Crowley shudders and leans into one of Aziraphale's hands. "Yes," he says, almost out of breath. He inhales shakily. Where did all this adrenaline come from? "I-"
He doesn't get to finish that sentence. Aziraphale pulls him in, kissing him again, mouth open to him - he tastes warm and soft and so good, like he smells, like something Crowley can't define and can't get enough of. He doesn't realize how much he's pressing himself bodily into the angel until they both have to stop, the backs of Aziraphale's legs up against the foot of the bed now.
"Let me," Crowley says, and Aziraphale understands. The angel lets Crowley pull his jumper off, revealing a crisp white collared shirt. Crowley leans in and kisses Aziraphale's cheek, jaw, down his neck as he works the first two buttons open.
"I- I think I need to sit," Aziraphale admits unsteadily.
Crowley hums an acknowledgement, letting go and watching as Aziraphale more or less drops down onto the edge of his bed. His blond hair is slightly rumpled, and the open buttons reveal a light sprinkling of downy platinum hairs. Aziraphale's mouth is pink and wet, slightly open, curving into a shy smile as Crowley nudges his shoulder to encourage him to lay down. Aziraphale goes easily, making a soft noise when Crowley follows after him and straddles his hips.
"Scoot back," Crowley says, biting back a predatory rise of... something... as he watches Aziraphale scrabble back to the pillows, hurried, eyes bright and clearly impatient for Crowley to come after him. Crowley does, and Aziraphale's satisfaction is evident on his face. "You like when I'm on top of you like thisss?"
"Yes," Aziraphale responds instantly. Something about how unreserved he is about it makes Crowley tremble, giving in and bending over him to press his mouth urgently to his. He feels Aziraphale arch his body up, trying to make more contact. Fuck.
"I'm only going to cheat on shoes and socks." Crowley props himself up on one hand, using the other to snap until they're barefoot. "Gonna do the rest properly." He's already ducking down to nuzzle at the exposed chest hair when he feels Aziraphale's hands come back to him, on his neck, he feels like he's burning up - the angel's short nails are digging into the soft skin there, like they did on the sofa at the bookshop, making Crowley moan.
"Is... should I press harder? Tell me." Aziraphale's breath is coming in shorter bursts as Crowley begins undoing buttons more impatiently, revealing more gorgeously soft skin. Crowley swallows as the last button finally comes loose, letting him push the sides of the shirt aside - Aziraphale is gorgeous, pale and generously shaped. His chest, the lovely curve of his stomach, all of it rises and falls as Aziraphale pants and waits for Crowley to continue.
Crowley's already forgotten what Aziraphale asked. He ducks in, pressing his lips to Aziraphale's breastbone, nuzzling the soft hairs there and feeling his cock twitch in his trousers. Aziraphale's making soft little sounds now with every exhalation, little needful sounds, and Crowley can't quite handle that. He kisses downward, to Aziraphale's stomach, sinking his teeth in just shy of starting to cause any pain.
"Crowley," Aziraphale whimpers.
"Sssssssssorry." Crowley kisses it better, surprised when the fingers at his neck dig in harder and drag outward. Oh, he thinks, comprehending, and bites again, hearing Aziraphale let out a reedy sigh. Crowley does it again, still very softly, down to the side, again, to the soft swell of Aziraphale's hip. The skin is thicker here, and Crowley feels his heart leap in his chest a little - those vines, warm light blooming from behind them - as he drags his teeth slowly, drawing out a desperate and slightly impatient moan, and finally he bites there, letting his teeth sink in just enough. When he lets go, pulls back a little, he finally notices Aziraphale's trousers; he's hard, squirming under Crowley's gaze. Crowley swallows and bends down on his elbows and knees, eyes flickering up to meet Aziraphale's for confirmation - Yes, Aziraphale's saying, yes, of course, please.
Crowley draws in a shaky breath. Aziraphale's fingertips slide up the nape of his neck, to his scalp, petting rather nervously as Crowley starts tugging at the button of Aziraphale's - "What about you?" the angel asks, throwing him off.
Aziraphale lets go of him to gesture downward at Crowley's own body. "You haven't-"
"I'm trying to take care of you, angel."
