Crowley was contemplating giving up on the night’s attempted sleep, when his phone rang.
“What?” he snapped.
“Crowley, it’s me.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded strained, and Crowley sat up straighter.
“I know it’s you, Aziraphale. Why are you calling this early in the morning?” Crowley kept his tone annoyed, rather than concerned.
“I’m afraid I have a... small issue,” Aziraphale said. Crowley waited for several seconds for more information, but it was not forthcoming.
“Gonna need more than that, angel,” he said eventually when the silence began to stretch uncomfortably long.
“Oh, I... well. I woke up this morning you see and... and I found myself... rather... excited, shall we say?”
“Excited for what?” Crowley asked, completely confused. Aziraphale made a small, frustrated noise.
“Not for anything just... excited. Physically.”
Understanding dawned on Crowley, quickly eclipsed by sheer bafflement. Why was Aziraphale telling him this? Had he not... did he not... had he never?
“Erm,” he said, brilliantly. Was this a dream? This couldn't possibly be anybody's actual life, surely. “That’s not unusual, really. Just ignore it and it will go away.”
“ That’s the problem!” Aziraphale whined. “It won’t go away!”
Crowley leaned his head on the steering wheel and took several deep, steadying breaths.
“Right,” he said, trying very hard to sound unbothered by the fact that the being he’d been in love with for over six thousand years was calling him for advice about erections. “What you need to do is, er, hold it in your hand and sort of... stroke it for a while. And-”
“I have been in this corporation for six millenia,” Aziraphale reminded him, sounding slightly miffed now, which was possibly a slight improvement. “I assure you, I know about masturbation.”
Thank fuck for that. And also, what the fuck? Crowley closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up.
“Crowley, are you still there?” Right, so, not asleep. Good to know.
“Yes. So, you’ve, er, tried that, then?” he stammered, losing all semblance of cool detachment.
“Obviously. And it’s still... turgid.” Aziraphale’s voice was taking on a hint of hysteria now, and Crowley wasn’t very far behind. He had his own growing... issue, which was surely a first for somebody who’d just heard the word ‘turgid’.
“And you, y’know... finished?” he asked, trying very hard not to imagine it and failing spectacularly. Why did he have to be the only demon cursed with a vivid imagination?
“Twice,” said Aziraphale, which did not help Crowley’s imagination.
“Miracle it away?” he suggested, slightly amazed that he was still in control of his mouth.
“Clearly I’ve tried that already!” Aziraphale snapped. “Can you come over and help me?”
Crowley’s brain stuttered to a stop, probably because all the blood had rapidly migrated south.
“Ngk.” There were words he should say now, he was sure. Something helpful, reassuring. Because there was no way Aziraphale was suggesting...
“Crowley! Can you come and help with the research or not?” Aziraphale asked when Crowley didn’t answer. Of course. The angel needed help with his books , with finding out the cause of his... problem. Not with... anything else. He supposed it made a change that somebody wanted him for his brains rather than his body but - well. Both might have been nice. He could quote Shakespeare while they-
No, Crowley. Concentrate. What had the angel been asking again?
“Course I can come over. Have you tried a cold shower?” Absolutely fucking splendid, now he was imagining Aziraphale in the shower, and that was not the point of this exercise.
“Good idea,” Aziraphale said. “See you in about twenty minutes?”
“Right.” Crowley hung up and banged his head on the steering wheel. Twenty minutes. It would only take three to get to Whickber Street, so that left seventeen to deal with his own predicament.
Except he couldn’t, he realised, not in the Bentley outside somebody’s house. Fortunately, his problem had arrived via purely conventional means, and could be easily banished with a quick miracle.
After another moment’s thought, he did away with the entire concept of genitalia, because it was bound to cause him further trouble, and that gave him fifteen minutes to scream silently into the void before he had to set off.
The bookshop was closed, which was not a great surprise, considering. Crowley knocked on the door and waited awkwardly on the doorstep for several minutes before the door eased open slightly and Aziraphale’s face appeared in the gap.
“Oh, thank goodness, it’s you,” the angel gasped, letting Crowley in and locking the door quickly behind him. Crowley turned around and got a good look at him for the first time.
The cold shower had not helped, that much was immediately obvious. Massively obvious. Obviously massive.
With an effort, Crowley dragged his eyes up to Aziraphale’s anxious face.
