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Aziraphale woke in the night, from some noise nearby. He blinked once, twice, squinting his eyes in the light of their bedside lamps (always switched on, to prevent them sleeping in total darkness, which Crowley still could not tolerate).
But as Aziraphale turned over to investigate the noise, he realized that the lamps hadn’t done their jobs of keeping the past at bay.
Crowley was sitting up in bed, hunched over, the blankets pooled at his waist and hiding his nakedness. His vertebra showed prominently under the stretched skin of his back as he bent forward.
Bent forward, and shook with quiet sobs. His hands were clasped over his mouth, in an attempt to stifle them, but there was no mistaking the shaking, his squeezed-shut eyes, or his occasional loud sniffles.
Aziraphale rubbed at his own eyes, to wake himself up properly. He sat up, himself. “Crowley, love,” he whispered.
Crowley’s eyes peeked open, the beautiful gold of his irises shining in the light of the bedside lamps. Aziraphale watched as another tear fell, and rolled down Crowley’s cheek.
Crowley quickly tried to wipe it away. “Sss-sorry,” he mumbled. Sniffed loudly again. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s alright,” soothed Aziraphale. “Now that I’m awake, is there anything I can do to help?”
Crowley’s eyes closed again. Another sniff. A shuddering breath. His shoulders raised in a shrug. “Nightmare, that’s all,” he muttered. “It’s over now.”
“But it’s still upsetting you,” Aziraphale murmured back.
Crowley’s eyes squeezed even more tightly shut. Another spasm of sobs rocked through his back, until he couldn’t hold them at bay anymore, and gave the tiniest whimper from his throat.
“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale whispered. He hated this. He hated seeing Crowley so upset, hated that his abusers in Heaven and Hell still held so much sway over his wellbeing. He wished he could banish them all from Crowley’s mind, leaving his beloved free of worries.
He raised his hand, but caught himself just in time; Crowley could sometimes be particular about how he was touched at times like this. “May I touch your shoulder?”
Crowley gave a quiet nod.
Permission granted, Aziraphale eased a hand onto Crowley’s shoulder blade. He started rubbing his back up and down, in what he hoped was a comforting rhythm. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “The dream is over now. You’re home, where you’re safe. No one will hurt you here. It’s just you and me.”
Crowley let out a long breath. It shuddered out a bit toward the end, but at least it wasn’t completely hijacked by his sobs. Aziraphale would take whatever victories he could get.
And then…Crowley leaned himself over, resting his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale took it in stride, and moved his hand into Crowley’s hair, stroking and caressing his fingers across his scalp. This was one of his favorite things to do with Crowley; not only was it so intimate and sweet, but it relaxed Crowley like nothing else did, making him feel so, so loved.
But, he knew Crowley just leaning his head against him couldn’t be comfortable in the long-term. “Would you like me to hold you?” he asked.
Crowley sighed, and straightened up again. “Maybe after. Thought I’d make myself some cocoa first.”
Aziraphale smiled. In the days after Crowley’s rescue, he’d plied him with so many hot drinks, Crowley had developed a taste for the comfort they provided. “I’ll take some, as well.”
They got out of bed, and summoned their dressing gowns. (The weather was turning outside, and standing naked in their kitchen might get a bit drafty after a while.) Crowley poured the milk into the pot on the stove; Aziraphale whisked in the cocoa powder. He fetched some marshmallows too, which Crowley always rolled his eyes at (even if he always took just as many as Aziraphale did, in the end).
While they waited for the cocoa to heat up, he proffered a marshmallow toward Crowley’s lips. “Open up, dearest.”
Crowley slid a glance of Are you serious? to him. But he opened his mouth, and let Aziraphale feed him from his hand. They both ended up smiling at the ridiculousness of it, which was all that mattered.
Once the cocoa was ready, they poured themselves their mugs, topped them with marshmallows, and headed back to the living room. Crowley plopped down onto one sofa; Aziraphale joined him, not minding in the least when Crowley swung his legs across his lap.
They sipped in silence at first. “Better?” Aziraphale asked after a while.
Crowley nodded. He wiped a few drying tearstains from his face. “Getting there,” he said. “Drinks help.”
Aziraphale wiggled smugly in his seat. “I told you hot drinks can be a better comfort than alcohol.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Different kind of comfort, is all. Alcohol still helps.”
“Alcohol numbs the feeling, dearheart. Cocoa soothes it.”
“Cocoa makes me want to go to sleep.”
“Exactly! It soothes you.”
