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Killer Queen

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In hindsight, Crowley reflected, it was probably not one of his best or brightest ideas to introduce a six-thousand-year-old virgin to the subtle and intricate matters of sexual intercourse.

Things could, frankly speaking, get a little out of hand.

 


 

“Are you absolutely certain, Crowley dear?” asked Aziraphale for the umpteenth time.

It was embarrassing how that term of casual endearment still sent a warm thrill dancing up his spine after all these years, but it did. Crowley lifted his head and chanced a glance at the nervous angel hovering between his open thighs. The cold gel-like lubricant had long warmed against Crowley’s bare skin and was starting to dry. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, especially with the angel going almost cross-eyed at how intensely he was staring at Crowley’s crack.

“It’s not freaking rocket science, angel,” He sighed, jiggling his arse invitingly in Aziraphale's face. “Just put it in already. I’ve done the hard part for you. It’s not going to explode like a package bomb if you stick something — oh...”

“Like this?” inquired Aziraphale.

He hissed at the sudden intrusion. It burned, but not the way protesting muscle would. This was something deeper and the sensation made Crowley’s dick twitch as Aziraphale gingerly bottomed out. He was panting slightly under his breath, blond curls disheveled and blue eyes wide with what Crowley could only perceive as wonder and he was utterly breathtaking. Crowley clenched around Aziraphale experimentally and the angel gasped out loud, color rushing to his rosy cheeks.

“You can move now, darling,” rasped Crowley.

“Are you sure I’m not hurting yo—”

“Just fuck me already, angel!” He snapped, shouting in alarm when Aziraphale’s hips jumped on command. A look of stupefied amazement settled over Aziraphale’s face, and if Crowley’s eyes weren’t rolled up into the back of his head at the moment, he would’ve laughed. But the angel’s cock was exquisitely thick and his aim true, so instead of mocking his best friend/lover, Crowley merely tightened his legs around Aziraphale’s waist and held on.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to feel the familiar tingling in his lower abdomen that signaled release. He hadn’t had sex in a while, what with the whole Antichrist fiasco and the fact that back then, the one being he’d been interested in rolling in the sheets with had absolutely no idea of his infatuation. Aziraphale made up for his lack of experience with well, sheer size and girth. And enthusiasm, don’t forget enthusiasm.

So when the sweet release of orgasm was nearly upon them, Crowley expertly flipped their positions and settled snugly into the angel’s lap. Aziraphale swallowed, his wide blue eyes tracking the demon’s every move. Crowley rolled his hips and smirked when hands shot to his narrow waist and held on. Aziraphale looked a mixture between mesmerized and terrified. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of the angel’s mouth.

“Let go, love,” whispered the demon.

Aziraphale moaned and abruptly came.

It was probably a bit like being dunked in a tub of holy water, Crowley mused after shaking through his own release. The angel’s essence pulsed like molten lava inside him.

Crowley exhaled noisily, “That was…”

“Absolutely divine,” Aziraphale finished for him, beaming beatifically. Something inside Crowley’s chest did a funny little flip-flop. He flushed and moved to extract himself from the angel’s lap, but the soft hands sitting atop his bare thighs put a stop to his squirming attempts.

“What are you doing, angel?” Crowley lifted an eyebrow. Aziraphale blushed a fetching shade of pink, “can we perhaps go again, my dear?”

“Right now?” asked the demon, somewhat incredulously. His own prick sat soft and sated between them. The angel reddened some more and tentatively rolled his hips up. Crowley sucked in a sharp breath, “oh, I see.”

They stared at one another.

“Please?” added Aziraphale. The tips of Crowley’s ears turned red.

“Alright,” He tried shrugging the moment off and relaxed back onto the angel’s lap, making a big show of spreading his long bare legs. The cock buried in his arse twitched in response.

“Have at it, old boy,” drawled Crowley.

So Aziraphale did.

 


 

Crowley had finally blacked out after what was probably the sixth orgasm.

By then, he was mostly shooting blanks and not even making an effort to reciprocate. The human body was a weird thing, Crowley remembered thinking before everything went dark. Aziraphale most likely hadn’t even noticed, so wrapped up in fucking the daylights out of the demon, not that Crowley minded. It was amusing to see him so interested in something other than his growing collection of old books and food. It was even more hilarious that it was the matter of sex, or “love-making” as the angel called it while pounding him against the breakfast table.

He didn’t really think much of it. Their lives continued the way it always did, albeit with a rated-R twist now. Perhaps Anathema had been right about them being an old married couple all along. Only, old married couples didn’t quite have the same rigorous sex life they now had. Sure Crowley enjoyed being on the receiving end of Aziraphale’s affection and he understood that the angel was probably just going through a phase, what with the six thousand years of pent-up sexual energy.

Well, Crowley figured it had to go somewhere. He just didn’t realize at the time, that "it" was mostly going to go into him.

“What’s this?” asked the demon one sunny afternoon two weeks after the world was supposedly to have ended. The maroon dress with the tight corset hanging in Aziraphale’s back room looked vaguely familiar.

