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Take Off Your Sunglasses

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Aziraphale had him up against the wall. Had him in the sense that he was presently pinning Crowley firmly to the wall with the length of his body, and had him in the sense that Crowley was about to come all over the angel’s tight fist.

It happened like this…

……

Crowley cursed himself. Damn him for taking off his sunglasses. The angel had him pinned, grasping his biceps and face only inches away from Crowley’s own. Crowley had let out noise akin to ‘guuh’ when his back had connected with the wall and he knew his slit pupils had dilated into round black circles.

He was completely and utterly trapped. The wallpaper rubbed against his hair, causing it to stand up with static electricity. Electricity that seemed to course directly through Crowley’s veins, although that could be attributed to the plush thigh that Aziraphale had insinuated between his legs. Hell, he loved Aziraphale’s thighs. He loved grabbing them when Aziraphale rode him, his thumbs pressing bruises into the soft flesh. He loved the tantalising picture they made that time in ’89 when he’d caught Aziraphale coming out of a drag show, wearing a slinky black dress and stockings. He loved to rest his head in Aziraphale’s lap and drift off while the angel read poetry aloud to him. But, Someone knew, Aziraphale had never taken charge like this, never slammed him back against a wall like this.

Aziraphale’s pocket chain caught against Crowley’s waistcoat and the angel’s hand dropped down to unbutton it. Crowley took the opportunity to slide his hand up to the angel’s neck, to the back of his head, burying it in those soft, pure white curls and dragging him forward for a kiss. But Aziraphale resisted. Crowley groaned, part of him disappointed, and part of him revelling at being denied. His traitorous eyes dropped to the self-satisfied twist of Aziraphale’s mouth. He could taste Aziraphale’s breath on the air, the scent of pastry and apple and cinnamon. Hell, he was so hard.

“Oh, Crowley. You make such a lovely picture,” Aziraphale sighed. He slipped his hand gently under Crowley’s waistcoat and slid it up towards his heart. Crowley laughed. It was a breathless, scratchy sound.

“Are you just going to look, Angel, or are you going to ravish me?”

Aziraphale smiled one of his tender, loving smiles. His eyes flicked down for a second before he met Crowley’s again, a blush rising high on his cheeks. He looked positively cherubic, and he was radiating such warmth and tenderness that Crowley could hardly bear it. He gripped Aziraphale’s elbows and leaned forward for a kiss again but he met empty air. There was the fleeting whisper of lips against his cheek and a soft palm against his neck and he groaned.

“Kiss me, Angel,” he pleaded, sinking down against the wall so he could bury his face in Aziraphale’s neck.

“All in good time, my dear boy.”

Crowley exhaled in frustration but didn’t protest further. He knew when Aziraphale got like this there was no point arguing; it would be soft and slow or not at all. He pressed a wet kiss to Aziraphale’s neck just above his collar and nipped at the flesh there, turning it a gorgeous mottled purple.

“Oh you wily serpent,” Aziraphale breathed. He had both of his hands at Crowley’s waist now, pulling his shirt from his jeans and sliding those soft palms up Crowley’s belly, brushing through the sparse hair and rolling his thumbs over Crowley’s nipples. He pressed him into the wall further and Crowley moaned at the pressure, at his helplessness. His jeans were so tight and he could feel the bulge against Aziraphale’s hip, but he had no leverage to push into it.

“You’re so lovely, my dear. I love taking care of you like this.”

Crowley was in turmoil. Everything in him was rebelling at Aziraphale’s loving touch, his firm hands and sweet nothings whispered against his hair. But Satan did he want it. He wanted Aziraphale to want him, to know him, to tell him he was lovely and loved and to take care of him. Aziraphale sucked his thumb, pushed it back under Crowley’s shirt and swiped it over his nipple, and Crowley shuddered at the touch. He was glad he couldn’t see Aziraphale’s face because he knew it would be too much and he’d probably start weeping or something equally embarrassing and demeaning. He bit down hard on Aziraphale’s neck again and gripped the angel’s waist, grinding their hips together.

He expected Aziraphale to call him a wily serpent again, or perhaps sly or sneaky or foul, or even beastly. He wanted that. He wanted Aziraphale to be rough and to bring him back from this terrifying ledge he was on where he would have to face all the feelings for the angel that he’d stamped down over the last six thousand years. Yes, they’d already had sex, a number of times in fact. But Sa- oh God he was at Aziraphale’s mercy, and the angel was being so gentle and loving that Crowley could barely stand it.

Aziraphale pushed him back. Crowley’s chest burned where the angel’s palms lay flat against his overheated skin. He groaned and tilted his chin and this time Aziraphale met him in a kiss so sweet it was like honey, soft as butterfly wings, and a hundred other disgustingly sentimental things Crowley would scoff at when he was in his right mind.

“You’re so good, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. He kissed him again. “You’re incredibly thoughtful.” He kissed him again. “I trust you.” He kissed the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “You revived the dove without a second thought.” He kissed Crowley’s jaw. “My dear, you value life so much, and yet you don’t believe in your own.”

Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale kissed his cheekbone, and slid his hands down to unbuckle Crowley’s belt, sliding it through the jean loops and letting it drop with a clatter to the floor. It was possibly the most arousing sound Crowley had ever heard.

“Crowley, my dear, you are good, you-“

“Angel, stop it, stop it-“

“Hush.”

Aziraphale’s voice was so soft, so warm, and Crowley felt undone. All he could do was grasp Aziraphale as tightly as he could and stifle his moans in his neck as the angel’s wide palm wrapped around him. Aziraphale pushed his jeans down, and suddenly his hand was slick and his thumb was brushing the head of Crowley’s cock and Crowley was shaking and gasping against him.

“You could always see beyond the rest of us. You asked questions. Important questions.” Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s face back up so he could meet his eyes. “You care, Crowley. You are…essential.”

Crowley laughed hoarsely. “Thanks for stroking my ego, angel, but there’s some other stroking I’d rather you get on with.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley again. This time it was deep and luxurious, their tongues pressing together and swollen spit-slick bottom lips bitten between insistent teeth. Aziraphale stroked him faster, and his hand was still wet with the lube he’d miracled up, and Crowley was gasping against his mouth with each shock of hot pleasure.

“Angel- Angel, please,” Crowley bit out, closing his eyes in embarrassment. He kissed Aziraphale again and clutched at his shoulders desperately.

“Come for me, my dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured, but Crowley shook his head.

“No Angel, tell me, please tell me-”

“Oh Crowley. I love you. You are so good, my darling.”

Crowley keened, and it was one, two more strokes and he came, toes curling inside his shoes and eyes screwed shut. He panted against Aziraphale’s mouth as pleasure rocked through him right down to his fingers where they gripped Aziraphale in a bruising embrace, until he shuddered and slumped bonelessly against the angel.

He distantly felt Aziraphale miracle away the mess and slide Crowley’s waistcoat off his shoulders, but Crowley was useless, feeling as if he’d gone through the emotional wringer ten times over.

Aziraphale’s lips were soft against his forehead.

“Right. Let’s get you into bed then,” Aziraphale said. He took Crowley’s arm and herded him towards the bedroom, pushing him down onto the soft sheets and removing both of their clothes with a careless miracle.

Crowley sighed as Aziraphale settled into the bed next to him, and he threw an arm over Aziraphale’s waist, already drifting off on an endorphin high.

“Angel…”

“Yes?”

Crowley blinked up at him through his heavily lidded eyes and smiled.

“Thank you.”