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This would be their first Christmas. Not first first. They both had been living on Earth since its beginning, and although Christmas isn't as old as the planet itself, it is old enough for them to have experienced many Christmas days. Nonetheless, this was to be their first Christmas at their cottage. The first Christmas Crowley cared about, though he still pretended he didn't. He had to complain about the lights being too bright or the carols being too cheerful. Aziraphale loved the colours and joy, and Crowley secretly enjoyed watching him love them too. However, he was a retired demon with some unresolved issues, so he simply couldn't be open about loving those things. Admitting his love for Aziraphale had already been a huge step for him. And it was a step that truly mattered.
Aziraphale had tried to invite the people who'd helped them save the world twice for the Christmas celebrations. It turned out, however, that all of them already had other plans. Anathema and Newt were visiting her family overseas. The Them had grown up and gone to college. They were going to visit their own families over the Christmas break. Shadwell and Tracy were going on a cruise, for which Crowley was grateful because he didn't want to celebrate anything with a retired sergeant in the Witchfinder Army. Aziraphale had hoped that at least Maggie and Nina would accept the invitation, but they had plans with Maggie's family. She had far too many brothers, nieces and nephews to escape that obligation easily.
Aziraphale was willing to invite other members of the Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association, but Crowley had to draw the line there. He was ready to make many sacrifices in the name of love, but spending Christmas with Mr Brown wasn't one of them. Crowley had a feeling that the carpet-loving weirdo from Soho would be the only human to show up at their door, and that would be a disaster.
“I won't stand by while he tries to flirt with you,” he told Aziraphale firmly.
“Don't be silly,” said Aziraphale. “He wouldn't do that.”
“He most certainly would.” Crowley had no doubt about that. “He has a huge crush on you.”
Aziraphale laughed at these words. “That's preposterous!”
“You're smart, angel, but not about this.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I could smell lust on him every time he looked at you,” Crowley explained.
“Or so you claim,” said Aziraphale quietly. “I still have doubts about that skill of yours.”
Crowley raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?” he asked. “I was right about that guy from the local bookshop.”
“Derek,” Aziraphale reminded him. “And that could be completely coincidental.”
“It wasn't.”
Aziraphale sighed. “Whether that's a real skill or not, we're not inviting Mr Brown for Christmas,” he said, slightly defeated. “Are you happy?”
“Barely,” murmured Crowley.
It was clear that Aziraphale wasn't happy about any of this. He wanted to have a proper Christmas celebration for family and friends. They didn't have any family, but that would be amended once they were married. They would become each other's family by law. And although Crowley already considered Aziraphale his family, the wedding would seal that.
“Maybe you should extend your invitation,” Crowley mumbled, not believing what he was about to propose.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe Muriel would come,” he suggested. They were the only angel, beside Aziraphale, whose presence Crowley could stand for more than five minutes.
“I've already asked them,” said Aziraphale. The gleam in his eyes dimmed. “They're busy.”
“Busy?”
“I think they mentioned... Eric.” Aziraphale looked at him meaningfully.
Crowley's eyes widened. “Are you suggesting that...? Ngk!”
“I'm not suggesting anything,” Aziraphale denied that accusation. “Muriel is probably trying to make a friend.”
“With a demon?” asked Crowley sceptically.
“Do I need to remind you that you're a demon too?” asked Aziraphale, crossing his arms.
“For millennia you pretended we weren't friends,” Crowley reminded him.
“But we were! The times were just different.” He sighed at the memories. “You know... I think Muriel and Eric have a lot in common. Deep down.”
Crowley snorted. “Being a doormat for Heaven and Hell is not a lot, angel,” he said.
“That's a start.”
Crowley flinched. “I hope they don't have kids,” he said, only half-jokingly.
“I don't think angels and demons can have children,” said Aziraphale, clearly amused by the idea.
“Satan had one,” Crowley pointed out. “Adam.”
Aziraphale's face paled a little. “I didn't think about it.” He sounded slightly horrified. “But Adam is half human. Or was. He's fully human now. I don't think an angel and a demon ever had a baby together.”
“Angel, I don't think angels and demons had sex with each other before... well.. we did,” said Crowley, suddenly feeling horrified himself. “Do you think we... could?” he asked.
“Could what exactly?”
“Have a baby.”
“We don't use the body parts that are required to bear a child,” Aziraphale pointed out.
“I know, but... If we did use those parts, do you think it would be technically possible?” asked Crowley.
He hadn't considered that before. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind once in all eternity. Besides, he liked their cocks and never felt the need to experiment in bed with a different type of effort.
