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Aziraphale doesn’t normally have the shower to himself anymore.
Now that him and Crowley are officially married, the angel shares the luxury with his husband, both of them loving to wash each other and just find an excuse to be closer, to hold each other.
Today, however, Crowley was called down to hell to do some errands. Nothing bad really, just some last minute paper work. The demon had kissed him soundly before he left, a deep kiss that had set Aziraphale’s skin aflame and his heart hammering in his chest.
“Are you sure?” He had gasped out against Crowley’s lips when the red-head had pulled back. “Are you certain you must leave me, my dear?”
The demon grimaced, reluctantly releasing his hold on his husband and taking a small step back.
“Unfortunately.” Crowley grumbled, flashing his angel a small smile when the blonde huffed. “Awe, don’t look so put out, love. I’ll be back before you know it! We can even continue where we left off.”
Aziraphale blushed even as his body moved forward, cuddling close to his husband’s chest and feeling Crowley’s arms wrap around him. “You better otherwise I am going to be very angry.”
Crowley laughed, pressing a searing kiss against Aziraphale’s forehead. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
He left a few minutes later, flashing Aziraphale one last toothy grin, blowing a kiss in the angel’s direction, before the door shut behind him and Zira was left alone for the rest of the day.
After organizing his books for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, Aziraphale made himself some tea and sat down, barely even registering the words in-front of him as he tried to read.
He gives up with a sigh after having to read the same paragraph over again for the 5th time in a row.
“You’re being ridicules.” The angel chides himself as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head and hissing as his back pops. He sets his still hot tea down on the coffee table with a sigh. “Just find something to do until Crowley gets back, stop acting like a moody teenage girl.”
That something was, evidently, taking a shower.
He doesn’t really know what compels him to take one. It’s not like he’s particularly dirty or anything of that sort. Maybe its the loneliness. Either way, Aziraphale is now standing in their bathroom, hanging a fresh, clean towel up on the hook near the shower door.
The sun filters in through the windows high above him, tinged green from the vines swinging outside and the angel takes a second to bask in the warmth before stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower.
He nearly groans out-loud as the warm water washes over his skin, slicking back his curls and grabbing Crowley’s shampoo from the rack to his right. It’s nearly silent in the bathroom, nothing besides his breathing and the splash of the water against the tile breaking the quiet.
Aziraphale doesn’t exactly know why he starts to sing, but once he does, he can’t seem to make himself stop.
He isn’t sure he wants too, to be honest.
The song that comes to mind is one of his guilty pleasures, one of the songs on his super secret playlist he had compiled on the old iPod Crowley had gifted him last Christmas. He listens to it, along with many others, while cleaning the cabin.
“Lord, have mercy on my soul
For I have walked the sinful road
That I'm down on my knees
Lord, have mercy on me, please”
He sings this part softly, the invisible sounds of the organ seeming to fill up the bathroom as he starts to wash the shampoo from his hair, turning his face into the hot spray of the water and squinting.
He starts to move his body to the beat of the drums, shimming his hips as the piano begins to fill in the silence, not even registering the fact that he had miracled the song to begin to actually play around him.
“Oh yeah”
His voice, while a little deeper than the original singer, is as soft and as smooth as velvet and he grins at the sound. The bathroom projects the sound, sending it traveling around him in a slight echo.
“Jesus, I must confess
That in all my loneliness
I've forsaken, and I've sinned
Leaving fragments of a man so broken.”
Grabbing the conditioner on the other shelf, Aziraphale closes his eyes, lathering the silky liquid into the roots and leaning back so he is flush against the wall, the shower spray hitting against his chest.
“I could tell you what I've done
Or should I tell you where I went wrong? Well, the more that I start to play
My deceitful, evil ways
Keep on growing stronger by the day”
Gathering a lungful of air, the angel belts out the next part, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as the song flows through him.
Resting his hands against the wall behind him, he pushes himself forward, twisting his hips to the rhythm as the water continues to splash down around him.
“Oh lord, have mercy on my soul
For I have walked a sinful road
So I'm gonna get down on my knees
Beg forgiveness to help set me free
Lord, have mercy on me, please.”
Sinking further against the wall, Aziraphale tilts his chin down, playing the part as the guilty angel. The sunlight in the room, as though reacting to the emotions the blonde can feel springing from his chest, gets even brighter, bathing him in a soft golden light.
“Mother Mary full of grace
In my weakness, I've lost faith
I've been careless, and I have been warned
And the devil inside me is torn
God bless the men that I have scorned”
Taking another sudden lungful, Aziraphale sings the next part with passion, his whole body rocking with the force.
In his concentration, he doesn’t register the door to the bathroom carefully opening, nor the shocked yellow eyes that peer at him through the fogged shower as he slides his body down the water slicked wall.
“Oh lord, have mercy on my soul
For I have walked the sinful road.
So I'm gonna get down on my knees”
Slipping to his knees, the angel basically growls the next part, the newly found confidence causing him to smile around the lyrics. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, why he suddenly wants to sing his heart out to the silence of the bathroom, but he finds that he doesn’t really care.
Crowley, however watches him from the other side of the shower door, feeling desire swirl in his gut at the absolute beauty that is his husband.