“Er,” he said. This was not going to be a day for brilliant conversation on Crowley’s part, clearly.
“I’m considering several options,” Aziraphale said tightly. “Some sort of punishment from Heaven, some Hellish joke, or a curse of some sort. I have several books of magic that we should look through first.”
“Doesn't seem like Heaven's style,” Crowley commented.
“No, but until a few years ago I wouldn’t have thought sending their own angels into a column of hellfire was their style either, so I’m not currently prepared to rule it out,” Aziraphale said tightly.
Crowley nodded and followed him further into the bookshop, where Aziraphale had already pulled out several books and set them on his desk. Crowley threw himself into his usual sprawl on the sofa, and watched as Aziraphale lowered himself awkwardly into his chair.
“Is it... uncomfortable?” he asked, like an idiot. Of course it was uncomfortable, it was a colossal fucking hard-on that wouldn’t go away. Was Aziraphale always that well-endowed? Was-
Fucking concentrate, Crowley!
“Somewhat,” Aziraphale replied, which was clearly an understatement because his knuckles were going white as he gripped the first book on the pile.
“And it didn’t help, the – er,” Wanking? Jacking off? “- onanism?” he finally managed.
“It did reduce the...urgency somewhat,” Aziraphale admitted. “But only for a short time.”
“Right.” Crowley had no real response to any of this, so he resorted to actually looking at the book Aziraphale handed him, which might actually have been a first.
Within minutes, Aziraphale was shifting uncomfortably in his chair, one hand pressing against the front of his trousers, and any focus Crowley might have gained was gone.
“Do you want some help with that?” he asked, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could think them properly through.
“I... what?” Aziraphale looked up from his book, startled.
“I just, y’know, thought maybe it might work better if there was something other than your hand. Something more... moist.” Crowley took a second to curse himself for his choice of words as Aziraphale digested this.
“Oh Crowley, I couldn’t ask you to-” Aziraphale began.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Crowley pointed out. “Just, y’know, a favour. From a friend.” If it just happened to be a thing said friend had been dreaming about for centuries, well, who had to know?1
“You don’t have to...”
“Angel, am I giving you a blowjob or not? ‘Cause honestly, I think that’s more my wheelhouse than reading books.”
Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, clearly torn between needing some relief and doing, as he saw it, the right thing.
“You’ve... done this before?” he asked eventually. Crowley shrugged.
“Unavoidable on occasion, in my previous line of work,” he said casually, trying desperately to conceal how very much he wanted this. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, although the ‘occasions’ averaged out to about once every couple of millennia, and he hadn’t actually done anything of the sort since the Roman Empire. It was like riding a bike though, surely, not something you forgot how to do?2
“I - yes. Please.”
Crowley got up off the sofa and dropped to his knees in front of Aziraphale’s chair. Despite his quip about moistness, his mouth went uncomfortably dry as he watched Aziraphale undo his trousers and take himself out of his boxers3. He licked his lips and willed saliva back into his mouth as he shuffled closer.
“You sure, angel?” he asked. Aziraphale nodded and closed his eyes, as if not seeing it would mean it wasn’t happening.
Which wasn’t great for Crowley’s self-esteem, if he was entirely honest4. But he was committed now, and it was just doing a favour for a friend in need, which wasn’t particularly demonic of him, but then he’d never been a very good demon.
Just a casual blowjob between hereditary enemies. What could be wrong with that?
Aziraphale moved his legs apart to make room for Crowley between them. Crowley braced one hand on the arm of the chair as he wrapped the fingers of the other hand around the base of Aziraphale’s cock. He kept his eyes on the angel’s face as he leaned in and laved his tongue over the steadily dripping head, and was rewarded with the sight of the angel’s head falling back, his mouth going slack as he let out a breathy moan.
Crowley filed that away in his head to be looked at later, when he was on his own5 and set to work, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the angelic dick in front of him.
He may not have had much experience at this, but what he lacked in expertise he could make up for with enthusiasm and being basically part snake, yeah?
But – did Aziraphale want that? This wasn’t any of the scenarios Crowley had ever come up with in his head6 , this was just... relief from an uncomfortable problem. It wasn’t about Crowley; he was just a convenient mouth.
He could be convenient. For Aziraphale, he could be anything.
