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“Honey, I’m back!” Aziraphale announced, kicking open the bookshop door. “And I picked up some vegetables for you.” He put his grocery bag down on Crowley’s favorite chair and made a beeline for his desk. “I saw the fellow who is always asking about the color of my interior furnishings. He wanted to know… something about if my rugs coordinated with my curtains?” He straightened his bowtie in self-satisfaction. “And of course I told him that they do, I mean what kind of a tasteless sod does he take me for?” He took a seat, leafed through the papers on his desk, and stopped when he noticed unfamiliar stationery.
Angel-
Going to hide out for a while. Feeling the urge again. If you need me, find me in the cave near the seventh alternative rendezvous. I’m using my snake corporation to brumate. I’ll be sleeping like the dead, so if you need anything, just pick me up and dick me down. Or something else, if you want to get creative like that. Wash me off when you’re done.
Get me.
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. He fondly remembered the last time he had used Crowley in the cave. He had read about using things with a flared base, so he twisted Crowley’s tail into a knot and inserted the rest of him. The case of pink eye Crowley contracted was so severe that he needed to consult an ophthalmologist and a herpetologist. He was functionally blind for weeks. A few fragile objects, casualties of his visual deficit, lay broken in the back room of the shop. Aziraphale nodded to himself and vowed not to engage in any head-first insertion this time around.
Looking around, Aziraphale felt the void left by Crowley’s absence. He picked up a book and sighed heavily as he leafed through it. His posture faltered as he rested his head on his hand. He blinked, rolled his neck, and took his glasses out from his lapel. Blinking pointedly, he put them on and returned to his book.
None of the words registered with him. He read the line again, and by the end of it, found himself staring out the window. He stood up with an air of superiority, adjusted his waistcoat, and closed the curtains. He sat down, settled into his chair with a little wiggle, and reminded himself of that particularly human phrase, the third time's the charm .
“I must simply redouble my efforts ,” he said to himself in a huffy tone. Straightening his back even further into an exaggeratedly upright posture, he read the line again. He began with the first few words, then paused.
“Oh,” he whispered. He thought of Crowley, all alone in the cave in his snake form. He had seen it plenty of times when the little devil was stressed or in a particularly kinky mood. They had made love like that before, and Aziraphale gloried in the shame of it all: an angel and the creatures he was supposed to despise, but could never quite bring himself to dislike. He fondly recalled the bondage and positions made possible by Crowley’s lithe and astoundingly flexible form. He knew Crowley was especially fond of the pleasure from his hemipenes- his double effort , so to speak.
Looking up into space, aimlessly, Aziraphale slammed the book closed. He was usually quite gentle with his volumes, but extraordinary circumstances brought out all of the rage he never exhibited.
Thus, the man of letters became a man of action. He marched toward the door, switched the sign to “very closed,” and waited patiently for the bus. No sense in trying to rush that, he decided.
-
Aziraphale cautiously stepped from the paved sidewalk onto the grass, steadying himself with his arms outstretched. He looked quite out of place, meandering from the bus stop through the rolling lawns of Tadfield in his formal attire. He walked with an odd gate, stepping with high knees across the verdant landscape. As he reached the edge of the forest, he looked for his favorite tree. Of course, he could never admit to anyone that it was his favorite, seeing as how Crowley had defaced it with their initials some years ago, but nevertheless, it was. He smiled gently as he saw the sweeping branches of the old willow where they used to meet. They hid under the sprawling canopy of its boughs and enjoyed the sense of security. He pushed twigs away from his face as he plodded toward it, spitting spiders out of his mouth as the little creatures stuck to his face.
With a heavy sigh he swam through the leaves to reach the well-hidden trunk and located the scratched initials in the fading bark. “A + C” was carved to point them in the direction of the cave. Aziraphale looked upward through the trees to see the sun, but it was hidden behind a compact embankment of clouds.
-
When he reached the mouth of the cave, he was covered in debris, detritus, and unknowable substances from the underbrush which tangled around his legs for the duration of his journey. He knew Crowley was asleep because there had been no particularly warm days which might have awoken him, but Aziraphale still brushed himself off out of respect.