"Yes, but I-" Aziraphale's breath hitches as his tone shifts dangerously close to the tone that means I'm quite sure I'm right. "I'm about to be quite exposed, and you're - that is, I would like-"
Crowley huffs impatiently, rising up onto his knees and working his waistcoat open with very little finesse. He tosses it over his shoulder, hearing it crumple on the floor, already pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it as well. When he looks down to see if Aziraphale's satisfied, his expression is unexpected - hungry, wondering, pupils huge, mouth slightly open as he reaches upward to touch hesitantly at Crowley's ribs. Aziraphale's hands feel so perfect on him.
"I'm not the one that could have wrecked ancient Greece if he'd've had a mind to," Crowley grumbles, chin tucked in as his eyes rake over Aziraphale's torso.
Aziraphale looks decadently contented as he continues to touch. "Perhaps not," he says, sounding dismissive, "but your silhouette is very much in fashion now." He bites his lip, the flush on his cheeks actually darkening further as he adds: "And I've always been quite fond of it."
Crowley's not aware of any way to deal with a compliment like that. "I've never had sssomeone be so eager to detour me away from their cock," he says instead. But Aziraphale doesn't look thrown, even by the crude language. Instead, his brows come together in a soft pout as his hand stops on Crowley's hip.
"They didn't even have the decency to appreciate you?" the angel asks, perturbed.
Crowley's frozen a moment, feeling strangely caught out and exposed as he kneels over Aziraphale. "... it was work," he says finally.
"Well, temptation or no, they were quite foolish not to enjoy all this." Aziraphale's fingertips reach up to skim his collarbone, shoulder, down his arm to his hand, which he squeezes. "You're lovely, you know."
Crowley feels his throat tighten. He looks away, to the desk in the corner.
"Dearest." Aziraphale's voice is so tender now. "Come here."
Crowley can't disobey. He bends down again, nuzzling into the safety of Aziraphale's neck, where he can't see. Aziraphale pets down his back, his sides, the pads of his fingertips tilting until it's gentle nails raking up and down his spine. Crowley shudders.
"Would you kiss me?"
He's happy for the transition. Crowley moves up and kisses the corner of Aziraphale's mouth, licking his way inside. Aziraphale's arms are still in their sleeves, but when he pulls Crowley down to press against them, their bare chests are - Crowley growls and nips at Aziraphale's lower lip, carefully, feeling Aziraphale's body shudder beneath him and unable to hold back a rough thrust of his hips downward.
"Cr- mm." Aziraphale's silenced with another kiss, and licks Crowley's tongue with his soft pink one. Crowley feels his skin practically burning as Aziraphale's hands move down his hips, cupping his arse and squeezing.
"Fuck," Crowley mutters into his mouth. Aziraphale is already kneading, stroking, making it harder and harder for Crowley not to just grind against Aziraphale and come in his trousers. "What - we have to - did you want me to -"
"Inside me," Aziraphale says breathlessly. "Please."
"Love you," Crowley says, because he can. He kisses down Aziraphale's chest, getting distracted with the idea of toying with his nipples before firmly deciding that that he will do that next time. Next time. The idea that there will almost definitely be a next time is overwhelming in itself. He licks along Aziraphale's rib, shuddering, finally moving down enough that Aziraphale has to let go of his arse (he seems sad to lose it).
Crowley drags his tongue along the trail of pale hairs rising up to Aziraphale's belly button, just above that tight tent of fabric. Aziraphale's soft moan transitions into heavier breathing as Crowley finally opens his trousers, pulling everything down slowly and watching Aziraphale's small, thick cock rise up and smack against the softness of his belly.
Aziraphale squirms as much as he can with the trousers bunched at his thighs. "I'm worried if you.. if you stimulate me there, right now, I won't even make it to the final act."
Crowley's mouth is watering. His fingers are digging into the bunched fabric, the downy hairs on Aziraphale's thighs. "You don't have to be hard to get -" He rewords mid-sentence. "For me to take you."
"Yes, but I very much want my first orgasm to be together with you," Aziraphale says in a long breath, panting still and a little confused when Crowley tears his gaze away from his erection to stare at him. "That is to say." He wets his lips nervously. "I don't expect us to... to be perfectly timed, together, just..."
"You've never come?"