“No idea,” he mumbled. “Maybe. Since Satan fathered a kid.”
“Perhaps we should warn Muriel,” Aziraphale suggested.
“Ngk!” Crowley could feel a blush creeping on his cheeks. “I will not have this conversation with them,” he said, mortified.
“With Eric, then,” Aziraphale decided. “I can talk to Muriel if you're too embarrassed.”
“Why do we have to talk to both of them?” asked Crowley.
“Because they are new to Earth and they need to learn how this all works,” Aziraphale began to list the reasons.
“No one explained anything to us and we figured it out ourselves.”
“It took us literally millennia. I don't think Muriel and Eric have that much time, and I don't want to deal with another Armageddon.”
Crowley groaned. “You didn't have to mention that,” he said. “I suppose I can send a friendly threat to Eric.”
“A friendly threat?” asked Aziraphale sceptically.
“A warning, then. He must stay away from Muriel to keep the world going,” said Crowley.
“Now that's a bit dramatic.”
“It could work, angel.”
“But we want to keep the status quo of angels and demons not fighting each other or humans,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Making friends works in our favour.”
“So what do you suggest?” asked Crowley.
“A talk.”
Crowley didn't want to do that, but he knew he would. Aziraphale could talk him into almost anything. With the right incentive, it could literally be anything. Aziraphale had the best incentives and Crowley was helpless, so he ended up contacting Eric and asking him directly about the nature of his relationship with Muriel. The demon claimed that they hadn't had sex and didn't intend to. It was good that Crowley was direct with his question because Aziraphale asked Muriel about bees and birds. They didn't have a clue what he meant.
“They're innocent,” Aziraphale decided. “Muriel told me that they hadn't watched any videos about bees and birds and asked if they were as funny as cat videos.”
Crowley couldn't help but laugh at that. “What did you tell them then?” he asked.
“I asked them if they knew how cats mate,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Did they know?”
“Not really. But Muriel said they would check.”
Crowley laughed even harder while Aziraphale continued.
“I told them to study how animals and humans mate. I think it might mortify them enough to stay away from sex for a couple of centuries,” he decided.
“Or it will spike their curiosity,” Crowley pointed out.
“They've just started drinking tea. They won't be interested in having sex any time soon,” said Aziraphale, although he no longer sounded so sure.
“We'll see,” mumbled Crowley, but he hoped Aziraphale was right.
Since they had the Muriel and Eric being too friendly with each other situation handled for the time being, Crowley and Aziraphale could focus on their first Christmas as a couple again. They weren't going to have any guests at their cottage, but that wasn't the end of the world. At least that was what Crowley kept telling Aziraphale. They could spend some cosy time alone in their cottage, which Crowley personally preferred, but he mentioned that they could also join the festivities in town.
“I suppose we can make more friends here,” Aziraphale agreed, choosing the less favourable option for Crowley.
“Sure, angel,” mumbled Crowley. The enthusiasm was gone from his voice, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice that.
“I'll call the community centre tomorrow and see if they need some help!” he decided with a broad smile.
Crowley liked seeing Aziraphale in such a good mood, but he preferred to be the reason for that kind of smile. Helping out at the community centre would only mean spending less time together and running errands around town. Crowley was certain that Aziraphale would assign him some ridiculous tasks for the common good. He could only hope that they would spend one cosy evening together despite all the rush. If he had to pick a Christmas present, that would be it. Aziraphale, however, could see it differently.
Crowley sighed, trying to convince himself that they would at least spend most of that time in each other's company. The presence of other people was far from ideal, but Crowley was willing to endure it as long as he had his fiancé by his side. Sometimes he couldn't believe what he was ready to do to make Aziraphale smile. That was ridiculous, but that was the price for being utterly besotted.
Aziraphale called the community centre and they had a perfect task for him. It was perfect according to Aziraphale himself. Crowley wasn't so enthusiastic about it. It turned out that the community centre was having the gift-giving event on Boxing Day and they needed someone to be their Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, or whatever they wanted to call him. Their regular guy got sick and had to cancel his participation this year. Aziraphale volunteered right away, which wasn't particularly surprising, but he made Crowley join him too.
“You'll be my assistant,” Aziraphale said decisively. “You can dress up as a Christmas Elf or Rudolph.”
“No!” Crowley was going to be stubborn about it.
“It could be Krampus if you want to be naughty,” Aziraphale offered.
That was tempting for a second, but he needed to be more assertive. He should make it his New Year's resolution.
“I'll pass,” he said.
