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The Pleasures of Sin

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Summer may have been coming to an end but an unexpected heat wave settled into the air like a thick smog. Making trecks through the London streets torture rather than its usual pleasent stroll. Humidity was something no one in London was used to, making their clothes stick to their skin in many unpleasant ways. (Luckily air conditioning was one of the few modern advancements Aziraphale appreciated the most, having invested years earlier to keep himself and his book shop cool year round.)

Adjusting himself in the mirror had been a bad decision. It would have been much easier to head right for the door before his nerves swelled his throat shut.

Shockingly white hair was a mess of untamable curls, his favorite tartan bow tie slightly askew no matter how he tried to fix it, while a finally pressed white dress shirt and dark brown vest showed their age. Ditching his normal coat just in case the summer heat was sweltering. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his favorite coat in a drunken rage.

Plump fingers adjusted the tie for the tenth time, a firm frown curling the older man's lips. After changing outfits a total of five times, no matter what shirt or tie, it was becoming clear he would always look like someone's grandpa.

The collar pressed into his neck just enough to show his double chin, while the vest didn't do much to help hide his plump belly from far too many sweet pastries.

At least his nails looked dashing.

Despite how many times Aziraphale had to remind himself of Madam Tracy's empowering pep talk, it was another to actually act upon that courage.

Trusting her judgement was starting to feel like a mistake.

 

~~~

 

"I-I'm not sure what you're implying."

"Go out and get stuffed, dear."

Choking suddenly on his own breath and dropping his current novel, the blonde gawked at her in surprise. Cheeks growing hot when she started to giggle with a glowing smile.

"I'm sorry dear, but it's starting to become a bit obvious that you're a wee bit pent up.”

"Madam, this is an inappropriate conversation during tea time."

“I mean no harm Mister F, but, You said so yourself you were lonely.”

"I'm… I-I'm not..I'm not as young as I used to be."

"So? Darling neither of us are spring chickens. Talk about being old when your my age."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. This was a conversation that bounced around his brain hundreds of times at this point. Any previous relationships that lasted longer than a few weeks were always nice at first, until they got a bit to demanding too fast that it made his head spin.

Relationships take time, and he appreciated being able to become comfortable at his own pace. However that often blew up in his face, many didn't want to wait for the ‘appropriate’ amount of time it took for him to become comfortable enough to come out of his shell.

Though sex was something he came to enjoy, he could certainly live with out it if need be.

Fooling around, experimentation and late nights of lust filled passion was a young man's game. Aziraphale had no place trying to fit into a world moving far to quickly for him. Besides, his back didn't agree with that kind of thing anyway. At least that's what he told himself.

He did miss soft kisses and the hand holding though, dining at fancy restaurants or going for a picnic in the park. Call him a sap.

Maybe, secretly (or at least he hoped it was secret) a good roll in the sheets never hurt anyone either.

But it was far easier to bury his nose in a romance novel and daydream than be a blubbering mess in person than to ask he wanted a smack on the rear every so often. Coming from a younger man would have been bewitching, coming from someone his age felt wrong.

"I appreciate your attempts. But I'm simply aged out of that sort of thing. Everyone our age is already happily married or no longer looking."

A fine eyebrow raised and he babbled to quickly shut her up knowing that look far too well. He definitely didn't need reminding of her and Mr. Shadwells odd relationship.

"Absolutely not."

The redhead took a sip of her tea, humming in agreement. "I think it's worth a shot, you never know. You might enjoy yourself!

Finger already twisting nervously, her voice softened to put the suddenly nervous man at ease "It would be good for you Mr. F, getting dressed up and having a night on the town is sure to boost your confidence."

 

~~~

Back to the present, Aziraphale pushed any doubts from his racing thoughts. The whole point was to enjoy himself. Break free from his anxious shell he unfortunately dwelled within.

Aziraphale felt his palms sweat just like they had on prom night and even worse than the first night he kissed another boy.

How many years has it been since he even tried? At least ten since he, to put it politely- lied with another man.

Maybe the older he got the more embarrassing it became to express just what he wanted in another man. Aziraphale never had a definitive type per say, often finding himself attracted to a personality than looks. With that barrier it then was often hard to dictate who exactly had alternative motives and who was simply being friendly. Unfortunately being a tad naive ultimately assumed everyone was just being friendly. Who would try to flirt with him anywho?

All those years ago it was just easier to enjoy himself when he had the energy for such a thing, to have a bit of fun in his younger days but now…

Like most things with age, he started to sag. Once bright energetic eyes became tired and droopy. Aziraphale certainly wasn't in the nicest shape even if he had always been a bit chubby. His cheeks were too round and while his hair was so obnoxiously bright it was like wearing a beacon atop his head.

Anyone who claims the older you become the less you care, had never been in his shoes. In Airaphale's case it was far from the truth. Anxiety didn't just miraculously dissipate, over the years he learned how to cope with his nervous ticks. But you can only repress something for so long before someone or something hits a sore spot.

Not only did he battle his own physical anxiety, emotional ones were just as harmful. He long forgave his strict christian upbringing for his crippling emotional issues. Anything he found joy in would soon be thrown back into his face like it was some kind of unthinkable sin. Like everything he came to enjoy was wrong.

Like now for instance.

This wasn't about what others thought of him, scowling to himself before his own brain could open up that can of worms.

“This is for you.” he scolded again. Tugging nervously at the ring around his pinky.

“You like tartan, well aged wine, strawberries crepes, gold jewelry.” the list helped boost his crumbling confidence, just enough to keep him from tearing away the worn vest in favor of something maybe two sizes too big.

Steeling himself properly, Azirphale clicked heels and forced a happy smile in the mirror, this was no time for self reflection on just how stupid this whole thing was. Being stubborn as a mule had its perks.

Aziraphale’s fingers made it as far to the door knob before he physically couldn't bear to pull the door open. He swore under his breath for being such a baby.

He may not be an advocate for drunken adventures, but liquid courage was something he believed in wholeheartedly.

Aziraphale poured himself a full glass of wine and downed it to help ease his already shuttering nerves. No one said he couldn't get a head start, especially when simply stepping out into the hallway was becoming a problem. The warm, comforting fog made the tension simply unwind his too tight muscles. Soon his fingers couldn't stop him from twisting the door knob and locking it behind him.

‘Fun,’ Madam Tracey said. ‘You will have fun.’

He could do this, or at least have a good time trying.

Peeking open the door, the faint buzz of music from outside brought another wave of anxiety. This was ridiculous, he was a grown man for heaven's sake. How many times had he actually walked the streets at night? Countless. Yet this was different, this was with an intention not to sleep alone tonight.

The streets of London were alive, the sun may have gone down but it's people seemed to come from the wood work as bright neon signs, music and smoke filled the crisp night air. Groups cheered, others sang drunken slurs of their merriment.

Once the anxious thoughts started to numb from that glorious glass of wine, it was almost nostalgic seeing the flashing colors and the faint smell of stale cigarettes with enough pornographic window merchandise to make a nun blush. The night life had never been his style, but it just made his insides fuzzy remembering the fun times he had back in the day.

Late nights of passion and experimentation still made his toes curl.

Adjusting his bow tie nervously while dancing around the dozens of people scattered about the nearest bar, he sucked in a much needed breath, and stepped forward.

No turning back, relax. Enjoy yourself Aziraphale.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Not even a few hours in, his head was already starting to spin from just a few drinks. The night became a blur of colors, forgettable faces and heart stopping bass music.

But it working, feeling lighter than air, the plump man gave a stranger a kiss on the cheek for another round of brightly colored drinks. Call it what you will, it was a huge step in his case.

Aziraphale enjoyed his wine every once in a while, but goodness it was not nearly this strong. It was worth noting all the brightly colored, fruity ones packed the most punch.

The blissful buzz had his body becoming pliant, acting on instinct and want rather than having his thoughts cloud his actions. It was fun, at least, until it wasn't.

Unfortunately, the longer the night wore on, the harder it became to keep his normal smile friendly. Anyone that had approached him was either not his type, (He considered himself a good judge of character, and something was definitely off about those people.) asking if he was lost or far too young to even consider. A fellow who seemed to be in his late 40’s was very pleasant, but he apparently didn't know what toothpaste was and had to turn down that clear invitation.

A young woman even had the nerve to ask if he was a sugar daddy. That alone had him nearly toppling over his own feet to get as far away from that bar as fast as his drunken brain could handle.

After three bars, it was beginning to look bleak.

Sighing to himself Aziraphale scrubbed a hand over his face, as if that would help clear his thoughts. Already writing off tonight as a failure. Going home was always an option, Even if he did get a few free drinks, it was not nearly worth the embarrassment of being nearly the oldest man in a club filled with young men and women. Grinding against one another while he sat alone toying with his drink.

Dancing was out of the question, no way in heaven or hell would he make a fool of himself on the dance floor. At least not until he was level five drunk and even that only happened once. (Any evidence of that night mysteriously combusted.)

His partying days had passed nearly two and a half decades ago, consuming this much alcohol would lead to a nasty hangover and sticky sheets, neither sounded so bad after you put aside the loneliness.

Aziraphale stumbled only a few times dodging the crowded streets, too bad his favorite bakery wasn't open 24/7 open. A fresh croissant or a strawberry danish sounded absolutely divine right now.

Using the buildings walls to keep his center of gravity worked until he had to cross the street. A soft voice told him it would be fine if he turned tail into the comforts of this apartment and just eased the tension himself. Maybe even become adventurous and stay the night in the book shop instead so it would feel far more forgien.

Ugh, how pathetic.

It was a complete mistake coming out here.

Aziraphale looked offended at the curb that caught his shoe, as if it had jumped out to purposefully trip him. Mumbling under his breath the man used a nearby cars tinted windows to adjust himself accordingly, fussing with his hair and loosening his tie to make himself feel less claustrophobic. The sad frown, flushed cheeks and messy shirt staring right back.

God, he looked so sad.

A 50 year old man trying to get lucky in the middle of London.

Jesus Christ what was he thinking?

Madam Tracey would get a real talking too once he could combine coherent thoughts again.

Aziraphael plastered his palms to the glass, already wanting to throw himself into a hot bath and just forget this ever happened. It wouldn't be hard with another bottle of wine. Waking up in the morning with no recollection of the previous night could just ease any lingering pity he felt for himself.

Luckily, with a drunken mind, his train of thought got side tracked by the mist fogging up the window. A dopey smile brightened his glassy eyes at the sudden childish urge to draw a face on the glass, and doing just that. Going as far to draw a phallic image made another ridiculous drunken giggle bubble in his throat.

Then, to his surprise and soon to be horror, the window moved.

He gawked as the once dark tinted glass and silly drawing disappeared to reveal a man. With one high eyebrow sat in the driver's seat, smoke beginning to escape into the fresh air from a cigarette between his teeth.

“Oi, hands off the car, it's just been through the bloody wash.”

No matter how hard Aziraphale tried to get his eyes to focus in the dim street lights and smoke pouring from the window, the silhouette stayed hazy. The only damn thing he could focus on was the red, curly hairs peeking out from the strangers v-neck.

Airaphale’s thoughts seemed to suddenly drag him back to reality when the man was suddenly getting out of his car, to stand right before him. Cigarette between his lips and way to close, to close, shooing him away from the supportive automobile beneath his wondering palms.

“Sorry, sorry, j-just admiring.” his own words felt slow even on his own tongue despite the ridiculous panic lacing his tone. After righting himself and using his hands to press down his collar, the blonde felt embarrassment rush to his face, feeling like a child that got caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh of course, please do. From a far if you don't mind. I don't need giant cocks on window. Contrary to popular belief it's not good for my image.”

It took four slow, calculating blinks for his foggy brain to realize those tantalizing curls were indeed attached to a person now standing between him and the shiny, old car like a protective parent.

A man, only a bit taller than himself with bright auburn hair that fell in lovely waves against his face and shoulders. The wrinkles near his lips placed him relatively his own age, none of these baby faced party seekers. Lips merely turned down in a permanent resting frown while he huffed his cigarette. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes, and oddly enough sunglasses.

In the middle of the night?

Squinting suspiciously at the mysterious, but very attractive stranger. The blonde twisted his fingers, to keep the undeniable urge to reach out and braid the others hair.

"M’ a lil, tipsy.“ Ah yes, there was the random drunken outbursts.

If he wasn't having trouble staying still he may have noticed nearly there smile curled the lanky man's lips while he tapped his cigarette.

“You don't say?” matter of factly shifting a foot to look at a random passerby. “Any fun plans for tonight?” Shaking his head slightly, the shorter of the two bit his lip to prevent a smile.

“Fancy a drink then? My treat, though by the look of it you've have a bit too much already.” Aziraphale may have missed the light smile moments ago, but he certainly didn't miss the way the redhead's head moved up and down, as if sizing him up.

A pout would be the only way to describe the chubby man's current face with slightly pursed lips and a heavy brow.

“I have not! Simply-” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to rid the gross feeling “One away from too many...”

A sharp brow arched out from behind dark lenses, watching the slight sway in the blondes body.

“And do tell, do you normally go around fondling other men's cars when you're sober?"

Cheeks warming further, the alcohol definitely helped loosen him up from earlier. By now he would have excused himself and then regret the impulsive decision later. Call him crazy, desperate, needy whatever. This stranger's tone went from annoyed to charming in the matter of minutes and it was already making his insides fuzzy.

“Not...Normally.”

“We may get along just fine then.”

Inhaling one final time, the redhead flicked his cigarette to the street, stuffing it out with his foot.

“Shall we? Mr.-?”

The strange, attractive stranger offered his arm and Aziraphale’s belly did all sorts of wonderful, terrifying things.

He gladly took it, eager to have anything to keep from making more of a further fool himself, in front of his new friend “A-aziraphale, just Aziraphale, please. I know it’s a bit odd”

“Quiet a mouth fool to say the least. Crowley, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

The moment he took Crowley's arm, he was led to a part of town he didn't fully recognize. Though if it wasn't for the supportive arm, the blonde was sure he would have fallen flat on his ass at this point and without a doubt just made a fool of himself more so than he already had. Crolwey was warm, intelligent from what he could tell just from his words. A bit dreary in a sense of style but he seemed...Normal.

Getting his hopes up would only lead to further disappointment, but he wasn't ready to let his heart sink thinking perhaps this was just an act of kindness.

Another bar, a bit of a walk on the outer skirt of his home where the ever growing party started to trickle off. Squinting, trying to read the sign through the dull glow of neon. Heaven.

Aziraphale was brought back to reality once again, choking softly when the skinny males hand found the small of his back, ushering him forward past the glass doors and an open stool at the bar.

“Great place, this one. Always a lot quieter for when I just want to drink away the day you know?”

He coulda swore he was promised a drink but a glass of water was placed before him that clinked against Crowley's ringed fingers. It oddly made his heart flutter.

If that was a mere flutter, this had his poor muscle doing somersaults. Two bright red drinks slid in front of them, garnished with plump cherries. Apparently it was called a tropical orgasm, why he would never understand all he needed to remember was to order it some other time. It was delicious.