“Crowley?” he called, entering the cave and looking around for the little fellow. Demons could see perfectly well in the dark, but Aziraphale had no such talent. He palmed his pocket for his cell phone and found only a spoon from the Ritz. Crowley . Aziraphale had mentioned that he liked the design, and the wily serpent must have slid it in there. He left it to avoid littering.
Still, he could not see, so he commanded, “Let there be light!” Intense sunlight filtered down through the cracks in the ceiling of the cave. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.
“Inside the cave,” he mumbled dryly. A plume of smoke and then a crackling fire ignited in the middle of the cave. Aziraphale whipped around to look at it, coughed, and wheezed from smoke inhalation.
“OUT!” He bellowed, and the fire extinguished itself. With miraculous options from heaven running amok, Aziraphale resolved to deal with this himself. Straining, pushing, and feeling enormous pressure, he pulled his halo from his head and set it to float above him. The steady light illuminated the expansive cave and showcased the river running through it.
Cautiously, Aziraphale stepped around stalagmites toward the back of the cave. In previous years, Crowley rested in the deep recesses along the far wall to limit the risk of a predator carrying him away. Aziraphale strolled carefully along the edge of the stream as he kept a sharp eye out for Crowley. He inched forward, cautiously-
- OOF ! Aziraphale gasped for air as his vision spun. His ears rang as searing pain shot through his back. He grimaced and hacked, trying to get air into his human lungs which would not come. He rolled to his side, gulping for breath as his lungs began to work again. His limbs were heavy, and every movement was difficult as his heavy wool clothes became soaked with water. Methodically, he positioned himself to stand up. Stabbing pain shot through his hand. He inspected his palm to see a trickle of blood. Looking back into the river, he saw the pointed rocks covered with algae which had made him slip. Scooting backward onto the bank, he hugged his knees and whimpered.
He was cold and dirtier than before. He hated the feeling of bugs and leaves clinging to his corporation. One piece at a time, he began removing his clothing. He folded up the sopping wet articles and stacked them in a neat pile. As he finished his task, he gave them a pat which produced a horrific squelch as more water escaped. Sighing deeply, he stood up and brushed himself off.
There he stood, completely naked except for the floating halo, in the middle of a cave, searching for his lover. He felt desperately cold against the humid, damp air of the cave, and with a poof , he showed some of his true form.
Light flickered off the cave formations and illuminated the vast expanse around Aziraphale. His arms were draped in gold and barely recognizable as human amidst the cacophony of ethereal parts. He gently flapped one of his many pairs of wings to propel himself deeper into the cave. A ring of eyes rotated slowly around his center, scouring the cave in search of Crowley. Aziraphale paused in midair as he saw him curled up on a high ledge. Fluttering over the river, he gingerly picked up the scaly bundle and brought him to his face. Crowley did not move, and Aziraphale knew he would likely remain asleep unless warmth brought him out of his vegetative state. He willed his body temperature to lower as an added measure of protection.
“Crowley,” he began gently, “Be not afraid.” Aziraphale stretched his arms out to see if Crowley was sniffing the air. He loved when his little bifurcated tongue flicked out of his mouth, but he did not move.
“Oh Crowley, you always did love to sleep. But I remain ever vigilant. Now, dear boy, pertaining to your note- may I use you?” He stared at the sleeping animal, expecting a response.
His wings made gentle rustling sounds and provided a pleasant contrast to the high trickling noise of the stream. When no response came from Crowley, Aziraphale cuddled him to his chest.
“Right then, dear boy, you leave me no other choice. I will have to go by what you wrote in the note you left for me.” Sprouting another pair of wings from his low back to keep himself in the air, Aziraphale draped Crowley over the feathers emanating from his scapulae. With the serpent suspended, Aziraphale got to work on himself. He placed one hand on his cock and the other on his balls and began to slowly, gently fondle himself, the way Crowley would during their more romantic encounters. He thought of his mouth, how he would work so hard to hide his little fangs, and a burst of light beamed from his halo. He thought of Crowley’s tentative ministrations toward his sensitive nipples, and he willed another pair of arms into existence. They puffed into the universe and immediately went to work on his chest, focused on providing what Crowley currently could not.
As he panted, Aziraphale’s four arms began to move faster. He loved gentle nights with Crowley, how their little gasps and whimpers were caught with tender kisses, and how each caress was met with a contented sigh, but this was the cave. This was rough, dirty, and unbearably sexy.
