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Ever since a heavily disguised Aziraphale and Muriel had entered the Hell side of the Corridor in the Space Between, Crowley had anxiously waited for them to return. He’d tried to relax by leaning against the wall nonchalantly, but that hadn’t worked and he’d finally resorted to pacing.
The air on the Hell side swirled smokily to herald the arrival of Archduke Lord Slorch the Vile and his sidekick.
As they emerged Crowley started towards them, but Aziraphale gestured with a hand not to worry, they were just fine.
“Everything was tickety-boo, it went splendidly,” said Aziraphale. “Muriel here, was absolutely brilliant, well done that angel!”
“Oh, thank you Supreme Archangel!” said Muriel, giving a happy, nervous giggle. “May I go and divest myself of this outfit now please? It’s giving me the itches.”
“Of course you may, take as long as you need,” said Aziraphale. “You’ve earned it and I couldn’t have pulled that off without your brilliant assistance, so thank you again, Muriel”.
“You and I, we need to go and debrief,” said Crowley. “Back at the bookshop is probably safest, obviously not here.” They went down to Earth level in the lift and then quickly snapping his fingers, Crowley moved them into the silence and safety of the bookshop.
Aziraphale let out a long and heavy sigh of relief, one that he hadn’t realised had been waiting to escape.
“You ok, angel?” asked Crowley, concerned. “Nothing happened, did it, while you were down there?”
The angel walked up to him, waving his hands and then planting them lightly and reassuringly on the demon’s chest. “No, no, it’s all fine – I just didn’t realise how anxious I was about the whole thing until we returned, and so relieved to have it over with. Although it will, I think prove useful!”
“Golly, look how much taller I am! I match you in height now. These platform boots are something aren’t they!” Crowley didn’t have a lot to say to that, realising that he might be harbouring thoughts about the platform boots. He’d been so used to seeing the angel in the clothes that he’d favoured the last couple of hundred years, (styles had changed before that, but certainly colours had stayed the same) that it was a real awakening to see him in disguise and in such a shocking departure from his usual style.
Watching him put the finishing touches to his disguise, had been an eye-opener. He was slightly overawed with how he had managed the transformation. Don’t start getting attached to that look, he told himself, it’s going soon, so give it up.
“Well then,” continued the angel, “I suppose we’d better change back, hadn’t we? Mustn’t scare the humans! Well, I mustn’t. You on the other hand…” and his voice trailed off in what sounded like admiration.
They stood, inches apart and Crowley said, “You really do look hideous angel…although I will admit to being grudgingly impressed…where in Someone’s name did you dream up that nose? And the voice. And those teeth…”. He couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by the angel who was looking thoughtful. At least Crowley thought he was, it was difficult to tell with that disguise.
“You like the teeth, don’t you?” asked Lord Slorch, for Aziraphale had assumed the voice. “I knew you would. I thought if there’s one thing my little demon likes it’s a nice set…of sharp teeth…that can nip…lots of little…sensitive areas…” and he coyly walked his fingertips up the demon’s gold waistcoat in time with his words. Lord Slorch looked at him from under his thick black eyelashes and smiled a full, toothy grin. Aziraphale sensing interest, pressed on.
“And while we are hon the subject of disguises, let us discuss yours, my depraved little angelic cutie,” said Lord Slorch. “Do you like the houtfit I chose for you? The boots, the…tight trousers that leave *nothing* to the imagination…the gold waistcoat…and what about the hair hmm? I properly put my mark on you with that, didn’t I? Angelic white streaks to match my own hair colour…could be streaks of…something else…if you catch my drift,” he said, waggling his eyebrows dramatically to emphasise his innuendo.
Crowley did catch his drift but alas could not speak.
“I turned you into my very hown little angelic slut, didn’t I? Can you imagine me, having to look at you in Heaven, dressed like that…how *hard* must it have been for me…how much do you think I wanted to fall upon you and peel those slutty clothes off your body and take you, then and there, in front of all of those…stuffed-shirt high and mighty angels…how shocked they would have been…how much would that have turned you on eh? How are you going to thank me for such a gorgeous outfit, my little slut?”
“Angel” whispered Crowley, “you can’t…”. He trailed off and swallowed. His hedonistic angel never ceased to amaze him, and the mere thought of being taken by him like that both terrified him and tuned him on in the biggest way possible. He could feel a blush threatening at any moment.
Clearing his throat, Crowley tried again. He thought he was doing tremendously well, holding onto his composure under this onslaught.