After a final, too fruity drink he was far, far too drunk to be dealing with all those flashing lights from the previous bars but also to drunk to focus on the quiet conversations rather than this handsome stranger.

Crowley.

Crowley, who was one of the oddest yet most endearing fellows he ever had the pleasure of speaking with was quick with his tongue. In few words, dramatic. A joke or tease never too far away even as they spoke about nonsense. Crowley didn't seem like he had a proper care in the world. From the way he loundged himself across the bar top to the mess of waves a top his head.

“You don't seem like the type to be running around soho.” Crowley took a sip of his own drink. Words a bit to matter of fact for the plump man's taste

The blonde closed his eyes briefly to clear his head before trying to use his tongue.

“No ‘m afraid not. A dear friend suggested I get out a bit more and well, had a bit too much to drink.” Did he always sound so slow? It was a miracle that managed to be a coherent sentence with how thick his tongue felt.

That got another alluring smirk to twist on Crowley's thin lips, hidden behind his glass “Never very fun without a friend you know."

He puffed up a little, “Indeed.” Aziraphale went for the plump cherry submerged in his polished wine glass. “I was just about to head home and dread a nasty hangover before we ran into one another.”

“Wasn't it you drawing smiley faces and dicks on my car?"

Aziraphales lips curled to a silly, drunken smile, twirling his glass a bit dangerously in his drunken haze “And I am proper chuffed about it. I’ve had more fun in the last hour than I have had all night."

Clinking glasses, both men sipped their respective drinks.

“Lucky me.”

Though he could feel his cheeks growing warmer at the implication, his body didn't feel the need to flee. Then again blonde wasn't sure he could more very fast without losing his stomach in the process. It was such an odd sensation, to feel comfortable for once. Anxiety was boiling in deep in his chest and preventing him from trying to at least step out of his comfort zone. Thank the lord for alcohol.

Keeping himself upright was becoming a struggle with such pleasant, conversions. A nice change from the previous places he had visited. Aziraphale tucked his head on his elbow against the bartop. Crowley from this angle was rather lovely, though he had yet to find a bad one. Thin nose, sharp jaw and those cursed red chest hairs teasing him again from his slouched position. Aziraphale could have swore he saw some kind of tattoo beneath those curls.

Though their conversation diverted to random things, Aziraphale recounted how terrible his night started off. The multiple bars he came to visit or any particular unpleasant person that had approached him. When words were not waterfalling past his lips, he struggled not to simply stare. Occasionally losing himself in thought.

The next time he caught up with the conversation they were discussing the last time they had a roll in the sheets. (lord how many times had he been staring??)

“Been...Ah..A little over a decade I would say.”

Crowley hummed, not seeming put off by the statement. Normally people acted as if sex equivilent to the very air they breath. Some couldn't go a day without it, others felt no need for such a thing.“No boyfriend, girlfriend? Lover? Not even some lonley phone sex?”

Burying his face into his elbow, Aziraphale groaned in embarrassment. Hearing it come from someone else's mouth made it so much worse, not to mention depressing. Something about the conversation was easy, as if they were discussing the ridiculous weather.

A shaky no was all he could manage. Words muffled from his elbow “Good lord. You can't say it like that, it's not like I haven't wanted to just be ravished to hell and back.”

The silence seemed much heavier all of a sudden, but a drunk Aziraphale was always more oblivious than normal. When no reply came, he failed to notice Crowley's surprised expression. He unfortunately didn't have time to dwell as his brain just let the words flow.

“I'm too picky.” The drunken man slurred, trying to imitate a woman's comments mere hours ago. “You can't go to a dreary bar expecting perfection.” finally letting his head fall to his crossed arms again with a soft thud. “W-well I have standards. Unlike her who was just draped across a boy half her age. She was so rude.” he complained.

Crowley listened to his new friends lament and decided perhaps catching him when he had been a good thing.

“Hate to say it, but she's right.”

The blonde’s head shot up and gawked in horror, you would have expected Crowley struck him across the face.

“Y-You can't side with her! She was rude to me!”

Shrugging, the red head dramatically flipped his hair over his shoulder, twisting around to face his new friend rather than drape across the bar. “No one goes to a sleazy bar looking for a relationship."

“But I wasn't!”

“Then what exactly are looking for, Aziraphale?”

The firm, command of his name from those thin lips was enough to pause his drunken rant and stare long and hard at the ice melting in his glass.

What did he want?

Pleasure? Obviously. A relationship? It was hard to say. Though it did sound heavenly to wake up beside someone you cared so deeply for every morning. But this entire night wasn't about finding love in the wrong places. It was about finally letting down his defenses long enough to enjoy himself again. To have a bit of fun.

He wanted to feel good, something only another body could give. Whether it from seeking fingers or the tangle of legs, to soft reassuring kisses. His own hands were nothing compared to those nights so many years ago. Sex was never something he felt the need to seek out. Sure it was nice, but it wasn't just the physical intimacy that came with it. Azirphale enjoyed the mental intimacy just as much.

Spending late nights in discrete gentlemen clubs were the only times he truly felt free from the world. To finally submit to another human being and allow them to have their way. Back then, in such a closed off intimate setting, there wasn't going to be any judgement from his fellow club goers because they were there for the same reason. To hide from the world, even if it was for a short period of time.

It had to be some kind of sick, twisted desire from when he was a child. He wanted to be ordered about, reprimanded, something he would never appreciate outside of the dom and sub game. Someone who had complete authority over his mind and body made his legs quake. It was nice to not fret over every small detail every once in awhile. Of course he came across enough kinky things that made his ears hot, but nothing compared to fully letting himself enjoy a subspace. Never having to worry about what would happen in the morning when a caring dominant would take the time to make sure he was alright.

Now it felt like a disgusting taboo to wish for such a thing. Over the years the words domination and submission changed, by default becoming some kind of pain play. Now he was never sure who would spit in his face and call him a freak for letting himself be vulnerable. He was a man who appreciated consent, boundaries. But that's exactly how his last relationship (if you call it one) had come to an end. For overstepping when he was clearly unwilling for such a jump in trust.

And then there was his physical anxiety of not being good enough to do such a thing anymore.

After a long, intense inner battle the chubby man pulled back to sit upright and grasped at the curls starting to stick to his forehead from the sweat accumulating his brow. Brain buzzing like a hive of bees with self loathing thoughts. Was it not written across his forehead at this point? Did he not appear as desperate as he felt?

Desperation, laced with years of pent up frustration reared its ugly head. How could he not allow himself the basic forms of pleasure? Letting others get into his mind and taint his own feelings? For nearly a decade, Aziraphale repressed his own needs in favor of fear. Pain laced Aziraphale’s next words, choking quietly “I want to feel good enough about myself to be fucked again.”

Silence, nothing but the faint buzz of a nearby speaker playing soft music.

Oh.

Oh god.

He may be drunk enough to be spilling his desires to a stranger but his own hand betrayed him, not moving fast enough to catch the damn words from being spat across the bar counter. But for the first time in his entire life his body didn't recoil in horror and try to carry him back to the book shop and hide until he was sure no one would remember him. Heavy with the alcohol that effectively drowned his worries and held his ass firmly on the bar stool.

His own thick fingers found his tratious lips in disbelief “..I-...I..cannot believe I just said that out loud.” stumbling over his words. More surprised he actually managed to say such things out loud when he could hardly admit to himself he looked dashing in a beige suit.

The red head, who had been relatively silent only forced the blonde’s heart into his throat with that intense stare alone. What in bloody hell was he doing. The only person who was spending time with him, with obvious interest was sure to book a plane ticket by now. No one wants to hear him complain about being lonely and desperate with a whole bunch of self loathing thrown in.

“Oh- I a-apologize th-hat was so inn-” long fingers found the tense muscles of his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. His body immediately reacted, nearly melting under the simply touch while his brain short circuited.

“Come now angel, I'm having a blast.”

Aziraphale choked again, grasping desperately at the bar top.

“I don't think you realize just how far you can get by asking for something though.“

“I think you're ravishing enough.” that cocky smirk turned wolfish. Leaning closer, careful to keep enough space between them that it felt wrong not to scoot closer. The air between them became hot, Aziraphale caught himself swallowing the lump forming in his throat. While the world around them seemed to slow. "Believe my first thought when I saw you priming yourself in my window, was to see how long it would take to make you cum sitting on my face darling.”

“O-oh dear lord…” he moaned pathetically but there was definitely a stirring in his belly that had him shifting uncomfortably.

That sounded so obscene but delicious at the same time.

He grasped blindly for the hand soothing away his worries, anything to ground him to the present and not lose himself in his rushing train of thought.

“But ‘m heavy...” he whined pathetically, being the only few words he could speak. Finding himself starting to drape toward Crowley's comforting rubbing. The alcohol making it hard to keep his hands from shaking at the gentle touches alone.

“I think I get to be the judge of that one.”

Another rush of hot desire sang through his veins, Crowley was far from a knight in shining armor but it was becoming clear this was more than some kind of dirty promise between two strangers in a dimly lit bar. The redhead knew exactly what he was doing, despite it being careful, caution even. It was Dominating. Something he had not experienced in ages and already felt himself ready to submit to anything the beautiful man before him even suggested.

Old habits die hard, Aziraphale immediately tilted his head to show more skin. Anything to keep Crowley's hands on him and snatch the warmth he could before his foggy brain realized what was happening

The palm glided from his shoulder up to his cheek. Feather light touches stroked across his lips, down his throat, giving a playful pull against his bow tie that had fallen loose throughout the night. Crowley cooed soft things like they were the only two important things in the universe. It was exhilarating to feel wanted, needed, appreciated. And he was letting it happen, being taken apart by nimble fingers.

Aziraphale wanted to cry, both far to overwhelmed but not nearly enough at the same time. Giving the redhead control was becoming such a wonderful idea, especially when the wandering hand dropped, thumbing his thigh.

“Are you sure you're ok?” quiet, and right beside his ear, the shorter man shivered, hard. Nodding his head furiously and yelping when it made his head throb.

“Right as rain! Lovely thing, alcohol.” blurting out to loud and too fast to be anything but a lie.

The redhead hummed in agreement, “Lift home then?”

As much as he didn't want to seem desperate to keep Crowley within touching distance, his drunken brain did anything but. Nodding too eagerly his head made him moan suddenly, grasping his temples as the world spun dangerously. “Please.”

The warmth of ringed fingers left his thigh but not without giving a soft squeeze. Downing the rest of his brightly colored drink, Crolwey tossed some bills on the counter before turning his undivided attention to the drunken man he had been entertaining the last few hours.

As if he hadn't been the center of attention since their hilarious encounter.

Aziraphale may have underestimated how much easier it was to sit drunk rather than to get his legs to function. Once again the taller man aided him by wrapping an arm around his waist and back out into the crisp air.

It was heavenly on his flushed skin, Aziraphale’s head felt far too heavy to keep supported and found himself drooping into the no longer strangers hold, whos soft ‘oof’ only made his knees turn to jelly. He had to give credit, Crowley was much stronger than he looked.

“You smell, lovely.” slurring softly. Spicy cologne and the faint smell of smoke. Heavenly.

A chuckle jostled him, and found himself burying himself further, "Knew that cologone was a good choice. Who woulda known I would catch an angel in disguise, hmm?”

Never, in his entire existence would he have had the courage to try and act on any of his desires if it wasn't for the fact he was drunk off his ass. It was hard enough to try and walk and talk at the same time. Anxiety was a hell of a deturnt in the blonde’s life but this felt so easy. All he wanted to do was rest his head against Crowley's chest, and let him do everything he promised.

He was gently herded into the far too nice car from earlier, actually ripping a whine from his throat when arms left him to shut the door, ”Easy, can't have you in my lap. Car's far to small for that.”