Aziraphale eyed him up and down. “Mrs Claus then?” he asked in the most innocent voice he could muster.
Crowley inhaled sharply. That was a dirty trick. Almost demonic.
“We could have matching outfits,” Aziraphale continued. “You'd look stunning in a red dress.”
Crowley's lips quivered. “Why do you like dressing up so much?” he asked, scolding himself inwardly for not refusing right away.
“You like it too.”
“What? You dressing up or myself dressing up?”
“Both?” said Aziraphale with a mischievous smile.
Crowley groaned loudly. Aziraphale was right, but he really didn't want to admit that.
“Am I wrong?” Aziraphale asked in a teasing tone. The bastard.
“You could be,” mumbled Crowley.
Aziraphale gave him a pointed look.
“But you're not,” Crowley admitted, defeated. “Satan! You'll look good as Santa Claus.”
“I prefer to be called Father Christmas,” Aziraphale corrected him. “And thank you for helping me,” he added with a wide grin. “Thank you for supporting my ideas. I know you're not a fan of all of them.”
“You're not wrong,” murmured Crowley.
“I'll make it worth your trouble,” Aziraphale promised him with a telling smile.
“Ngk...”
“Like I always do.”
Aziraphale knew how to talk him into anything. That was both terrifying and arousing.
“We're going to need costumes,” he said cautiously.
“Indeed. We still have a few days to find something appropriate,” said Aziraphale quietly. The tone of his voice made Crowley shiver.
“Appropriate is not the word I'd use,” he admitted.
“Oh?” Aziraphale faked a surprise. “Mr Crowley! Or rather... Mrs Claus! Or Mary Christmas? You can't be Mrs Claus if I'm Father Christmas...”
“It doesn't matter, angel.”
“Either way, it will be a family event!”
“On Boxing Day, yes,” said Crowley, not even trying to hide his mischievous smile. “But we should try on the costumes earlier. With full make-up and everything. Let's say the day before the event.”
“Are you proposing a dress rehearsal?” asked Aziraphale.
“Something like that,” Crowley agreed. “But it should be a very private event. Just us in our cottage. To avoid any mishaps during the main event. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” said Aziraphale, trying to contain his laughter.
“We don't want to disappoint the children. We need to rehearse,” Crowley emphasised.
“I'll see to that.”
“Then I'm in good hands.”
They both couldn't keep their hands to themselves any longer and embraced each other in a passionate kiss.
The next day, Aziraphale took the Bentley and drove into town to find the perfect costumes for them. Crowley would have joined him, but Aziraphale hadn't woken him up. The bastard had only left him a brief note.
Crowley was grateful for his glasshouse. The plants were his distraction whenever Aziraphale was away. However, Crowley started getting worried about his fiancé in the late afternoon. He hadn't seen Aziraphale since last night, and the angel had forgotten to take the mobile phone Crowley had given him a couple of months ago. The radio in the Bentley also remained silent. This didn't look good, and it was getting harder for Crowley to stay calm.
Aziraphale finally returned home around 7 p.m. Crowley didn't mean to be harsh, but he simply couldn't keep his tone down.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“I left you a note,” Aziraphale told him calmly.
“That was in the morning,” said Crowley accusingly. “How long does it take to buy costumes?” he asked.
“They had to be perfect and I couldn't find anything decent in our town. I had to go to London,”
Aziraphale explained.
“London?” Crowley blinked a few times in disbelief.
“I lived there for a long time. We both did. I knew where to find decent costumes there,” he murmured sheepishly.
“You could use a miracle.”
Aziraphale gasped. “That wouldn't be the same,” he said hastily. “That would be cheating!”
Crowley crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I know you missed me,” said Aziraphale.
“I didn't say that.”
It was clear that Aziraphale didn't believe him for a second. “I missed you too, but that was worth it. I found the perfect costume for you,” he added excitedly.
“For your own pleasure,” Crowley couldn't help but notice.
“For many reasons, including my and your pleasure,” said Aziraphale, licking his lips seductively.
Crowley sometimes wondered if that was intentional or not. He still didn't find the answer.
“Should we try them on?” he asked, looking at the shopping bags in Aziraphale's hands.
“They will fit,” Aziraphale assured him.
“That's not what I meant.”
Crowley chose that moment to be seductive himself. After all, his fiancé had left him home alone for an entire day, and Crowley had missed him terribly.
Aziraphale blushed slightly at his comment. “I don't want us to ruin them,” he mumbled.
“We won't,” Crowley promised.
“Besides, I'm starving. We should eat something first.”