Just a note for those worried about safe words and the like: these two have been at it for literally thousands of years. There isn’t anything that you could actually teach…well, Aziraphale, for sure. You can be absolutely, positively confident that they have all the checks and balances in place that are needed to keep them both safe.
“Angel, that nose really is ridiculous” said the demon and leaned forward to kiss the tip of it.
The nose was worthy of note. It was *huge* and it was angular.
And that was a most un-Crowley like gesture which he hoped wouldn’t be too much remarked upon because, in kissing the tip of that nose, he had channelled a little demonic essence through the kiss to make sure, that when the angel tried to change it back, he couldn’t. Well, not unless Crowley helped him…or not…but it would wear off eventually. Probably. He hoped the angel hadn’t noticed anything.
Aziraphale inched closer to Crowley and the demon shuffled back slightly, until his back was up against the bookshelves.
“Cat got your tongue?” asked Lord Slorch, tilting his head sideways as he looked at the demon, “naughty little cat because that tongue belongs to me, in my mouth and…upon my body…doesn’t it, my little tart?”
“Angel…please…you’re going to take my eye out with that nose,” pleaded the demon, trying to rally so that his plan could take effect.
Lord Slorch, one hand up on the bookshelf next to Crowley’s shoulder, the other on a shelf near his waist, effectively pinning him up against the bookcase, sighed heavily.
“Crowley,” said Aziraphale this time. “I am trying my damnedest to seduce you, and all you can do is keep on about my nose! You’re testing my patience here!”
“I’m sorry, sorry,” said Crowley trying not to whine, “but it looks really sharp on the end…and don’t think I’m not succumbing to your charms, because you must know I am…except the nose…is killing it for me…”
Aziraphale let out a cry of exasperation, flung his hands up and walked away a few steps. He said, “Ok, ok, I get it, the nose is going” and waved a hand in the air. Nothing happened. He tried again and nothing happened again.
“Crowley…” he said in a worried voice, “it won’t go.”
Silence for a moment because Crowley was laughing quietly to himself, and he didn’t want the game to be up just yet. “Oh…no…did you twist your hand quite right for the miracle? Praps you need to try it again?” he said as innocently as he could manage. No mean feat for a demon, even such as he.
“No, no, it was just a reversal of the original disguise miracle, and it should work.” He experimented with the teeth, changing them back to normal and then changing them back again. “Well, the teeth work…why won’t the nose?” he said worriedly. He tried again and once more, nothing happened to his gigantic nose. He started to get flustered.
“Crowley?!” he pleaded, “what am I going to do? I can’t stay like this!”
“Um…well, perhaps you can just lurk around the bookshop, and um, eventually it has to wear off, right? I mean, I can get you – oh, I don’t know croissants and pastries and stuff and we can order in…” said the demon trailing off, because he was laughing quietly again. Aziraphale looked at him sharply and he cottoned on – quite quickly for him – that he had done something.
“Anthony J Crowley!” he almost shouted at the demon, “you reverse whatever infernal thing you have placed upon this nose! Immediately! If you don’t, someone is heading in the right direction for a Very Smacked Bottom!”
Still laughing, Crowley said weakly, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, the nose is staying.”
“But you don’t like it!” said the angel desperately, throwing up his hands again and staring helplessly at Crowley.
Aziraphale stood in a silent panic. Ok, ok. He wasn’t going to get in a flap about this, he was going to deal with it in a calm, controlled way. Thus was his nature (he kidded himself). Getting control of his breathing he looked up at the demon, with a steely glint in his black eyes and thought to himself, I can handle this wily old serpent, I have been doing it for thousands of years…I CAN deal with this! And he walked towards him with purpose. Crowley, rightly sensing trouble, started to cave.
“Now, angel, I can see I’ve gone a bit too far,” demonstrated by him holding index finger and thumb together but a smidge apart. “Not a problem, I shall remove the demonic essence immediately and we can um, go um and ahh – I don’t know, get some lunch? We have stuff to discuss. And you must be starving afterallthat…” The last words died as a whisper in his throat as the angel grabbed his lapels and pushed him bodily against the bookshelf.
Looking into Crowley’s face and trying not to be distracted by the nose threatening to take over his view, he said as Lord Slorch, “Too late, demon. Much Too Late.” He kissed him fiercely, broke off and said, “You have chosen your fate, time to face up to reality.”
Crowley stared at him, breathless now, and said in a small voice, “Um. Aziraphale, I really am sorry…please let me help you with the nose? You really are a Master of Disguise…you’re my Master, anyway…”. He tried the flirting, flattering approach in front of his Avenging Angel turned Demon, secretly hoping it wasn’t enough to get him out of trouble. This kind of trouble…he liked, but he had a part to play.