Sprouting another pair of arms, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s head in his hands. Opening his mouth, he saw the fangs protruding from his gums. Prying his jaws further apart, Aziraphale stretched Crowley over his cock and thrust in with surprising intensity for one usually so controlled. He felt the strain of the ligaments around Crowley’s mouth and reveled in the tightness, the moisture, and the control he had.
“Crowley, my love, ahhhhh …” Aziraphale’s voice echoed. He rutted his hips forward, pressing below Crowley’s head to increase the pressure on his cock. Since he was floating, he could move freely. With each intense snap of his hips, Crowley’s jaw was forced open further, allowing the tip of Crowley’s head to indent Aziraphale’s soft stomach.
“Oh love, don’t stop,” Aziraphale wined, fully absorbed by Crowley’s mouth. He leaned his head back and let his head rock from side to side, pushed by the frantic thrusts. Reflexively, all of his hand reached upward, a sure sign that he was about to orgasm.
Crowley fell to the floor with a thud. Gasping, Aziraphale floated down to retrieve his body.
“My dear, are you alright? Oh, I hope I haven’t harmed you.” He gently scooped him up and discovered that his eyes were shut and he was still unconscious. Smirking, Aziraphale moved upward, wings flapping vigorously during his ascent. Feathers dropped to the floor of the cave. Pity the ornithologist who finds those , he thought.
“Now, dear, let me take your neck… neck? Body? Where does your throat end? Well, anyway, let me take you and-” Aziraphale stopped speaking to concentrate on tying Crowley’s front end into a complicated knot. Working like an adept sailor, he tangled the snake into a complex pattern. His halo beamed with pride.
“Now, no occult diseases this time around,” he began, teasing his hole with Crowley’s tail. He remembered how much he had enjoyed this when Crowley was awake, and he tried to approximate the movements he remembered. His hole twitched with the light touches and deeper nudges from Crowley’s tail. With a shaky breath, he inserted the end into his magically lubed hole. He held his breath as he got used to the intrusion, letting the stretch and slight burn bring him closer to his lover.
Aziraphale whimpered as he nudged Crowley deeper inside of him, allowing the intrusion with grace and grit and grim determination. He felt Crowley’s tail brush against his prostate and pushed him further in, the diameter of his scaly body increasing with each push. One inch, one breath, one spasm at a time, he took him deep enough to feel snug and slightly fucked out with his lover inside of him.
Grasping slightly further up, he nestled Crowley’s body between his ass cheeks, letting the roughness of his scales against the sensitive flesh shock and arouse him. He did not, however, account for the hair which was involuntarily placed on his corporation. With every jerk of his hips, sharp stinging pain shot upward through him as the follicles were ripped out when Crowley’s rough skin caught on them and tugged with vigor.
Slowly, he moved his hands up Crowley’s body, stroking and praising him to make up for the lack of praise he himself was receiving. It was instinctual, as angels were created partially for the purpose of giving praise, and the need never really went away. He reached for Crowley’s head and stroked it gently, as if he were petting a cat, and gave him a kiss between his gorgeous eyes. He reopened his jaw and set him back at the work of taking his cock in his mouth. Aziraphale continued to hold his body and fuck into him, and his head rolled back onto his wings which were positioned to make a little pillow. Luxuriating in the feeling, he allowed himself to moan and bellow and shriek through the pleasure Crowley was giving him. He bent Crowley’s head downward, which was the perfect angle for deeper penetration. He flew higher in the air, enjoying the freedom of wings and the security of his lover’s body intertwining with his.
The upward force caused Crowley’s teeth to sink into his mons. Jerking away from the pain, Aziraphale thwacked his head on a stalactite. Falling to the cave floor for the second time that day, he moaned in pain, pleasure, and confusion.
He shook his wings and looked down at Crowley, who was somehow still asleep. With a grunt, he removed him from his hole, slid his lithe body out from underneath him, and began to inspect the damage done to his own cock.
There were puncture wounds around the base where Crowley had inadvertently bitten him, and it was beginning to swell with the infusion of venom. Aziraphale was in no danger, however, because he was not human in the least.