He moved his head mechanically, up and down, trying to ignore the soft moans above him. They weren’t for him, but he added them to the list of things in his head to think about later anyway. He kept his free hand on the chair, inches away from where Aziraphale’s hand gripped the arm tightly.
“Crowley, I...” Aziraphale gasped above him, strong hands suddenly falling on his shoulders and pushing him back. “Stop!”
Crowley stopped, let himself be pushed away, confused. Aziraphale’s hand left his shoulder and the angel took himself in hand for a few seconds before he came with a groan over his fist and the chair. Crowley couldn’t make himself look away, sat staring at Aziraphale's cock, still hard and an almost angry red.
“Oh bother, the chair!” Aziraphale cried, looking at the mess he’d made. Before Crowley could offer to fix it, the angel snapped his fingers and all traces disappeared in an instant. “Well, thank you Crowley, that was... helpful. I hope I didn’t hurt you, but I was so close, and I didn’t want-”
“S’fine, angel,” Crowley muttered, not wanting to hear any more. He wiped his mouth with one hand and turned away to hide the disappointment on his face as Aziraphale sorted out his clothes. “Let’s see what these books have to say, shall we?”
They spent the next twenty minutes reading in near silence with no luck, before Aziraphale started shifting in his chair again. Crowley tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked quietly after a few minutes.
“Hmmm?” Crowley looked up from the book he was only pretending to read to see the angel eyeing him nervously, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
“I don’t want to impose but... do you think – could you do it again, please?” Aziraphale asked.
“You want me to suck you off again?” Crowley asked, fake casually.
“Please,” Aziraphale pleaded. Crowley was a lot of things, many of them not good, but he was not immune to begging, not from his angel, not sounding like that. He was on his knees between Aziraphale’s thighs before he’d even thought about moving, mouth watering as he watched Aziraphale take himself out of his boxers again.
Fuck it, Crowley was a demon , self-sacrifice was not a requirement. And Aziraphale had asked this time, not just reluctantly accepted an offer. There was no reason Crowley couldn’t get something out of this too.
He took his time, licking and tasting the head, finding the things that made Aziraphale whimper and writhe and doing them again. Then, without any warning, he opened his throat and took Aziraphale all the way into his mouth in one motion, nose bumping against the white-blond curls at the base as Aziraphale yelped in surprise. This time he let his free hand creep underneath the angel, gripped at his arse and pulled him closer as he bobbed his head and hollowed out his cheeks.
Aziraphale’s hands fell onto his shoulders again, and for a second Crowley thought he was about to be pushed away again. But the angel’s hands slid upwards, holding his head, fingers tangling in Crowley’s hair, urging him on.
Crowley was not a creature known for his obedience, but doing anything else at that point was unthinkable. He licked and sucked and teased, until Aziraphale was thrusting up at him and moaning loudly, fingers gripping almost painfully at his hair.
“Crowley, I’m... you should...” Aziraphale groaned in warning, but his hands didn’t push Crowley away, and Crowley had no intention of going anywhere. He took Aziraphale as deep as he could, and with one last, drawn-out moan, Aziraphale was coming hot and fast down his throat as they clung to each other.
After what seemed like an eternity the tide ebbed away, and Crowley reluctantly let Aziraphale pull his still-hard cock from his mouth. He looked up and – that was a mistake. He met Aziraphale’s eyes, wide and shining and for one long, dizzying moment they stared at each other in awe.
Crowley was so close to cracking, to shattering his insouciant facade and declaring his everlasting love for the creature in front of him, consequences be damned.
Instead, he plastered on his usual grin.
“Thought I’d spare your upholstery this time,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.
“I - yes. Thank you. Very considerate,” Aziraphale said, still rather flustered. “Back to the books then?”
It was over half an hour before Aziraphale started to get restless again, which Crowley was rather proud of.
“Need some assistance, angel?” he asked, not looking up from his book.
“Possibly,” Aziraphale admitted. “I just... I can’t ask you to do this for me every half hour until we work this out. None of these books seem to be of any use and I just...” He sighed heavily. “It’s all getting a bit much.”
Crowley put his book on love potions down on the desk.
“Maybe you need to try something a bit more... practical,” he suggested. Aziraphale frowned.
“Such as?”
“Well, did it work better when we... y’know, than when you did it solo?” Crowley asked.
“The fellatio? Yes, I suppose it did.” Crowley rolled his eyes.
