Work Text:
England 932 AD
Aziraphale's heavy armour clanked loudly on the stone floor, announcing his entrance before the footman could call his name.
“Sir Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate!”
The king gestured for him to come forward, and Aziraphale knelt on one knee and hoped his lord wouldn't take too long to explain why he had been summoned. He was getting too old for this malarkey.
“I send you on a noble quest, to rid our land of the menace that has been plaguing it. A great beast has been devouring our livestock and devastating our crops. The kingdom will be ruined! Please slay this basilisk and bring peace to our people once more.”
Aziraphale would have liked a little more detail, but with a wave of his hands the king dismissed him from court. The couriers clapped politely, if a little disinterestedly, presumably he wasn't the first knight who had been sent on this errand. With a low bow, he backed out of the grand hall.
Upon returning to his lodgings, Aziraphale perused his modest library, hoping to better understand this basilisk he was being sent to slay. He didn’t want to delay setting out on his quest for too long, but he wanted to take at least some time to prepare. He learned that the beast lived in a cavern about a week’s journey from the castle and that it would kill anything who looked into its eyes. He recalled the myth of Perseus, who had used a reflective shield to see Medusa and slay her. He would have to add a mirror to his arsenal of weapons.
After a few more days of preparation, he set out on his mission, on his trusty horse Bentley. The riding was hard going, but he was used to it. He stopped regularly to eat, and could almost kid himself he was in the countryside to picnic. The desperate refugees he met fleeing what remained of their villages told tall tales of a serpent king, some described it as a giant fire-breathing half-man half-snake, others as a small venomous viper. It was alternately a winged wyvern or a cockatrice, a hybrid snake-bird hatched from a cock egg that had been incubated by a toad. Regardless, all agreed you mustn't look it in the eye or you’d be surely turned to stone.
Aziraphale was brave, he was a warrior after all. However, it had been many years since he had seen battle, and truth be told he had become jaded, unsure if anything could justify the horrors of war. He had been a religious man, but his faith was failing, though he would never admit it aloud. Seeing the sobbing peasants trudging towards the capital city gave him the resolve to fight, what could be a more noble cause than thwarting an evil monster?
The closer he went to the dreaded creature’s lair, the more scarce and barren the land became. Fields lay fallow, villages blighted by fire. But what truly unnerved Aziraphale were the statues.
They grew in number with every village passed, starting as just a scattered statue or two at first and then thickening along the abandoned path toward the basilisk. Some had terror forever etched onto their faces, their hands raised in a vain but instinctual attempt to defend themselves. Aziraphale swore he could still see a very real glint of fear in their eyes. Just enough to assure one that yes, these were humans.
Or they once were.
Others reminded Aziraphale of the heroes of new and old. Perseus, Achilles, Alexander the Great, Beowulf, Boudicca, Alfred the Great…
Perhaps these poor souls had been their contemporaries.
Unlike the civilians who had been helplessly ensnared by the basilisk, these brave souls were posed with weapons and clad in what was once bronze, iron, and steel armour, brows wrinkled in determination and veiled trepidation. One or two appeared to have been caught off guard, their eyes wide with surprise.
One in particular that caught his attention was a lean but well-toned young man who looked to be from the classical period. He held a shield in hand, but what was most remarkable was the fact that it was not calcified into stone like the weapons of others. It was a gleaming gold, so well-polished even still that Aziraphale could see his reflection in it.
The mirror secured beside his scabbard suddenly felt like a smithy’s anvil, weighing him down and burning a hole in the leather pocket.
Aziraphale squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and vowed to himself then and there that he would not be joining his fellow warriors.
Soon the path was lined on either side with this macabre configuration of fossilised figures frozen in a hollow and frightful echo of the king’s guard that lined the great hall to stand sentinel over His Majesty.
Here, however, they acted not as protection, but as warning.
At last, the air seemed to grow thick and slow with tension and foreboding. Aziraphale dismounted, unsheathed his sword and his mirror and crept forward into the cavern, keeping his eyes focused down at the mossy ground.
Any moment now, the fearsome fiend might appear and strike.
He heard a sound that reminded him of his youth, watching his mother sweep the floor of their cottage, except this was subtler and smoother.