Aziraphale looks both caught out and exasperated. "I hardly-" He's still flushed and panting, pupils leaving bare rims of bright blue as he looks up to the glass ceiling. "Perhaps we can put our judgmental comments aside for-"
Crowley growls and mutters into the folds of soft trousers he's clutching. He's not mad at Aziraphale, he just - it's hard to talk right now. "Not judging, jusssst..." He takes in a slow, hissing breath and lets himself nuzzle the exposed inches of thigh, even softer than he'd hoped, impossibly warm. Aziraphale seems to understand his sentiment, petting his head and quieting down, waiting as Crowley collects himself. "No judging at all. Sssurprised. Sss'fine." He flicks his tongue out, tasting the air, allowing his form to be at its peak strangeness. Aziraphale's expression doesn't change an iota when he does it. Of course it doesn't. Aziraphale doesn't mind, Aziraphale loves him. Crowley feels like he's being warmed from the inside. "Beautiful," Crowley mutters, finally rising up into a kneeling position to wrestle Aziraphale's clothing the rest of the way off. "I want to ssuck you later."
Aziraphale lets out a meaningful gust of air.
Crowley bends down and gently spreads Aziraphale's knees as far apart as they'll comfortably rest, getting in the middle of them and - no. Aziraphale will want him naked as well. Crowley's hands flutter to his own button fly, brows coming together as he eases the zipper past what is possibly the most sensitive and desperate erection he has ever had. Aziraphale begins to say something, then stops, and simply watches as Crowley's jet black boxer briefs are exposed, the completely indecent outline of his erection clear in the last light of the sunset.
"Oh, my dear."
Crowley swallows, tasting the air again in a nervous tic, as he hooks his thumbs at his hips and begins to push it all down. He keeps his eyes on Aziraphale's expression, wanton and focused, eyebrows lifting a little when Crowley's erection finally bounces free and hangs heavy between his legs. "I'll go slow," Crowley promises, knowing it probably looks a little intimidating to someone with no experience.
"I'm not sure I want you to," Aziraphale admits breathlessly, making Crowley's heart slam against his chest.
"You can't ssssay things like that," he gets out, scrambling onto his stomach and fighting the clothes off in what is probably not as graceful a move as earlier. "I have to-" I have to do right by you. "Get some pillows."
Aziraphale makes a confused noise, but as Crowley begins nipping and biting up one of his inner thighs, moving ever inward, he seems to get the picture - from Crowley's point of view, the plush curves of Aziraphale's legs and stomach shift a little as he reaches and grabs two of the expensively dense pillows, passing them downward to Crowley - one escapes the angel's grip and drops onto his stomach, making him twitch and curl inward instantly. The sound Aziraphale makes is almost pained, a moan petering out into a low cry as his hips arch upward into the gentle weight and contact.
"Ssssensitive," Crowley murmurs, waiting until Aziraphale shoves it inelegantly off of himself. There is a small damp spot in the centre which Crowley very much wants to lick. He shoves down the impulse and tugs Aziraphale's hips upward instead, finding that just one pillow is more than sufficient to get his hips up. Crowley taps him until he lays back down, perfectly positioned now. Crowley gets a little lost staring at the picture he makes, red-cheeked and panting with his knees spread open. His cock is more than a handful, but not by much, darker toward the tip and with a few beads of-
"If you touch it, I'll almost definitely come," Aziraphale warns.
"That's not a very horrible result," Crowley argues in a hungry tone.
"I want you to fuck me, Crowley."
Crowley goes still.
Aziraphale is still panting, shifting against the sheets, the pillow, every tiny movement casting gorgeous shadows, causing the fading light to bounce off the beads of sweat on his forehead as if light had no other purpose at all. "Crowley," he says, entreating.
"Say it again," Crowley says softly.
A beat. "Crowley, I want you to fuck me." Crowley feels himself twitch and pulse at the words. "Crowley. I love you and I want you to f- ohhh, yes, good, yes."
Crowley's thumbs are spreading Aziraphale's cheeks apart, letting him get a good look at the flushed, untouched skin there before flickering his tongue out and beginning to taste him. Aziraphale's thick, perfect thighs tense on either side of his face, and everything shifts - Aziraphale is tilting his hips up, giving him even more room, and Crowley digs his fingers into the plush warmth and licks wetly over Aziraphale's opening.