Fingers gave his clinging arms a squeeze. Alone for a few seconds before he was greeted again by the musky cologne from the drivers side. “So, where too angel?”

~~~

It took a few tries to recall which roads led where. But they made it to the condo with relative ease. Just as Aziraphale was starting to doze in the soft leather seats, Crowley once again appeared beside him to help the tipsy man to the stairs.

Laughing suddenly, the blonde released his tight grip on Crowley's jacket trying to figure out where exactly he shoved his keys “Who invented keysss.”

It was Crowley's turn to laugh at the ridiculous outburst and taking pity on the other man after watching him struggle with the key and lock. Taking them and only missing once before twisting it open to let its residents inside before himself.

“Aziraphale?!

Said man jumped at the sudden voice and whined as it rang through the walls like a bell, quickly trying to hide himself in a mess of red chest hair. “Sh-shh not so loud dear...”

Madam Tracy peeked out her door hearing the commotion so early in the morning, having just finished her late night massage sessions with a client, only to be greeted by a strange man wrapped around her neighbor.

The woman lived just across the hall, one of the sweetest and kind hearted souls Aziraphale had the pleasure of knowing. Often inviting him over for tea or a chat about the weather. Motherly in every aspect despite her interesting lines of work.

Let's just say it was a very, very embarrassing misunderstanding when they first met one another.

Oh dear. She didn't actually think her stuffy neighbor would actually go out and bag himself a date. Let alone be shit faced and tiredly mumbling into said strangers coat.

“Sorry Mr. F. Heard some commotion and your usually so quiet. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“T-tickety boo! Had A bit to much toooo drink.” The blonde slurred happily.

Her eyes jumped to Crowley, who stood quietly, not too sure how to proceed. He was a grown ass man, and had the right to do what he pleased, but could understand her concern. He forced a crooked smile that looked far more like a grimace. “Alright, Just holler if you need anything. I am only a few doors away.”

Something that went underappreciated in soho was the unspoken rule to help one another. Especially when it came to situations he would make more sense of later. A stranger, grasping onto your drunken friend with obvious intent could mean a number of things. You never let a lone woman with a man she didn't trust or allow your drunk friends to get into cars with strangers.

Then again he had done nearly all of those. The point was you check with the party to make sure no one as in danger or there would be hell to pay for trying to take advantage of someone who was only trying to have a bit of fun.

But Crowley never, ever forced himself upon him even in his drunken stupor, If he recalled correctly Aziraphale started spewing his desires first. Though he did seem rather cross when they first bumped into one another it delved into a flirtatious night of conversation. There was obvious want on the red heads end, but they weren't teenagers. Sometimes you didn't just jump head first and wait for repercussions later. Sometimes the burn to get to the hot and heavy left you aching for more. And deep down the blonde appreciated that, perhaps that's why one night stands became such a terrifying thought.

He absolutely would have done anything to please Crowley. No matter the task. Nothing made him feel so wanted in years.

Once inside Crowley set the keys on a nearby table, fingers never venturing too far from Aziraphale waist.

“Tickety boo?”

“Tickety boo,” he repeated in a sing song voice toeing off his shoes hazardously, nearly tripping over the ‘welcome’ rug.

Crowley's glasses had been perched atop his head and was suddenly very close. The tickle of warm breath against his cheeks as the taller of the two backed then against the nearby plush couch.
.
“O-oh.”

“What? Suddenly overcome with lust for me?” a teasing smirk curled those lips again.

“Your eyes are uh-” he swallowed thickly, needing once more to try to put his own worlds together “I’ve never seen that color before.”

Bright shock of amber was not at all what he was expecting, especially not in the bright moonlight peeking through the curtains.

“Right right, super rare something like that- now then-”

Crowley backed them far enough to force Aziraphale to lie back, then making a display at spreading the man's legs to drag himself closer.

A sharp inhale, the blonde bit his knuckles trying not to think of just how warm Crowley was, how nice he felt between his legs and against his stirring nethers.

“Will, you...Stayandmaybe...?”

“Yesss?” Crowley drawled, peppering kisses across the flushed skin across the man's neck.

Fiddling with the edge of his bow tie, at a loss for words the blonde gasped for something to say.

“You have to ask for things you want angel.”

Angel was something he would have to ask upon later, but now it just made his heart beat faster against his chest.

“W-warm my bed?” he squeaked. The noise alone made him wince. God forsaken headache.

WIthout those dark glasses, he could watch those bright amber eyes soften from their previous mischief, fingers thumbing his sides in a far more comforting manner than their devious intent moments ago. Warm amber met hazy blue, finding it significantly harder to stare back when his vision seemed to fog over “As marvelous as that sounds, you’re a bit too gone angel. Perhaps a rain check. When you can hold onto something properly”

Groaning softly, the plump man closed his eyes again in hopes of quieting his own desperate mind to reach out and drag Crowley closer. How can someone so dark be such a gentleman towards him. He absolutely didn't deserve it, not now, not ever. Anxiety finally reared its ugly head though the buzz of the alcohol. It made his already hard to handle emotions spark out of control and tears well into his eyes. Drunken emotions were the worst, especially when it involves fat tears falling down his cheeks

“Oh bugger.”

Manicured hands did what he wanted, pawing at the jacket to try and pull the lanky man closer and change his mind.

The tugging, finally, finally brought the man close enough for their lips to touch. Warmth bursting inside his chest, forcing his heart to beat loudly in his ears. Toes curling as goose pimples prickled his skin. It was chaste, a promise for something more next time they meet. Just as soon as the warmth started it was gone, wide baby blue eyes stared into hazy amber, struggling to catch his breath with the wind seemingly knocked from his lungs.

“nhg-”

Lips crashed against his own once again and this time his hands flew to the incredibly soft hair. Keeping him close as a breathless moan escaped him when Crowley nipped at his bottom lip.

"You taste as ravenous as you look." Careful hands brushed away the stupid tears sliding down reddend cheeks, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his chapped lips.

He wasn't sure if it was sad that even when entirely malleable in another man's comforting grip, and alcohol fogging his normal judgement he still couldn't have a roll in the sheets.

Then again maybe he found something far more interesting than a simple one night stand that wasn't really his style in the first place. Maybe that's why Crowley so endearing. He understood that, could sense his discomfort and how out of place he was in the party central with too many layers trying to find ‘love’ in a place filled with desire and lust.

“I should rile you up and leave you here by your lonesome.”

Aziraphale whined pathetically, squirming under the body above him. No please.

“No, I couldn't do that to you. I won’t fuck you but I'll get you off, would you like that angel?”

A furious nod and nimble fingers immediately began to dip lower. Giving him no time to think about how big his tummy looked when hands finally dipped low enough to palm his crotch.

His belly felt as if it was on fire, nauseous and flipping at the same time. Crowley’s insistent rubbing, squeezing and sucking was enough to have him writhing beneath those painted fingers. Aziraphale did just as he was told, sit back and enjoy. Crowley took complete control of him, suckling against his pulse and whispering dirty things to the shell of his ear. The shorter man knew he wasn't exactly big in the nether region, it would fit in anyone's first neatly but thank god that didn't seem to deter Crowley.

“I want to be the one to ravish you Aziraphale.” twisting his fist suddenly, using his free hand to drag lightly drag his nails against soft pale skin.

Unable to make any kind of coherent thought, the man simply tried to buck against the slim fingers in his trousers.

With how quickly it began, things came to an end with a sudden gasp. Cumming hard into the redhead’s fist who, with the best intentions, tried his best to catch would he could. Stars danced across his vision while he struggled to regulate his breathing. Stamina was never something he was particularly proud of, but it was hard to control himself when his brain was fogged with alcohol and a beautiful man milked his cock dry.

A hand brought him back to the present “Stay with me darling, do you want to bed?”

Warm and enjoying the high of his orgasm, his body felt heavy, yet lighter than a feather at the same time. “I-I don't think, for all the money in the world, I can get up.” the shorter of the two mumbled softly.

A soft snort put Aziraphale at ease, finally comfortable in the familiar plush couch as nimble fingers helped him out of his tie and vest till he was down to just his dress shirt and trousers. going as far to help clean up the unpleasant mess and tuck him back up.

He felt himself beginning to drift until Crowley returned with a small glass of water and a quilt from a nearby closet.

“Thank you, Crowley.”

“Oh shut up.”

 

~~~

 

Sunlight did nothing to wake the snoring lump. But when his brain finally caught up with the rest of his body, pained moan escaped the pile of blankets.

Good god he was far too old to be drinking like that.

Beginning to stir was an awful decision, but it was obvious already things weren't looking up. It seemed he didn't quite get lucky last night. No pain in his rump. No messy sheets or body beneath him. Alone, cold and disappointed on his living room couch of all places.

A bath sounded so heavenly if he could keep the nausea from overtaking him. A forgotten glass of water was a blessing as his parched throat gulped it down along with a close by bottle of migraine meds. He certainly didn't leaving these out but thanked whatever prompted him to do so.

Changing his old clothes for something fresh and comfortable was next on his list. A day of recovering, Azuraphale had plans with Madam Tracy meeting every few days for tea was always a pleasant highlight. The very least he could do was tell her he was just going to sleep the next day or so. And hope to keep anything bubbling in his gut down.

Their condo being as small as it was, he could hear soft voices coming from Madam Tracy’s apartment in the dead silence of his own. No matter the case it only felt right to at least to reschedule. By no means was he going to try and blow her off for being a drunk bastard.

Pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks, Aziraphale caught sight of something in his vanity mirror that was definitely not there yesterday. Something that pulled him right back to his reflection and doing a triple take on the pale, purple and red mark against his throat.

A hickie???

Holy shit.

Crowley.

Crowley, god what an amazing man in every possible way. Treating him like a goddamn angel on earth. His voice alone broke goose pimples across his skin from the overwhelming waves of pleasure he was gifted last night. Though it was heartbreaking to not find another body beside him that morning, it hurt more to find no phone number, no note. Nothing out of the ordinary that showed the man would be in touch or even make an effort in returning.

Azirphale had told himself not to get attached to anyone he met along the night for this reason in particular, the sheer disappointment that he knew would come in the morning. It was nothing more than a fling to help relax and come to terms that he could enjoy his previous activities without the need for alcohol.

Yet the first thing he did was get far too attached to the man. Fabulous.

By the time his brain began to feel less like jelly it was just past noon, knocking on her door and twiddling his fingers until he heard the door being opened.

“Mr. F! good afternoon dear, did you sleep well?”

A polite smile already curled his lips, “Afraid not the best, I came by to let you know I'm not feeling well, and have to have a rain check on our day.”

“Oh that's alright dear, but at least let your little friend know about your time in, he’s been waiting an awful long time.”

What?

“My friend?”

“Ah yes! He came by your apartment this morning but you must have had a rough night and didn't budge. I invited him over for some tea.” Stepping aside to allow him inside, hot cocoa and cinnamon hitting his nose.

Wait. She couldn't possibly mean-

His breath caught in his throat as the entire night seemed to come back and hit him like a semi truck. A shock of red hair, pulled back into a lazy bun, dark glasses and an ever present frown that quickly turned right side up seeing his companions state. Balancing dangerously on two chair legs.

“Hey Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale wasn't proud of how his entire body seemed to flush, but despite the dreaded headache his body twitched desperately at the sound of his name.

“Crowley-?” he croaked in shock.

An annoyed sigh heaved the taller man’s chest, returning himself back to all four legs.

“Tried to bring you breakfast this morning and no answer, at least your lovely neighbor here had enough humanity to invite me over for some tea. Terrible house guest you are.”

Completely frozen in place, the man could only look helplessly back and forth between a wicked grin and a knowing polite smile. The odd twinkle in Madam Tracy's eyes had him screaming internally, what in the hell did Crowley tell her? What on god's earth did she know??

“She mentioned how much you disliked coffee, so we made you some hot cocoa instead.”

All he did was gape like a fish, at a complete loss for words. Moments ago he already convinced himself he would never actually see Crowley again, and definitely not nearly this soon. He squeaked "She did..?"

“Go on now! Don't let me hold you both up. Mr. Shawell is on his way home and he will just have a fuss with you both here. Go on then, mind how you go.” shooing them both out, never in his entire relationship with her did he get kicked out. Let alone shooed away like some kind of stray dog. This was a bloody plan. That scheming witch and by the look on Crowley's face he had something to do with this ridiculousness too.

“So,” the other drawled motioning to Aziraphale apartment when the shorter of the two only stared in shock, wiggling a small paper bag, and a steaming mug that smelled far to heavenly to ignore “Breakfast?”

Good lord.

This was going to be interesting morning.

Chapter Text

They say the best way to avoid a hangover, was to keep drinking.

 

Unfortunately, the human body was a sensitive system of organs and tubes that made that particular old saying impossible. Unless you wanted your liver to fail, of course.

 

What felt like butterflies quickly turned sour low in his belly when the greasy bag wafted beneath his nose. It burned, as if he swallowed boiling water. Feeling his skin break into a sudden sweat that forced him to stay frozen in place not to jostle whatever was certainly brewing in his guts. And everything Aziraphale drank the night before was going to make an unwelcome return.

 

"I-!"

 

Clamping a rough hand over his mouth and bolting past Crowley, Aziraphale made a bee line for the bathroom, nearly knocking himself out when the door swung open.

 

His body betrayed him once again, involuntary heaving what little his stomach contained into the toilet bowl.

 

Maybe he wasn't as sober as he thought.

 

Every heave came with a throbbing behind his eyes and cold quivers that wracked his body. He was to fucking old for this!

 

Who knew how long he sat in a crumpled heap on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. To be completely honest, the blonde forgot everything that didn't involve trying to keep himself breathing between losing his stomach's contents. Too long probably. A sudden knock at the door nearly gave him a heart attack, startling him enough to bang his head on the wall with a shout.

 

"Aziraphale?"

 

Crowley's voice was muffled behind the wood, a touch of concern lacing its tone.

Obviously in a stranger's home, while said stranger was making friends with a porcelain thrown would make anyone a little uncomfortable.

 

"Be out in a ti-tick." He croaked, trying to clear his sore throat without sounding like some kind of disgusting garbage disposal.

 

Rubbing the tears from his eyes, Aziraphale could already feel the anxiety trying to claw its way out much like the alcohol from last night. The other man sounded worried of all things. Worried about him and he was sure to be a sight for sore eyes, shaking like a leaf and paler than a ghost.

 

Afterall, the shorter man did have more than his fair share of wine and liquor. Enough for two people at least.

 

Furiously brushing his teeth as soon as he could stand the blonde did everything in his power to eliminate the sour taste in the back of his throat and look somewhat presentable. Anything to not look like he just picked himself up off the floor like a drunken bastard.

 

He found the red head standing uncomfortably in the living room, toying with a book that had been propped open at some point. Clearing his sore throat quietly, desperately trying to keep his hands busy, Aziraphale shifted nervously from foot to foot. Last night was a mess of memories, clearly able to make out certain moments while others were foggy. Crowley however seemed to be a big reason his night didn't turn into a disaster.

However, no matter how hard he tried, the vague feeling of shame lingered on his tongue. Regret would be the wrong word, sure going out was a disaster but he ended up with a fashion disaster in his bed. Couch, whatever.

There was no walk of shame, no awkward naked sneak outs. If anything waking up alone was a blessing of its own. It made things easier, when you didn't have the source of your nerves staring back at you.

 

Pretending nothing happened between them wasn't an option in Aziraphale's mind. Not when he could still feel the squeeze of long fingers beneath his shirt and the ghost of lips on his pulse.

 

This was too fast with too much to process, especially this early in the morning.

 

Sure, Crowley's sudden return wasn't exactly what you would call an unwanted one. Call it whatever you will, Aziraphale would blame it on his own insecurities in the privacy of his own head. He wasn't ready to deal with the fear crawling around inside.

 

"Left breakfast in the fridge, whenever you feel."

 

His head automatically bobbed, licking dry lips "Right, thank you." Wringing his fingers nervously. "It was very kind of you, but I'm afraid this is a little...Unconventional to say the least."

 

Crowley's face contorted into a slight grimace, giving a small hiss behind his teeth. Awkwardly twisting himself to shrug with his fingers busy flipping through the nearby book "Eh, Not really. Plenty of people get a little action pissed off their arse. Don't Worry about it."

 

The problem with that notion was telling Aziraphale, bundle of unrivaled nerves and lover of the written language with an imagination more damning than hell itself, not to think.

 

That's all he did was think.

 

With alcohol flooding his senses it was easy to step out of his shell and go crazy without worrying about his inner voice tell him it was wrong. With a mind numbing headache, it was the equivalent of pulling out your own teeth out with a hammer. All he wanted to do was hide his face from Crowley's pretty, prying eyes and pretend he couldn't still feel those lips against his own, or how his hand felt around-

 

"I-I mean more..uh- as in...showing up, here."

 

As soon as the words formed on his tongue it felt wrong. And by the looks of it, it had been a horrid thing to say. Crowley's posture immediately became defensive, tossing the book as if it had burned and shoving his hands into his pockets. His mouth moved to form all kinds of words bouncing around his mind, and it took a few tries for the other man to find the right ones. Even then, all it was was-

 

"Ah. Must of misread that one."

 

Dark glasses came down immediately, hiding the strange expression he caught a glimpse of before they were hidden from the world. It only made the blonde feel so much worse, he would much rather be losing his lunch again than be having this numb conversation.

 

"Right. You're right. Bit of a stupid move on my part. I'll see myself out then."

The implication he didn't want Crowley's company hurt more than anything. If the redhead even bothered to come by at all it had to mean something, Aziraphale tried to reason with himself. Whether it was good or bad. The man could have just taken advantage of an overly sensitive and emotional Aziraphale but he didn't. Practically begging at the man's feet to touch him, yet Crowley promised he wouldn't because of his intoxicated state. Maybe Crowley came back for seconds, or maybe he came because he genuinely wanted to see Aziraphale again. Either way it was going to be impossible to let him out the door, despite the itch of his nerves.

 

Crowley started to move, heading for the door like a whole different person rather than the cocky, uncaring bastard he grew to fawn over just the night before.

 

The blonde’s heart beat painfully in sync with his headache, every thump forced his stupid legs to move far quicker than he thought he was cabable in this state. To stop Crowley before he could leave despite his own unwelcoming words because maybe secretly they both knew it wasn't entirely true.

 

Before he knew it, the shorter man grabbed for the other, standing before him while his body fought to keep itself still, as if fighting itself to let go and run.