He had found the basilisk at last.
Aziraphale held the mirror aloft, peering through it to see over his shoulder, and spied shimmering black scales and a deep red underbelly. A long, thick tail heavy enough to club a man to death with one swing, and that was the thinnest part of the creature.
He closed his eyes and spun as he made a sweeping, ferocious swing of his blade.
And sliced through nothing more than air.
“Nicccceeee try,” hissed a low voice. It sent shivers up and down Aziraphale's spine, but he only responded by squeezing his eyelids tighter shut and swinging again. Once again he failed to contact anything. “Missssssed me!” the monster taunted.
Aziraphale was panting, his heavy armour weighing him down. This was hopeless, he was going to need to change tactics. He unbuckled his helmet and threw it to the ground, that was better! Now he could breathe at least. His gauntlets were next, tricky at first, but he worked off one then the other and now with nimbler fingers he could slip out of the plate metal covering his arms. He stood as still as if he had been turned to stone and listened; the great beast slithered closer again, the susurration of scales against stone. Aziraphale waited until he was sure of its position and he lunged. With an agility that surprised himself he stabbed down and plunged his blade into flesh.
“Ouch!” came the indignant response. “What the hell do you think you are doing? That bloody hurt.”
Aziraphale couldn’t help but open his eyes in shock at the response. He looked down to see his sword poking out of the midsection of a giant red and black serpent. He kept his gaze on its body and tail, watching it move with strong muscular contractions, undulating as it slid along the ground, carrying his weapon away.
“That was the point. We are dueling, are we not?”
“Don’t have to fight. ‘S’not a very nice way to spend our time. Could just have a little chat, y’know?”
Aziraphale screwed his eyes tight shut again. “You’re trying to trick me. I’ve been sent on a quest to slay the beast that has been harassing the locals and destroying their livelihoods, not to mention turning half of them to stone.”
“I’m not responsible for the state of the countryside, wasn’t me that’s been slashing and burning the forests and fields. You can blame that on the miners, and the last time I checked they were humans. In fact, I wouldn’t be out here if they hadn’t already driven me from my last home. I will admit to the turning-people-into-stone thing, but that’s hardly my fault if people insist on charging up here and attacking me with their eyes wide open. I did ask them nicely to pretty please put away the swords an’ spears ‘n’ such, but they wouldn’t budge. Seemed determined to have it out and chop m’head off or yank a tooth as a souvenir. I was just defendin’ m’self.”
With his eyes still clamped shut, Aziraphale shot a withering glance in the direction of the basilisk’s voice. “I rather doubt that, my dear.”
“Oh, your dear now, is it?” purred the basilisk, slithering closer. Aziraphale couldn’t hold back the instinctual flinch as something cool and smooth brushed across his cheek in an unexpectedly tender manner. Was that the creature’s tail?
“Just a turn of phrase,” sniffed Aziraphale. “A habit of mine. Clearly you’re nobody’s ‘dear’ anything.”
“Rude. You don’t know me,” argued the creature, definitely poised in front of Aziraphale now, probably looking him square in the face.
“I know you’ve killed scores of people–”
He could swear the beast rolled its eyes at him as he whined, “I told you, ‘t’was self defense! They drove me out of my home and trespassed upon my refuge trying to kill me!”
“Some of those men are from centuries past,” said Aziraphale skeptically, raising a dubious brow. “Been a while since you left home, hasn’t it? Sounds like a bit of a flimsy excuse, foul creature.”
“Again: rude. I thought you knights had impeccable manners. And I have a name, y’know.”
Aziraphale didn’t bother acknowledging the claims of rudeness and impropriety. He was itching to know what sort of name a creature such as this might have. Something ancient and strange, he presumed. “Speak it and I shall refer to you as nothing else here on out.”
“Crowley.”
…not what he was expecting, but it was easy to pronounce, at least, and had a certain…a certain something to it. He tested it out on his tongue, letting it flick the roof of his mouth at the ‘l’. It was not a harsh sound, but something sighed into the air with a tenderness that shouldn’t have been meant for such a frightening being. But Aziraphale could say it no other way. It was pleasant on the tongue, he admitted. “Crowley, then. I’m Aziraphale.” He very nearly jutted his hand out to shake before realizing that that was probably a bit stupid and…well, did the thing even have hands?