“First?” asked Crowley. That sounded like a promise of something more coming soon.
“That wasn't a yes to your proposition,” Aziraphale told him quickly.
“That's not what it sounded like.” Crowley decided to be stubborn.
“I'll think about it.”
They didn't end up dressing up that evening because Aziraphale wanted to keep the costumes intact until Christmas. If there were any damages to the fabric or stains, Crowley would have repaired the costumes with a quick miracle, but Aziraphale didn't want to listen to that. However, Aziraphale made it up to him, and Crowley was very satisfied with the outcome.
Christmas Eve arrived and they were spending the evening alone in their cottage. Aziraphale had prepared a delicious dinner, and Crowley had pulled out the best bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape from somewhere.
It turned out to be a very cosy evening. Crowley wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Besides, he had a mischievous little plan. He wanted to convince Aziraphale to try on their costumes in hope of having a wicked way with him in the Christmas spirit. Retired or not, Crowley was still a demon, and he was fond of some of his wicked ideas. They were nothing harmful, as he wasn't actually evil. Not even in the slightest. He was just a little mischievous. All things considered, perhaps he should have agreed to dress up as Krampus.
Aziraphale noticed the silence and must have found it suspicious because he asked, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing?” Crowley deliberately said it as a question. He was a tease.
“I don't believe that for a second.”
Crowley chuckled and took another sip of his wine. “Perhaps you're projecting,” he suggested, smiling teasingly.
“I don't think so. No.” Aziraphale looked at him expectantly.
“You know it's almost Christmas...” murmured Crowley in the most innocent tone he could muster.
“Indeed. In some countries, Christmas Eve is more important than Christmas day,” replied Aziraphale.
“And it's more... celebrated.”
“Hmmm...”
“We still should rehearse for the gift-giving event,” Crowley pointed out. “I'm not sure if I know what is expected of me.”
“I see.”
It seemed that Aziraphale started to play along. Crowley loved that.
“Could you show me?”
“I'm afraid I've never done this before either,” Aziraphale told him.
Crowley had to put in a lot of effort into hiding his smile. “In that case, we have even more reason to practise it,” he noticed.
“It seems so.”
“So... should I bring the costumes?” asked Crowley.
“If you're so kind.”
Crowley didn't waste a second. He knew exactly where Aziraphale kept the outfits.
“I need to put some make-up on too,” he mumbled, as he walked back into their living room.
Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. “You take this very seriously,” he said.
“Very.”
“So shall we split up to get changed?” asked Aziraphale.
“Yesss,” Crowley practically hissed. “So that we can surprise each other.”
“I know what your costume looks like, dear. I picked it myself.”
“But you don't know how I'll pull it off with make-up,” Crowley observed.
Aziraphale licked his lips. “Let's not waste more time then,” he murmured.
They rushed out of the living room in separate directions. They gave themselves half an hour to get ready. It didn't seem like a lot of time to Crowley, as he had plans that required time and patience, but he simply couldn't wait to get back to Aziraphale.
Time flew by too quickly and Crowley didn't manage to do everything he'd planned, but he still felt he'd done a good job. Red suited him, even when paired with white. The dress wasn't as short as he'd imagined, but that made sense. He needed to look decent for the public event. However, to compensate for this small drawback, he chose not to wear any underwear underneath. It would be like wearing his kilt, which always worked on Aziraphale the way he wanted. Moreover, the red and white stockings and black high-heeled shoes looked great on his long legs.
Crowley chose not to overdo his make-up. He simply applied red lipstick and black mascara. If he had more time, he would have probably added some blush and eyeshadow, but he thought he looked pretty good without them. For the final touch, he used a small miracle to change his hair. There was no other way, because Crowley wanted it long and curly, and that was impossible to achieve in thirty minutes without magic.
Aziraphale's jaw dropped the moment he saw him. Crowley was pleased because that was exactly his intention.
“Oh, dear,” mumbled Aziraphale.
Crowley smiled at him seductively. “That good?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“That's an understatement.”
Crowley walked up to Aziraphale and touched his shoulder. “You also look very handsome, Santa,” he whispered.
“I go by Father Christmas,” Aziraphale reminded him.
That was exactly what Crowley hoped to hear. “So you want me to call you daddy?” he asked, batting his eyelashes like one of Mrs Sandwich’s seamstresses.
Aziraphale inhaled sharply and gulped. “Wouldn't that be strange? I am your husband, Mary.”
He wanted to stay in character and Crowley wholeheartedly approved of that.
“I wouldn't mind it,” said Crowley truthfully.