His mouth waters at the sight of the blonde on his knees, the shower spraying down on his bare back and sending rivets of water dripping down his milky white skin. The light from the sun above them bathes the angel in a golden light, his wet curls aflame in the glow.
Crowley longs to kiss along his spine, to mark up that beautiful back and lather his mate in his scent, to kiss those perfect lips as they part once more, spilling more sinfully wonderful lyrics flying through the air.
This show is just too good to interrupt yet, however, and the demon painstakingly draws himself in for a few more minutes.
“Beg forgiveness to help set me free
Lord have mercy on me, please.”
This is Aziraphale’s favorite part.
He remembers the first time he heard it, through the little white ear muffs Crowley had told him to wear to hear the song.
The power the original singer has in her voice, the way the drums and the piano had pounded throughout his head and the way he had suddenly felt like dancing, like snapping his hips to the beat and drumming his fingers.
He does that now. Moving his hands, he throws his head back, singing his whole heart out.
Its at this point he realizes he is singing about Crowley. The meaning of the lyrics, what the song is really saying, doesn’t matter. The way that it makes him feel, the pure freedom and confidence that fizzles through his bones, is the same way he feels when Crowley looks at him.
And that’s all that matters to the angel.
“Whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah
Whoa, yeah, yeah, oh, oh
Oh-oh yeah, yeah, yeah, oh”
Aziraphale stands back up as he belts out the words, holding himself against the wall with one hand, the other reaching above him to turn the water up, the force of the spray increasing as the tempo speeds up.
It’s around this time that Crowley decides enough is enough and, with a flick of his wrist, makes all of his clothes disappear. His erection, no longer held back by the fabric of his jeans, twitches in the steamy air and the demon growls low in his throat.
His angel is still oblivious and Crowley smirks as he steps closer.
“So don't let me fool around no more
Send your angels down to guide me through that door
Well, I've gone and confessed my regrets
And I pray I'm not held in contempt
I'm so lost, and I need you to help me repent”
He needs Crowley. God, Azirpahale has never needed his husband more than he does now. Needs his touch, his love, needs him like he needs the sky above him or the air in his lungs.
His whole body thumps with the ache and the angel can barely keep from whimpering out the next part of the song.
"Oh lord, have mercy on my soul
Oh, I'm begging, I'm pleading, I'm needing.”
At these words, Aziraphale brings his hands up to his face, his fists balled as though he was really pleading, really praying to the almighty above.
His face is turned toward the spray of the water, small droplets raining down his neck and trailing to drip down his chin, his body rolling as his hips sway.
Crowley aches to lick the water off, to suck the sweet liquid from every single inch of his angel’s beautiful, stunning body until there is nowhere on him that doesn’t bare the demon’s marks and scent.
His chest rumbles with the need and he growls low.
Almost.
“I want you to know
So I'm down upon my knees
Oh lord, I need forgiveness
I need forgiveness from you.”
Aziraphale nearly whispers the last lyrics, breathing harshly as the final sounds of the drums fade out.
His chest heaves, his whole body shaking and he nearly jumps a foot in the air as gentle hands suddenly grab his hips.
“What--”
He barely has time to squeak before familiar lips are crashing into his and he is pushed up against the shower wall. His whole body hums with desire and the blonde feels the hot water splash against his side as he is shoved under the spray once more.
Crowley covers his husband’s body with his own, feeling the bare skin, slick with water and leftover soap, rub against his. The demon pulls back after a few seconds, voice a dark growl that makes Aziraphale nearly lightheaded in desire.
“That was--” Pausing to lick a hot stripe up Aziraphale’s neck that has the angel whining, Crowley growls. “--the sexiest, hottest, most gorgeous thing I have ever seen in my entire bloody life, sweetheart.”
Zira moans, pulling the demon closer as Crowley starts to suck an impressive hickey against his neck, his husband’s sharp fangs sending heat pooling in Aziraphale’s belly.
“You--” The angel says, voice breathless. “--You really think so, dear?”
“God, yes.” Crowley grunts, trailing kisses up the blonde’s neck, taking the shivering angel’s ear in-between his teeth and tugging until Aziraphale’s knees almost give out. “Almost jumped you half-way through the song, love.”
Aziraphale reaches up and grabs a fist-full of the demon’s fiery locks, pushing his lips against Crowley’s when the red-head opens his mouth in a moan.
Crowley grunts against the sudden kiss, using the leverage to lift his husband against the wall, his hands molding against his angel’s perfect ass.
“Why didn’t you?” Zira asks when they come up for air, blinking down at his husband as the demon adjusts his grip on him. “Too shocked to move, dearest?”
The answering grin, all feral and sharp teeth, Crowley’s yellow eyes nearly engulfed by the slit black of his pupils, goes straight to Aziraphale’s groin.
“Oh no, angel.” The demon drawls, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. “I was just enjoying the show too much.”
He really needs to learn more songs if this is the reaction he is going to get, Aziraphale thinks before Crowley does that one thing with his tongue that makes the blonde’s eyes roll back.
Oh yes, Aziraphale definitely needs to learn more songs.
He doesn’t have the capacity for another coherent thought, however, for the rest of the evening.