“Demon, you have brought this hupon yourself. Now, be quiet!” commanded Lord Slorch, having none of it anyway. He flipped the demon bodily around so that he was facing the bookshelves and arranged his hands, so that each one was on the same bookshelf but a few rows below, meaning that he had to bend slightly. Lord Slorch gently put a platform-booted foot next to the demon’s snakeskin one and nudged it sideways, leaned into the demon’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Spread those long, shapely legs for me,” and Crowley felt himself turn to jelly.
As his brain began to short-circuit, he thought, where is he getting all of this from? A moment of rational thought, which wasn’t going to happen for Crowley right now, would have informed him that you are bound to learn a thing or 12 if you are an angel with a thirst for knowledge, you own a bookshop which covers every topic under the sun and you are more than 6,000 years old.
Lord Slorch stood back to admire his handiwork; the skin-tight pale-beige jeans that he had dressed the demon in, silhouetted his legs and arse perfectly, said arse being at a perfect angle in front of him.
He chuckled. “Well, demon, I have you exactly where I want you.”
“Aziraphale,” said Crowley unsure of where this was going, but still quite keen to find out, “What are we doing?”
“There is no Aziraphale, only Lord Slorch.” Reaching around the demon’s waist, he slid his hands to the top of his fly. He undid it and peeled down his skin-tight trousers, to reveal a superbly peachy demon bottom.
Crowley was hanging onto the bookshelf for dear life. This was divine torture and he should have expected nothing less. It felt so good and he hadn’t really done anything yet! He prayed to Someone that it didn’t stop.
Lord Slorch ran his hand over those delicious peaches and rang off a couple of slaps in quick succession. The demon yelped in surprise.
“More?” he enquired.
“Yes?” was the squeaked response. So, he favoured the other cheek this time until his whole derriere was an attractive shade of pink.
Lord Slorch positioned himself behind the demon’s deliciously exposed posterior. “How are we doing, my little Slorchy slutlet?” he enquired amiably.
“Nnngggkkk…yeah…all…good…” he managed to gasp out.
“Really?” he said. “Well, I have something else in mind for you,” and he pressed himself up against his naked rear.
Unfastening his own trousers, he positioned himself and even though he had platform boots on, he *still* had to stand up on his tippy toes to be at the right height to enter his demon. His hands went to the demon’s hips as he guided himself in, Crowley’s answering moans encouraged him on.
“Oh, you are such a fucking good little demon for me, aren’t you, my little slutlet,” said Lord Slorch. Crowley could only agree by saying “Nnnngkk” again and for a while there was no more talking, only sounds of mutual pleasure from both.
Lord Slorch gathered the demon up into his arms, slipping one arm around his back and another around the back of his legs, sweeping him up bodily in the manner of a historical romance character in a novel.
With the demon safely in his arms, he settled himself onto the couch and arranged Crowley comfortably on his lap. Aziraphale had changed back to his usual attire. He kissed the demon gently on his forehead, smoothing the curls plastered to his sweaty brow, back into his hair.
“How are we doing my sweet?” asked Aziraphale.
“Peachy,” was the reply and then he giggled. You don’t get many giggles out of Crowley generally, so when he does you can be sure he's having the time of his life.
“You were magnificent, my darling”, said the angel, “so beautiful. I have missed you so very much.
“Don't leave me again. Please,” said Crowley.
“Let's get this situation sorted out...I certainly don’t *want* to leave you ever again.
“You never intended for me to go to heaven, did you?” asked the demon. “You said some pretty hurtful things.”
“I...” Aziraphale started and stopped. “I apologise for that. It was necessary. You know it’s complicated.”
“When is it not” Crowley said.
“I wanted you to come...not to be an angel, because I happen to love you just as you are. But I don’t want you to be in torment any longer over it. You don’t and never did deserve that.”
“I’m not in torment when I’m with you, don’t you get it? You left and then I WAS in torment.”
“Oh, my love...I am so sorry, I didn’t think of it like that. I was trying to keep you safe and away from the Metatron by leaving you on earth. It seems I’m always doing the wrong thing and I hurt you terribly in the process. I’m so sorry my darling.” He sounded as if he was going to cry and Crowley kissed him to calm him.
“Don’t do that. It was my decision not to come.”
He went quiet for a minute and Aziraphale said, “Crowley, what is it?”
“You know…I had to try…that kiss…none of that was meant to be like that, I had it planned and…it just. Well. That kiss was my last attempt. It didn’t work though, did it,” he stated unnecessarily, in a flat tone.
