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being drawn out

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“You know I love you, right?”

It was a bad start to a conversation, Crowley knew, but he’d been trying to broach the subject for weeks now, and he had arrived at the conclusion that this was the best way to ease Aziraphale into it.

“Of course,” the angel murmured, concern already creeping in at the edges of his voice. “Why?”

“I just — well, I’ve been thinking…” Crowley trailed off, chewing on his lower lip. He refused to look up at Aziraphale, not quite embarrassed, but hesitant.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, a gentle prompt for Crowley to finish his thought. Too gentle, apparently, as Crowley stayed silent until Aziraphale pressed the issue. “What have you been thinking, dearest?”

Crowley swallowed the little thrill he got from hearing the angel's term of endearment. He buried his face in his hands, groaning. “You know how we do things, sometimes?”

“I would like to say yes, but I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.”

“We do things,” Crowley repeated, injecting meaning into every syllable. “You and I, together.”

“Oh, you mean — my dear, why so cryptic?” Aziraphale fanned his fingers out across his lap. “We can talk about sex,” he said simply, “no need to dance around the topic.”

Crowley frowned and took a deep breath, unsure how to continue. “I… well, I love the things we do,” he said, his voice sounding hollow in his own ears. “You’re quite skilled, you know, and you’re so good to me.”


Shit. The angel read his mind – not literally, but by virtue of his intuition and Crowley’s predictability. Crowley had really not thought this far ahead; he’d been sure he would have chickened out by now.

“But…” Crowley plunged in without a plan, “I was thinking maybe, wondering, really, if you might be willing to be… less good to me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

Folding his hands in his lap, Crowley pursed his lips and tried to come up with the best way to explain it. He blew out a breath, looking up at Aziraphale, and a pained expression crossed his face. “Angel,” he began, mustering up all the courage in him, “can I speak candidly?”

“My dear, I am begging you to speak candidly.”

“Okay, so,” the demon said slowly. “When we…”

“Have sex,” Aziraphale offered helpfully.

“When we make love,” Crowley continued, “what, er, does it for you?”

The angel paused, smiling softly, allowing his eyes to sweep up and down Crowley’s body. “You,” he said after a long period of thought.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Aziraphale said, moving closer and lowering his voice, “that you’re beautiful. I love having you laid out under me, unraveled and flushed, and seeing the way your face moves and hearing all the little sounds you make. I love when you say my name. I love making you feel good. That’s what does it for me.”

The demon’s face reddened, and he looked away, trying to suppress his body’s Pavlovian reaction to the angel’s words. Somehow, when he had thought of having this discussion, it hadn’t occurred to him that Aziraphale would talk the same way he did in the bedroom. Crowley had been picturing a casual tea-time conversation about their sex life, where nobody got aroused and everybody got embarrassed, but the end result was a healthier relationship for all. What he was getting instead was an inconveniently timed erection. He pushed through it, swallowing nervously.

“Er, what about you?” Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, thrown off by the demon’s long silence.

“I… well, I love you,” Crowley said lamely.

“So you’ve said.”

“It’s just…” he hesitated again, unable to finish the thought.

Aziraphale placed a hand on the demon’s knee, firm but gentle, and squeezed. “Crowley, you can tell me anything. You can ask me for anything.”

Crowley inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, nodded his head. He knew this. He had worked himself into a state over nothing, because of his own personal issues, and not because of any real fear of Aziraphale’s reaction. “I want to try something,” he said, “in the bedroom, but only if you’re okay with it.” He paused for a moment in thought. “Or, well, I suppose it doesn’t have to literally be in the bedroom. It might work better in your study, or maybe the kitchen.”

“You’re babbling, love,” the angel murmured. “Just tell me what it is.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Crowley said, the words coming out quickly and without his permission. “Really, properly fuck me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow and bit his lip. “Have I been doing it improperly?”

“No, angel,” Crowley said with a small nervous chuckle. “No, that’s not what I mean. Just – I want to try it… harder, faster, messier. I want you to take control and be rough and tell me dirty, filthy things while you touch me.”

