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The pink rays of dawn just barely began to peek through the window when Aziraphale felt Crowley stir beside him. The demon’s hair was mussed, endearingly chaotic and far from the slick, suave style it usually was. He looked softer, more touchable like this. Not that he had denied himself the pleasure of touching Crowley whenever given the opportunity, not since they had finally admitted what they were to one another and averted the end of the world. Again, for real this time. But now, after last night… It was as if he was seeing him with new eyes.
Crowley’s golden eyes fluttered open, and a soft smile spread across his face. “Hey, angel.” The sheets, warm with the heat of them both, shifted with him as he stretched his stiff muscles, caressing Aziraphale, pulling him in closer, and he was happy to yield to that tug and wrap his arm around his lover’s waist, feel the steady rise and fall of him.
“Good morning.” His voice was uncharacteristically low and rough, rumbling like a purr.
Crowley’s smile grew more wicked and he hummed. “And good morning to you, too. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
Flashes of the night before danced behind his eyes, warm hands tugging him into the bed, soothing, sweet words enticing him to give it a try, just the once. And he had, after so, so long denying his interest, his curiosity, his envy for the sweet release Crowley had known and bragged about for so long.
Yet, despite the demon's vast experience, he had been nothing but loving, gentle and encouraging last night. That's it, angel, he had breathed into his ear, arms and legs coiled securely around him, pressing kisses along his shoulders and rubbing his nose against the sensitive juncture of Aziraphale's jaw, you're doing so well. Let go. I have you.
And he did. Oh, he did. Aziraphale had never known anything like it. He could never have done it with anyone else, not even alone. But Crowley, wonderful Crowley, had made it so easy and so, so good.
The way he ran his toes up along the back of one of Aziraphale's calves, the sweet heat of his breath, the way his long fingers carded through Aziraphale’s hair, sending electric shivers all over him. The feel of him, lithe and strong, growing pliant with every caress Aziraphale gave. And the sounds he made, satisfied sighs in his ear… a delighted, rumbling hum of satisfaction as Aziraphale lost himself– oh, Aziraphale would do anything to hear them again.
Aziraphale blushed and cleared his throat, his heart racing. “You’re incorrigible.”
Crowley wrapped his long arms around Aziraphale and kissed him softly, slowly. “Go on. Tell me I was right.”
“I’m not doing the dance,” Aziraphale grumbled.
“But…?”
Aziraphale felt as if his face could not possibly get redder. “Yes, okay, yes. You were right.” He buried his face into Crowley’s neck to avoid the demon’s victorious smirk. “It was wonderful,” he sighed, half begrudgingly, half rapturously.
“I told you. Hedonist like you, and you didn't even know what you were missing.” Crowley pressed a kiss into the angel’s curls, the morning stubble on his chin catching on the fine hair.
“You will never let me live this down, will you?”
Crowley hummed. “Absolutely not.”
“Did you like it?” Aziraphale asked, looking up. “With me, I mean? Did I… did I do it right?”
Crowley laughed softly. “Oh, my angel. I have wanted it with you since I first tried it by myself.” He cupped Aziraphale’s chin and said sincerely, “You couldn't have done it wrong. But for the record, it was amazing for me, too.” He kissed him again, lazy now, indulgent.
Aziraphale basked in Crowley’s embrace, ego and nerves soothed. “Perhaps we can do it again sometime? Soon?”
Crowley bumped his nose against his and made an intrigued hum. “Oooh, angel. Now that you’ve had a taste, you're eager for more?”
As Aziraphale remembered the night before, the sweetness, the satisfaction, the utter bliss, and considered the possibility for more – their bodies pressed so close, so wonderfully entwined – his eyelashes fluttered. “Well, you know me. I know what I like.”
“Oh, I know. And I like giving it to you. Anything you want, angel.” He grinned. “But I think first, some breakfast, hmm? Or did you wake up before me to use the loo?” he teased.
Aziraphale pinched Crowley's waist, enjoying the smooth feel of the demon's silken pajama shirt under his fingers. The demon flinched and swatted at his hand playfully. “Well, I didn't want to wake you. You’re lovely when you sleep.”
“Good thing, too.” He sat up and stretched one arm, ruffling the fingers of his other hand through his hair. The black silk shirt pulled across his torso in interesting ways, reflecting the pink light of dawn with its sheen. “I never would have convinced you to give it a try if I drooled.”
Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbows with an easy smile, admiring Crowley’s long lines.
“Coffee, tea, or cocoa this morning?” Crowley asked, tossing the blanket off and sliding out of bed.
“Surprise me, love. You know what I like,” his voice pitching lower quite without his control.
Crowley grinned again, mischief pulling at his lips. “Don't think I don't know what you're going to do while I'm gone.”
“I'm afraid I don't have the faintest idea what you are implying,” Aziraphale said, leaning back against the pillows, nestling into the warmth of the covers.
The demon gave him a saucy wink. “One taste, and you can't get enough. I’ve created a monster.” He bent down and kissed Aziraphale's forehead. “Enjoy yourself, my love. I’ll wake you when breakfast is ready.”
Aziraphale's eyelids already felt heavy. “Mmm, perhaps you can join me again, once the meal is cooked. I'm sure you can keep it warm for a while, while you keep me warm.”
Crowley bit his lip and flushed. “It's tempting, believe me, but I think you’ll be keen to try what I have in store for you when I’m done in the kitchen.”
Aziraphale's stomach rumbled softly at the thought. “Decisions, decisions.”
“Decide for yourself after you enjoy your lie-in.” Crowley sauntered away, silk-clad hips swaying in that intoxicating way they did.
Aziraphale sighed contentedly and shut his eyes, relaxed and satisfied yet simultaneously eager to once again have those long legs wrapped around him. He pulled the covers up to his chin and breathed in the smell of Crowley’s cologne and shampoo on the pillow and let the comforting familiarity of it, the sense of safety that it brought lull him to sleep, just as it had last night.
Oh, yes, sleeping with Crowley had been wonderful. Blissful. The feeling of serenity and security, the comfort of his gentle embrace and sensual kisses, had chased away any lingering concerns he had about whether he would enjoy it. It has been truly freeing, to let go and succumb to oblivion in his arms.
If sleeping was that good, maybe it would be worth making an effort for once, just to see if sex was all humans cracked it up to be, too. He’d have to remember to ask Crowley about it after breakfast.