Silence fell again and Aziraphale said quietly, “I wanted you to do it again. Properly. But I was too afraid to say so. And the moment passed. And. I’m so sorry darling,” his said, his voice breaking.
Crowley reached up and kissed him softly, wiping a thumb over the angel’s cheek where a solitary tear ran down his face.
“Don’t, please. You’re the only being I’ve ever really cared about, and it tears me up to see you like this. I’ve killed the mood, I’m sorry,” and they kissed again.
The danger moment between them passed and the atmosphere seemed to lighten a little.
“Anyway, you're here now,” said Crowley. And then he giggled again.
“What are you laughing at now?” asked the angel.
“You're still wearing that hideous nose” and he kissed the tip if it until the angel's finely shaped nose reappeared. Crowley kissed the tip again and said, “that’s much better”.
“Lord Slorch wants to know if you’ve had enough,” said the angel, flashing his set of nightmare teeth.
“Slorchy baby, you haven’t even used those teeth yet” said Crowley, going full-out giggle.
“You are a very naughty demon. You dare to talk to Lord Slorch in such a manner?” said Slorchziraphale.
“Oh sorry, sorry,” said Crowley, I’ll just shut up, shall I?”
Slorchziraphale stood up with Crowley still in his arms (Crowley secretly admired the strength of this angel, whenever he picked him up bodily and moved him around like a doll), and he laid him down gently on the couch. He gave him a toothy grin and Crowley thought, I may not survive this.
Slorchziraphale got on the couch with the demon, and straddled him, sitting as lightly as he could across his crotch which had already got the memo, and where his trousers were still undone. Brushing a hand over him deliberately, he reached up further and deftly undid the gold waistcoat and unbuttoned the beige shirt underneath it, spreading it wide open with his hands, over the demon’s chest. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat as the angel’s hands moved over his nipples.
The angel leaned down to Crowley's chest and licked a rosy red nipple. Crowley shivered and his breath caught in his throat. Slorchziraphale gently applied his new teeth in a gentle nip and Crowley bucked underneath him, letting out a breathy cry.
“Good or too much?” asked the angel. Not enough, was the reply he got.
“Don’t worry, demon,” said Slorchziraphale, “I haven’t finished with you yet. I am going to have you writhing underneath me, begging me for more.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Crowley, meeting his eyes and a very small twitch tugged at his mouth. Throwing down a challenge.
“Oh dear me,” said Slorchziraphale, “you should not have done that,” he said, not missing a thing.
Using his teeth on Crowley's skin, he nipped his way down from his nipples to what was waiting for him, not so patiently. It was all he could do to hold the demon down, who by now had his hands on the angel’s head and was gripping fistfuls of his hair tightly, relaxing his hands and then gripping again.
“Be a good little whore for me. Tell me, do you let the other demons use you like this...I bet they want to...pretty little thing like you...look at you...all long and lean and slutty...well, answer me!
“No!” Crowley eventually managed to get out, “Just you. Only you. It’s only ever been you.”
“You’re damn right there,” said Slorchziraphale, “I’d smite them where they stood! Now, you are not, hunder any circumstances, allowed to come until I tell you that you can. Do I make myself clear?
“Yes!”
“Yes what?”
“Yes sir, your Lord Slorchness,” he breathed, writhing hard but the angel was was managing to hold his own, in grounding him.
Slorchziraphale took him in his mouth and gently raked those teeth down his length, which caused Crowley to make some of the prettiest noises the angel had ever heard.
“Who is my little Slorchy Slut” he demanded, applying his teeth to the shiny wet tip.
Crowley bucked again and whined “I am, your Vileness, Sir!”
“Well done, my little whore,” and Crowley whined again. “As you have pleased Lord Archduke Slorch the Vile so prettily, I am going to allow you to come, when you are ready,” and he applied his mouth and teeth to the demon once more. Crowley wasted no time. Slorchziraphale took everything he had to give. Soothing him through it, until eventually he started to come back to himself.
After a few minutes and Aziraphale’s tender ministrations to his face and smoothing his hair, Crowley, utterly spent, tried to talk.
“That,” said Crowley, trying to raise a finger to emphasise his point, but failing, “was really, fucking amazin’ an’ I give you full authority to try it again…with the teeth…an’ poss’bly the boots” and he nodded off to sleep, snoring lightly.
“Poor lamb,” said Aziraphale gently, kissing his forehead, “quite shagged out,” and covered him with a tartan blanket.