Crowley stuck his cocoa-stained tongue out at him, proving to Aziraphale that he’d won this silly argument. Crowley’s dressing gown had bunched up a little, revealing his bare legs across Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale started absently stroking them.
“Not to return to more painful topics,” he said quietly, “but I did want to invite you…is there any part of the nightmare you wanted to talk about?”
Crowley’s eyes lingered on him for a second. He took another sip of cocoa, considering. In the end, he shrugged. “Not really. Nothing I haven’t hashed out to you before. Just…me being hurt. Body being cut open. Ass being fucked. Dignity stripped away with the things they did and said.” He shook his head. “Just hate that I still can’t escape it.”
Aziraphale glanced at him. “You mean, that you still have these nightmares?”
“Yeah. Felt like I was doing really well for a while there. Went for a long stretch without nightmares, or big freak-outs during the day. It’s like…” He glanced round, at their welcoming living room, with its fireplace that had so thoughtfully started itself burning once they’d woken up, to the houseplants in the corners and on windowsills, to the bookshelves of Aziraphale’s favorites from the shop. “I love that we’ve moved here, and have this quiet place all to ourselves. And that it’s ours, not just yours or mine. But…it feels like ever since we moved, I’ve been taking steps backward.”
Aziraphale’s heart swelled in sympathy. He had noticed it, too. Not only with the so-called ‘freakouts’ and nightmares, but even in between those, Crowley had been jumpier of late.
“This is a change,” Aziraphale said. “Moving to a new home, and moving in with someone. Even if it’s a good change, and with someone you love. Your mind still needs to adjust to it. And since you have experienced such a trauma—”
Crowley groaned aloud, sinking down further into the couch. “Trauma, trauma, trauma, trauma this, and trauma that. I’m fucking sick of trauma. Feels like every little thing I try to do to be happy, this Satan-blessed trauma comes in to ruin it. Am I not allowed to have anything good? Am I not allowed to just exist, without this stupid PTSD running my life?!”
Aziraphale didn’t respond to the frustrated tone; he knew he wasn’t the target. And he, for one, was also tired of his dearest friend not being allowed his own peace of mind, because of what others had done to him.
“I know,” he said. “I wish it didn’t hurt you so much, either. Although…I wouldn’t say you’re taking steps backward. Perhaps it’s…more like a spiral staircase? If you look down at it from above, it might look like you are returning to the same place on the circle over and over again. But if you look from the side, you will see you’re actually climbing higher, even as you return to the same struggles. You’re meeting those struggles with newfound knowledge of how to manage them.”
“Yeah?” Crowley drawled. “And what newfound knowledge have I been enlightened with?”
“Well, for one thing,” Aziraphale said, nudging Crowley’s hand that held his mug of cocoa, “you know that distracting yourself with hot drinks can help soothe you after a nightmare. You used to turn your nose up at the idea.”
Crowley, seemingly with no rebuttal to that point, made a face, and begrudgingly took another sip.
“Also,” Aziraphale continued, “you used to not be able to stay awake for an entire day. Now you have no issue with that.”
“I still nap,” said Crowley.
“Choosing to nap is one thing,” Aziraphale countered. “Falling asleep without meaning to while dissociating at the window, is another matter. Which is another point in favor of your progress: you hardly ever dissociate anymore, and it’s much easier for you to come out of it.” He stroked that lock of Crowley’s hair from his forehead. “It appears your mind is understanding that the present is safe enough for you to exist in.”
Crowley gave him a lopsided grin. “And you know who to thank for that one, right?”
Aziraphale smiled indulgently back. “Flatterer. You built up your own tolerance to the present, through hard work and sheer force of will.”
“Yeah, and I couldn’t without you making the present safe,” Crowley countered. “You opened your home to me. You healed my injuries. You gave me the blankets, and sofas, and so many hot drinks I could’ve gagged on them all.” His voice softened, along with his eyes, overcome with heartrending love. “You’re the one who took care of me, when I was at my most vulnerable.”
Aziraphale tilted his head at him, giving him just as tender a gaze back. “Well, I do love you. It would be a strange way to show it, if I didn’t offer you all the comfort I can provide.”
Crowley gave him an affectionate hiss. “So, you’re thinking I’m actually doing alright? Climbing up the staircase, as it were?”
Aziraphale patted his legs. “I think you’ve come much further than you give yourself credit for. And even if things are difficult now, you’ve made it this far. I have no doubt that things will get even easier.” He looked down. “I don’t know if you will have such nightmares for the rest of time. But even if you do, we will manage them. Just as we have tonight.”