Nor was Crowley, and that was the problem. Crowley had not chosen venom for his snake form, but a powerful aphrodisiac. Aziraphale was overcome with a rush of lust. He picked up Crowley by the tail in case there was any venom lingering on his mouth and held him parallel with his cock. With four hands, he began to stroke them both. Frottage was difficult against the scales of a snake, but Aziraphale was made of tougher stuff. His eyes lulled shut and he clenched with the loss of Crowley’s tail stimulating his prostate. His vision began to blur as the venom took over. The walls of the cave compressed and expanded as his head bobbed with each frantic movement of his hands.
Looking to his right, he saw a particularly enticing stalagmite.
“Up we go, foul friend… no, wait- whatever.” He huffed as he clambered to his feet and dragged Crowley behind him like an unfortunate scarf. He ran his fingers over the semi-smooth surface of the pillar emanating from the ground. Positioning himself over it, he shook as he tried to relax. With a squeal and a gust of wind generated by his wings, he sunk down onto it. Never before was a base more flared than an entire cave to which the stalagmite was attached.
Crowley lay half-forgotten on the ground as Aziraphale worked to pleasure himself with the cave. Aziraphale reached for his cock and noticed the absence of Crowley immediately. His expression dropped to one of deep loneliness as he leaned forward to retrieve him. He strained, not wanting to remove himself from the penetrating mineral deposit which was nestled against all his pleasurable points in the best way. Just a little more, just a little more and he would be able to reach him-
Snap! With a pop, the stalagmite cracked. Aziraphale froze. He leaned forward with a concerning degree of freedom. He rotated the spinning ring of eyes to look at his hole and was met with the horrifying image of a stalagmite lodged completely inside of him. There was no external portion to speak of; it had cracked at just the right place to stay inside of him without providing a convenient means of removal.
Miracle? Sure, why not , he thought. I’ll just use a miracle to remove the impromptu sex toy from my bottom and hope heaven doesn’t notice the difference. Sarcasm was one of The Enemy’s best inventions, which heaven had begun to use with rather concerning frequency as of late.
Ok, little miracles , Aziraphale decided, such that heaven would not be able to pick up on the difference between the individual miracles and thus compile the details of the egregious sex act. Aziraphale sat down to concentrate, still heady with lust from the venom, and groaned as the rock pressed further inside of him.
“Right, go back to your original mineral forms, foreign cave-structure,” Aziraphale commanded. He winced as a puff of malodorous powder engulfed his body. He used his wings to clear the air of the offending minerals, which succeeded only in allowing the detritus to enter his mouth and lungs. Every single eye blinked away tears and irritation, and heavy drops fell onto the floor of the cave.
Unsatisfied, dirty, crying, and in pain, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley and held him aloft.
“Finish me off, foul fiend.” With fire in his many eyes, Aziraphale grasped his cock in one hand and Crowley’s head in the other. Gently, he guided a fang into his cockhole and hissed at the intrusion. He focused on the stretch in his prick rather than the dull ache left by the stalagmite. He was rock hard, which allowed Crowley’s curved fang to hook and poke along the inside of his dick. Little painless droplets of blood speckled Crowley’s fang as Aziraphale pushed it in and out of his leaking cock. The venom significantly reduced the pain he felt, and the feeling of filth, of fullness, of mirth sent him over the edge. Every muscle contracted, and his orgasm reached such intensity that the earth shook beneath him, causing a great many stones to fall from the walls of the cave. He continued thrusting Crowley’s fang into himself, holding him deep and enjoying the way his cum spurted out in all directions- and especially how it landed on Crowley’s sweet sleeping face. Panting, sweating, and utterly gone, Aziraphale rolled Crowley into a neat loop and flew him gently back to his perch. Sliding him back into his original position, Aziraphale gave him a peck on the nose, careful to avoid the marks his cum left on his body as a marker of his presence.
“There we are, beautiful boy, there we are. You were so good for me. I’m going to be back soon, I can promise you that, but rest well. I think I have given you quite the workout today, darling.” With that, he flashed a gentle smile and made his way back across the stream. Landing on the opposite bank, he used the light from his angel form one last time to look at Crowley before reverting to his human form. He shook his wings as he folded them in and put his clothes back on, which he did use a miracle to dry off. As he exited the woods, the forest creatures retracted in awe, horror, and holy reverence at the incredible creature who had just fucked the daylights out of the strange occult snake in the cave.