“Oh,” the angel breathed. He was now dealing with his own unexpected physical reaction, as well as his own anxieties, for the first time since the conversation began. “I, erm. I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how?”

“I’ve never done it like that before,” Aziraphale explained. “I mean, most of it seems fairly self-explanatory, but – I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Crowley gave him a fond smile. “I’ve never done it, either,” he said, if only to reassure Aziraphale that they were wading these waters together. “Haven’t you seen pornography, though?”

The angel wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “Why would I want to watch other people fornicate when I could do it myself?”

“That’s… fair, I suppose,” said Crowley, who had never considered that point of view before. “But, I mean, do you – is this something you’d want to try, with me?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered, maybe too quickly, but Crowley didn’t notice. “I just, I need you to walk me through what you’d like me to do.”

Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line and considered how to describe it to the angel. “When we're in the middle of it, do you ever want to say or do something, but you decide not to? Do you ever get a deep-down urge that you squash down before it even gets a chance to fully form into a thought?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “I suppose.”

“Just do it. Don't think.” Crowley noted the angel’s look of distress and reached for his hand, a gentle contrast to the words he spoke. “I want you to tell me, in graphic terms, in explicit detail, what you want to do to me, what you’re going to do to me, what you want me to do for you. And then do it, without reservation, without overthinking it.”

“But what if I – what if you don't –“

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, “I'll tell you. You'll know, but I'll still tell you. I won't let you do anything unless we both want it.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, soft as air.

Crowley smiled and squeezed the angel’s hand. “Tell you what,” he said, “we could do some research. I know you like research.”

The angel looked at him quizzically, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of research?”

“I think,” the demon leaned in closer until his lips grazed Aziraphale’s ear as he murmured, “we could start by studying established doctrine, and work our way up to a practical application of emerging theory.”

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut and his breath hitched. He placed his free hand somewhat possessively on Crowley’s waist and spoke in a reverent whisper. “Oh, my dear, you do know how to set the mood.”

Chapter Text

Crowley shivered. It was a psychological rather than a physical reaction; his body didn’t do things like that to alleviate the cold, but something in his mind said it was the right thing to do when standing naked in the middle of a room. He was exposed on all sides, vulnerable, with nowhere to hide. Not that he wanted to hide, no, but he usually had the option. In any case, the beautiful, novel thrill of being completely at the angel’s mercy was at least equal to that familiar sense of security.

Aziraphale sat on the loveseat in the study, fully clothed, regarding Crowley with an eye of shrewd appreciation.

“Come here,” he said, smooth as honey.

Crowley walked over to stand in front of him, feeling only a small ripple of nerves in his gut. They’d done this a dozen times by now, and had a few additional long discussions about it, to boot. He was far past being self conscious, and even further past believing that Aziraphale would ever do anything to hurt him, directly or indirectly, intentionally or not. But whether it was something inbred or a trait he’d picked up from humanity, Crowley had a frightful tendency to feel anxious when there was no need for it.

Even standing above the angel like this, looking down at him, Crowley knew that the power in this situation was flowing in one direction. And he loved it. He basked in it for a moment while Aziraphale studied his body, examining the long, straight lines of his torso, running his fingers light as feathers down the curve of his hips. The angel did not look up at his face, stayed focused on the parts of Crowley that were near his own eye level.

Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the back of Crowley’s thighs, stroking the sensitive skin just below his ass, and chuckled gently when the demon’s cock twitched. “Is that all it takes?” he asked, just close enough that Crowley could feel his hot breath and long to be touched. He tightened his grip on Crowley’s thighs. “That’s all you need, to get hard for me? You really are easy.”

Crowley whimpered, using a massive amount of willpower to keep still rather than bucking his hips forward or perhaps collapsing on the floor. Aziraphale lifted his hands, moving to establish a grip on the demon’s forearm and pull him down on the seat next to him. The angel’s strength and the element of surprise made Crowley fall into the movement easily, turning when Aziraphale turned him and sitting when Aziraphale pulled him, one swift and unhesitating move on both their parts.