“Woof. That’s a mouthful! Wasn’t there a saint or an angel of some sort with such a name? Or am I getting my deities mixed up again. You lot have so damn many!”
Aziraphale tried to reign in his surprise that Crowley was aware of the origins of his given name. “Yes, it is, actually. I was named after the angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden.”
“Named after an angel, eh?” teased Crowley. “What, was it the hair? The cherubic face with the plush, rosy cheeks and the twinkling baby blues, or was it that your parents had outlandishly high hopes for you?”
Aziraphale pouted. “I think they just liked the name but…well, I suppose the hair might’ve had something to do with it…” he said, self-consciously running a hand through it. It had to be a right mess at the moment from the sweat and the helmet and all.
“It’s very pretty,” answered Crowley, and Aziraphale’s mouth gaped as he struggled to determine if he’d heard him correctly or not.
He stood still as he sensed the basilisk moving around him in a slow, predatory circle. Silken scales moved across the stony floor in a quiet hush, like the rustling of leaves at the onset of a storm.
“Not just your hair, to be honest,” said Crowley, the timbre of his voice lowering to a low, husky drawl. Aziraphale felt gooseflesh raise across his arms and the back of his neck. “You’ve got a lovely figure…something ssssssoft and lushhhhh that I could just…sssssink my teeth into…”
Aziraphale shivered. “And you wonder why so many have sought to end you?”
Crowley barked out a laugh. “Fair point. I do sound rather threatening, don’t I?”
“Just a hair.”
“Ha! You’re a fun one, angel.”
“Sorry, did you just–?”
“Indeed I did. That a problem…angel?”
He bit his lip, thinking that being referred to that way bordered on sacrilege that could have St. George or St. Michael barreling down from the Heavens to smite him. Then again, perhaps they might excuse him for the sake of indulging a predator who had him at its mercy. “I’ll allow it,” he stiffly replied at last.
Crowley sounded further amused by that. “Assss I was saying…You’re quite nice to look at. Would be a shame to petrify you, frankly. A real waste.”
Aziraphale wasn’t blushing at the compliment. He most definitely was not! It would be vain and horribly uncouth!
“Seems I have one advantage I can press against you, then, since I am still honour and duty bound to slay you.”
Crowley gave a petulant groan like that of a child denied a treat. “So we’re back to this then, eh? Thought we’d moved past this. We were having a nice conversation and all…”
“I still have no good reason not to end you here and now. All I know of you is your name and that you find my…you find me– Well,” he huffed, “it’s hardly enough to justify neglecting my knightly duties.”
“And what, exactly, would convince you that it isn’t just? Killing me, that is.”
Aziraphale considered this a moment. “Perhaps you ought to convince me,” he decided, folding his arms over his chest and lifting his chin. It was tough to look imposing against a mythical creature three times one’s size and capable of turning you to stone with a glance, especially with one’s eyes closed, but Aziraphale did his utmost.
The creature’s laugh echoed through the chambers of the cave, loud and abrasive. Aziraphale sensed him settling in front of him again and then leaning in as the air around them shifted. “I think I can do that, angel,” he cooed in Aziraphale’s ear.
This time, a different kind of shiver ran through him, down his spine and settling in his groin. Good Heavens, that was most inappropriate! He had to get a grip on himself. Focus on the task at hand.
But before he could, something soft and warm brushed against his ear just before he felt the unmistakable sensation of teeth nipping his earlobe. He gave a yelp and stumbled backwards, only to be caught by a thick coil of basilisk tail. “I can be most convincing. I once persuaded a young woman to put aside her Lord’s commands for just a teasing taste of something sweet.”
Aziraphale gawped, blood running cold. “You’re not saying– You didn’t–!” That meant the creature was millennia old!
Crowley chuckled. “I did.”
A hand –there was no doubt it was anything else– raked through his hair with an incongruous amount of reverence and he shuddered once again. Well, that answered the question he had about whether Crowley had limbs other than his tail. “Honestly, I think you’ll take far less convincing. I can already tell…”
“How dare–!” Aziraphale began in outrage before lips pressed against his and stole his breath and his indignation away. Without even thinking, he found himself pushing back into the kiss, sighing at the sweet, gentle brush of lips. He reached a hand out and Crowley’s free one grasped it and guided it into his hair. It felt long and luscious and lovely.