“Oh?”
“And I have to admit that I find your beard very manly,” he murmured, tenderly touching said beard. Then he gasped. “Is it... real?” asked Crowley, slipping out of his role for a second.
“Of course it's real,” said Aziraphale hurriedly. “I am authentic.”
“You didn't want to use miracles for this,” Crowley pointed out.
“That barely counts.” Aziraphale's logic from the Bastille was back. He was a true bastard.
“I think it does,” Crowley said stubbornly. He wanted to be a little tease too.
“Your hair didn't grow on its own either,” murmured Aziraphale.
“But I wasn't against using miracles.”
That was a strong argument that Aziraphale couldn't refute, so he pulled Crowley into a kiss instead. Crowley couldn't find it in himself to counter that. He enjoyed the feeling of being manhandled by Aziraphale way too much.
Kissing Aziraphale with a beard was a completely new experience. It tickled him a little, but the sensation only fuelled his imagination.
“Angel...” mumbled Crowley against his lips.
“I don't know any angel, my dear wife,” Aziraphale replied pointedly. “Are you having an affair?”
“Never! How could you say that?” he asked in an exaggerated tone. “I could never have an affair while being married to such a good looking and perfect man like you,” Crowley added with a wink. “Who else would take better care of me?”
“No one.”
“Exactly,” Crowley agreed, as he affectionately touched his beard. “No one can treat me like a lady by day and a harlot by night. Not the way you do.”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale fell out of character for a second.
“Never met him,” said Crowley, shaking his head. “Is he your secret lover? Perhaps you are having an affair.”
“Fiend,” murmured Aziraphale. “I travel the world and meet a lot of people, but I've never met someone as perfect for me as you.”
“You might have got bored with me, for all I know,” whispered Crowley. “You could want to look for a cock somewhere else.”
“Never. My wife has the loveliest cock and the sweetest arse in the world,” said Aziraphale, moving his hand down to grope Crowley's buttocks through the fabric of his dress.
“Mmmm... I bet there are many guys out there who would love for you to bend them over and give them a thorough pounding.”
Crowley wasn't sure where exactly they were going with it, but he was eager to find out. They hadn't done a full-blown costumed role-play before, yet it was something he'd like to explore more in the future. So far, he'd been loving every second of their game, and it seemed that Aziraphale had similar proclivities. There were many possible scenarios they could enact, and the thought of every one of them made Crowley shiver.
“I'd be lying if I said some men and women haven't propositioned me,” mumbled Aziraphale, fully in character. “They tried to seduce me. They tried to trick me.”
“Oh!” Crowley feigned indignation.
“But I told every one of them that I married the most wonderful person in the universe and I would never cheat on them,” said Aziraphale with a smile.
“What did they say in return?” Crowley insisted.
“Many things. One gentleman was so desperate that he asked me to at least use my beard on him. He claimed that would be enough for him,” Aziraphale continued his ridiculous story. Crowley loved every second of it.
“Did you?” asked Crowley as he touched his own cheek in a mock concern.
“Of course not. I told this gentleman that my bachelor days were over and that now only my wife gets to enjoy the touch of my beard on her private parts,” he said with a little smirk.
“You're absolutely correct! Now you should put your beard to good use.”
It seemed that Aziraphale was waiting for him to say that. Without further ado, he grabbed Crowley tightly and dragged him toward their three-layered sofa. He'd never been more happy with the existence of any other furniture.
Aziraphale pulled up his Mrs Claus's dress and hummed contently.
“I knew it!” he said. “Of course you're naughty enough to not wear any underwear in winter.”
“I knew you'd keep me warm,” Crowley teased him.”You always do. Your beard alone could cover my entire backside.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you're more attracted to my beard than me,” murmured Aziraphale. “Should I be jealous?”
“That's a tough question.”
Aziraphale gasped. “And that's the wrong answer,” he said, pinching Crowley's arse cheek.
“Ouch!” Crowley cried out and his whole body jumped a little.
“Stick your bum out and stay still,” said Aziraphale in a commanding tone.
Crowley's heart skipped a beat. “What are you going to do? Spank me?” he asked, not even trying to hide the hopeful tone.
“Maybe. You are naughty.”
“Frankly, I don't think I would mind that,” he admitted.
Crowley didn't get to add anything else before the first slap came. It wasn't strong or unpleasant in any way. On the contrary, it felt surprisingly good. However, Crowley hadn't expected Aziraphale to actually do that. Not without further convincing. Their little role-play must have loosened something in him.
