Chapter Text
Now, before any of this came about nothing in the universe could have predicted an angel and a demon coming together in this fashion. The final clash between the celestial beings on opposite sides of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ was imagined to be more war-like, less friendly, yet exactly this sweaty. Truly, no one could have seen it coming, except for a certain seventh-century witch.
“After the ende of things, goode and bad cometh together and if they are so inclined, they might cometh again.” Agness Nutter wrote. None of her descendants interpreted this correctly. They settled on the rather nihilistic concept that nothing really mattered after the end of times anyway.
Aziraphale had never heard Crowley been this quiet. He was aware of his breathing and a restrained hiss passing the demon’s lips, but the man seemed to have gone post-verbal, encouraging the angel with fingertips swirling in his soft, white hair. Aziraphale hummed, his face pressing closer, burying deeper. He ran his hands over Crowley’s chest and slender frame. Tension in his abdomen, still no sound. Something leaked from the amber tip of Crowley’s member and rolled down.
‘My darling,’ Aziraphale said softly. Crowley’s sharp inhale cut through the back room of his bookshop. The angel put his palms to the floor to lift himself and look the other in the eye, to see if there was anything there to navigate him, but the slits of Crowley’s pupils were wide and pulsing like anything, any coherency or ratio fogged. Crowley’s lips moved. His fingers slid from Aziraphale’s crown to his face. The sigil on his cheek now slithered slowly in place. The angel closed in, pressing his lips against it.
There was a remarkable difference of warmth between their bodies. Where Aziraphale felt like he was summery, like after a brisk walk, Crowley’s skin was feverishly hot and acting exactly like a roaring fire ready to consume. The angel felt sweat spring from his chest the moment their bodies were pressed together once more, and once more he reveled in the magnificence that was Crowley.
The demon’s hand closed around his sex, extracting a whimper from his throat.
‘Crow-ley,’ Aziraphale stammered.
Crowley swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. He moved his hand, massaging him, wrapping his leg around Aziraphale’s waist. The demon let go of his member and drew a fast and complicated figure in the air. Then he dove his heel into the angel’s buttocks.
‘Oh!’ Aziraphale exclaimed, feeling how slick Crowley had made himself. He was so determined before, but now he took pause. His thighs were shaking as he felt the demon press him down, and further inside. His chest and shoulders tense, he tried to lower himself with ease (and dignity), but Crowley felt incredibly… wet and hot and smooth and burning. It was him who was at a loss for words when Crowley dug his long fingers into his soft hips and pulled him even closer. One corner of his mouth curled up into a crooked smile when he made his body pulse around Aziraphale´s sex, urging him deeper.
‘Angel, you are blushing.’ Crowley whispered. Aziraphale had heard him say it before, but now his voice was thick, yet brittle, like a raincloud or whipped cream. A drop of sweat rolled down Aziraphale’s temple. He could feel it on his cheek when he lowered himself to kiss his lover.
He pushed, lightning cracking outside as Crowley moaned in pleasure, making all of Soho light up for a moment. Crowley’s head fell back and Aziraphale moved an arm under his neck, worrying the carpet might not be comfortable, and at the same time acquiring a great hold. They found a rhythm together, Aziraphale feeling Crowley suffer his long, deep strokes, Crowley seeing Aziraphale grow more triumphant (and pink) at every sound he extracted from the demon.
∞
Crowley heaved, tracing his fingertips up over Aziraphale´s shoulders, and back down again, squeezing. There were questions in his mind about how, and with whom… but they were irrelevant. They were…
The angel was like a foaming ocean, sizzling, brushing all around and inside him. He felt cool, keeping the fire in Crowley´s veins at bay. The demon felt safe, like a piece of driftwood that would never sink, no matter how violent the waves would get.
He moaned loudly when Aziraphale held his legs to use a different angle for his thrust.
´Ah… angel!´ He felt is toes curl, but it was too soon. He didn´t want to think of ending any of this. Grabbing Aziraphale´s shoulders, he pushed, getting himself a bit more space. The storm in the angel´s bright eyes seemed to subside for a moment, and his pink lips parted in an unspoken question.
Not waiting to catch his breath, Crowley clenched his thighs, trapping the other, and rolled them over with surprising strength. Aziraphale made a high-pitched sound, probably originating from something primal telling him he couldn’t be ‘under’ a demon, and sighed, smiling when Crowley rolled his hips.
‘You thought you were going to have to do all the work.’ Crowley mumbled, taking Aziraphale’s hand and bringing it to his lips.