With a gasp he broke away from the kiss and his eyes began, instinctively, to flutter open before a hand slapped over them. “You can’t, remember?” said Crowley. “Here.” His hand withdrew as Aziraphale kept his eyes closed, and a moment later a stretch of fabric that, judging by the feel of it, was of fine quality was fastened around his eyes and tied at the back of his head. “There.”
Aziraphale felt a shiver run down his spine at the gentleness of the touch, almost a caress. He felt his desire rise, and pulled the scaly hands back, hoping for another sweet kiss. Instead the cheeky serpent laughed and ran his hands down the back of Aziraphale’s neck, the next thing the knight knew his chest plate had fallen away, landing with a clatter on the ground. “Ssssso many layers, Sir Aziraphale. You’ve come to me like a present and I can’t wait to unwrap you.”
Aziraphale stood still, he was used to the way his squire would help to doff his armor, but instead he felt the brush of scales, smooth like silk on his skin. Next came his legs, then his gambeson until Azirapahle stood in just his linen undershirt. His body felt as light as a feather, as if one strong breath from the basilisk would blow him away. He swayed slightly, before realising he had been picked up by Crowley’s strong tail muscles, and was being pulled into a tight embrace.
“You mean to discorporate me? To squeeze me like an overgrown boa constrictor?” Aziraphale asked with indignation.
“I mean to make you feel good, to squeeze every drop of pleasure from you, until you beg me to stop.”
Well, that was a thought! Aziraphale couldn’t help the pulse of blood to his cock, the throbbing need he felt, and he rubbed his body against the serpent, even as he felt the tip of its tail tickle between his buttocks, a slight tease, a hint of what was to come. “Oh my!” Aziraphale bit his lower lip and rocked back onto the firm point.
Crowley tilted him, so that Aziraphale was laying back against his warm, broad body, and his hands made quick work of the knight’s shift, unlacing his undershirt and pulling it over his head until he was as bare as the day he was born. His erection was standing proud in the fresh air, and there could be no mistake as to how aroused he was by this. He cried out in both surprise and pleasure as a hand he couldn’t see wrapped around his cock and something else emerged in between them.
“Is that…do you have…?” Aziraphale wished he could remove the blindfold and see the serpent’s anatomy before it pushed inside him.
“I have two, actually. But I’ll only use one at a time. I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”
“T-two?” squeaked Aziraphale as the blunt head of one of those cocks brushed against his buttock. “Goodness, you’re…generously endowed.” He’d never taken anything close to it, although he had to admit he did appreciate the stretch of a thick cock. More knights than one would think, as well as a couple of grateful townsfolk and an unexpected handful of repressed and frustrated monks sequestered away in idyllic country monasteries throughout the kingdom had been willing to share his bed over the years.
Wrapped securely in Crowley’s embrace, Aziraphale could feel the creature shake with silent laughter. His hands cupped the knight’s round arse and gave it a firm squeeze that yielded another undignified yelp from him and made his other cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“Admittedly I do enjoy–” He cleared his throat, face heating up. “I’m certainly not taking either of those without something to ease the way. And a generous amount of it!” Aziraphale insisted. He wasn’t completely reckless no matter how randy he could be sometimes. And he had standards, thank you very much! “I’ve got some oil in a bottle in my saddlebag back at the cave entrance–”
Crowley laughed even harder. “No need, angel,” he assured him, hands kneading his hips. Without his sense of sight, every touch felt so much more intense. “Although I do appreciate that you came prepared.”
“If you’re insinuating that I came here with the intention of–”
“Easy there, Sir knight. I meant nothing more by it.” Aziraphale allowed himself to relax once again, and Crowley went on, “My hemipenes produce more than just seed at the moment of climax, but also a form of discharge containing a pheromone that heightens my partner’s pleasure and makes penetration easier.”
Aziraphale’s face must be as red as the King’s banners given how warm it felt upon hearing such talk, but Crowley made no note of it. Instead, one hand rose from the knight’s hip and cradled his cheek.