Crowley polished off the last of his drink. “In that case, the cocoa plant better not go extinct any time soon.”
Aziraphale laughed. “We can grow one in our garden, before it comes to that.”
Crowley grinned, and leaned over to deposit his empty mug on the coffee table. When he returned to resting on the couch, he leaned his head back on one bent arm, and splayed his legs a little further apart. “So. What do you think of sex tonight?”
Aziraphale nearly spit out his mouthful of cocoa. “Goodness, Crowley, of all the ways to bring that up!”
The demon grinned, pleased with his mischief. “Well?”
Aziraphale swallowed his mouthful, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You mean, the sex we had earlier this evening? It was wonderful.”
“Glad to hear it. But I was referring to potential future sex we could have tonight. As in, maybe right now.”
Aziraphale looked down at this would-be seducer. He had to admit, seeing Crowley spread himself out on the sofa like that, with that sultry look in his golden eyes…it was having an effect on him.
“Is this what you want?” Aziraphale asked, just to be sure. “After…?” After your nightmare? he stopped himself from saying. He wasn’t sure if the mention of it would bring up more pain for Crowley.
But Crowley seemed to understand his unspoken question, and nodded. “Want you to touch me,” he said quietly.
Well. Aziraphale wasn’t one to refuse such a request.
He placed his mug on the coffee table as well, and rose up on his knees, situating himself to take in Crowley’s sinewy form. The demon lazed back on the sofa, legs askew, one arm behind his head, the other picking at the edge of his dressing gown against his chest. His chest moved up and down with his quickening breaths. His hair and his amber eyes gleamed in the firelight.
“You know you are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Aziraphale breathed.
Crowley slowly smiled, and it made him even more beautiful, to see his eyes sparkle with how happy he was. “C’mere,” he murmured.
Aziraphale obliged. He leaned over Crowley, taking care not to rest his full weight on him, and kissed him. Crowley was warm, so so warm, and their bodies pressing together made them warmer still. He could feel the heat of his skin, even through their dressing gowns.
He broke them apart, so he could look down at Crowley fondly. If demons could purr, he would’ve heard such pleased sounds from Crowley’s chest. Instead, they just looked lovingly at each other. Crowley reached up to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. Oh, how wonderful it was, to be so loved like this.
Aziraphale eased a hand onto the triangle of Crowley’s bare chest. “You said you want me to touch you?”
Crowley eagerly nodded.
And so, Aziraphale reached to the ties of his dressing gown, and spread the flaps open, exposing Crowley’s naked front to his eyes.
Oh, Crowley was a vision. The lithe lines and angles of his body always enchanted Aziraphale, but to see him bare like this was such a gift. Crowley’s nipples had perked up in the cold air. His skinny chest, with that brush of red hair in the middle, rose and fell faster as he grew more turned on. His trim waist gave way to his beautiful hips, with that V in the middle ending at his cock, starting to perk up in arousal.
But so as to avoid Crowley being the only one exposed, Aziraphale opened the front of his own dressing gown, letting Crowley glimpse his own furry chest, the curve of his belly, his own cock standing up between his legs. He swore he saw Crowley lick his lips at the sight.
Aziraphale lowered himself back down on top of Crowley. They gasped at their bare flesh meeting, and caught each other up in kiss, after kiss, after kiss. Their dressing gowns still covered the back of them; Aziraphale’s draped over them both, cocooning them in a bundle of warmth. Even in their own home, with no one around for miles, the added privacy gave them a certain thrill. No one can see, no one else will know. This is just for you and me.
They ground their hips together a little. But mostly, they were caught up in kissing each other, feeling their hearts pounding against their ribs, drinking in their shared breaths.
“Thank you,” Crowley murmured. “For being so gentle.”
Aziraphale gasped in breath at the quiet admission. Somehow, it made him remember back to the first time they’d ever done this. Or rather, the second time. The first time, he’d ended up stroking Crowley’s cock a few times, before he came ten seconds later. Aziraphale had stopped Crowley’s attempts at reciprocating, assuring him that This is your first time, just enjoy it.
But the second time, Aziraphale had been fully involved. He’d rolled on top of Crowley just like this, and they’d writhed and kissed and touched, working each other up to nearly bursting, before they’d come within a few pulls to their cocks. It had been the most intimate and loving sex Aziraphale had ever had. And it only got better from there.