“Look at you,” murmured Aziraphale. “Sticking your bum out even more, you naughty thing. You love it.”
“I hate it,” replied Crowley. He didn't sound convincing in the slightest.
“Liar. Tell me... how many men had spanked you before we met?” he asked.
“Dozens. Maybe even hundreds,” said Crowley without hesitation. That was part of their role-play. He'd never been with anyone else before Aziraphale, and he didn't want that. But it was a fun thing to say at the moment.
“You never told me about those men,” Aziraphale said accusingly, but Crowley could hear the amusement hidden in his voice. “But it shouldn't surprise me.”
“I am a bit naughty,” Crowley admitted.
“More than a bit. You are a first class Jezebel.”
Crowley couldn't help but chuckle at that word coming from Aziraphale's mouth.
“Just a simple seductress,” he corrected him.
“There's nothing simple about you, my dear, but you did seduce me.”
Then another slap arrived and Crowley gasped for the dramatic effect. It didn't hurt him at all. Aziraphale was gentle with those strikes, which was sweet, but also a bit annoying. If they were ever to repeat that in bed, Crowley was going to ask him to hit him harder.
“Is that a crime?” asked Crowley. “You didn't even try to resist.”
“That's a lie, dear wife,” he said, spanking Crowley again. “I tried to resist. You just made it impossible.”
“Nah! You jumped me the moment I batted my eyes at you.”
Crowley knew how absurd the story sounded, but he loved making it up. Perhaps role-playing was a thing they should really explore more in the future. It was more fun than he'd expected.
“I didn't jump you,” Aziraphale denied. “I was in the middle of performing my duties as Father Christmas.”
“That didn't stop you, but I suppose you were younger then. More eager,” Crowley teased him, as another slap landed on his bottom.
It was still too gentle for his taste. He needed something rougher and he needed it soon. Preferably Aziraphale's beard against his sensitive skin. That could do the job.
“Ouch!” Crowley feigned pain. “Will you at least kiss it better later?”
“I shouldn't,” muttered Aziraphale.
“But you want to.” There was a note of triumph in Crowley's voice.
Aziraphale didn't respond with words. Instead, he gave him one last spank and then leaned down to bury his head between Crowley's buttocks, marking the skin with his urgent kisses. However, Crowley couldn't focus on the being kissed part when Aziraphale's beard teased his skin so sweetly the entire time.
“Oh... yeah! Like that! Ang... Santa!” he moaned.
Aziraphale pulled away and said, “Father Christmas. You should remember your husband's real name when he's pleasuring you.”
“Daddy!” Crowley mumbled instead. “You're my Daddy Christmas.”
“You're insolent. I shouldn't be rewarding you like that.” Then Aziraphale began to move even further away.
“No!” Crowley cried. “I'll behave,” he promised.
“Good girl,” murmured Aziraphale and buried his head between Crowley's butt cheeks again.
Crowley couldn't see it with his eyes, but he could feel the smirk on Aziraphale's lips in those kisses. He sighed contentedly. The beard rubbed him the right way. Perhaps he should ask Aziraphale to put on some facial hair in their bed more often. That was a nice treat.
Aziraphale moved slowly from his cheeks to his hole, which only ignited his desire and imagination, but also a need to tease. It was a role-play after all.
“If you were still a bachelor, would you shag the gentleman who wanted you to use your beard on him?” Crowley asked while Aziraphale was licking his sensitive rim.
“Possibly,” mumbled Aziraphale against the skin of his arse.
“Oof.”
“Is my dear wife jealous?” he asked in the most teasing tone so far. “You had your share of lovers yourself. You know... the ones who spanked you.”
“They barely count.”
“I think they do,” Aziraphale insisted.
“They didn't matter. Not in the big picture,” said Crowley. “They paved my way to you.”
“That was sweet and disturbing, dear,” muttered Aziraphale. “You're lucky I love you because I'll focus on the sweet part.”
“What a gracious man,” mumbled Crowley in a slightly mocking tone. “I've married a saint.”
Aziraphale chuckled and said, “Literally.”
He had a point. At least in their little role-play that began to grow surprisingly fast.
“I'll overlook the audacity of those men who try to lure you into their beds and I'll let them live if you give me a good pounding. Right. Now,” Crowley emphasised the last part.
“Oh dear, I can't let you commit any crimes, can I?”
“Not if you're as good as people claim you are.”
“Alright, then,” muttered Aziraphale. “Let's save those men.”