"Yes," Aziraphale whines above him. He sounds affected. He sounds needy. Crowley presses his hips resolutely into the soft sheets, giving himself some pressure but no movement as he tastes the salty clean skin and feels it twitch under his attentions. Crowley breathes in, can smell nothing but that sweat, but his angel, it's perfect - he braves it and presses his tongue inward, encouraging Aziraphale to open to him, surprised at how quickly he gets his wish. His tongue is slimmer in this shape but its length must surely be worth the trade, right? He experiments, pressing in just the barest touch past the ring of muscle, listens to the increasingly loud, consistently encouraging noises, and travels in further. Plush warm walls, that same clean taste, and then Aziraphale's hand is on the back of his head.
"Nnggg," Crowley says very clearly.
"Please," Aziraphale begs, and Crowley understands. He breathes in through his nose and begins to fuck Aziraphale with his tongue, in and out in as much as a rhythm as he can work out, mouth falling open further when Aziraphale's nails begin to dig in and scratch. Crowley tries to reach deeper, egged on, and lets out a soft cry against the angel's skin when the longer hair at the front is grabbed and pulled, drawing him in even closer. "Darling, it's marvelous, please, please get me ready, I-"
Crowley's shaking as he pulls back, enough to get his breath back and his hands free, but not far that Aziraphale's hands are dislodged. "Yes, all right," he pants, scrambling onto his knees and nearly losing his balance as he does so. He tries to remember what he used last, what he's used to - he snaps some expensive oil onto his hand, already warm, and plants a messy kiss on Aziraphale's knee. "Breathe."
Aziraphale's laugh is a brief gust of air, shaky, eyes lidded as Crowley nudges his fingertips back toward Aziraphale's entrance. "I'll be fine, dear, it's..." Crowley watches as the angel's eyes lid further, close entirely, mouth opening slowly and remaining so. Crowley keeps pressing that one finger against the ring of muscle, strokes there, circles, eyes locked on Aziraphale's body as he heaves in air and lets it out and begin to consciously relax. "Oh," Aziraphale adds, as if to say I understand now, and with another few breaths Crowley's finger can nudge in, just a little, and then further.
"Tell me if I rush," Crowley murmurs, and presses the full length of his finger in. Aziraphale gasps. The walls of his body constrict a little, not lax but not pushing at him either - when he wiggles the tip of his finger, curls it, Aziraphale makes a sound Crowley is unable to categorize and plants his heels on the bed, pushing up a little. "Shh, hold still."
"It's good," Aziraphale counters, laughing again in a moment of fleeting embarrassment.
"It can hurt, if," Crowley swallows as Aziraphale's erection twitches in time with the curl of Crowley's finger, leaving the hint of a wet smear across Aziraphale's stomach. "If. If." He forgot what he was going to say.
"Well, it isn't. Hurting, that is." Aziraphale's throat bobs as Crowley begins to pump in and out, very slowly. "Oh dear me."
Crowley looks down at his hand, at where his body is joining the angel's. "Say it again," he asks, brushing his cheek against Aziraphale's knee.
"I love you." It's instantaneous. Crowley feels almost wounded by the impact of it, the bright unrelenting truth of the words. "Crowley, I love you. I..." Aziraphale's hand passes over his face as he lets out an unsteady breath, hips canting up again. Crowley reaches as deeply as he can, trying to figure out what did it. "I love you. I love you. You feel wonderful. I think I can take another."
"Another," Crowley echoes, and shifts a little on the bed, drawing his finger back out and adding a second. As expected, Aziraphale's expression twinges in discomfort, but after a moment of patience Crowley can get in without pressing too much. He works the lubricant around as much as he can, easing the entry, only halfway inside him when Aziraphale pushes his head back and lets out a slow sigh. "Good?"
"Yes. A third?"
"I just started."
"You don't need to be so-"
"I do, angel," Crowley's voice cracks a little as he says it, fingers drawing almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Aziraphale's whole body jumps, tense now and clutching at the bedsheets, a little in discomfort but mostly surprise, arousal, sending it like a shock through Crowley as well. "Fuck."
"A third," Aziraphale insists again.