Crowley had come such a long way since then. He lasted much longer, for one. He knew so much more about his own limits and desires. And he knew how to ask for them, how to advocate for what he wanted, speaking up for what made him feel good in bed. In the early days, Aziraphale had the sense that Crowley had still been stuck in how Heaven and Hell had trained him to behave: as a voiceless sexual object, existing only to slake the lusts of his abusers, while he could do nothing but silently take whatever they inflicted upon him.
Aziraphale didn’t think Crowley had ever confused their consensual acts with outright abuse. He knew he could say no. But often, when Aziraphale would ask him what he wanted, Crowley would say whatever you want, anything or just want you. Which, while lovely to hear, didn’t exactly give Aziraphale much instruction on how to please him.
Now, Crowley not only knew what he wanted, but he was much more comfortable voicing such wants. Case in point: tonight Crowley paused their kisses enough to whisper, “Can I suck your cock?”
A rush of breath left Aziraphale in excitement. He, for one, loved oral sex, both giving it and receiving it. But he knew it wasn’t always Crowley’s preferred option, so he didn’t push it. So for Crowley to offer this, shamelessly, unprompted…how delightful this was!
“How would you like me?” Aziraphale asked, breathlessly.
He felt Crowley stretch out underneath him. “Don’t feel like moving. Can you bring yourself up here?”
Aziraphale hurriedly rose up on his knees, and walked himself forward, careful not to jab a knee into Crowley’s ribs. Soon enough, he was straddling Crowley’s chest, cock fully hard and leaking in front of Crowley’s lips.
Crowley leaned forward, and suckled half of Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth.
Aziraphale leaned his head back with a happy little “oh.” He felt suction, as Crowley hollowed his cheeks, working his palate over Aziraphale’s cockhead. Aziraphale huffed out breath, as Crowley did it again, and again, and again.
Just as it became too good to bear, Crowley let go of his cock with a smack of suction, slurping up some of his own drool. He lowered his mouth onto the cock again, further this time, almost all the way down the length. He bobbed his head, let the tip nudge into his throat, suppressing his gag reflex as best he could. He released it, and did it again. And again. And again. Down, almost all the way down, then back off.
Aziraphale sighed loudly. Crowley had become so skilled with this. Years ago, he’d started off rather clumsy, but he learned so quickly. Rather than stick to any one technique, he simply went off Aziraphale’s reactions of pleasure in the moment. It made Aziraphale feel so, so cared for and loved, every time.
Aziraphale looked down. Crowley’s cheeks were hollowing rhythmically as he sucked. He was bobbing his head up and down the cock, making quiet, wet noises in the night. He hummed, as if absentmindedly, simply enjoying himself. It made Aziraphale’s pulse race even more.
Aziraphale reached down, and cradled Crowley’s head in his hands. He didn’t use any force, not wanting to control Crowley’s movements; he just wanted to cherish this precious demon with all the love in his heart.
Crowley paused his movements at feeling those hands. His lashes fluttered, as he looked up longingly at Aziraphale, his mouth still filled with cock. He made a small, muffled sound in the back of his throat, which sounded to Aziraphale almost like pleading. Please, let me keep going. Let me please you. I want so badly to make this good for you.
Aziraphale let his fingers fall to Crowley’s jaw, pressing slightly at his TMJ to relax him. Crowley leaned his head back a little; the cock slid out of his mouth. But Aziraphale didn’t care. He sat there, enthralled, as Crowley opened his mouth wide, tongue peeking out from behind his lower teeth, panting in breath.
Then, Crowley’s eyes fluttered up to meet his. And Crowley moaned, open-mouthed, helpless, desperate, turned on beyond belief.
Aziraphale was spellbound. He could only tremble in breath, and whisper, “My beautiful boy.” Crowley gazed up at him lovingly, eyes shining from the praise.
He dove back in to suck Aziraphale’s cock. His lips stretched obscenely around it. The way his cheeks hollowed, it made his sharp cheekbones stand out even more starkly, glowing in the flickering firelight. He started bobbing his head, a little faster now, making the smallest little glug noises as he did.
Aziraphale cradled his head as he did it. He stroked tenderly through Crowley’s soft hair, ran his fingers against his scalp, felt the solid shape of his skull as he moved back and forth. Aziraphale could feel his balls drawing up tighter. “Crowley,” he whispered, “I’m about to come.”
Crowley gave him one last, good suck, and let go of his cock. With his mouth, that is.
Instead, he wrapped a hand around the cock, and started jerking him up and down, making wet noises from his hand sliding in his own saliva. He rested the head against his lower lip, opened his mouth, and stared up longingly at Aziraphale.