“Well, dearest Crowley, I was thinking we could try something new today,” the angel said as he stepped out from behind a filing cabinet. Crowley blinked. His shades slipped a few inches down the bridge of his hooked nose.

“Are we into role-play now?” asked the demon flatly.

“It’ll be like going to a new restaurant. We might not like the menu, but it’s worth a try,” said Aziraphale, trying to smile. Crowley looked him up and down, briefly considered the pros and cons of playing along, and sighed, “fine fine fine, give me five minutes to get into that dress. Oh, and angel, get rid of those dreadful dentures please.”

 


 

A week after the nanny/gardener situation where Aziraphale had ripped the black leggings off Crowley’s thighs and then proceeded to ravish him against the nearest surface, he started to find various books and catalogues of pornographic nature lying about in the bookstore. Aziraphale came to him that night with a small notebook and a list filled with question marks. His angel truly had endless curiosity. Aziraphale should be grateful that he was a cosmic being of near limitless power, otherwise Crowley reckoned he’d be long dead by now. Most likely stoned to death outside a restaurant somewhere in Paris.

“BDSM,” snorted Crowley as he read over Aziraphale’s shoulder, “are you really thinking of whipping me about with a strip of leather, angel? I’ll tell you now that’s going to feel like mosquito feet against my skin.”

“Hmm, how about we soak it in a bit of diluted holy water?” asked Aziraphale with his patented bright cherub smile. A shiver ran down Crowley’s spine at the prospect, “interesting. I’m listening…”

The welts stayed for days, not that Crowley minded. The angel had been surprisingly dominant in the bedroom. All in all, it hadn’t been that bad of an experience, so the two put a check next to it on Aziraphale’s list and moved onto, well, bigger things.

“Do you plan to roast me like a rack of lamb?” asked Crowley when he saw the device. It had shiny metal studs and leather cuffs for his wrists and ankles. Aziraphale stood with his hands daintily folded over his vest-covered belly and smiled. He hadn’t even bothered to get rid of the box in which the horrid contraption had arrived in. Crowley briefly wondered which unfortunate soul had been charged with its delivery. Poor thing deserved a raise.

Sighing indulgently, he lifted both arms and offered the angel his wrists. “I’ve unleashed a monster, haven’t I?”

“Nonsense, my love,” said Aziraphale as he cheerfully strapped Crowley in.

 


 

“Did you rob an eighteenth century grave for this torture device?”

“No,” Aziraphale said crossly. Crowley could almost see his feathers fluffing like an indignant pigeon, “I’ll have you know that I bought it with real money at an exotic silent auction. It took a few miracles, but I managed to procure it in the end.”

“Really?” drawled the demon, “took a few miracles you say. Can’t think of anyone wanting to buy this demonic thing with real money.”

“Well, I read about it in a lovely history book and thought it might, umm, be interesting to sample,” Aziraphale said, patting absently along the insides of his tartan suit jacket and producing something that looked like a large piece of dried human skin. The old parchment sprayed a fountain of dust as Aziraphale cracked it open. Crowley sure as hell hoped it wasn’t 300-year-old flaky semen stains that had just shaken loose. Or the tears of the machine’s victims.

“Let’s see, I believe you sit here and I crank this lovely little shaft here, and…oh dear,” Aziraphale trailed off as the twelve wooden dildos attached to the wheel of horror sprang to life. Crowley sauntered over and placed a booted foot on the bench. The cocks were still spinning like a water mill. It was a rather alarming sight to behold.

“You could patent this as one of those green energy machines, angel,” Crowley clapped him on the shoulder, “shall we place it on the growing list of unspeakable horrors and move it to the basement?”

“Yes, let’s do that,” said the angel hurriedly.

 


 

Six weeks after they’d officially started bumping nasties, Crowley introduces the strange wonders of female anatomy into their bedroom. It was certainly a fantastic idea, he thought dazedly after another mind-blowing orgasm and Aziraphale still going at it enthusiastically between his thighs.

“You taste wonderfully sweet, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his mouth red and shining wetly in the lamp light. He paused to think, “rather like those lovely fresh oysters we had in Rome.”

“Shut up and keep going,” Crowley groaned and flopped back onto the sheets.

“May I, umm…” Aziraphale gestured at the pink appendage bobbing urgently between his legs.

“Get in here, angel,” He sighed appreciatively, long legs curling around Aziraphale’s waist as he pressed inside.

Multiple orgasms were wonderful things indeed.

 


 

“This was a magnificent idea, Crowley dear,” Aziraphale beamed down at the demon sprawled in his sheets. He leaned down and licked a spot of cream filling off of Crowley’s Adam’s apple.

“It wasn’t my idea, Aziraphale. I merely ran into you while you were holding a cake,” Crowley reminded ever so patiently while the angel licked a path down his chest and nibbled at the piece of strawberry nestled in his belly button. The whole bedroom smelled of warm chocolate and cream cake.

