Work Text:
Aziraphale was on his period. So of course, Crowley was on a run to his favourite bakery, blessing the day the angel had finally used their Netflix account and binge watched every cringingly sappy romantic film from the early 2000s.
As if it wasn't enough that he didn't miracle his period away, now it had to be a whole event . For someone's sake, he had even suggested that they had it together!!! “ I'll take mine miracled away, thank you very much” , they had answered, obviously. Obviously. It was maybe the one time they had resisted Aziraphale's pouting face. That was a hard no. Red. Black.
So now they were running to buy sweets, like an arsehole of a boyfriend in a stupid film written by cis men who had apparently never met a woman–or any other person with a uterus, for that matter.
“Why on Earth, Angel? It's messy and sort of painful, and overall a big bother. And it happens like... every five minutes? Highest creation, the humans, utter buggers...”
Crowley was no expert in reproduction but after the whole unicorn business, well, they had done some research. Turned out that most mammals had a couple “seasons” a year, which seemed manageable. Others only generated the...stuff... when there was an actual chance of reproduction. Pretty reasonable if anyone asked their opinion. And finally there were humans. God really outdid Herself with that. They were the bad guy for feeding one of them an apple, but She got away with wishing pain and blood to half of the population. Nicely done, mum.
“I want to live the whole human experience, dear. You know how much I like things the human way.”
Aziraphale's answer had hardly been a surprise. Crowley had rolled their eyes, thinking of the many, many inhuman things he enjoyed, but held their tongue on that. They enjoyed them too and didn't want any guilt-driven second guesses, even if they were bound to be temporary.
“You are maybe not aware of this although you should be, being the one interested in humans and all,” they had answered instead, letting the sarcasm spill, “but there are many human men with a uterus who don't have periods. There are also many human women with uteruses who don't have periods. There are humans from any gender with a uterus that don't have periods, Angel!”
For one incredible moment, Aziraphale had gone speechless, gaped a couple times and then turned and went for the kettle, and Crowley thought they had won. That was before Netflix.
Almost an hour later, Crowley was entering the bookshop with a finger snap, equipped with sweets, wine, ice-cream (for the love of Someone), and plenty of music and gardening podcasts in their phone, ready to keep company to their ridiculous and sometimes enervating, if terribly handsome, husband.
He was quite a vision, in a comfy knitted jacket and fleece trousers, his hair ruffled and his adorable golden glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he read some old book in a blanket cocoon. All of Crowley's bitterness– well, most of it– vanished at the sight.
“Damn it, Angel, you are unfairly cute”, they kissed his forehead before offering the selection of treats for him to choose and popping briefly into the kitchen to put the ice-cream in the freezer.
Back from the kitchen, Crowley was about to crumble over the empty armchair with their phone when Aziraphale spoke.
“Would you sit with me, dearest?”
Well, at least they were going to get some snuggles out of this, Crowley thought.
“Are you feeling cuddly, Angel?” they asked knowingly, and the sides of their mouth flinched, saunting towards the sofa.
“I might be, demon,” Aziraphale answered in a sultry voice, eyes wrinkling, moving aside and patting the free space behind his back.
Crowley sprawled against the back of the chaise lounge, opening their arms and legs to fit Aziraphale. This eccentricity might not be so bad after all, they said to themself, kissing the back of the angel's neck and wrapping their arms around his chest. And just then, Aziraphale sat up and took the remote.
“I've chosen this (500) Days of Summer film. It's supposed to be good, very romantic.”
Crowley groaned both honestly and dramatically. Aziraphale huffed.
“I won't yield to your protests, darling. I have horrible cramps and I need something to occupy my mind. Humans seem to have mastered this art with sweets and romantic films, and that is what I am going to do! You can go if you hate it so much, but I'd rather have you here pampering me.”
“Don't you always, Angel? And when have I denied you so?” Crowley smiled against Aziraphale's neck, causing a delighted shiver.
“You know,” they continued with a smirk, “many humans say that the best remedy for cramps are orgasms.”
Aziraphale's face flashed a pretty tone of red.
“Oh!...Oh, dear! But...isn't it...I mean...isn't it messy? And well...I certainly can't picture myself undressing and exhausting myself right now... Say what you want, but this pyjamas and the water bottle are so very cosy...” The angel kept babbling and reddening and gesturing wildly.
“Relax, Angel, it was just a joke. Let's watch your horrid film.”
“Oh, oh, okay, certainly, yes...”
He sounded so disappointed all of the sudden. Why did he sound so disappointed? Oh, the naughty angel... Crowley grinned. They had been served the perfect opportunity to avoid watching the cliché film. Curse Aziraphale's neverending lust.
“Angel... do you want me to...?”
“Do you? You said you were joking! I'll admit you awoke my curiosity, but... Aren't you grossed out?” Aziraphale looked unsure.
“Oh, shit, Angel! By a bit of blood? C'mon, I'd touch you anytime. Well...maybe not anytime, there are times I wouldn't but 's not 'cause of you... ngk, nevermind. Yes.”