When the warm rush of orgasm washed over Aziraphale, he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He moaned softly, as he watched his semen shoot into Crowley’s open mouth, catching on his palate, landing on his waiting tongue. Crowley made a small, vulnerable noise of pleasure as his mouth caught every last drop. (None on his face, never on his face. But Crowley had known what he was doing, and had positioned Aziraphale’s cock just right.)
Aziraphale grunted a quiet “mmmm” as the aftershocks tapered off. But then Crowley surprised him again: he took Aziraphale’s cock back in his mouth, and gave it a long, slow suck. He made full eye contact with Aziraphale while he did it. Aziraphale gasped sharply; it took his breath away, how much he loved this demon. After all these thousands of years, just when he’d thought he couldn’t possibly love him any more than this, Crowley did something as sweet and loving as tonight.
He stroked Crowley’s hair, staring down at him with love. He let Crowley slide off his cock again, swallow down his come, and catch his breath.
“Do you need to come?” Aziraphale asked gently.
Crowley nodded. “Won’t take much,” he rasped. “Nearly finished myself from doing this.”
Aziraphale smiled in understanding. He knew what it was, to take care of Crowley so well, and derive so much pleasure from making him feel good, that it hardly took anything further to make him spill, himself. It was nice to know that pleasure was reciprocated.
He glanced behind him, to see Crowley’s cock straining, red and swollen, leaking copiously as he stuttered his hips up at nothing. Aziraphale could hardly leave him bereft like that.
He extricated himself from his position, maneuvering down the sofa until he was kneeling where Crowley had stretched his feet. He leaned down, and took Crowley’s cock into his mouth. He sucked once, twice, swallowed again and again—
Crowley groaned lowly, such a vulnerable sound filling the room, as warm semen rushed into Aziraphale’s mouth. He suckled it all down greedily, encouraging Crowley’s orgasm to last as long as possible.
It wasn’t until Crowley was sobbing with overstimulation, that Aziraphale pulled off him with a wet noise of suction. He gazed down the long lines of Crowley’s body, watching his chest rise and fall, a rosy flush creeping down toward his nipples.
He was beautiful. So, so beautiful.
Aziraphale slid on top of Crowley, nestling them into a comfortable position, and gathered this wonderful demon into his arms. Crowley flopped in close without complaint.
“Was that the sort of touching you needed?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley hummed. “Yeah. Thanks for the distraction.”
“Oh, you’re impossible. I hope I’m better than a mere distraction.”
“No, I was being serious!” Crowley shrugged, suddenly introspective. “I dunno. Focusing so much on making you feel good…it makes me feel like I have my own power back. Like I can use my body how I want, to make you feel good.”
They were quiet again. But Crowley soon caught Aziraphale’s burgeoning smile. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Aziraphale, even as he couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s just, this is exactly my point. You were once so afraid of sex. Afraid of your own body, even. Afraid to ask for what you wanted.” He grinned further. “But now, you see giving me oral pleasure as empowering. Therapeutic, even.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Lucky you, O beneficiary of me giving head to self-actualize.”
Aziraphale giggled. But then something caught his eye. “Oh, Crowley, look! Out the window!”
Crowley craned his head around. A small smile played on his lips, as he too saw the first snow of the winter beginning to fall. “Cozy,” he said.
Aziraphale did him one better: with a quick miracle, he teleported Crowley’s favorite throw, from the armchair to their couch, so he didn’t have to get up. He wrapped it around them both. Now they could snuggle in together, warm from the fire, the blanket, and their lovemaking, ensconced safely away from the winter’s chill.
“And you’re right,” Aziraphale murmured, as Crowley’s eyes started to drift shut. “I am lucky. So, so lucky to be here with you.”
Crowley smiled faintly, even as he started to drift off. “Me, too,” he murmured back.
Eventually, Aziraphale knew Crowley was asleep. But he stayed awake a while longer, watching Crowley’s chest rise and fall with his even breaths. Feeling the warmth of his body. Protecting him from the rest of the world.
Not bad, for waking up to Crowley weeping from a nightmare. Not bad at all.
They had been here before, many a time. But they were making progress. They had climbed up that spiral staircase, one loop at a time, until they were no longer fighting to keep their heads above water. Now, they could relax in the firelight, warm and at peace.
And they would keep climbing, and keep healing, until the past was but a memory. Their future, meanwhile, had never looked brighter.
With that, Aziraphale nestled in with his beloved to drift asleep, himself. The future may be bright. But the present was also a wonderful thing to enjoy.