‘Let me have some of it, angel… let me look at you.’ He ran his tongue over Aziraphale’s wrist, feeling the hand unfold over his cheek. He touched the angel’s chest, enjoying the subtle warmth of his skin. Aziraphale’s heart was beating at the demon’s touch, and Crowley appreciated it, loving it, imagining it under the fine, blonde hairs he was rolling between his fingers. The angel’s face changed at Crowley’s touches, his cheeks rounding and relaxing in a series of half-smiles and frowns of concentration. His eyes were watery and emitting a pale light, and he kept pushing up into the demon at a steady pace.
∞
The smell of sulphur was unbearable. Crowley arched his long, slender torso back, his face pointed to the sky, looking even more sharp than before. In a glance, Aziraphale saw the serpent he once presented, but it was only shortly. The angel dug his heels deeper into his dusty carpet and angled his hips, taking more control, moving faster and with rough, short strokes. Scales appeared and disappeared over Crowley’s chest and he was losing himself, it seemed. His hands started to roam over the table behind them, then Aziraphale’s body, then the floor, for support. His hands kept slipping away.
‘Angel…’
Aziraphale took his hands and pulled him close. He relaxed for a second, catching breath he didn’t know he needed. Crowley wiped his forehead. Slowly, the demon let the angel roll them back and regain the upper hand. Aziraphale took his sex, rubbing his thumb over the amber-colored head.
‘I want to... make it so, dear Crowley…’ He whispered.
‘Give yourself.’ He swallowed, licked his lips. ‘I want you to.’
Crowley groaned, resting his hands on Aziraphale’s arms. His body moved along like a rippling tide.
‘I want you, too.’ He responded through clenched teeth.
Multiple thin strands of obsidian released from his pulsing member, and Aziraphale saw it in a glance before his vision slowly turned to white. He felt a sensation coming over him so strong he feared what it might do to him, yet there was no way to stop it. He felt he was going to cry out, and so he pressed a hand to his mouth, keeping back whatever sounds demanded to be extracted from him. He whined, breathing into his palm, as the demon shivered under him, taking from his body what he needed. He breathed as the demon dug his nails into his buttock. A tear rolled down the angel’s cheek, but he barely felt it. In his brain, the white light spread, and it opened up a gateway in his body. His nerve system split, and it was agony, scorching, magnificent agony, opening up his veins to the outer world. Gold steam dripped from his pores, and through his misty eyes he saw it circling the demon beneath him. He felt the press of his pointy fingertips in his buttocks even more now, and he pressed back at it, to feel them closer to his entrance. It was a forbidden sensation, he knew. He never imagined the fire of hell burned so good.
His own balls tightened, and he felt it coming: the end of it all. He dug his teeth into the skin of his hand and grunted as quietly as he could as his body emptied. It was something he had carried for centuries, an experience of immense relief he only now felt worthy of releasing. Because it was Crowley. The one who had started it all. Aziraphale couldn’t help but let his body tense through all of it, sweat through all of it. He had to press his eyes shut to not combust during all of it, but during one of the last draws he heard Crowly’s whispered plea.
‘Look at me.’
His eyes were half-closed, but he could still vlearly see the amber with specks of gold. Tears stuck to the long, dark lashes around them. The pupils wider than normal, oscillating. A movement the angel felt in the other man’s body too, pulling him further in once more. A last time, a thankful gesture.
‘Ah…’ the demon’s breath was on his lips. ‘Aziraphale.’
∞
´I feel so…´
´Dirty.´ Crowley sighed, but then he raised his brows, for Aziraphale had spoken at the same time.
´What did you say?’
‘I said: clean. I feel so clean.’ Aziraphale spoke softly.
‘Clean?’ the demon said.
‘Clean. Quiet. Purified.’
‘I feel… Dirty.’ Said Crowley. He thought for a bit, then opened his mouth again. ‘Energized’ he said. ‘Cathartic.’
Aziraphale let his head roll to the side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. They were still so bright the demon decided the sun was shining behind them.
‘It sounds like we mean to say the same thing.’
Crowley hummed, feeling no need to respond with sarcasm. He ran lazily ran his fingers over his chest.
‘Do you think we should get up off the floor of your backroom, then?’ He said.
‘Now, now.’ Aziraphale said, absentminded, still holding his gaze. Crowley let their fingers intertwine. He admitted to himself he could stay down here a little longer. Possibly even until the next Armageddon.