“Imagine Heaven’s surprise if they found out about your perversions, angel,” Crowley teased. He ran a socked toe over the raised tent in Aziraphale’s neatly pressed trousers. The angel blushed hotly.

“They’re not perversions, demon!” Aziraphale cried indignantly, “not when it is out of love, dear.”

“You love me, Aziraphale?” smirked the demon.

Blue eyes softened as the angel leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Of course I do, Crowley.”

“Alright then, what’s next?” He asked brusquely, trying his hardest not to melt under Aziraphale’s reverent touch, “you want to slather me in crepes and fuck over a pile of your precious prophecy books?”

“Heavens no, those took me centuries to collect, Crowley!”

“Seriously?” The demon lifted a brow, “you don’t so much as bat an eye at the dildo wheel and you put your foot down when it comes to old books?”

“Well someone has to,” argued Aziraphale. Crowley was ready for a stinging retort when the shop bell rang and signaled the arrival of a potential customer. He snapped his fingers and dressed them both.

“Pity,” murmured Aziraphale, looking adorably crestfallen. Crowley rolled his eyes and pushed his way out into the front of the shop. The mousy-haired delivery boy stared back with wide wide eyes as he shoved a hefty box into Crowley’s arms and promptly beat a hasty retreat.

“Aren’t I supposed to sign something?” He called after the boy as Aziraphale came bustling out behind him.

“Oh good, it’s finally arrived,” He chirped, delighted. Crowley shook the box.

Something buzzed within. He turned to the angel with a puzzled frown.

“It runs on electricity apparently,” said Aziraphale, looking strangely excited.

“What runs on electricity, angel?” Crowley inquired as Aziraphale quickly unpacked his prize and whipped out a truly ginormous fake phallus from a fountain of packing peanuts. It was even an attractive shade of periwinkle blue and was bobbing madly to and fro in the angel’s fist. Crowley took a small weary step backwards when the rest of the box began to hum like a nest of angry hornets.

“They must have made a mistake,” cried his angel, for nestled in the package were nine other identical vibrating dildos. They could’ve at least changed up the colors a bit. Also, why was there even the option of purchasing ten of them? Who on earth needed ten dildos?

Crowley sidled over and nudged Aziraphale, “Guess you should make room in your sex dungeon for these, aye?”

“It’s not a sex dungeon, Crowley, it’s a storage room that happens to be underground.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” said Crowley, “left one of my plants in there after it had the audacity to turn yellow. Only took five minutes and it was back in full bloom, angel.”

“That is a horrible practice and you should be ashamed of yourself,” sniffed Aziraphale in his most disapproving voice, “now come and hurry along, dear. We must try one of these before the batteries run out.”

 


 

They tried a variety of other things in the weeks that followed — wax, ropes, an old pair of iron cuffs, and numerous food items, etc. Aziraphale’s sex dungeon of unspeakable horrors had grown exponentially once he finally ironed out the kinks of online orders. Crowley went along with everything, mostly out of morbid curiosity and amusement at Aziraphale’s exaggerated reactions. It was similar to their six-thousand-year long search for the best restaurants in the world. Crowley himself didn’t eat much, but it was nice to watch the angel practically glow in pleasure at a particularly delicious soufflé.

“My life wouldn’t be this interesting without you, angel,” He confessed one morning in November. They were lying in bed together watching the watery sunlight warm patches of glittery frost on the window panes.

“You make everything a thousand times more delightful, Crowley dear. Nothing would be the same if you weren’t the one to experience them with me,” Aziraphale murmured against his neck, the soft brush of his lips tickling the demon's auburn locks.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other for eternity then, old boy.” Crowley patted the arm around his waist.

“It would be my pleasure, love,” beamed the angel.

Somewhere in the shop, the crystal tinkle of a bell signaled the first customer of the day, but Aziraphale hadn’t even opened up the book store let alone—

“Where is the pornography, Aziraphale?” A booming voice called out.

Crowley stilled, “is that— ?”

“Gabriel, I’m afraid,” said Aziraphale, his lips thinning into an annoyed line.

“And he asked for— ”

“Yes well, he and Sandalphon seemed to have settled on that particular genre as a code for angelic business,” sighed the angel. He gave Crowley a morose look, “I suppose it was just a matter of time before they showed up at our doors again. Wonder what it’s about this time.”

“Pornography, angel,” Crowley reminded matter-of-factly, “the man practically announced it to the world just now. As I recall, you happen to have quite the collection.”

“I can’t just, oh, I do indeed.” Aziraphale blinked. Then, very slowly, an extremely uncharacteristic smile slithered its way onto his innocent face. He cleared his throat daintily, “well, I suppose I should give Gabriel what he wants.”

“Remember to close the door after yourself, darling,” Crowley supplied helpfully. He toppled back into bed with a contented sigh after giving the angel a kiss.

Faintly in the distance, he heard Aziraphale say to the other angel, “why don’t we go down to the basement and talk in private, Gabriel?”

Crowley muffled his evil cackles into the sheets. By some small miracle, they were still warm and smelled of Aziraphale.

Gabriel didn’t visit much after that.

 

fin.