 

Aziraphale's fingers hurt from squeezing the man's dark coat so hard, refusing to let him go further than the threshold of his door. But he was Afraid, he couldn't possibly be ready to deal with whatever it was he was feeling right now. A mix between gut retching nausea and forgotten longing. A cocktail of things he wasn't ready to face head on.

 

A slight shake from Crowley's arm had the shorter man grasping his sleeve with both hands, and it died soon after with no real intention of shoving him off.

 

"If you want me out, this is a shite way of showing it."

 

He couldn't bare to look at anything besides the snakeskin boots on his plush carpet. If he looked up and saw those searching eyes it would all dissolve and he would panic again and lose the small amount of courage that manifested. And who knows what would happen. It was too much too fast, and as badly as he wanted to figure out where this would go, how much he didn't want the man to go, his mind screamed to slam the door and haul himself within his bedroom and scream profanity into his pillow once his stupid brain caught up with his actions.

 

A soft call of his name sparked a nervous jolt within the blonde, the taller man wasn't wretching his hand away to leave. He was waiting, expectantly. A good sign.

 

"This is new for me..." he forced himself to say, too quiet and too vulnerable for it to feel real. Like some kind of dream be had yet to wake up from.

 

"From what I remember, last night was marvelous." Aziraphale swore could still taste bile and swallowed hard, keeping his eyes down and trying to hide his flustered expression. "I need-d a little time is all. To wrap my head around everything, after all, I wasn't lying about the hole...decade thing.”

 

This time Crowley was the silent one. With those sunglasses it was hard to tell exactly he was thinking. Luckily Aziraphale didn't need to look to know the man was just as unsure as he was. Judging by how the man could hardly keep himself from swaying from foot to foot. He felt rather than saw, the nodding apprehensively, not really sure exactly what to do. Afraid just jostling the obviously distressed man would scare him back into the bathroom.

 

"Uh, Fair enough."

 

"Will.. you leave you number?" The blonde blurted out suddenly, surprising himself. Licking dry lips he continued "If you're not immediately put off by my impulsive actions, that is."

 

Holding your breath was an awful thing to do, but Aziraphale hadn't realized he stopped waiting silently for a response.

 

"If that's what you want angel." His normal snark evaporated and his voice was gentle, as if trying to soothe a frightened animal. In this case, a frightened middle aged man.

 

A regivinating rush of excitement tickles his neck, practically breathing out "More than anything."

 

The taller man had not moved, and Aziraphale realized his grip on the man's coat had yet to relent. He carefully pulled away once it was clear Crowley wasn't going anywhere just yet. You would think someone who worked with books and restoring them to their former glory, would have note sheets more readily available. But after digging through a nearby draw for a spare sheet of paper, he became frustrated and used an old book mark.

Scribbling a number down, Aziraphale clutched it close to his chest, like he was afraid it would be snatched back in any second.

 

Crowely could tell there were a lot of things buzzing around the blondes mind. Any words that tried to form on his tongue didn't feel right to say. Complete strangers bonded by nothing but a fateful night of lust stood before on another. Their entire relationship if you could call it that was based on a night of random chance, but wanting more. Like a card game they fell into one another's laps.

 

Words felt wrong seeing the other off, all the plump man could do was wiggle his fingers nervously when the door shut. And suddenly he was very aware of the crumpled piece of paper in his fist and how deathly quiet his apartment was.