“So, maybe you should do something a bit more – active.”
Aziraphale considered this for a moment, and Crowley was beginning to think he’d gone too far. Too fast.
“You mean... coitus?” the angel asked eventually.
“Not the word I’d have used,” Crowley said, wincing. “But yes. Might at least give you a bit more relief.”
“I...” Aziraphale stared into the distance, chewing at his lip again. “I don’t think...”
“Whatever,” Crowley said, picking up his useless book again. “Just a thought.”
They sat in awkward silence for several minutes and Crowley, at least, didn’t take in a single word of his book.
“Alright,” said Aziraphale eventually. “It’s worth a try.”
Crowley dropped his book, and Aziraphale didn’t even glare at him, which was a clear sign of just how desperate he was.
“Right. Okay. So. Er...” He stood up and paced across the bookshop. “How do you want to... what should I....”
“I suppose taking our trousers off would be a good start,” Aziraphale suggested with a hint of a smile. Bastard.
“Right,” Crowley repeated, because he was an occult being who spoke all the languages of the world, living and dead, but right now he couldn’t remember any of them. He snapped his fingers and banished his jeans – which were, after all, not strictly real – while the angel watched in surprise with his fingers on the fastenings of his own much abused trousers.
“Oh!” he said. “I didn’t think you... Crowley?”
“Yeah?”
“You appear to be missing some of the... necessary plumbing.” Crowley looked down. He’d forgotten about the absence of anything between his legs, although he was glad he’d done it – things might have got rather embarrassing earlier, otherwise.
“Oh. I’ll just, er... have you done this before?” he asked.
“No. Have you?” Aziraphale said, taking off his trousers.
“Not... as such,” Crowley admitted. He thought about it for a moment, eyes fixed on the angel as he carefully removed his boxers. What the hell was he doing, suggesting this? It had been centuries since he’d even seen Aziraphale’s legs , let alone everything else, even though he was still wearing that bloody waistcoat and bow tie.
“Oh,” said Aziraphale, looking at him. “You’ve gone that way.”
“Should I not?” Crowley asked, looking down again. “Thought it would be easiest?”
“Yes, probably,” Aziraphale agreed in a tone Crowley couldn’t quite figure out. “Now what?”
“Er, I think some sort of lying down is probably in order? On the rug, maybe?” He pointed.
“The rug that covers the summoning circle to Heaven?” Aziraphale asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe not. Unless it is their fault, in which case that could be hilarious. But no. Sofa, maybe? I think it can be done sitting up.”
They climbed awkwardly onto the sofa, Crowley in Aziraphale’s lap, staring at the bookshelf behind the angel’s ear rather than looking at his face. They were close enough to kiss, and Crowley’s entire existence was screaming for it, for the feel of Aziraphale’s lips against his, the taste of his mouth on his tongue.
But that still wasn’t what this was. Yes, he’d got carried away with that second blowjob, and Aziraphale hadn’t protested, far from it , but that didn’t mean anything. It was just sex. Humans did it, animals did it, even slugs did it. It didn’t mean that there were feelings involved. He knew that Aziraphale had feelings, of course, could even, in the privacy of his own head7, acknowledge that some of those feelings might even relate to him. You couldn’t go through six thousand years together, fooling angels and demons and humans alike, performing magic acts and preventing Apocalypses8 and not know there was some amount of affection there.
But it had never been the kissing kind, couldn’t have been, and these last few years didn’t seem to have changed anything in that regard. The sex thing, Crowley knew, they could sweep under the rug when it was all over, like they had so many other times they’d gotten too close. But if he kissed Aziraphale now, that would be it, the point of no return, and he might lose the angel forever.
He sank down onto Aziraphale’s cock instead, trying not to react to the new sensation, although Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, and he sighed softly.
“I think we need to move, angel,” Crowley said after a moment. Aziraphale nodded, eyes still closed, and Crowley could only stare at him hungrily, wanting .
Then Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hips and started to move, and suddenly Crowley understood the hype. Crowley couldn’t pretend to be uncaring, not with Aziraphale moving inside him, and he matched the angel moan for moan, panting breath for panting breath, until Aziraphale’s hips stuttered, and he came with a cry against Crowley’s chest.
Crowley was so close his whole body shook with need, desperate to just take a little more. Aziraphale was still hard, after all, he could feel that, just a few more thrusts and Crowley could...