“I’ll take care of you. Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you feel good.”
With each passing moment, Aziraphale was becoming more and more convinced that he meant it. Slowly, the knight nodded. “I believe you.” He rolled his hips back, grinding against the blunt head of the massive cock pressed against his backside. He reached for Crowley’s shoulder for purchase, and Crowley’s other hand followed to lay atop his and stroke it reassuringly. Such a gentle and affectionate gesture for such a seemingly terrifying creature.
With a low chuckle, Crowley’s hand then trailed up to grip the knight’s wrist. “You don’t have to pretend you’re ready for it already. I don’t intend to just stick it in right away. I never just take what I want and toss my partners aside,” Crowley promised. “I plan to take my time with you, don’t worry.”
“Perhaps it’s all the more reason to worry. Between that and your promise to…what was it? Squeeze every drop of pleasure from me until I beg you to stop?” teased Aziraphale with a light smirk, and again it garnered amusement from Crowley. He had a rather lovely laugh, now that Aziraphale was relaxed enough to notice. He wondered if his smile was equally as dazzling.
“I don’t think you’ll have much of a mind to worry soon enough,” said Crowley before he shifted, holding Aziraphale steady as he repositioned himself slightly and then the blunt head of something else pressed between the cleft of his arse. He felt the scales brush against his sensitive skin and concluded it must be Crowley’s tail. “Now relax, angel. Let me make you feel good.”
Before Aziraphale could formulate any kind of response to that, Crowley’s hands were parting his cheeks and his tail was circling his rim, immediately lighting up every nerve and muscle within him and making him jolt with pleasure. “Oh! Oh, my–!” he gasped.
“Good?”
Aziraphale bit his lip and nodded. “More. Please.”
He’d bet anything the snarky serpent was grinning at that. He didn’t have it in him to care, he just wanted more of that. And Crowley delivered, the tip of his tail starting to apply greater pressure as it circled around the furled hole as Aziraphale spasmed in his hold. His fingers dug into Crowley’s shoulders, his nails sinking in abruptly when Crowley’s tail dipped inside him for the first time. He let out a cry, his body jerking. “Ohhh, yes, go on, make me loose and leaking for you, my dear,” he moaned.
Crowley surged forward to kiss him hungrily as his tail began to move, slow and shallow pulses at first and then deeper, harder, faster. Aziraphale was moaning and panting into Crowley’s mouth as he felt his muscles relax and his achingly hard cock dribble with want where it pressed against Aziraphale’s belly.
Aziraphale’s kisses grew frenzied and unrefined as his arousal grew until, at last, he knew he was ready. “Let me have you now,” he pleaded.
“Are you sure?” asked Crowley, sounding so sweetly concerned for him, but Aziraphale nodded.
“I can’t wait any longer. I need it. Need to feel it!” he moaned in frustration.
“Alright, you greedy little heathen,” said Crowley, sounding fond, amused, delighted, and scandalised all at once.
Again, the enormous serpentine creature rearranged himself to align the first of his two cocks up with Aziraphale’s loosened rim. “Take a deep breath for me and relax. The pheromone is very quick-acting, so just give it a moment once I’m–” he swallowed, sounding a bit worked up himself for once, “–once I’m inside.”
Aziraphale nodded and inhaled, arms draped around Crowley’s neck as the head pressed against him, the pressure building, until finally– “Oh, fuck!” cried Aziraphale with a loud whine, head careening back as he felt Crowley breach him at last. “Auuuunnngh, God, that feels–” he panted as his body let Crowley in, inch by inch.
“Oh, Hell, that’s–angel, you feel…Hnnngggh, you are sinfully tight! And searing hot! Fuck, I’ve never felt anything like it…” groaned Crowley, sounding just as wrecked as Aziraphale was feeling. His hands rested once again on Aziraphale’s hips, holding him steady and making sure the angel didn’t seat himself too quickly.
And then Aziraphale felt something warm spill inside him. At first he felt it only on his core, but then he felt that warmth spread out and out to his extremities like vines growing up the sides of a derelict cottage. It claimed every part of him, flaring with such an intense heat for just a moment before flooding him again with a pleasant heat that ensconced him. Made him feel drunk and pliant.