 

~~~~

 

Two long, torturous weeks passed before Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore.

 

Sleepless nights of tossing and turning, over thinking, over analyzing nearly every interaction to prove it was worthless to call the red head now.

 

There wasn't a day that passed by he didn't catch sight of the book mark plastered on the fridge. Until he moved it expectantly near the landline. After day 8, he never got closer than picking up the phone and hearing the dial tone before he immediately hung up, and shoved the note into a nearby book to stop the jolt of his heart every time he caught sight of it.

 

It made his body curl inwards involuntarily just thinking about it, forcing himself to get up. Move, something to forget the stupid train of thought.

 

He began to fret leaving his apartment, with the off chance he would run into the shiny Bentley or it's owner. The chances were astrological, however it would be like convincing a frightened rabbit out to play with a wiley serpent. Impossible.

 

Madame Tracy popped over a few times, luckily she didn't push the topic once the distress began to show under his eyes. In fact, one look at his horrendous appearance and she dropped the topic entirely. Bless her heart. Though she was kind enough to bake him some cookies so he could wallow in his own pity properly.

 

It wasn't fair, from the little bits he put together Crowley was endearing. Smooth talking, charming, different. What made the situation even more intoxicating was Crowley's obvious intent for whatever reason. There was no way someone like that didn't know what he was doing. It was far to obvious. The way he pressed in just the right places and leaned into Aziraphale personal bubble. Sweet talking how nice he looked in his waist coat, how his button nose was the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen. Crowley used his body to take the shorter man's undivided attention and it worked. The last time he experienced some kind of dominating approach was, well, too long ago to remember.

 

He simply needed to talk, just talk. That was all. Explain how uncomfortable it was to discuss his desires without the aide of alcohol because of his past experiences and it would turn out peachy.

 

Maybe they had nothing in common and the only thing keeping him crawling back was that stupid angular face. It would be such a shame if Crowley was all looks and no personality. But there certainly was an odd charm to the way he carried himself so it couldn't be entirely true.

 

The few times he did manage to sleep. He dreamed of Crowley too. The flash bastard's car would roll up and he would be waiting with a bottle of wine and teasing smile. Leading to anything from sweet afternoons in the sun to steamy twisting of sheets that had him jolting awake, sweating nevertheless.

 

He felt like a young man again, dealing with strange emotions he didn't quite understand and wants he struggled to fulfill. The last thing Aziraphale wanted was to somehow string this along and manage to hurt his poor, weak heart. Heartbreak was always hard, having something so good ripped away always left a gaping hole in his chest. Until his stupid, vulnerable heart grew back the same way because he couldn't learn from even the worst mistakes. Hope was a powerful, unforgiving emotion.

 

Aziraphale wanted everything from someone but also as little as possible. A friendship that went deeper than the surface and more intimate than lovers. He came to terms after a rude conversation, that you cant have all you ever want in this world. You have to compromise, for you and for your partner which he did. However, you needed to take a step forward before you would ever have room to step back. Risk for the reward, you had to jump before you could swim so to speak.

 

It was easier to avoid rejection if you didn't outright seek pleasure. In that case it was his own fault he was lonely, anyone who said otherwise was only trying to make him feel better.

 

For how often the man got into his own head, it finally made a bit of sense. If he wanted to work this out with Crowley, no matter the outcome, the blonde had to take a leap first. He had to be the one to step forward upon the edge and hope Crowley would catch him on the way down or at least cushion his fall.

 

The truth about Aziraphale's past relationships could only be told by the man himself. Others who knew him well enough could give you vague ideas about what may have happened between two star crossed lovers. But the reality of it all boarded on a dangerous line of abuse. Not necessarily physical abuse, but the mentality that led to some serious issues.

 

It always started out nice, gentle even.

 

But once they got a taste of their power, things took a turn for the worst. For some reason BDSM was very different depending on who you asked and so were its rules. Twisting it to a far scarier version when it became non consensual or pushed you to the limits.

 

The physical controlling went right over his head. He never bothered to question it because someone finally indulged his desires. It was part of the game. Part of the fun. Until you hit a wall, then there was no more pushing.

 

The game went from occation to constant state of mind, in constant need to put the blonde in his place at his dominant's feet. Furthermore insinuating that his choices were his own fault. There was a time and a place for everything, demanding to have your cock sucked in the middle of dinner with friends was not going to win you any star points and certainly not a place in his bed.

 

Being young and blinded by what seemed like love destroyed his common sense, and it wasn't until years down the road, far away from those men did he realize just how abusive those relationships had been. They take a toll even on the strongest human being.

 

Not everyone dealt with trauma the same way. Some refused to acknowledge there was a problem while others let it it completely consume their lives until they let it become their entire being. This time he chose to avoid any confrontation entirely.

 

Aziraphale did care deeply for any man he allowed to become part of his life. Even if it was for a short time, no matter how much he denied it. No one wanted to throw away a relationship you put blood sweat and tears into, and it was harder to begin a new with the risk of a repeat tragedy.

 

Mutual respect, boundaries, trust. He decided long ago were the only few things he cared deeply about to discuss if he ever got the chance to suck up his moronic anxiety and talk to a potential partner. Trusting your partner not to push you past your limits made it intimate. Forgoing your own power to allow another being to take control for you.

 

In Aziraphale's case it was easier to push people away, than fear of growing too close too quickly. It made things even more of an uncomfortable situation considering what exactly he was into. For some reason a few think dom and sub is a matter of treating your partner poorly. When in fact being a submissive man or woman did not mean you become any less that your partner, those who thought otherwise need to be kicked to the curve and a serious discussion. If anything you had all the power to stop things immediately once things got to intense.

 

Working these things out with Crowley was unavoidable if he even wanted a chance at whatever this was, he couldn't hide away and pretend all was right with the world and cry about it when the man pushed him a little too far over the line. As terrifying as it was, he had to talk about this. If the man was ok with it, then they could continue. If not, hopefully be wouldn't curse the blonde's name and push him further into his shell for allowing himself to be vulnerable.

 

Honestly, Aziraphale would much rather run across London in his skivvies than speak about his feelings that had been bottled for so long.

 

By the end of the second week, a bottle of aged wine was his only option to dial those haunting numbers.

 

Aziraphle finally managed to get himself into his book shop with relative success and try to make some kind of profit. As much as it hurt to sell certain books he came to care for more than any other possession, making rent was just another dark cloud above his head. He even took a few jobs requesting entertainment at birthday parties in hopes of a quick buck, along with a fun distraction from the upcoming terror of making a phone call. To do something he genuinely enjoyed besides his precious bookshop.

 

The last thing he needed was to have an angry Gabriel coming around and demanding his funds. Or, his whole stupid crew of money grabbers making surprise inspections when he was busy trying not to pull his hair out.

 

Locking up and closing the blinds to mule over his own thoughts, the white wine calmed his jittery nerves. Grasping the phone and the crumbled number in either hand.

 

What if Crowley already forgot about him? Or worse, moved on, done waiting for Aziraphale call? Two weeks had passed, blending together in a blur of book repair and endless pacing.

 

Luckily with a buzz it was far easier to think of only the good things that would come about. Like getting to kiss again or press his fingers through those red curls.

 

Mentally he prepared himself to recite an internal script. Repeating it over and over until it was like a mantra. Full of bullet points, direct questions to keep himself from getting side tracked.

 

He dialed expectantly, holding his breath as it rang once, twice, three times.

 

"Hey this is Anthony J. Crowley, you know what to do, do it with style. Ciao."

 

It was far worse than rejection. He remained silent for a few beats before hanging up. Head in hands while his lungs began to burn for forgetting to breath. The plump man gasped softly, not sure if it was relief prickling his skin or fear that he got an answering machine. Maybe he should leave a message, but what on earth would he say?

 

Before he could stop himself, he tried again and began to relax into the sofa, more absentmindedly than anything as the dial continued to ring and ring. Resting his eyes while it called for a third time out-

 

"Hello?"

 

When nothing else came Aziraphale's eyes shot open, realizing this was in fact, not some prerecorded message.

 

He was at a loss, tounge trying to tie itself into a knot to avoid saying anything to stupid. "He-hello? crowley?? Yes! Good it's- Aziraphale! From the bar??"

 

It was hard to tell what was going on on the other line, it almost sounded like music. Like hearing a party from far away, the tingle of a heavy bass but the words drowned out like it was played under water. Obnoxiously loud and sure to bring on a headache whoever was in its vicinity.

 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He bit his lip far too hard, suddenly needing to move, focus his nervous energy beside this conversation. Pacing around the couch while he kept his voice steady.

Crowley didn't answer at first, but he could tell he was moving. Because it was much quieter when he returned, seemingly out of breath. "Nothing important, just a little loud in this blasted place." A soft sneer.

His tongue must have done a good job trying itself up, because now that he wasn't having internal conversations, all his dialogue went right out the window. Any kind of script he went through was gone and he was left floundering for something to say.

"I..we-well- I y-...hello." he settled for something easy. Slurring together and even catching himself fluttering his finger in a wave Crowley obviously couldn't see.

"Hello Aziraphale."

His heart flipped and he had to use the couch to keep himself up or his poor knees would buckle at the mocking but pleased tone. "Yes, yes, I've said that a lot. I'm calling to-"

 

Pausing, Aziraphale had to stop his annoyingly high pitch "First and foremost, I want to apologize for any delay. This whole ordeal wasn't my intention."

 

It would be incredibly rude to assume Crowley was just waiting for his call like a love sick puppy. But it didn't squash the bit of hope there was more to it. Afterall he picked up and had yet to hang up the phone despite his rambling. Which he could have done at any moment.

 

"I'm sure by now you're ready to hear my excuses, I had a lovely time with you. But I've had time to think (worry) and plan (cry) to get my own ideas intact before I can move forward…"

 

"If it's not out of the question, I would very much like to see you again and perhaps discuss things further. Would you like to accompany me, to lunch on Tuesday? There's a marvelous restaurant near my apartment that serves fresh sushi that is simply to die for."

Silence was the absolute worst, because it allowed fear to grow and sharpen its claws in its wake. The grandfather clock on the wall was suddenly very loud, tick, tick, tiCK.

 

A loud, dramatic sigh on the other line nearly forced his finger to squeeze, to crush the piece of technology in his fist.

"All booked up Tuesday, I'm afraid."

He nearly started to cry, not because he was particularly crushed (even though he was) the surge of negative repercussions flooded his eyes. Forcing a harsh smile to keep his quivering lips from sneerling downwards and forcing him to choke on a wet sob bubbling in his throat. After all the stupid preparation it still could never prepare him for the worst outcome no matter how many times he prepared himself for rejection.

 

Hang up, hang up, HAng UP you idiot. Make it stop.

 

"I'm free the rest of the week, anytime in the morning. Tomorrow would be aces."

 

Wait.

 

"Tomorrow?" He croaked.

 

"It's a date. It was good to hear back, I'll be by to pick you up for lunch."

 

He didn't get to respond when the line went dead. Stunned into silence as he stared ahead at nothing in particular while it all seemed to finally settle in. As quietly as he could, the blonde shouted in embarrassed frustration. Once again lying in a melting pot of emotions that he had yet to be sorted properly. As soon as he thought he had it together, Crowley would just look in his direction and every little thing came back to haunt him. With unrelenting success he might add. All it took was the promise for a date and his heart started beating faster.

 

Aziraphale sank back into the plush couch as disbelief washed over him in waves. Invisible weights lifted from his chest that actually left him feeling pleasant for once. Dare he say proud. Stepping out of him comfort zone to make the first move seemed to play out in his favor for once.

 

Though Aziraphale was heavy with relief, there was no was no way in hell he would get to sleep. He had a date to fret over. Emotional exhaustion was a power thing.

 

A wide, joyful smile appeared without his consent, a soft laugh biting his throat. Baby steps he whispered to himself.

 

Baby steps.

Chapter Text

The blonde didn't sleep a wink as expected, at least not pleasantly. He woke with a start a few times plastered to his desk, having nodded off trying to keep himself busy while his mind raced a million miles a second. What should he wear? What would he say? How would it go? What would Crowley do? Should he get sushi or ramen? Both??

 

All in all, lunch turned out better than anticipated. Crowley promised to pick him up and though it was a tad awkward at first, with neither sure what direction to take in their banter considering their last odd goodbye. The red head at least had a better way to hide his nerves, while Aziraphale's brain sizzled and short circuited the man brought up an occasional random topic to distract the blonde and it surprisingly worked wonders.

 

It became comfortable again once they realized they were indeed the ones making it awkward. Alcohol was starting to become too much of a crutch just to loosen him up enough not to get tongue tied. Or worse, try to hide himself from Crowley's unrelenting gaze. But he didn't particularly care when his cheeks began to ache from smiling after a wonderful lunch.

 

There had been no intention to allow the gangly man to pay the bill. Aziraphale asked him to lunch, after all. It was only fair, especially since he did recall Crowley paying for their drinks the night they met.

 

But insistent as ever, with a shiny card already slipped over the receipt the bill was gone before he even made it to his pockets.

 

There lunch date had come and gone incredibly, despite spending nearly the rest of the day together chatting in the low lights if the restaurant. Getting to know one another now that the initial barrier had fallen away. Aziraphale discovered Crowley loved gardening, (boasting about some kind of green house a top his apartment.) Adored Queen and attended a concert just recently, drove like an absolute madman in his beloved Bently, (which he experienced first hand and it was not nearly as fun when he was sober.) And in his spare time designed clothes.

 

Spending time together was easily melting his already mushy heart.

 

By the time the sun was beginning to set Aziraphale realized they had yet to actually get down to the nitty gritty. Goodbye was becoming harder and harder to think about as they packed back into the Bently. Despite his own inner turmoil, it didn't go unnoticed that Crowley drove much slower this time around on the way back to his apartment.

 

"You know, the night is still young. I have some vintage wine I've been dying to get a taste of. Chãteauneuf-de-pape, If I recall. Down at my bookshop. If you're interested."

 

Brows lifted from behind dark glasses and Aziraphale forced his eyes away, deciding it was easier to look at Crowley's reflection in the window than his living, breathing form. While he tried to gather what little courage he had to ask the man back to his shop. Inviting him in for drinks was easy with the buzz already tingling his veins.

 

"After all it wasn't appropriate to discuss our situation in graphic detail over salmon rolls."

 

Before the older gentlemen could begin their misadventures of what was sure to be an interesting evening, they had to at least admire Aziraphale hard work when It came to his beloved bookshop.

 

Stacked high with books in the process of being restored and dozens more strewn about to be sorted, Aziraphale's bookshop was anything short of his pride and joy. The time and effort to maintain the damn thing all by himself was a heavy task of its own, and it showed with the care and love it took to keep the covers dust free. The comforting scent of old books and candles would ease his constant state of unease. Their odd discussion would be easier here, more space to move and more importantly, no accidental interruption from his joyful neighbors.

 

Not bothering to leave the bottle to far away, he popped the top with a triumphant 'ha!' Taking care to pour Crowley's glass first.

 

With a full belly warmed with champagne from the restaurant and wine the happy, heavy feeling returned. Melting into the soft armchair with a glass in hand, cheeks flushed a rosey pink that mimicked his counterparts own. Listening to Crowley's outlandish remarks as they drank themselves further into a pleasant buzz.

 

After a few more drinks the final barrier shattered, Aziraphale eyes drooped slightly, catching the gleam of Crowley's nearly empty glass as they somehow got on the topic of dolphins.

 

"I do promise not to get offended if you don't want to see me again after this."

 

He swore there was the faintest smile that the man quickly hid by pursing his lips as he shrugged, leaning back and took a heavy gulp from his glass. Aziraphale did the same.

 

"Two grown men, getting drunk in a bookshop. Not your idea of a good time?"

 

Pale eyes rolled dramatically, leaning heavily against the side of the chair to keep himself steady, "Not necessarily, but I figured you'd, you know...? Have something to say after everything."

 

"You called me back, 'member? Needed time to think? I figured you'd want to talk when you were ready."

 

A heavy sigh escaped the blonde, beginning to regret this whole stupid situation. It was always easier in theory than to act upon all the scenarios bouncy around his head, "Yes, well. If it's not too obvious I'm a bit shy without some liquid courage, my dear boy."

 

"Not all gleaming sunshine and rainbows? Aren't you just full of surprises."

 

Aziraphale failed to pick up on the sarcasm practically dripping from the man's lips. But Crowley continued before he even opened his mouth.

 

"Easy fix to this nonsense, do you want something between us?

 

A familiar warmth flushed the back of his neck that was not quite related to their drinking binge, "...Very much so."

 

"There you go, settled that right quick."

 

With the full intention of going about this conversation carefully to avoid any kind of backlash, it still surprised him that Crowley seemed to be just as ready for it as he was.

 

"You're- you're ok with that? Not put off it took so long to ask you on a simple date?"

 

Blowing a drunken raspberry, the redhead replied, "It was an entertaining night, can't say I was actively looking for a partner. You just happened along looking so ridiculous in a bowtie standing right in front of a sex shop."

 

The blonde decided to ignore the comment, in favor of pouting further into his favorite chair. Because he certainly didn't rememeber the sex shop part. At least it seemed mutual, both parties getting more attached than they should have.

 

"I've been meaning to ask, and I'm not sure how to put it, but. Have you, are you by any chance-"

 

Struggling to force the words out, Aziraphale finally managed to spit it out after downing the rest of his drink, nearly choking in the process.

 

"A dom..?"

 

From what he could remember the red head was very particular about how he approached him that night in the bar. So suave and cautious when his hands ventured to his thighs for a longing squeeze. Getting far too close to be a friendly conversation with unrelenting gaze. Aziraphale had been in the community long enough to notice vague hints of domination. Sure everyone was different and played the dom/sub game differently but it was completely inconsequential. How Crowley leaned in close to focus his attention on him alone in a crowded bar. Outside of special meeting places you had to be careful after all.

 

Perhaps it was all in his head, desperate for Crowley to just fit into his fantasy. Or maybe it was indeed too good to be true.

Only one way to find out.

 

The glasses usually covering the man's eyes had been tossed away ages ago in their tipsy shenanigans. So he got full view of his emotions that filtered through his eyebrows alone.

 

"I like to take the lead in bed, sure."

 

Remembering to breath was becoming harder to do with Crowley around.

 

“I'll talk first, eh? I can already tell you think way too much over frivolous things for your own good."

 

Well, he was right. But he replied with a half hearted, "I do not."

 

"I think you're stunning, enjoyed your little drunk ramblings. Didn't particularly mean to show up like a creep the next morning. Sorry about that by the way."

 

"Whatever, anyway I prefer the dominant role in bed. though men are wonderful I don't have a preference. Whoever catches my fancy.” Crowley swirled his fingers in the air like he was trying to paint a picture as he spoke, recliniing on the sofa further till he was nearly lying down, “I like to give, whether that's sex or outside the bedroom.”

 

A beat passed, a soft ' ah' followed “Oh and I really enjoy a good tug on the hair every once in a while.”

 

Aziraphale wiped his sweaty palms upon his pants, wiggling himself further in hopes to suddenly pop out of existence now that the one conversation he had been dreading for weeks was finally here.

 

It became way to real for Aziraphale and his racing heart that Crowley was staring at him expectantly. Now alone from the hustle of a busy restaurant with nothing to think about but how handsome he looked in the warm lights of his shop.

 

It felt more like an interrogation than a proper conversation. And with the way Crowley's eyes didn't seem to go anywhere besides Aziraphale's squirming form, felt like a sentencing. But lord the alcohol was doing its job. He curled a little nervously but not enough to halt his tongue. This was the first running step before his leap.

 

“I-” the blonde tried to start, keeping his vice quiet, “I want to- become intimate again.” fingers already starting to twist and pull at the pillow in his lap to keep his hands busy instead of covering his damn face like a baby.

 

“I like men exclusively and I'm submissive” he choked out the words like he was swallowing salt water. It felt so wrong to actually say it out loud, yet somehow refreshing to finally admit it even to himself. “I prefer to bottom, I've been told I'm a pillow princess, though I'm not entirely sure what that means if we're being honest. A little too embarrassed to ask."

 

Pausing to catch a much needed breath, the blonde continued.

 

“A-and I want a dominant who will make me feel better about...myself I suppose. At least so I can enjoy the intimacy again."

 

Crowley seemed way more pleased than he should have been with his answer, actually sitting up and leaning forward to smack the table with his hand. “Progress!" he lowered his voice, drawing out the 's'.

 

“So what? You want friends with benefits? A relationship?"

 

There was that stupid question again about what he wanted. It warmed his belly but scared him far too much to admit. His past relationships were about what the opposite party felt like they deserved simply because he chose not to make the decisions. Crowley was honestly trying to work with him, way more effort than any of his previous boyfriends.

 

“I'm still not sure exactly.” it was true, it all sounded so dirty even in his own mind. Perhaps telling himself they were seeing one another would calm his rapidly beating heart. Or a small get together here and there would be enough to sate to desperate need that kept him awake at night. Though something poked his mind that he would never be happy with the ladder.

 

"It all sounds pleasant in their own way. I'm willing to try a little of everything to find what fits."

 

"I get it. Labels are just tedious at this point in life, angel."

 

Nodding his head along in approval, "Dates are quite nice though, I haven't been on one In a long time. Lunch was especially delightful. Maybe we start out as an item? Boyfriends?"

Aziraphale hadn't really meant to call them boyfriends. An item perhaps. Now pushing 50, it was odd sounding on his own lips. But the man could already feel the joyful smile threatening to split his face, shyly looking away to keep the smile at bay when the tingly feeling returned at the stupid nickname he never bothered to correct, "why, I haven't been able to say that in years."

 

A right, dashing smile split Crowley's lips, completely ruined by his next sentence that had the blonde's own smile dropping like a lead balloon.

 

“Right! What are some of your kinks? Big no no's? safe words?”

 

This time he had to hide his flustered expression deep in his palms, “God Crowley.”

 

“Oi, I'm trying to cover all the bases, don't want to spook you more than I already have. Can't have a little bit of fun without some precautions, if you catch my drift."

 

Crowley didn't bother to give him time to answer and he was thankful for it. Mind already racing with enough naughty ideas to make his ears burn.

 

“Like all that fruity vanilla stuff as usual, not super picky just nothing too extreme or gross. Toys are such a fun thing, lingerie is nice. None of those fishnets though, blasted things get caught on everything. something silky and lacy, preferably black. Whether it's on me or you.”

 

The blonde sighed dreamily, oh he did recall when he owned a few frilly bits of lingerie, mostly for himself to enjoy. It made him look cute the way it hugged his skin with a silky touch.

 

"Thank goodness. I was afraid you'd want to hang me from the ceiling or something." A sigh of relief deflated the wound muscles of Aziraphale's shoulders, carefully deciding his wine glass needed to stay empty this time around.

 

“I never got too crazy, I enjoy being dominated obviously. Toys, lord I tossed them ages ago but plugs were a favorite.”

 

"Do you know what subspace is?" He asked suddenly, chewing on his lip.

 

Crowley hummed scratching his chin in thought, admiring the shy shine of blue eyes, "Only seen it once or twice. Hard to do apparently."

 

Gulping, his fingers started to hurt from his relentless twisting, so the blonde settled for fiddling with the ring around his pinky, “I accidently go into it without knowing sometimes, even with enough precautions.”

 

"Do you now?"

 

Aziraphale refused to look in the man's direction were he could feel the heat from his gaze rather than see it. Though it wasn't entirely lustful, the decorative pillow was suddenly very interesting again. "It's very sensitive time for me."

 

"Heard it's a very wonderful thing."

 

Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling the few times he enjoyed coming down from such an indescribable high, crying from the sheer overwhelming pleasure was indeed, a very wonderful thing, "Indeed."

"In that case, aftercare is very important to me. When I'm unresponsive, it's sometimes difficult to voice concerns. So it may be a little jarring at first. But I can assure you I'm alright just, enjoying myself."

 

“I do prefer a way to assert yourself if I need to submit. Like squeezing my neck, stroking my back. something to know physically to settle down and listen to you dear.”

"Noted."

"But, I don't particularly mind doing small asserting things in a public space. But don't make it obvious. Getting flustered in public is such an inconvenience if it comes with other problems."

The blonde was surprised he was still talking, judging by the forward posture Crowley was indeed hanging onto his every word. He said it once, and he will say it again, thank god for alcohol.

"Do not strike me, or treat me like dirt. Unless I specifically ask for such an outlandish thing."

Careful not to escalate the sudden outburst, the red heads words were quiet, softer than even the night they stood face to face in his apartment, "Easy, we can plan out any scenes you wish, yeah? I won't hit you of all things. I don't enjoy inflicting pain."

Aziraphale found himself mumbling a bit in relief, hugging the pillow to his chest in his drunken state. Somehow his hazy brain decided to focus on just how nice crowley's hand felt on his body.

 

"What was that? Speak up, I don't speak pillow."

 

This time he had to hide his flushed face in plush pillow, unable to even glance in his direction while he blurted out his next words.

 

“Spanking! Good god, the only striking I will tolerate is a good spanking everyone in a while."

 

Laughter that could only be described as a cackle surprised Aziraphale enough to bury himself further into the protective pillow. Hiding his red, embarrassed cheeks, in the itch fabric, “It's decided then, hmm?”

 

Bashfully peeking over throw pillow to find Crowley before him, caressing his forearm that held the pillow protectively. Aziraphale had to bite his own lips to keep the happy smile from splitting his face, grateful for the distraction even in his tipsy state.

 

“I suppose it is.” he offered a hand for some reason without even thinking, like he was meeting a stranger for the first time. Painted fingers took his own, far more delicately than he expected and a soft peck pressed against his knuckles quite literally stole the air from his lungs.

 

“The pleasure is all mine angel.”

 

"You can't do things like that to me…"

 

"You seem a bit old fashioned, what can I say?"

 

"May I kiss you?"

 

At first, Aziraphale was sure it was Crowley who asked such a ridiculously, obvious question he knew the answer to. Although there was no way the man would answer his own inquiry, "No need to ask such a silly question, just kiss me."

 

That's how he found Crowley hovering over him, his hair earlier set free draped a false curtain between them as he leaned in for a kiss. Nervous excitement forced the blonde to grasp his trousers. If he had been standing, his leg would have lifted in delight at just how gentle the kiss was.

 

For the first time in a very long time, the old fashioned, tartan loving man couldn't wait to sober up.

Chapter Text

Most things in life are unfortunately inevitable. Whether those 'things' turned out good or bad depended on the person. But most of the time, no matter what we did to avoid the bad times or just how hard we tried to enjoy the good ones- you ultimately become part of life's unfair card game. Hoping somehow to best the dealer without knowing the rules.

 

This time around it was a rather bad turn of events. After a fabulous date with Crowley, Aziraphale returned to his apartment full of warm butterflies and nearly untameable excitement. Considering his unlucky rap, the blonde was a fool for believing nothing could bring down his joyous mood.

 

Greeting him like an unwanted visitor, a bright orange note plastered to the door immediately drew his attention. Aziraphale nearly dropped his leftovers when realization finally hit him like a two ton truck.

 

Written in thick, bold print atop the note- practically glowing in the dim hallway, read:

 

Eviction notice.

 

Swallowing the lump deep in his throat, Aziraphale snatched it in hopes to hide away as quickly as possible. Finding it difficult to move when his limbs suddenly didn't feel like his own.

 

It couldn't have been that long since he started to fall behind on the rent- had it?

 

No matter his good deeds leading up to a single silly mistake, life always seemed to find a way to drag him through the mud a little further once he finally got his footing. Unfortunately it appeared stepping up in his love life came hand in hand with an eviction letter.

 

It had been a slow few months down at shop. Many of his regulars, believe it or not- never actually made a single purchase.

 

Aziraphale never bothered to question their motives, most of them were young adults desperate for a hard copy of their class work because the local libraries copies had been checked out for months. Or the books in general were too expensive for low class students working two jobs far away from home. The blonde didn't have the heart to tell them to leave, nor the desire too. They even held a small study groups in the foyer every few weeks to share notes. After a while he even encouraged it. Not everyone could afford expensive books after all and who was he to ruin their study group over a few pounds.

 

Growing fond of a select few students only broke his heart further once the bills began to pile up. No matter the circumstance Aziraphale could never bare the thought of asking any of them to purchase the books they spend hours studying, tucked in a quiet corner of the shop. Always cautious in their actions not disturb the other few paying guests. It wasn't right, not when their tired eyes sparkled in appreciation for his kindness.

 

Many wished for fame and fortune, but the older man could care less if he made millions or pennies. Aziraphale was happy with what he had, what he built upon from the ground up. Pouring his heart and soul into the bookshop along with its reputation. Keeping it open was important, not only for himself but the select few who knew just how special it was outside of the sign. Definitely more important than his run down flat with leaky ceilings and thinning frames of drywall.

 

Yet the reality of his actions finally caught up with him, dozens of brightly colored envelopes seemed to manifest no matter where he looked, reminding him of of overdue bills and unpaid debt.

 

Burying his face into his palms hoping to hide rather than face awful reality before him, Aziraphale couldn't bear to think of the hundreds of books and personal belongings that would need extra care in packing. Let alone going through the long annoying process of moving it all.

 

He would need boxes, tape, not to mention some form of transportation. Many folks in London didn't own a car and there was no point with his shop within walking distance after all. Though it wasn't a far walk carrying anything that wasn't boxes was not on his to do list. Especially not when it could upset his temperamental back muscles.

 

Aziraphale felt as if he should sink to the floor till his body ached, but a lame numbness washed over him. Unfortunately crying would get him nowhere nor did he feel the need too. All he could do was sigh. Thanking the heavens above he mentally prepared himself for this awful event months in advance. Stress was sure to hit him once the apartment was bare and empty but for now he just needed to act as if nothing was wrong and use this state of mind to mindlessly organize the chaos.

 

It wouldn't be all bad, moving at least. Luckily he had a back up plan for this exact situation. After all it was inevitable, and the stern threatening from his land lord certainly moved things along nicely.

 

The book shop possessed a small upstairs loft, complete with a kitchen and a single bedroom. Though it was awfully small, it wouldn't be too much of a change considering his current living quarters was the equivalent to living in a dollhouse. It was a wonder he didn't move there years ago, then again change wasn't exactly the first thing on his to-do list, especially when it would involve heavy lifting. Antique furniture was gorgeous to look at, another story to physically move.

 

Without many other choices in the matter, moving upstairs was ideal. Least he end up losing everything, back to square one just like when he originally left his judgemental family.

 

Though he was sure to miss Madam Tracy's pop ins and her scented candles wafting across the hall. Or how the handsome fellow down the hall aided in sealing up a water pipe leak when he first moved in. And he couldn't forget the kind elderly woman who would shout through the floor, demanding the know the song playing on his record player.

 

Of course he would miss them, more than his run down apartment.

 

It wouldn't matter now, even if he wanted to try and prevent the eviction. No amount of begging would get him anywhere. It delayed the inevitable till now, and for that he was grateful.

 

He wondered absently if he should tell Crowley about the whole ordeal. The man would find out sooner or later of his predicament.

 

Lips forming a tight line, Aziraphale leaned against the counter in thought. Toying with the ring around his pinky while trying not to stare at the foreboding number pinned to the fridge.

 

There was yet another topic entirely. Crowley. It never quite occurred to him, dazzled by the man's charms and good looks that maybe without the fog of booze, he needed some time to take that next step. For God's sake, it took two full weeks to find the courage to call Crowley back for a simple date.

 

Despite the ever growing need to just be ravished through hell and back, unease still settled low in his belly.

 

The blonde only wished common sense would have decked him upside the head. Or at the very least, the thought would have occurred to him at a more opportune time. Not when the lanky man had pressed him to the nearest wall late one night.

Returning from their date a little tipsy, hanging off one another with drunken smiles and clumsy touches. Crowley offered to entertain him back at his flat, sliding his arm around his waist under the muse of leading while Aziraphale practically hung from his neck like a monkey.

They hardly made it in the door before hands grabbed for one another, in fact they got a tad handsy in the elevator only to be interrupted by the doors sliding open. Ruffled collars and pink cheeks the only proof of their dirty little secret.

With A gentle shove Aziraphale found himself pressed against a wall and a warm body following after. Forms molding together like puzzle pieces, reeking of stale cigarettes and doused in cologne both men no longer repressed the desperation singing in their blood. Pushing, pulling, lips melted together as tongues explored unfamiliar teeth. Muttering praise as the hot bubbling desire warmed his cheeks along with his belly.

 

A fist in his curls as a tight knee shifted between his own tore a soft sigh from his throat. Hips stuttering and failing miserably to move along with Crowley's grinding. Completely at the man's mercy, ready for anything and everything this new relationship could bring if this alone was the beginning.

Appreciating the sudden friction and moaning softly when they finally broke apart to gasp for breath, Crowley dove right for his collar with a hot tongue to continue his assault. Plump fingers found their way into auburn hair and Aziraphale shuddered at the total control the redhead demonstrated. Pressed hard against a cold wall with a leg between his thighs and a hand on his head, keeping him right where Crowley wanted him.

 

His only free hand fought to stay in those soft waves but ultimately after a particularly hard suck on his pulse, along with the stutter in his hips came to muffle the embarrassing noises managing to escape his lips. Lost in the sensation of another living breathing person warming his insides rather than his own late nights alone in the dark when his own fingers couldn't reach just the right spots.

Everything was fine and dandy, better in fact. At least until reality once again bent poor Aziraphale over the desk and fucked him over.

Crowley found the hem of his shirt and tugged, freeing it from the confines of his trousers to touch the soft, warm skin beneath.

 

When the action finally caught up with him, the wind left his poor lungs, startling the man enough to jerk away in surprise. Knocking his head back against the wall with a light thud, Aziraphale’s hands shot out, coming to curl protectively around his middle and tug the now wrinkled collar shirt back down and away from searching hands. Body thrumming with unwanted adenine as his eyes darted everywhere besides the one place it mattered.

 

Hot, thrumming desire was doused in icy shock. Even if stiffening against the cold wall was not nearly as nice as the other body inches away, Azirphale swallowed hard enough to be audible, fingers trembled pathetically in nervous twitches still caught in his nervous ticks. Lips curling nervously that quivered at the ends, doing his best to hold a smile despite his nerves firing a million miles a minute.

 

"I didn't bite that hard, did I?"

 

Casting his eyes to meet amber he choked on a laugh at the ridiculous accusation. Then again they were still practically strangers. It was only right for Crowley to be concerned, especially when he was acting like a drama queen. Still, Hot shame rushed to his cheeks, once again trying to adjust his shirt to hide the soft belly beneath. "No. Heavens no, Don't be silly."

 

He couldn't even take a step back, trapped between another body and a cold hard wall. It was becoming significantly harder to breath.

 

Crowley was still stiff, stuck in place by the other man's uneasy expression. Though it was entirely unintentional, triggering Aziraphale’s discomfort with a simple touch certainly put a damper on things. Neither man uttered a word, not even a breath filled the uncomfortable ringing in his ears.

Silence could be deafening, and the nervous twisting returned. The worrying of a plump lip pointed not to the love bits decorating the man's neck, but just where his hands worried. Right at the soft swell of his belly.

 

Aziraphale couldn't bare to look at the man searching for some kind of explanation any longer. Because the genuine concern made more than his head throb.

 

"Too fast?" He rasped carefully.

 

"Oh dear that was- just heavenly pacing, absolutely tickety boo…" Stammering over himself, a little too quickly to pass. Trying not to dwell on how high his voice sounded or the ridiculous choice of words.

“Still a bit shy- I’m afraid.” For some reason or another, let's blame it on the alcohol, unwanted tears pricked the pale blue eyes. Suddenly surrounded by the very thing that managed to plague his mind no matter how hard he tried.

 

Aziraphale knew he had a few body issues when it came to anything below the neck. Soft and squishy in the wrong places while Crowley in comparison was lean and taut. He simply didn't expect to react in such a noticeable way. And absolutely not when he was drunk on nothing more than Crowley's lips and a few shots of rum.

 

Ruining the mood was becoming a talent in the blondes case. In fact, the shorter man was ready to nominate himself for such an outstanding performance in cock-blocking himself.

 

Very, very carefully Crowley removed himself from their entanglement to give the man more breathing room when his chest continued to rise and fall in rapid succession. But didn't venture very far. Carefully rubbing soothing circles on the arms protectively guarding his belly. If Aziraphale didn't know any better, the sudden warmth to his eyes and rapid beating heart were the beginnings of a panic attack.

 

"Just breathe angel, s'not a big deal." Cooing, soothing away the tension keeping the man's arms locked tight in position. Until he got a peek of nervous blue eyes once more.

 

"I could take you home, if you like."

 

Going home. An out. Crowley offered him an outlet.

 

For a completely unrelated reasons the blonde’s heart flipped, settling nicely within his throat. Surely this man would be the death of him. Treating him so delicately even after he managed to put a damper on their activities. The last thing he wanted to do was go home despite the lingering shame boiling his insides. Not after he finally got to see the inside of Crowley's flat. Modern, pristine, dark and warm.

 

"Oh, that's not necessary. We could watch some of those old movies you're always boasting about, cuddle on the sofa?"

 

Together, cuddled close on the couch with snacks and old movies? Nothing sounded more delightful, despite the whole mood crashing around them Crowley didn't push the subject further. Even offered to take him home rather than force him to stay and fester in the awkward tension. He would owe his dominant a proper explanation sooner or later. Perhaps once his heart left his throat. But all that mattered right now was settling the blondes high strung nerves.

 

Smile dying just as quickly as it came, the panic once again welling the blonde’s throat shut. Considering normally subtle hints flew right over his head, Aziraphale was a little surprised when his brain functioned properly for once. ’what if he wants you gone. He’s only trying to be nice.’

 

"U-Unless you had other plans…?”

 

A fine brow arched at him, “‘Any other plans involve me, a bed, and extraordinary amounts of alcohol at this hour, come on angel.”

 

Silence stretched the two, Aziraphale’s nervous smile finally returning once the panic melted away like warm butter. Carefully soothing away a few stray strands obscuring Crowley's face with what he hoped with enough appreciation as the redhead gave his arm a squeeze. "Popcorn then?"

 

Soon pressed close enough to touch with comforting brushes, the blonde gave a soft sigh. "Forgive me for ruining the mood again."

 

"Nonsense, You haven't ruined anything."

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Afterwards they simply moved at a snail's pace. Though Aziraphale had to admit he enjoyed the forward, no bullshit nature Crowley radiated when it came to their affair- It never ventured into forceful. Sometimes he wanted to tear his own hair out with all the questions and confirmations verbally required of him, before they could move along. But it was his own fault. In a way that knowing quirk of the redhead's lips proved he enjoyed it way more than he let on. Because it forced the older man to voice his wants and needs rather than keep quiet and hope, somehow his inner desires would be heard.

 

All he had to do was ask, after all.

 

Whatever their relationship was shaping into only began a few weeks ago. As enjoyable as it was, It didn't feel right to ask for assistance moving his things.

 

Then again, his boyfriend would find out sooner or later. Ugh.

 

Fingers hid his mouth, staring at the telephone then to the crumpled up orange note in the waste bin. With just a week to move his things, it was plenty of time to but exhausting nonetheless. With a lump in his throat, he dialed a number pinned to the fridge with a defeated breath.

 