“Lie back,” the angel said, pushing on Crowley’s chest with one hand and climbing on top of him gracefully. He miracled away the layers of clothing posing an obstacle to his goal, prompting a groan from Crowley. “What was that for?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“Been waiting,” Crowley said. “Wanted to see you – oh.” He gasped as the angel ground down against him, sweet friction offering some kind of relief for him at last.

Aziraphale bent down to lick a stripe up Crowley’s jawline, landing at the shell of his ear. “You are a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He turned his head and smiled against Crowley’s cheek, relishing the whine that came from the demon. “Go ahead, my dear, tell me how badly you want it.”

Squirming under the angel’s weight, Crowley closed his eyes and made another high-pitched noise that was decidedly not a word. He breathed in and out a few times to center himself before speaking. “Angel, I need it.”

“Do you, now?” The angel insinuated a hand between them to stroke Crowley loosely, just enough pressure to make the demon crave more, more, more. “Do you need it?”

Crowley nodded his head frantically. “I do, I do, I do.”

“Of course you do,” came the husky reply, “because you’re a desperate slut, aren’t you? My dirty, needy demon.”

“Yeah, yesss, all yours, angel,” Crowley panted in short gasps.

Aziraphale’s weight shifted slightly and he positioned Crowley’s hips at an angle so he could slide a divinely slicked finger into him, soon adding a second. “You like that, don’t you? Like the way my fingers feel inside you? Opening you up so I can make you scream?”

Crowley didn’t say anything in answer, merely whined and nodded as Aziraphale scissored his fingers. The angel took his time preparing Crowley, working up to three fingers, then four. He fingered the demon dexterously for what felt like forever, until Crowley was a writhing, mewling mess.

“Shit, angel,” he whimpered, “pleassse fuck me.”

Aziraphale twisted his fingers, eliciting a cry from the demon.

Please,” Crowley repeated, somehow even more desperate. In any other circumstance, he might have felt ashamed of his wanton begging, but he was so far gone, shame wasn’t anywhere on his radar. “I’ll do anything,” he whined, “I need you, I need you inside me.”

The angel withdrew his fingers and slid into Crowley in one fluid movement, catching his open mouth in a messy kiss and swallowing the moans that came when he began to thrust in earnest. Crowley’s hands, which had hitherto been held at bay by an incredible amount of willpower, made their way to Aziraphale’s back, clutching at his shoulders desperately, then down to his waist, roaming until the angel grabbed both of the demon’s arms and pinned them above his head with a severe grip on his thin wrists.

“There you are,” said Aziraphale, and his voice was so gentle even as he fucked Crowley with enough force to move the furniture. Crowley’s head tilted back against the cushion, his eyes closed, his mouth open. “So beautiful,” the angel whispered tenderly, “you’re so beautiful. So good for me. I could make you come without touching you.” He pressed in closer, next to the demon’s ear, and continued, “Come for me.”

Crowley tumbled over the edge with a shout, overlapping with Aziraphale’s own cry as he did the same. Breathing heavily, the angel leaned in for a deep, searching kiss. He pulled back a few inches, taking in the blissful look on Crowley’s face, and then collapsed on top of him, laying his head down and wrapping an arm around Crowley’s torso.

“Thank you,” Crowley murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, pressing a soft kiss to the demon’s chest. He cleaned their mess with a divine thought, then used another to summon a thick throw blanket that settled over them like a fresh snow.

Crowley purred softly. “Mm, what’s that for?”

“Didn’t want you to get cold.”

“Could put some clothes on.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Never thought I’d hear you say that, debauched temptress that you are.”

“Thank you for not saying that while we were boinking.”

“And thank you for not saying boinking in the middle of it,” said the angel, with a laugh that made something warm uncurl in Crowley’s chest. The demon tightened the arm that he had draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and kissed the top of his head with a smile.