There were no men, except for those in town who tried to seduce Aziraphale, but they weren't as insolent as those imaginary men trying to shag Santa Aziraphale in Crowley's head. However, Crowley wasn't going to point any of that out. No. He needed a good pounding and Aziraphale was excellent at that.
Aziraphale lowered his Santa trousers barely enough to pull out his cock. He kept the rest of his costume on, which only turned Crowley on more.
When Aziraphale finally entered Crowley from behind, his cock felt familiar, yet thicker. He wanted to ask him about it, but the force of his thrusts chased away any coherent thoughts from Crowley's mind. He turned into a moaning mess, calling Aziraphale his daddy Christmas.
Crowley came way too early for his liking, but he was thrown over the edge the moment Aziraphale tugged on his long hair. It was as surprising as it was arousing. Crowley learnt a hell lot of new things about himself and his body on that Christmas Eve. He'd never liked Christmas very much, but if Aziraphale wanted to turn what they'd done that night into their secret tradition, Crowley thought he could be persuaded to change his mind about the holiday.
When Aziraphale reached his orgasm, they ended up lying in each other's arms on the sofa, still in their costumes that definitely needed some washing and possibly mending before Boxing Day. There were many things Crowley wanted to talk about with his beloved, such as whether they would continue role-playing, and if so, they also needed to discuss the rules and boundaries. Those things were important. However, there was one question that felt particularly urgent to him right now. He didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep without hearing the answer.
“Did you make your cock thicker tonight?” he whispered with curiosity.
Aziraphale played with his long hair but stopped to answer. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” asked Crowley incredulously. “You either did that or you didn't.”
“I did,” Aziraphale admitted with a sigh. “I thought it was more in line with a character.”
Crowley chuckled. “A thicker cock for a chubbier man?” he asked.
“Something like that,” murmured Aziraphale hesitantly.
“Interesting.”
“Interesting in a good way or...?”
“I'm not complaining, angel,” said Crowley quickly, as he glanced at him. “Not in the slightest.”
“Jolly good!” Aziraphale said and kissed his hairline softly. “I like your long hair too, dear. It doesn't mean I don't like it short, but it fits your character perfectly.”
“Oh? Do you like to pull your slutty wife's hair, Santa?” he asked in a playful tone.
“Father Christmas,” Aziraphale reminded him. “And I do,” he added sheepishly.
“Good. I'd like to repeat that sometime,” he muttered, hoping Aziraphale would like that idea as well. “The same scenario or something different. Of course if it's not weird to you,” he added quickly.
“It's not,” Aziraphale assured him. “Actually... I thought it would be nice to repeat that tomorrow since we don't have any plans.”
Crowley smiled at him. “I'd like that,” he said.
“But maybe we could change it up a little,” Aziraphale continued, clearly encouraged by Crowley’s reaction.
“Change?” Crowley raised his eyebrows.
“It's only fair to let Mrs Claus... or rather Mary Christmas have a go at pounding her husband's arse,” he mumbled.
“Oh.” Crowley's grin only grew bigger. “Does the offer also include spanking?” he asked.
“It's not off the table.”
“Good.” He sighed contently. “And since we're talking about it so openly... Is role-playing in bed something you'd like to explore more in the future? In some other scenarios?” he asked, holding his breath.
“I love the things we usually do, but it'd be nice to experiment with role-playing from time to time,” said Aziraphale.
Crowley liked that answer very much.
“We're on the same page, then, angel,” he muttered.
Soon they drifted to sleep. They didn't even make it to their bedroom.
The next day they woke up quite late, but that wasn't an issue since it wasn't Boxing Day yet and they didn't have places to be. They could spend the entire day in bed or on the sofa where they'd slept the night before.
Ultimately, they got much more movement than the lazy Christmas day usually entailed. But it was a very welcome and pleasurable movement between the sheets in their costumes.
It turned out that spanking Father Christmas was a nice starting point, and Aziraphale accepted it with great enthusiasm. He vocally encouraged Crowley to hit him harder and faster. Crowley was hesitant at first, but he quickly got into the role of a dominatrix and soon Aziraphale's buttocks turned red that matched his Santa outfit.
The bliss on his face after a thorough spanking was quite a sight. Crowley was certain that with a little practice, he could bring his partner to orgasm this way, without penetration or cock stimulation. However, that was something to consider in the future. For now, he had another job to do. Namely, the pounding.
Father Christmas' red bottom quivered sweetly from the forceful thrusts of his wife's cock.
“You will not look lustfully at another man or woman ever again,” Crowley mumbled between the thrusts, staying fully in character. “You will worship no other cock but mine.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
“Good. No other cock can do that,” he said, as he used a miracle to expand his penis inside Aziraphale.