~~~~~~

 

Thankfully with just a few phone calls and the appropriate amount of bribery, Aziraphale rounded up enough help to get him out within the week. Adam's parents were kind enough to stop by a few times to assist in moving the furniture. While Madame Tracy came by to help screw his brain back into place with some homemade hot cocoa.

 

By the end of the week, and being called a hoarder countless times by various friends and family- most of his possessions were boxed and ready to be moved. Honestly at this point the sooner the better. The less weird stares from his landlord, the better.

 

He of course caved when it came to calling Crowley, the call wasn't anything than their normal plans. His boyfriend would come by on occasion so they could discuss the days activities. And he always left the door unlocked when he knew then man was on his way. It still didn't properly prepare him for the confused 'hngk' when Crowley let himself in after a quiet knock.

 

“Planning a garage sale?”

 

Sighing softly, Aziraphale busied himself with some nearby paperwork to hide the growing anxiety bubbling in his belly. Ok, perhaps he didn't exactly state his reasons for the call yet. Honestly there was no reason to be nervous over this whole ordeal. For some ungodly reason actually telling Crowley of all people about it was more embarrassing then anything. Aziraphale only wished Anathema hadn't left him alone in the mess of boxes and furniture just a few hours ago “Not quite so, Just tidying up.”

 

Crowely was suddenly very close, peering over his shoulder at the unrelated paperwork. And he must have noticed as such because it was plucked from his hands and tossed away. “You don’t seem like the type to just tidy.” Glancing around as if there were still dozens of books strewn about and cups of unfinished tea lying about.

 

"Has anyone ever told you your a horrible liar?” Though the redhead was snickering playfully it shot right to his heart.

 

"I’m moving, Crowley”

 

"Ahhh, I thought you liked it here? Friendly neighbors and all that ungodly jazz.”

 

Weakly he shrugged, despite knowing exactly why. Eviction alone was the explanation. he was a good neighbor, courteous. Never played loud music after nine or stomped around like a heavy footed bastard. That didn't pay the bills, courtesy certainly wasn't going to keep the lights on.

 

"I'm being evicted dear, it's not much of a choice on my part."

 

Immediately the air felt still "Evicted?"

 

“I chose to pay rent for my bookshop than my apartment is all. Nothing to fret about."

 

Fingers found the back of his neck and he immediately felt his body betray him, falling limper than a wet noodle. The touch gentle but firm as he gave a soft squeeze and toyed with the curls there. Dropping his eyes, ashamed to be playing this off to Crowley of all people. Of course he was upset, the blonde didn't like change after all.