Aziraphale beamed.
“I meant what I said about exerting myself or getting naked, however.” He added, dignified.
Crowley barked a loud laugh and squeezed Aziraphale's middle, to which the angel protested a little.
“Oh, 'course you did, my pillow Principality. When have I ever made you work for pleasure, huh?” Crowley said, still with a hint of laugh in their voice.
And before Aziraphale could bite back on that comment, the demon nuzzled wet kisses on his shoulder and slid a hand under the blanket and through layers of padded fabric, searching for the angel's soft underbelly. They stroked his skin and toyed with the velvety curls covering the angel's mound, twirling and pulling ever so slightly.
Aziraphale hummed and nested himself against them, encouraging Crowley, who smiled hungrily. Touching Aziraphale was one of their favourite things in the world. Most of their favourite things in the world involved Aziraphale in one way or another.
Crowley trailed downwards, running their fingers through the slightly wet hair, and covered Aziraphale's cunt with their palm, pressing the heel against the hood of his clitoris. Aziraphale moaned and ground subtly against it, but Crowley remained still for a moment, knowing it would only add to his arousal. Aziraphale's breath hastened, and Crowley could see his skin flushing beautifully. The thrill of denying him pleasure only to give it back doubled never wore thin.
“Crowley...” Aziraphale exhaled, pushing his back against Crowley's chest.
And Crowley moved their hand, letting their fingers caress the plush folds of the angel's delicious cunt. They slowly trailed the outer ones, delicately covered in damp curls, still pressing lightly against Aziraphale's nub. The angel's breath became hitched, and Crowley couldn't resist nibbing on his lobe as they separated Aziraphale's folds and started sliding their fingers around his soaked slit.
It felt different from the regular slickness, and it would have been more difficult to read Aziraphale's arousal if he hadn't been so vocal about it. Crowley thanked Someone for their shameless husband.
“Oh, Angel, the things your moans do to me...”
“They can't be better than the things your fingers do to me, dearest,” Aziraphale managed in between utterly obscene noises.
Crowley groaned, wanting to ravish him, but kept their leisurely pace around the angel's entrance. Aziraphale whined as they lifted the heel of their hand from his mound, but his protest was cut short by a deep moan when Crowley's thumb replaced it, stroking his sensitive nub in rhythm.
“Crowley... more...”
“Inside?”
“Yes”
Crowley teased Aziraphale's entrance and carefully pushed two fingers inside. It was also different, a bit more tender, more plump.
It felt so good, it always felt so good. The tactile experience alone was delicious. The soft flesh around their fingers, the subtle changes in it as they played. But the emotional one just made their head spin. Being able to share this intimacy with their Angel, to share their pleasure with him.
Crowley curved their fingers and rubbed gently back and forth. Noticing the angel's intentional clenching, they wrapped their own legs around his thighs, pressing them together.
“Is this good?”
“Yes! Perfect de– ah! Aahhh!” his words turned into a yell when Crowley's thumb started circling his clit at increasing speed.
Aziraphale trembled, panting and gripping Crowley's free arm. Crowley knew what they were doing, and soon the angel was coming with a spasm, tightly trapped by the demon's limbs. His orgasm was short but intense, and he gasped for air as Crowley released him and started kissing his nape, his cheek and all of what they could reach from behind him. Aziraphale basked in the post-orgasm affection his husband was so fond of giving him.
“You know, I'm going to have to unwrap you before taking out my hand, unless you want me to leave a trail,” Crowley chuckled after they took back their breaths, “actually maybe a hot shower and a change of clothes are in order...”
“Yeah, that would be nice, dear, but...” He smiled, the bastard, with his bastard smile, “I feel like going for another one, if you are up to it, of course.”
Crowley groaned one more time, cursing their luck, and stroked Aziraphale's cunt in response.
***
Some time later they were both back in the sofa, still flushed but clean, relaxed, and in a fresh set of pyjamas (yes, Crowley was now wearing pink pyjamas too, but they couldn't be less bothered by it since Aziraphale was moaning again, being fed little portions of assorted sweets by their hand). Tea, biscuits, chocolates and some ridiculous foods were consumed by a happy angel wrapped in an elated demon. There was some wine too, for the latter.
Finally, they ensconced themselves against the sofa with a content sigh. Well, that had been an interesting evening.
“Can we watch my film now, dear?” Asked Aziraphale with his most angelic performance.
Crowley scoffed, accepting their defeat, trying but failing to hide their amusement. Their husband was just inexorable.
“Fuck, Angel, yes, whatever you want...you menace. You're gonna end me one day.” They give him a playful peck. “Just don't get pissed if I snooze, 'kay?”
“Sure, darling! I'll just pinch you if that happens. I don't want you to miss anything.”
“Don't you dare!”
Aziraphale chuckled, rubbing his crown against Crowley's chin, and hit play. That had gone better than expected, he thought, wondering how many months in a row could he get away with it.