The angel moaned loudly, which pleased Crowley immensely.
“Or would you rather have a wife with a cunt?” he asked provocatively.
Aziraphale shook his head violently.
“I didn't hear you.”
“No, you're my perfect wife. I don't want a cockless spouse.”
“A husband, then,” Crowley teased. “They usually have cocks. Or another gal like me.”
“There's no other like you,” Aziraphale assured him hastily.
“You're damn right,” panted Crowley, barely holding back his impending orgasm. “But there are well-endowed men in the world. One time, before I met you, I had two of them inside me at once.” He made that up on purpose to drive his lover crazy.
Instead, Aziraphale responded with a filthy story of his own. “I was once taken by three men at the same time,” he said, making Crowley shudder with arousal. “One cock in my mouth, two in my arse. That was an unforgettable time. And yet I still choose you over them.”
Crowley gasped at his words. He knew it was just a role-play, but the confession struck the right chords and he came forcefully inside his angel, filling him to the brim like a good wife he claimed to be.
He didn't even give himself enough time to recover because Aziraphale was still unspent. Crowley couldn't allow that to continue, so he pushed Aziraphale on his back and straddled him. Not wanting to waste any more time on searching for the lube that he'd previously thrown on the floor, he miracled his fingers and Aziraphale's cock well lubricated. Then he pushed two of his fingers inside himself to check if he was still loose enough from the night before. He was, so not wasting any more time, Crowley sank down on Aziraphale's throbbing cock with a long sigh. His Mrs Claus dress fell over them, covering the joined parts of their bodies. Crowley found that extremely erotic.
He started moving up and down, riding Aziraphale's cock, and making him moan and tighten his grip on the sofa cover.
“Give it to me, Daddy Christmas,” he muttered through the gritted teeth. “I need you to fill me with your swimmers, and I need it now.”
Aziraphale didn't need much more to come. Crowley clenched his arse muscles deliciously tight for him and that was it. He cummed with a loud groan and finally collapsed, completely exhausted.
Crowley lay on top of him and watched him slowly come back to his senses with a besotted smile all over his face.
“I hope it wasn't too much,” he whispered when Aziraphale looked semi-conscious.
“That was perfect.”
Crowley didn't need more confirmation. He leaned in and kissed him softly.
“We'll have to clean the costumes before tomorrow,” mumbled Aziraphale. He sounded tired, too tired to do anything but lie down.
“And repair them. You made a hole or two in my dress,” Crowley told him. “But don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything later. You should take some rest now.”
“My perfect wife... husband...” murmured Aziraphale sleepily.
“Anything you want me to be. We can role-play any filthy scenario that comes to your pretty angel mind,” Crowley assured him.
“We'll be really married in a few months...”
Crowley nodded. “And I can't wait for that.”
The next day was like a fever dream. Crowley had used a miracle to wash and repair their clothes before Aziraphale woke up. Then he fed his angel with Christmas dishes and goodies. They both needed all the energy they could get, because they had a long day ahead of them, surrounded by loud people.
The day turned out to be longer than Crowley had expected. The kids were loud and nosy, which didn't really bother him since he generally approved of being curious and asking many questions. However, it became tiring after a few hours.
Aziraphale also seemed pleased with how the day turned out to be. He loved handing out gifts and the joy they brought to the children. Even retired, he was still an angel.
Agnes stopped by at one point. “Nice hair and outfit,” she said to Crowley, winking.
He had a feeling that she knew how he and Aziraphale had spent the last two days. That was a dreadful thought, but Crowley realised that he started slowly getting used to it. For some unknown to him reason, the reincarnated witch had a supernatural access to his and Aziraphale's sex life, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Nothing but give her another show, which they did after the event was over and everyone went back home. Everyone but him and Aziraphale, but they weren't human and they had a few miracles at hand, and Crowley wasn't hesitant to use them. Even Aziraphale chose to overlook it this one time without a single comment. After all, there was a huge incentive for him in that too.
Once they were left alone in this public place, and the security cameras miraculously stopped working properly for the next couple of hours, showing the footage from the previous night, Crowley finally climbed on Aziraphale's lap. After so many hours of waiting it was finally his turn.
By courtesy of his wife, Father Christmas got the best gift he could have asked for this Christmas: the ride of his life.
They both were sore at the end, but having the best Christmas culmination ever was worth all the aches.
The armchair they violated in the process had some stories to tell after that night.
So had Agnes after having some vivid dreams a few hours later.