 

But the fingers worked their magic, already feeling whatever tension twisted there melt away. To let himself slip into submission. And focus on nothing but Crowley's low tone rather than the stupid, unfair world around him.

 

“Listen to me angel." Squeezing his eyes shut, Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to moan despite himself. But he listened, and nodded appropriately waiting obediently for him to continue.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I didn't want to be a bother.”

 

Sighing loudly the lanky man brought him close. Curling around him with those long limbs of his "Heaven forbid you ask for help every once in awhile. Hm?”

 

“You were just a special case.”

 

Crowley gave his neck a final squeeze and it forced a soft inhale through his nose. Nervous fingers came to grasp at Crowley's shirt, watching the chain their shift. Whatever he was trying to do brought a warm throb through his chest but refused to let it spread any further. At least not just yet.

 

Now that a firm grasp wasn't squeezing his nape, he continued. Clearing his throat but before he could utter a syllable, Crowley interrupted him. “Yes- I'll help you move your bloody books."

 

Chest deflating with a sigh, Aziraphale thanked him softly. “You know, I doubt if I paid double my landlord would still want me out, It's not the first time I've been short and I'm certain it wouldn't be the last. He's a bit of a stickler."

 

Drawing a snort from his companion broke a smile across his own cheeks. Positively delighted he could make the ever indignant man laugh, even a little bit.

 

Still close, Aziraphale rightfully fixed the lapels of Crowley's dark jacket "I'm rather exhausted from packing, I can't imagine unpacking later down at the shop all by my lonesome."

 

“Better find someone to keep you company then, yes?”

 

Leaning forward to press a quick peck to the man's cheeks, the blonde’s smile alone had enough radiance to power a whole town. "In that case, If you'd be so kind. I could use some help cleaning out the back room..?"