“Look at you,” breathed Crowley with unmistakable wonder and admiration. Aziraphale blinked beneath the blindfold and came back to himself. As he did, he realized that he was now seated flush against Crowley. He’d taken every inch of him and it had been practically effortless. There had been no stinging stretch, no brief pain or discomfort, only a fullness and a pleasure that was dizzying in its intensity. “I’ve never seen anyone take me so well.”
His hands were rubbing up and down Aziraphale’s flank as they each took a long pause to appreciate the feeling and let Aziraphale’s body fully accommodate the welcome intrusion.
“I bet you say that to all the knights,” huffed Aziraphale as he twirled a lock of Crowley’s hair. He wondered what colour it was. Did it complement his eyes? What must they look like, the eyes of such a being imbued with equal parts confidence, snark, gentleness, and wit? Sharp and eagle-eyed. Predatory but with a flash of warmth if you glanced at them from the right angle (and didn’t wind up turning into stone) and a mischievous glint in the corner that was impossible to miss.
“No, just this one,” Crowley sincerely replied, and Aziraphale believed it. “Seems like my pheromone has kicked in.”
“Mmmm…” Aziraphale hazily replied as the effect of it sank into every vein and muscle. “Feels wonderful.”
“Excccccellent,” hissed Crowley with delight. “Are you ready, then? For me to move?”
“Oh, yes! Yes, please! Please, Crowley,” begged the knight, and the serpent was all too happy to comply.
The slick slide of Crowley’s hemipene thrusting in and out started off slowly, a push and pull leaving Aziraphale desperate. With every drag past his prostrate the knight felt more and more undone. His whole body fizzed, tingles radiating up and down his body. Crowley was kissing him and his hands were running up and down the knight's muscular chest, his fingers teasing at Aziraphale's nipples. Every touch seemed to ignite more sparks, his whole body feeling like a firework ready to explode. It was almost too much to bear. He needed more!
“My dear, would you please put your back into it?”
Crowley didn’t need telling twice, his spine undulating as he fucked deeply into Aziraphale. His forked tongue tickled as he hissed words of lust. Aziraphale attempted to make out the shape of him through touch alone. A human head and torso which merged into a serpentine body and tail. All lean muscle and brute strength.
As Aziraphale’s hands found Crowley’s flowing locks once more, even through the haze of pleasure he managed to ask, “What color are they?”
“What?” panted Crowley, still thrusting so deliciously hard and fast inside him as Aziraphale quickly approached release.
“Your eyes. What color?”
“My eyes?” Crowley slowed his pace slightly and Aziraphale bit back a petulant whine of disapproval. It was his own fault, after all. The basilisk gave a breathy huff of laughter tinged with wonder. “Huh. Never had anyone ask me that before.”
“Quit obfuscating –ah! Oh, yes, right there! Christ Almighty!– and answer me!” the knight grumbled.
“Such a bossy little thing you are,” said Crowley, but Aziraphale heard no reproach in his tone, only amusement. “And fussy, too. I, um…well, truth be told, I don’t rightly know. Never seen ‘em for m’self and anyone who has…”
“Right,” said Aziraphale, feeling guilty for bringing up something that was clearly a sore spot for Crowley in the middle of their intimacy. He gave Crowley’s hair a yank and distracted him from the poorly timed question with suckling kisses gentler than wheat brushing against one’s palm and scrapes of teeth like sweeping a finger along the blunt edge of a sword.
“Hnnnn oh, that’sssss good, angel,” sighed Crowley as he tilted his head back further. “Harder. See if you can bruise me. Leave your mark.”
Now that was a tantalizing thought. Aziraphale leaving Crowley, a great creature of legend and far greater in size and strength, with love bites hard enough to linger long after their coupling…
His body clenched around Crowley and his cock leaked between their bellies as he set upon this new mission, sinking his teeth into Crowley’s neck and suckling hard.
It wasn’t until Crowley reached between them and started stroking Aziraphale’s cock that he forgot his task. His fingers were long and slender but his grip was sure and strong, his movements confident and competent. “J-just like that, darling, yes! That’s perfect!” cried Aziraphale as his body began to rock back and forth, onto Crowley’s cock and then into his hand.