"A third. A third." Crowley swallows and uses his free hand to snap still more lubricant onto his fingers, onto his free hand so he can begin covering his cock with it as well. Aziraphale plants his feet again, pushing himself up onto his elbows now and watching as Crowley strokes himself, has to stop as Aziraphale's eyes go huger and rounder from watching him. "Breathe," Crowley insists, and Aziraphale does as Crowley presses a third finger in, almost feeling the breaching, stretching feeling himself as he goes. "You've got it," he encourages, feeling the muscles tighten around him and clench a little. The second knuckle, all the way in. Aziraphale drags his forearm across his brow, swiping at the beads of sweat there. "Fuck, you're gorgeousss."
Aziraphale makes some kind of acknowledging sound, almost silent, as Crowley begins to rock his hand back and forth, barely thrusting, gently moving inside him. "You f-feel so..." His eyes flutter shut again, lashes fanned across his cheeks, almost pale green in the light. "You feel perfect."
"I love you," Crowley says without really being able to stop himself, thrusting for a few moments before he sees a wondrous, glorious brightness beginning to grow in Aziraphale's expression and body language, and he has to slow down and stop. "We. We can either take a break to calm down a bit, or,"
"We've waited long enough."
Crowley meets his eyes. They stare at each other for a long second, stretching out in the space between them, the expanse of snow outside, in all directions. If time was in fact altered in some way, it was a complete accident. "Right," Crowley says, finally, and moves up until he's pulling out very slowly and then lining himself up as soon as there's room. "Just, keep focusing on relaxing at first, it's really mostly at first that it feels so-"
"I've read books, dear."
Crowley sputters a little and bends down, leaning on one elbow so he can quiet Aziraphale with a kiss. Aziraphale allows it, lips brushing his, the air between them hot and damp as Crowley feels the flat plane of his stomach brush against the curve of Aziraphale's, his rigid cock, twitching from even that faint contact and making Crowley shut his eyes, sit up straighter, concentrating on the feeling of the head of his cock pressing thick and hard against Aziraphale's entrance. Crowley's breath hitches. It feels warm, it feels slick, more than enough lubricant on both of them, and Aziraphale's entrance is fluttering just a little, gripping at the tip of Crowley as soon as he starts to push in to that perfect soft warmth.
"Crowley," Aziraphale gasps. Crowley is momentarily transported back to his shower. Then to his bedroom 30 years ago, 200 years ago, every time he imagined Aziraphale saying his name with that reverence. He's here now. Aziraphale is saying it. He grits his teeth and pushes deeper, feeling the build-up of pressure and heat threaten to take him too soon. Aziraphale's arms scrabble at him, wrapping around his shoulders, the cotton of the sleeves sticking from both their sweat.
"Love you," Crowley tells him.
"I love you too," Aziraphale replies breathlessly. His eyes look wet. He's smiling. "Don't stop."
Crowley doesn't. He pushes further, seating himself, gasping at how tightly Aziraphale is holding him in place, how perfect he feels.
"Does," Aziraphale sounds far away. "Does it always... feel...?"
"It's never felt like this," Crowley promises. Aziraphale's arms squeeze him tighter, and Crowley keeps his eyes shut, getting his legs bent and spread just so, pulling out just a few inches so he can press back in, testing. Aziraphale makes a reedy sound but holds still. Crowley presses his nose to Aziraphale's collarbone, breathing in his scent, rubbing his cheek against the soft hairs there as he begins a slow rhythm. Aziraphale works with him, breathing in and out in careful huffs, making a soft warning noise that any more would be too much right now. "I've got you," he promises, keeping himself steady through sheer willpower as he feels the sweat of Aziraphale's thighs brush against his hips. "Never," he repeats, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the closest skin. "Never, never." Aziraphale's cock, so wet now with its own precome, becomes trapped tightly between their stomachs as Crowley shifts his position and tries another thrust.
