He did so love getting to see Crowley's eyes clearly, if only because it was such a rare occasion. He laid the glasses to the side, taking care with them just as he should, looking at Crowley for a moment--no, it wasn't only because it was a rare occasion. They really were exceptional.
And he'd have agreed with that sentiment, if Crowley had voiced it aloud; he was eager, hungry even, heated through from being kissed again and being aware that Crowley was undoing his tie. Aziraphale reached out to help him, catching at the buttons of his shirt and fumbling them undone. He might have thought to miracle some clothing away for efficiency's sake, if he could have really thought of anything that moment other than Crowley's mouth against his, but maybe not. Maybe it was best to take the slower way.
Crowley shrugged off his jacket, his shirt, working at Aziraphale's multiple layers of clothing with growing amused exasperation. He pressed kisses along his jaw, to his neck, and hissed, "You wear too much clothing" before vanishing off, at least, the coats, which found themselves a rumpled mess on a nearby table covering up some precious books. He licked his fingertip and ran his finger with a sizzle down Aziraphale's shirt until it was rent in two pieces, and smirked.
Aziraphale didn’t wear too much clothing, that was absurd. He wore just the amount of clothing that someone smart and presentable ought to. Though Crowley always had a rather different sense of style in his garments, which suited him just perfectly, except at the moment he was just as anxious as Crowley to have him get rid of them. He had no objection to the top layer of coats being miracled away, or even to them being discarded in a heap on one of his tables, but he did give the demon a look somewhere between exasperation and fondness when he rent his shirt in two.
"I'm afraid you owe me one for that, my dear," Aziraphale informed him, and he pushed Crowley's shirt off his shoulders (which he had taken care not to rip, thank you very much).
"Too many buttons," Crowley dismissed, very pleased with himself anyway. Oh, it was nice seeing all that bare skin, and he let his fingers slide down Aziraphale's chest and behind the small of his back to pull him close, hip to hip. "Besides, what fun is behaving at a time like this."
Bodies were strange; he'd never exactly felt this hunger for touch before, but now he wanted his lips on Aziraphale's mouth, his neck, the slightest nip there, and his free hand simply lingering right at his thigh.
"Only a little patience--" He gasped when Crowley's fingers moved down his chest and around to his back, dragging him close, the contact between them lighting curious sensations anywhere they touched, hands to bare skin or hips to hip, "--would have seen them undone."
They were in agreement, though: behaving was not what he had in mind. He stroked greedily, tenderly over Crowley's bare skin wherever he could reach it, tilting his head to offer more of his throat. He was vaguely aware of Crowley's hand at his thigh, entirely willing to encourage his touch wherever it wanted to wander, his own hands moving back down to Crowley's hips where they'd been when he'd first slung himself into his lap. He grasped Crowley's hips firmly, pressed his own up against him--caught his breath again, oh, that felt lovely.
"Fuck," Crowley growled out, and caught his mouth in a sound kiss before rocking into Aziraphale's hips. It was hideously good, the heat caught between them, the heat and slight sweat to Aziraphale's skin as he touched him. After shifting back he slid his hand right up between Aziraphale's legs and cupped, stroked, calling back to admittedly hazy memories of indulging himself with humans.
"You done this before?" he murmured, gaze tight on Aziraphale's face as he kept touching him.
The heat of Crowley’s mouth made him shiver, made the sensation as the demon rocked against him all the more intense, his fingers tightening against Crowley’s hips in response. He wanted so much, so much more that it was almost overwhelming, and yet every touch felt impossibly close to perfection and exactly what he needed, so that he simply took joy in lingering over all this pleasure.
“Ah--just--just a bit,” he answered, his voice catching as Crowley's hand came around him and stroked him. He briefly considered his past dalliances. “I was curious...oh, please.” He arched up to Crowley's touch, eager for more.
Twinned desires rushed through him as he undid Aziraphale's ridiculous fancy trousers and slid his hand inside to get closer, to touch what was arguably the best part of the human form. He wanted this very non-celestial physicality, this raw heat between him and Aziraphale, but there was also some sick, sad weakness breaking through him, something that felt this was a culmination of thousands of years of feelings. He had to ignore that bit or he'd go mad with doubt and demonic conflict. It was enough to kiss Aziraphale like their lives were on the line and try to get him off while they were at it.
Perhaps if he'd had time to himself after the church he would have felt the same conflict of emotion, would have told himself that what he felt didn't mean anything, couldn't mean anything, not between an angel and a demon. He hadn't, though, and at the moment he felt pure adoration spilling out, adoration and desire, and it was so easy to give into with all his heart. Crowley's hand around him, Crowley's mouth on his--it was the most wonderful thing to experience, more so than any past dalliance ever could have been. "Crowley, please," he said breathlessly between kisses, "please, may I..." It was really very greedy of him, to want more, but he couldn't help it, undoing Crowley's trousers as well, skimming his hand over him briefly, and then he said, urging him by a hand on his hip, "Come here, come closer to me," dragging Crowley hard against him for more of that lovely friction.