He hauled himself off the angel and promptly collapsed onto the other side of the sofa. Aziraphale looked dazed, but after a moment he got up and sat back heavily in his usual chair.
“Any better?” Crowley asked weakly, trying to concentrate on the reason for this whole... thing.
“I think so,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Though it wasn’t quite what I drea-” He clapped his hand over his mouth in horror, eyes going wide as dinner plates.
Pieces suddenly started to fall into place in Crowley’s head.
“You said,” he began slowly. “That you woke up . You were asleep?”
“I sleep sometimes,” Aziraphale said defensively, as if being unconscious for a while was a worse sin than getting sucked off by a demon in the middle of the bookshop.
“And you were dreaming?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded slowly.
Crowley stood up and stepped up to Aziraphale’s chair and leaned over him, arms and legs bracketing the angel, careful not to actually touch. He let his tongue turn serpentine, tasting the air, which was almost suffocatingly thick with lust, coming in waves off the demon and the angel both.
“What did you dream about, angel?” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s ear.
“I...”
“ Tell me,” Crowley hissed. He’d spent six thousand years tempting people, he knew how this went. He didn’t use any power now though, only the words. There was no need for anything else, and he’d never do that to Aziraphale anyway.
“You,” Aziraphale admitted, so quiet Crowley could barely hear him.
“And what was I doing, in this dream?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale whimpered, and Crowley couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. “Or what were you doing to me?”
“I-” Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath. “I think you just had a demonstration, actually.”
“ Really?” Crowley hissed. “But it wasn’t quite right? What was different?”
“You - you didn’t have this,” Aziraphale said. One hand ran up the inside of Crowley’s thigh and in between his legs, fingers dragging through the mess that was still there. Crowley would forever deny the whimper that left him as Aziraphale’s fingers found his clit, before sliding back through his folds. “So, I had to go here.” One slick finger teased Crowley’s arsehole.
“ Fuck.” Crowley took several deep, steadying breaths as Aziraphale’s finger rubbed against his rim. He let his body change, until he was just as hard as Aziraphale. “What do you want, angel?”
“ Everything.” Aziraphale pulled him down into his lap and kissed him hard, pressing their mouths, their bodies, their cocks together until Crowley could hardly tell where he ended and the angel began. He tugged at Aziraphale’s bowtie, desperate for more skin, but he couldn’t get enough space between them to manoeuvre – didn't want any space between them, not ever again.
As if reading his mind, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and suddenly Crowley was lying on his back on what was presumably Aziraphale’s bed, completely naked and with the angel on top of him, similarly undressed.
Crowley had been in a mostly human body for over six thousand years, and he’d thought he’d known all possible ways it could experience pleasure. These last couple of hours had been a revelation, in how much better things could be with real feelings involved. But nothing compared to the feel of Aziraphale pushing slowly inside him, thrusting hard against his prostate, kissing and licking and biting gently, making noises even more enthusiastic than those he made for a particularly delectable dessert.
Crowley reached between their bodies, his eyes locked on Aziraphale’s as he stroked himself, as he, finally, let himself go, let this be real . He shook uncontrollably as the pleasure flooded through him, hotter and deeper than ever before, garbled sounds falling from his lips.
“ Fuck,” Aziraphale grunted, watching Crowley’s face, and then he was coming too, pulsing hot and fast inside Crowley, fingers digging into Crowley’s hips.
Crowley pulled him down for one more long, languid kiss, tongues gently exploring each other's mouths. Then Aziraphale was moving off him, flopping down on his back beside him, exhausted. Crowley rolled over to rest his head on the angel’s soft chest, and his eyes wandered down between the angel’s legs. Where his cock lay, soft against his belly.
“You’re an idiot,” he said fondly.
“That seems like a fair assessment,” Aziraphale agreed weakly.
“Just a complete and utter-”
“Yes, thank you dear, I get the point.”
“Just ask next time, yeah?” Crowley said, suddenly nervous. Was he assuming too much, that there might be a next time? That this wouldn’t just be another thing they never talked about, too scared of what it meant, not just regarding Heaven and Hell but for their own fragile relationship.
“I will,” Aziraphale promised, and Crowley’s heart skipped several beats. “I love you.”
Crowley nuzzled into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his face, and said, voice barely above a whisper, “Love you too, angel. Always.”