"Yes," Aziraphale confirms, and Crowley can feel his head tilt back, can hear the quiet sound of the pillow underneath his head as he presses backwards into it. "My dear, yes, it's exactly-"
What he wanted. Crowley feels a tremor run through him, making his hips jerk just a touch out of rhythm, and he bites his lip and wills himself into a moment of stillness, centering himself, before continuing. His fingers curl into his palms on the sheets, making fists as he tries to keep moving steadily and not miss a single one of Aziraphale's noises. The angel's getting louder now, sleeves dragging against Crowley's shoulder blades as he tries for better purchase, legs coming up slowly. "Are, are you-"
"I don't know," Aziraphale almost wails, and Crowley whimpers and kisses his neck. "I don't know, it still hurts a bit but don't stop, it's good, it's perfect, I've wanted so much, I, it's, Crowley, darling," Aziraphale's body feels even warmer, hot, and Crowley's soaking it up as he presses himself more determinedly to every inch of skin that he can as he keeps moving. It's still slow, it's still gentle, but apparently it's right, because Aziraphale's voice keeps pitching upward. "Darling, oh,"
Crowley knows Aziraphale's voice is going to be what undoes him. "M'not gonna lassst," he whimpers, more desperately than he meant to. Aziraphale's arms tighten further around him, bringing him in close, and the angle is awkward like this, but he won't stop for anything, practically feeling Aziraphale's pulse under his own skin as it rises upward - "'Ziraphale..."
"I am," Aziraphale says suddenly, with complete certainty. "Oh, goodness, this - Crowley, I love you, I love you-"
Crowley is out of will. He thrusts in, as deep as he can go, feeling the rise of perfect warmth climb up his spine, into his bones, tendrils, soft green new vines with little blooms of flickering light, soft speckled moss, it's in his chest, his lungs, he's breathing in the smell of green growing things as he comes inside Aziraphale, hearing the angel's answering cry as his whole body tightens around Crowley as if to crush him. Aziraphale is coming too, Crowley realizes, and looks up and pulls back just enough to catch the look of shock and ecstasy on the angel's face, staring up into the middle distance as his body is wracked with it. Crowley can't stop moving. He feels the Aziraphale's body shuddering beneath him, the wet spurts between their stomachs, and Aziraphale's body gripping him so perfectly as Aziraphale rides out his orgasm.
Aziraphale's hands seek him out, uncoordinated, finally coming to rest in his hair. They stroke slowly, still shaking, as Crowley slows and finally stops moving, laying down exhausted on top of Aziraphale's body. He can't possibly move. He refuses to pull out of him. Crowley hasn't had the waves continue like this before, had them hit him so hard, and there's still that strange and almost indescribable feeling of brightness, of hopeful new growing things, and all he can do is press his face into Aziraphale's chest and try to get some oxygen. He rises and falls with Aziraphale's breaths.
It's becoming quiet. Still. Aziraphale is no longer panting. Crowley still feels his blood running hot, too fast, but he's getting pulled into a compelling urge to sleep. This moment is perfect and he's going to miss it.
"Love you," he says again, into Aziraphale's chest hair.
"That was nothing like I expected," Aziraphale says in a breathless laugh, continuing to pet his hair. "Also, of course, I love you too."
"Nothing?" Crowley asks, still not moving.
"Well, most everything that happened was something I expected, or at least knew of..." Aziraphale goes quiet a moment and Crowley realizes, with not a small amount of satisfaction, that he's quieting a yawn. "But nearly everything felt differently from how I expected it to feel." A beat. "Does that make any sense?"
"Yes." Crowley makes an unhappy sound when one of Aziraphale's hands pulls away from him. There's a snapping sound, and the sticky mess between them is gone. "Mmph." The hand comes back. "Mmm."
"It's not unusual to be quite tired after such a thing, right?"
"But it's rude to...?"
"M'gonna fall asleep too," Crowley admits.
"Oh." Aziraphale is smiling, Crowley can hear it. He likes that he can hear it, even in just that one word, that one sound, and that is his final thought before he nods off.
Hours later, when they have both woken up again and curled up in a tangle of limbs and wings, the stars are out and the lights are dancing overhead.
Aziraphale is watching them with awed reverence. His head is tilted up, lips parted slightly as he watches the streaks of green light pass overhead like mist over a brook. Crowley watches him, the way the light is softly brightening his face and chest, his wing that is over top Crowley's own wing. Crowley's wing is reflecting some of the green, and some other trick of the light must be drawing out the purples, making it look positively iridescent instead of flat black. Aziraphale's is cast in color, cream instead of white, with flecks of fawn. It must be the lights.
"Crowley, my dear, we came all this way to see one of the loveliest things, and you're not even watching."
"I'm looking," Crowley promises against Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale's eyes are locked upwards, fascinated, as Crowley studies him further. "I'm looking."