A laugh burst out of Crowley's mouth - not mocking, a genuine burst of raw pleasure in the moment. He pressed against Aziraphale and arched against him pointedly, understanding now how humans were so easily manipulated by desire and want because he'd literally never wanted anything so much as he'd wanted this since the beginning of his existence. Millennia. Nothing came close.
He raked his fingers into Aziraphale's hair, hissing out of sheer pleased instinct into his ear, and dug his fingers deep into his hips as they moved together. "You," he breathed, "are, incredible."
It was unaccountably gratifying to hear such pleasure from Crowley, in his laughter and the words he spoke, which at any other time he might have felt not at all deserving of, only right now the question of deserving didn't seem to matter at all. All that mattered was giving and receiving enjoyment, and there was so much of it to take as they moved against one another, in motions that seemed almost instinctive. Perhaps this had originally been meant for humans, but they'd both long been observers in their ways.
"Oh yes, yes, please..." he gasped nonsense, a shiver of intense delight going down his spine with Crowley's fingers raking through his hair, the hiss in his ear...he was surely going to reach a release soon, as much as he would have liked to prolong it it seemed inevitable. He tilted his head back to reach Crowley's mouth, a hand cupping around his jaw and stroking tenderly down his throat as they kissed.
There it was, that insanely undemonic rush at the light and careful touch in the midst of the heat of the moment. Again. By all possible standards he'd been in love with Aziraphale for a long, long time, but this was the first time it was undeniable, and it terrified him. He poured all the anxiety into each kiss, possessive and hungry, his body stiffening as his pleasure threatened to peak. He broke the kiss and breathed, still close, still pressing Aziraphale sharply against the chair: "I have an idea."
Feeling the intensity in each kiss, the hot, sundering feeling of possessiveness, Aziraphale continued to touch Crowley with hands that were gentle and assuring, stroking him, each gesture like an act of praise, even with his body still trembling with hunger and the sharp sensation of rising pleasure. He was left breathing hard too when the kiss broke, with Crowley keeping him pinned against the chair and the feeling of the demon's body against his a delight that he hadn't imagined before this.
"Yes?" He kissed the corner of Crowley's mouth softly, feeling so much love for him it was a struggle to assimilate it all. "Tell me."
Crowley kissed Aziraphale soundly, only after casually adding with a smile, "I should tempt you into next steps, if I'm doing it right proper." He trailed a kiss or two down Aziraphale's chest as he sank down to his knees between Aziraphale's legs. He took Aziraphale into his hands again, glanced with amusement up at him, then slid his mouth around him.
"Crowley," Aziraphale gasped when the demon's clever mouth took him in. Something so pleasurable surely had to be a sin. There was no other word for it, as hot and sweet as it felt, how beautiful Crowley looked kneeling there before him, so that he felt himself blushing violently but too lost in the sensations to care. He stroked through Crowley's hair with trembling fingers, guiltily encouraging him. Even if some archaic part of him believed that it must be sinful for an angel to receive this, the rest of him was too subsumed by love and gratitude to pay any attention.
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And he'd have agreed with that sentiment, if Crowley had voiced it aloud; he was eager, hungry even, heated through from being kissed again and being aware that Crowley was undoing his tie. Aziraphale reached out to help him, catching at the buttons of his shirt and fumbling them undone. He might have thought to miracle some clothing away for efficiency's sake, if he could have really thought of anything that moment other than Crowley's mouth against his, but maybe not. Maybe it was best to take the slower way.
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"I'm afraid you owe me one for that, my dear," Aziraphale informed him, and he pushed Crowley's shirt off his shoulders (which he had taken care not to rip, thank you very much).
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Bodies were strange; he'd never exactly felt this hunger for touch before, but now he wanted his lips on Aziraphale's mouth, his neck, the slightest nip there, and his free hand simply lingering right at his thigh.
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They were in agreement, though: behaving was not what he had in mind. He stroked greedily, tenderly over Crowley's bare skin wherever he could reach it, tilting his head to offer more of his throat. He was vaguely aware of Crowley's hand at his thigh, entirely willing to encourage his touch wherever it wanted to wander, his own hands moving back down to Crowley's hips where they'd been when he'd first slung himself into his lap. He grasped Crowley's hips firmly, pressed his own up against him--caught his breath again, oh, that felt lovely.
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"You done this before?" he murmured, gaze tight on Aziraphale's face as he kept touching him.
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“Ah--just--just a bit,” he answered, his voice catching as Crowley's hand came around him and stroked him. He briefly considered his past dalliances. “I was curious...oh, please.” He arched up to Crowley's touch, eager for more.
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He raked his fingers into Aziraphale's hair, hissing out of sheer pleased instinct into his ear, and dug his fingers deep into his hips as they moved together. "You," he breathed, "are, incredible."
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"Oh yes, yes, please..." he gasped nonsense, a shiver of intense delight going down his spine with Crowley's fingers raking through his hair, the hiss in his ear...he was surely going to reach a release soon, as much as he would have liked to prolong it it seemed inevitable. He tilted his head back to reach Crowley's mouth, a hand cupping around his jaw and stroking tenderly down his throat as they kissed.
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"Yes?" He kissed the corner of Crowley's mouth softly, feeling so much love for him it was a struggle to assimilate it all. "Tell me."
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