With so much stimulation, Aziraphale’s peak approached rapidly. “Wait, I– Crowley, I’m– I’m going to–”
“I know,” the smug helion replied with a breath-taking twist of his wrist on the next upstroke that had Aziraphale keening desperately. “Go on, let me watch you.”
Aziraphale was helpless to do anything but obey, hips jerking and back arching as he came hard with an obscene shout. He clung to Crowley’s shoulders as he rode out his orgasm, distantly aware that the serpent was stroking him through it. Squeezing every drop from him, indeed.
He lost himself in the white wave of pleasure that crested over him, smothering him briefly in the most intoxicating bliss. When he came back to himself, ears ringing and head muzzy, the first thing he heard was the wet sound of their bodies rutting together and Crowley’s grunting and heavy breathing.
“Alri –ungh!– Alright, angel?”
“T-tickety-boo,” mumbled Aziraphale dizzily, probably giving the dopiest, most satiated grin ever.
Noticing that Crowley’s thrusts were growing erratic, Aziraphale cradled his cheek to grab his attention. “When you come, I want you to come inside me. You have my permission, my dear.”
Crowley didn’t even have a chance to respond before he was giving a few more valiant, uneven thrusts and burying himself deep inside and spilling inside of Aziraphale.
Aziraphale felt absolutely filthy and used. It was incredible. He idly ran his hands up Crowley’s sweaty chest and over his shoulders, down his arms as the marvelous creature rode out his own pleasure, murmuring sweet, gentle things.
“Fucking Hell, angel…” wheezed Crowley at last. “No one– No one has ever…ever felt that good…” A hand wound through Aziraphale’s frazzled white curls and the knight leaned up into the touch with a sigh. “That was the hardest I’ve come in– Shit, probably a couple centuries, I’d say.”
“You jest, surely!” said Aziraphale, stunned. Not that he’d ever gotten any bad reviews, per se, from previous partners, but he’d never heard anyone rave about him like that before. His ears and cheeks burned at the compliment; at the fact that it was him, of all people, to cause Crowley such great pleasure.
“I’m no court fool, angel. I mean it.” As if to prove his point, Crowley reeled him in for another searing kiss.
When at last they broke apart, chests heaving and lips tingling like a swarm of bees were perched upon them, Aziraphale smiled. “In that case, I suppose it’s only fair to confess that I’ve never come so hard in my life. I’ve never– never felt a connection quite like this…” The absurdity of it made him giggle. “Of all beings on this Earth, it’s a basilisk that I find myself drawn to!”
Crowley soon joined in on the laughter, and as his cock softened inside of Aziraphale, the pair laughed themselves breathless yet again.
“So…that was just the first of your…hemipenes, did you call them?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, when would you like to go for round two?” Aziraphale coyly asked, and Crowley’s grip on him tightened, his body going tense in a telling sign of surprise.
“Don’t you need–?”
Aziraphale smiled adoringly. “It’s sweet of you to be concerned, but you needn’t worry. I have quite the stamina, actually. I can usually last a few rounds.”
“Now you’re the one who’s jesting,” said Crowley, clearly in absolute disbelief.
“I’d never! Sadly, most of my partners aren’t able to keep up and I’m left only partially satisfied.”
“Well I’ll never– I mean, I don’t plan to leave you that way, angel.”
He had tried to cover it up, but Aziraphale caught his mistake. The implication that there would be future trysts. A repeat of this.
He certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea…
“Marvelous! Then let’s get a wiggle on, shall we? Have at me, foul fiend, I’m ready for more of you.”
“You are one hedonistic bastard, Sir Aziraphale. I love it!”
Aziraphale blushed. “So I’ve been told,” he admitted with a giggle. “Now, lay back for me, will you, my dear? Tout de suite. I’d like you to allow me to do the hard work this time. Let me ride you.”
“I have never been more bloody glad I didn’t smite someone before,” laughed Crowley as he lowered himself down and Aziraphale tipped over after him, hovering over the large serpent.
“More thrusting, less talking, darling.” Aziraphale leaned in and silenced him with a kiss as he sheathed himself once more.
FIN (or rather, TAIL or whatever that is in French – ask Kotias)