 

~~~~~~

 

In the end, Crowley was more than happy to help as long as he got dinner out of it. He whined about how neither of them would do any good moving the heavy bits. That's what young people were for, at least that's how Crowley put it.

 

Anathema a young woman full of spirit and her shy, quiet boyfriend Newton- came by with an old pick up truck. Thank goodness because the whole joke about Newton's car always managed to keep him giggling for far too long.

 

Hours of heavy lifting and many snack breaks later. All of his things were hoisted up above his book shop ready to be unpacked and sorted.

 

Blood sweat and tears went into making sure his shop didn't get ransacked in the process of moving his antique furniture. Aziraphale was sure he looked like a panicked swan running to and fro trying to handle his possessions himself. Call him a worry wart. He would sooner die than let his first editions get so much as a smudge.

 

As promised for her help, a limited edition copy of her favorite novel. The Nice and Accurate Prophecy of Agnes Nutter free of charge. A strange book full of old english prophecies from a witch during the 17th century. Many claimed the prophecies to be true but he held no need for it. She appreciated it's odd variety more than he did so it didn't hurt to part with it. An odd choice in his mind but her excited smile brought about his own.

 

Such a strong headed girl for her age, he hoped Newton didn't take her too seriously. Speaking of the young man Aziraphale did his best to keep an eye on him. A simple, quiet young man who the blonde had met only a handful of times. He seemed like a nice boy, a little clumsy and never, ever going to near his computer again, but a sweet boy all the same.

 

"I wish I could offer you more, especially since you ensured my furniture stayed in one piece. If you like I could put on some biscuits!"

 

Anathema simply rolled her warm brown eyes, it was such an Aziraphale thing to say. Carefully maneuvering the new novel into her sling bag for safe keeping just as Crowley joined them with a final box. Aziraphale became his fussy self again, momentarily distracted from the wonderful thought of fresh biscuits to scold him for the improper handling of his possessions. Crowley only waved a hand absently at his fussing.

 

"Thanks but no thanks. We're going to dinner afterwards."

 

"Ah! How lovely. We were thinking of dining out ourselves.”

 

The woman's eyes immediately switched to the ginger, putting the pieces of the oddly shaped puzzle together. Said man was busy trying to pop his back now that he wasn't being hounded but a frazzled book keeper.

 

"I don't believe we've met properly."

 

Breaking the pointless fussing to maneuver her way into the red heads line of sight. She held out her hand expectantly. "Anathema Device. occultist, majoring in dead foreign languages."

 

Anathema may not have been family by blood, but she was a very sweet girl. To the point decisions got her this far, and unfortunately there was no getting around her straightforward approach. A tad strange and unusual, different from many of her own age. Perhaps that's why they got along so well. He did hope Crowley didn’t find her to off putting.

Anathema stopped by on occasion to sort through his new arrivals whenever he got a shipment of new books. Originally they bonded over their love of old books back when he lived in Tadfield. Though she wasn't biologically his niece, it was far easier to explain that to someone than convince them you were friends with someone half your age.

 

Crowley pulled a pout, trying to recollect any kind of memories of the woman before him and Aziraphale couldn't help but also roll his eyes at her tactics of intimidation on a very uncaring recipient. In his short time in knowing the man he came to realize Crowley was god awful with names, and even worse when it came to pretending to care. If his facial expression said anything about it. But he did at least take her hand for a quick shake.

 

It did become a little hectic during the whole moving process, seeing as how his landlord decided to hang around during the move. Putting the blonde on edge further than he already was and apparently forgetting to at least introduce his niece. Aziraphale was a little mortified he forgot such an important detail. How rude of him.

 

"Anthony Crowley. Long time bastard, Pleasure." shaking her hand with the smallest curl of his lips.

 

"Oooh." she hummed "So you're thee Crowley." Her emphasis on the 'thee' Aziraphale could practically taste regret on his tongue and he had yet to say a word in the matter. Watching her very, very suspiciously raised an eyebrow. Unable to tell what she was thinking. Whatever it was, couldn't be good.

 

"Why yes, that's Crowley." Wiggling a bit for emphasis on 'thee'. Maybe he still had time to ‘shoo’ her out before she managed to embarrass him. "Same one we were conversing about last week.”

 

A red brow raised from behind dark lenses. But said nothing.

 

An incredibly intelligent young woman with a mind just as sharp as her tongue. Besides Madam Tracey he didn't really have many close friends around his own age. Given his own profession, self employment didn't have many opportunities to make friends. So sometimes when he was feeling particularly gossipy, talking to anyone who would listen became the next best option.

 

"Not really what I was expecting."

 

Aziraphale suddenly felt the need to choke, furrowing his brows in confusion. Only a little insulted considering Crowley was absolutely stunning. But the statement had the man frowning at his own outfit. "Beg pardon?" he gasped.

 

"Oh you know. I Just pictured someone in a stuffy coat and big glasses." She exaggerated the glasses by wrinkling her nose and wiggling her own resting atop her nose. "Librarian type. Who knew you'd be into the dark, spooky type."

 

That was not the turn he expected. His cheeks felt a bit too hot to take this ridiculous conversation seriously. Eyes darting between the smug smile tugging the redhead lips and her nonchalant expression. She was only trying to get a rouse out of him and the girl had a knack for it. Anthema sounded suspiciously like Adam. Despite her age spent quite a bit of time with the boy and his friends since they were intrigued by her wicken ways. That boy was growing up to be a little snark, incredibly intelligent and still a little shit when he wanted to be.

 

A little hypocritical if he did say so himself. After all her sense of style suited a gothic victorian, while Newton's own thick spectacles and nervous fidgets certainly felt eerily similar.

 

"He's not spooky at all! Crowley looks a little scary but looks can be very deceiving.”

 

“Ah, nope. Zip it angel.” Crowley was already trying to put a stop to that rant before it could begin because he certainly didn't need the blood rushing to his face.

 

"I'm flattered really. Big spooky fan, me."

 

A groan threatened to tear his throat apart when is so called niece announced their departure soon after. Leaving both men to their own devices and the unfortunate task of unpacking. Crowley sauntered to his side, all the while refusing to give said presence the attention it desired even as a pointy chin found his shoulder. Aziraphale could practically feel the amused smile curling his lips.

 

"So,” he drawled finally talking instead of smugly nestling into his shoulder. “What is your type Aziraphale? I'm quite curious now.”

 

That evil smile only stretched wider, staying idly quiet for once even as the amused air oozed off him like honey. Crowley certainly knew how to ruffle his feathers and they had yet to be dating more than a few weeks.

 

No response was almost worse and Aziraphale finally huffed, folding his hands. This was the first time the man visited his beautiful shop and he seemed more interested in teasing him than the gorgeous architecture. He swallowed a little too hard at that, clearing his throat. Deciding it best to ignore the flash bastard and take a note down to scold his so called niece later. "How about that dinner? I’m feeling a bit peckish."

 

Crowley hummed, pressing the softest kiss to the bare expanse of his throat, right above his collar. Goose pimples prickling his skin at the barest touch. "What are you up for? Pizza? Chinese? Or perhaps we skip right to dessert?”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale's short time with Anthony J. Crowley was going smoother than you could imagine. Their little heart to heart seemed to push things in the right direction, intimacy wise at least. It had been quite sometime since another man showed any interest. (As far as he realized, Aziraphale was a little naive) leaving him shy and a little overwhelmed about the whole situation despite his desire not to let Crowley slip through his fingers.

 

But even outside their questionable love life, Crowley was a delightful man all the same. It was rather humorous to know the man well enough at this point to understand his muses or seemingly snarky remarks. He often caught himself rephrasing it to poor on-goers who may have misunderstood his tone or sass. Crowley refused to call it anything other than boredom; but he was such a nice man beneath his hard, grumpy exterior.

 

To put his feelings into words, Aziraphle was happy while Crowley seemed happy to oblige. Crowley told him once (both a little tipsy from a good bottle of champagne.) his smile brightened up the room, and did everything in his power to see it shine brighter than the sun. It was so cheesy, but Aziraphale liked cheesy. He liked the novel style romance that played out in his secret stash of romance books. It was so sweet, making his insides turn to mush and cheeks grow hot with overwhelming adoration that made his nose crinkle with barely repressed joy. Even the occasional 'get a room' couldn't quite diminish his spark of affection.

 

Old fashioned romance was his favorite. Kisses under the moon and park picnics. Crowley did all of those things when asked, even if he acted a little put off by it and too cool for such things. It was always accompanied with a dramatic sigh, a toss of his arm and "The things I do for you angel." Like he didn't see that teasing smile before they kissed.

 

They were both old enough to realise pussy footing around got you nowhere in life. The blonde was coming to terms with it more than anyone actually. Their dates were tame, safe and enough to make an old romantic like Aziraphale melt on the spot.

 

But the touching, good lord the touching. Platonic affection was something Aziraphale assumed he would never get to experience again. And thank heavens he was very wrong. Whether it was intentional or not, there was always a presence to his side. (On occasion, slightly behind, either way Crowley made himself known.) Sometimes their knees would brush, dining at the Ritz or Crowley would sit a bit too close when they went to the park with his arm thrown hazardously over the back. Obviously Aziraphale never mentioned it, fearing it would come to an abrupt end. Just something to get used too, and it most certainly wasn't unwelcomed to feel his partners touch.

 

A gentle caress, even the slightest brush was enough to startle goosebumps across is flesh. Fidgeting with his coat and clearing his throat of the sudden knot forming there.

 

Fifty years old and touch starved for attention wasn't exactly something he was proud of. Even so, It was Aziraphale who initiated their first real step into a relationship.

 

Coming from a family of strict church members touching of any kind of frowned upon, and it wasn't like his everyday life involved more than handing over a book. His mother and father were never much of a hugger, convinced even through his tears he needed to tough it out to be a man. Aziraphale hadn't felt an affectionate, pleasant touch in years. Besides Tracey's soft hands, Entirely overwhelmed, touch starved and drunk did have its perks.

 

Heart hammering like a jackhammer when the redhead's hips swayed a little too far while they wandered down London's streets. Bumping their fingers, the warm brush igniting a different kind of warmth low in his belly that tore a soft gasp from his lungs.

 

Aziraphale's fist clenched hard, already finding his pinky searching for the contact again. Brushing against soft knuckles until Crowley met him halfway; gently intertwining their fingers that had the shorter man unable to hide the beaming, happy smile as they walked down the street, hand in hand like they were the only important things in the entire universe. Crowley pointed out a random building, under the muse of it's awful exterior just to hide the embarrassing heat of his cheeks.

 

Of course walking side by side down the busy street wasn't exactly curtis. But Aziraphale would be damned if he actually cared what a random passerby thought for once in his life.

 

The blonde felt like himself again, smiling till his cheeks hurt and genuinely loosing himself at the stupid joke his boyfriend failed to recite seconds later. Tracey mentioned the other day he looked brighter, chipper than his normal, pleasant self. It had been quite sometime since he genuinely got to enjoy another man's company, let alone touch. So perhaps stepping out of his comfort zone every once in a while does bring upon a nice change.

 

But days became weeks, weeks become months. Nothing quite changed since day once. They fed the ducks every two weeks down at the local park, and met twice a week for lunch or a late dinner before Crowley went to work. The only difference was he knew the redhead more. Knew his usual snarky remarks held a soft undertone of affection if it was directed towards him.

 

The touching also managed to keep him grounded in the strangest way possible. As soon as his mind would begin to race with frivolous doubts, like how he may not have greeted the cart vendor as nicely as he hoped; the familiar touch would bring him back to the real world, dissolving the anxiety that only just began to fester. A thankful smile twisting his grimace upwards.

 

Crowley was oddly becoming his rock. It was much easier to focus on him, rather than his own doubtful thoughts. Especially when just a few questions could get him to spew about the most recent novel he was reading. A distraction from an overwhelming situation.

 

Even though Crowley was the source of his anxiety, he was in an odd way a way to soothe it. Disappointing the man was always nagging in the back of his skull. Your too clingy, stop talking, quiet! Peaceful silence only rang in his ears! Say something you drowning bastard!

 

Crowley caught on rather quickly just how he bruised his hands when he got nervous. Adjusting his tie, fiddling with his coat labels to finally wringing his fingers together. If he started to pick and twist at the freshly manicured nails, the redhead would simply take his hand, scolding him half heartedly for it. And then, simply didn't let go. Under the ruse of keeping the blonde from ruining his nails.

 

That being said he knew Crowley wasn't a fix to his struggles with anxiety. It would follow him for the rest of his life like a storm cloud. (He still struggled with small things, pointless things like silence and picking at his fingers.)

 

Crowley may not always be at his side, but not needing to worry through everyday things alone was such a relief. Drowning out the loud unwanted opinions and the silencing of his own harsh criticisms.

 

Using alcohol as a buffer wasn't his go to anymore. Ever since he started seeing the dark, suave figure it was getting easier. Easier to talk. Easier to think. Focusing his energy into something other than his work was exactly what he needed but refused to actually act upon. With the benefits of working out years of repression and pent of sexual frustration. An added plus in his book.

 

That brings Aziraphale to his current predicament. Ever since their little mishap a few weeks ago, their love life was relatively nonexistent. Not that it was much to begin with.

 

Though he was a little upset at the distance Crowley put between them, he couldn't blame the man for being cautious. Things were beginning to look grim, and a tiny voice screamed at him to keep the man interested.

 

Looks like if he wanted to give sex another try, he had to ask. Or at the very least take things into his own hands. Words always failed the blonde when he tried to ask for such a thing.

Even if it was nerve wracking, Aziraphale was becoming desperate. No matter how hard he tried, his confidence always sizzled to nothing as soon as dark glasses flashed in his direction.

 

With entirely opposite schedules, planning dates was a tad tricky. Crowley worked late into the early hours of the morning while Aziraphale opened his shop from dusk till dawn. But like most relationships, you have to make time for your significant other.

 

To celebrate their first month together, the men decided to meet at the very bar Crowley initially brought them to. Pulled close like opposing magnets and the pleasant fuzzy effects of cocktails had them touching innocently, somehow on the topic of Hamlet of all things.

 

A few stray patrons gave them pleasant conversation and a man who was much bigger than either of them sauntered by asking if there were any problems when they got a little too loud in their mirth.

 

The music was quiet enough not to shout over the buzzing bass. Something about the dimly lit lights and the thrum of a quiet, heavy bass tickling his toes, or maybe it was the silhouette of his boyfriends sharp nose but he was definitely struggling to keep his hands to himself the longer the night wore on. Or in reality, perhaps the fruity cocktails and hunger for more than a few sparing kisses finally reared its head.

 

Aziraphale caught himself simply staring with heavy lidded eyes as the redhead gestured to and fro about his day at work. Especially with a few empty glasses scattered between them, his movements exaggerated and dramatic.

Mind fuzzy with the dirty promises the man whispered in his ear weeks ago. Made heat rush to his neck and wish to act upon those naughty thoughts right that instant.

 

They do say actions speak louder than words. And with the right amount of rum Aziraphale was sure he could make anything happen.

 

Probably the worst part of his advance was spilling a six pound drink when he reached over to grab the gingers weird tie. But paid it no mind.

 

'It's called fashion angel.' No, it looked like a damn shoe lace but then again Crowley could probably wear a plastic bag and still make the shiny plastic look good.

 

Aziraphale pulled him in for a sloppy kiss before the man could get up to refill their glasses. No longer trying to hide the desperation he felt at that very moment. For some reason his lips and tongue had a mind of their own and didn't cooperate until the pressure was returned full force.

 

Relief, desperation, lust. A beautiful mixture lighting up his body like a firework. Crowley leaned in further, totally enamored by the sudden show of more than just a fleeting peck. Slowly sliding his way back into their shared side of the booth to plaster himself at Aziraphale’s side. Going as far as to gently cup his way between Aziraphale’s knees.

 

"Still with me angel?" Crowley voice was thick with something delicious, and maybe to many glasses of malt scotch. The lighting certainly didn't do either of them any good. Not when the blonde tried to gauge just how blurry Crowley's pupils were.

 

"Indubita- indubitb...Inn...yes, yes I'm here." Stammering over his words in his haze. Big words, not quite understandable at this point. Especially not with a careful hand resting on his crotch.

 

Crowley swayed, just a little. Under the muse to hear him despite the less than loud music. But blue eyes positively crossed when the redhead leaned in, teeth oh so carefully nipping at the lobe of his ear.

 

"My place or yours?"

 

Crowley may not know exactly what got into his shy angel but a man of opportunity never complained. Maybe Crowley wasn't as drunk as he let on, or he just sobered up quicker than lightning at the thought of starting something again. Either way the older man was grateful one of them could function without thinking of the growing pressure in his trousers. A dominant going out of his way to make them both comfortable would later give him butterflies, but right now it felt as if he let go, Crowley would disappear and leave him cold and alone.

 

Ever insistent Crowley managed to wrestle them back to the bookshop. Hoping the familiar surroundings would settle a certain blonde’s nerves, and it was a much shorter walk with a drunk blonde trying to somehow figure out a way to walk and kiss at the same time. (When he wasn't given the attention he outright deserved in his drunken state.)

 

How they managed to make it upstairs without stubbing a toe or ramming a hip, he didn't know. All the blonde knew for sure was how hot it was becoming with layers of clothes and the scent of Crowley's cologne.

 

He pushed, only once. Once it got hard to breath with Crowley's lips smothering his own. Tossing aside the intrepid cotton shirt separating the older man from Crowley's chest.

 

Aziraphale found himself in a very similar position the last time they got frisky. Hip flush together, pressed against the bedroom door that must have just known they were coming to be closed. The gentle rocking was too mesmerizing for Aziraphale's drunken mind to focus on anything else, pull back, grind buck, grind harder. He found himself desperately trying to follow those swaying hips with his own every time he pulled away for leverage. The pressure was only sated for a few moments before explicitly told to hold still, whispered sweetly in his flushed ears.

 

The lovely distraction only worked for so long, once Crowley moved to the obnoxious buttons of his shirt. At least the first few, and Aziraphale grabbed for his wrists. Keeping them close.

 

"May I leave it on?"

 

Remembering his manners shortly after, he may be drunk off his ass but he sure as hell could feel old habits making themselves known. Tucking his head and stare at the taller man's lips rather than his eyes. “Please.”

 

Though Crowley's hands were insistent, his touch became careful, helping dispose of his vest and bowtie before heading right for his suspenders. Leaving the button up intact where it sat wrinkled to hell and back.

 

" ‘course.” closed mouth kisses returned, peppering against his cheeks. "But only because you asked so nicely for me." He teased softly.

The relief relaxing the blondes shoulders was short lived. Crowley's fingers were cold but warmed quickly as his administrations continued their way downward. Forgoing the shirt so kindly left in tact. Gently scratching his way down his back with the drunk, eager man doing his best to not drool. Discarding layer after layer until he was bare, save for the dress shirt.

It was like a wild fire broke free where ever Crowley touched, caressed, squeezed. The gentlest touches brought goosebumps across his flesh and hair to stand on end with shuttered breaths.

The door finally swung free, and neither man allowed the other much space. Crowley pressed him forward till the back of his knees hit the bed.

 

Said wandering fingers found the soft, flushed flesh of his rear- sneaking beneath the veil of his shirt to give it a proper squeeze, pants and undergarments long since tossed aside.

 

Their delicious lip lock was interrupted by Aziraphale jerking away to gasp like a fish out of water. "C-crowley! Honestly!"

 

He laughed, low and husky before gently pushing the blonde backward. It startled another soft cry but Crowley followed right after, effectively trapping him between the soft mattress and boney elbows. Aziraphale nearly forgot how to breath. “Been dreaming of doing that.”

 

Needy kisses once again softened, capturing Aziraphale’s write to pin them to the bed. "If you want to stop, I'll stop. Do you understand?”

Hazy blue eyes stared into equally hazy amber, A million answers crossed his already racing mind. But all he could concentrate on was pleasing the body above him “Yes, Crowley.”

“Good,” he practically purred like the engine of his bentley, "Safe word is peaches." whispered so sweetly, it was positively illegal for Crowley’s to suddenly slot their pelvises together with obvious intent.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Crowley kept his promise of seeing just how long it would take to make Aziraphale cum with just his tongue. The unfortunate, less than enthusiastic answer was not very long. Crowley was very talented in the oral department and was sure to demonstrate just how talented he could be.

 

It didn't take much convincing even once the blonde started to twist his fingers and fret over being too heavy. A light curl of a bony finger and deep tone melted the blonde enough to comply, sitting pretty atop the redhead's face, comfortable as can be once his nerves washed away with a swipe of his tongue.

 

Almost too drunk to physically keep himself from holding still, Aziraphale panted hard, desperate to catch his breath even as Crowley smothered himself between his cheeks. A moan broke the silence, wet slicks filling the otherwise silent room with its squelch. Wet, hot, sloppy and oh so good. Keening softly, Aziraphale's fingers came to muffle the embarrassing noises managing to escape his throat. The sensation alone brought desperate pulses through his cock. He felt ready to burst at any given moment, the blonde had to thank god he couldn't see the determination in Crowley's eyes, pressing palms to the man's chest. Brows furrowed, deep in concentration, listening intently for what drew a moan or a cry from the man sitting beautifully on his face. Auburn hair fanned against the sheets and in clear need of a brush from their current activities.

 

Because is Aziraphale did witness the tiny little smirk every time his tongue ventured to just the right spot, he would surely become too overwhelmed for this to continue much longer.

 

Lord in heaven, nothing quite revered his poor engine more than a wet tongue swirling his ass and hot lips sucking his hole like a starving man. Then again anyone who managed to bed him found he thoroughly enjoyed prostate stimulation, so it was only a matter of time.

 

A horrible, horrible tease Crowley was. The man was a generous lover considering their position, but goodness if he wasn't a torturous tease. Switching from a fast, orgasm chasing pace to long, slow drag across his arsehole that left he nearly in tears by the time the red haired man had mercy, and sped back up.

 

‘Hold still for me angel. You'll enjoy this.’

 

The longer their little session drew out the harder it became to keep his hips from pressing back for more when his body quivered to arch. But eager to please and desperate for praise kept his body still from sheer will power to prove he could be good for this amazing man. With the haze of alcohol, it was a rather impressive feat if he did so say himself.

 

But he would be damned if his tormenter didn't try his best to get even the smallest twitch. Especially when he grabbed fist fulls of plush flesh and pulled them apart to go deeper.

 

He didn't really remember moving, let alone being asked to when his body sang praise and blood rushed through his veins. But he was carefully urged up, off of Crowley face and soon pressed face down in the sheet. Aziraphale gave a shaky sigh, trying to spread himself further for the ministrations going on between his thighs. But Crowley's grip was firm, preventing him from moving to far from the tounge fucking that ravished his very soul in the new position.

 

Crowley found his balls, nipping the soft skin of his taint while giving his neglected cock a squeeze. Blossoming a bubble of precum onto the no longer pristine sheets.

 

"O-oh Crowley-!" Voice jumping a few octaves, Aziraphale had been nervous when this initially began, despite his initial forwardness. But now he couldn't decide if he had given permission to follow the hands movements or try to get Crowley's long tongue deeper. Shoving the corner of the pillow between his teeth to muffle his pleased gasps. As he focused to keep his hips still and do as he was told. Even as his body twitched uncontrollably to give in. And it was very hard with such a talented tongue.

Once pleasure overtook his nerves it was easy to melt into the sheets and let himself be overcome with ecstasy. After all this was the first true intimacy both men shared since their odd relationship began. It may have taken a few shots to get here but it was oh so sweet.

 

"Ngh!"

 

Aziraphale was convinced the only reason he hasn't made a mess of himself yet was because of all the fruity drinks warming his tummy. Because between the tongue and the horny touches his back arched suddenly, and only got a playful smack on the rear for moving. Moaning loud enough to put a porn actor to shame when the light slap rang in his reddened ears.

 

The scene before him made such a gorgeous picture for Crolwey. Though he couldn't make out the flushed face, buried in a fluffy pillow. The pale skin of Aziraphale’s rear began to turn a shade of pink that oddly looked like a handprint. Thighs spread wide to accommodate anything the redhead had to offer, and a cock ruby red and shiny with slick and precum dripping from the tip. Everything from the flushed back to the desperate fingers curling and unfurling in the wrinkled sheets painted a beautiful picture in his mind. Even the dress shirt still desperately hanging from his form bubbled desire deep with ihs belly.

 

Aziraphale didn't know just how beautiful he was like this, Crowley was determined to see even more.

 

His current admiration must have been longer than he realized, because the man before him began to squirm. Aziraphale Lost count of how many times the man pulled away to tease him with more purred praise. Too far gone to care he nearly cried. Right at the peak as heat flushed behind his eyes accompanied with a desperate twitch of his cock. To be left touch free for what felt like the millionth time.

 

"No-ngh. dear me, hngh, please don't stop." Struggling to catch his breath between words.

 

He heard more than saw Crowley breathing hard pressed so deep in the sheets. Even so, the taller man sounded like a man who was teetering on the edge of his own. Voice husky and thick with his own desire. Judging by the weeping tip of his dick, he was stroking himself while eating him out. Aziraphale never felt so absolutely like the center of attention before.

 

“Oh, I love it when you beg.” Amber eyes flashed, leaning over to cover his own body with Aziraphale’s. Relishing in the shudder it rewarded him with.

 

“Got lost admiring my meal.” snickering the redhead repositioned himself, licking his lips. Thumbs curling to pull flushed cheeks apart “Now make some noise for me angel." Punctuation each word with a light nip to his reddened ass cheeks. He didn't really think Crowley would be much of a talker in bed. Then again his mouth was busy doing unspeakable things. Aziraphale’s body twitched, whimpering in need letting his doms voice replay like a record in his mind. Too horny and on edge to feel embarrassed being so exposed, stared at like a piece of meat.

 

That hot tongue dove right back to its ministrations without warning, picking up right where it left off. And no punishment came, finally letting his stuttering hips meet Crowley's wiggling tongue in surprise. Caressing his insides and thoroughly becoming one with the sheets. Feeling very much like a pile of melted chocolate, warm, thick and heavy.

 

He didn't bother to protest, tossing blonde curls back and crying out with reckless abandon. Anything to chase the hot searing electricity coursing down his spine and pulsing in his guts. Hot lava pooling in his lower belly threatening to spill with the long fingers agonizingly stroked his cock, massaging at the root. Crowley's other hand came to join his tongues adventures, helping stretch his ass and sate the desperate need to be filled with something bigger than a wet, searching tongue. Heaven above, Crowley could reach his prostate with his fingers. His own weren't quite long enough but the shock of hot pulsing euphoria brought a surprised horny moan.

 

With the simple curl of thin fingers and a hard suck, Aziraphale was gone. Gasping loudly as his orgasm tingled the tips of his toes and fluttered his lids. If it wasn't for the softness beneath him he would have collapsed hard and thank goodness for it. Though his mind was a little foggy from their earlier shots of rum he felt a warmth no alcohol could bring him. Just as promised Crowley thoroughly ravished him silly enough to struggle to catch his breath

 

"Good, good, Perfect. Didn't take very long did it?"

 

Floating on cloud nine was an understatement. Riding out the high of his orgasam, especially with Crowley he would learn always had him gasping for breath and becoming nothing more than pleased pile of goo in the mess of sheets until he became nearly to overstimulated to handle. A hand guiding him through the climax, drawing a few final quakes that milked him dry.

 

The blonde felt a little silly once he regained a little composure, so completely out of it from just a simple orgasm. At a guess, the last time anyone actually touched him in such a ravishing way, was over a decade ago with nothing but his own shy touches to fill the extra lonely nights. And even then sometimes he chickened out. Filled with too much self pity to continue.

 

It did become a little difficult sometimes to keep track of the redhead, (or any partner for that matter) in times like these. While his body and mind were mush, Crowley would soothe hands down his back and clean up any signs of their activities. And when he tried hard enough to focus the man would be somewhere else every time.

 

"Roll over." he made a half hearted snort, not wanting to try and move his unwilling limbs. But when a light tug on the sheets he rolled compliantly to allow the blanket be tossed off the bed and away from the unpleasant stickiness. Pulling the comforter over both of them that conveniently had been tossed aside before their fun. Clean and safe from their love making. The cool comfort a pleasant combination with a heated body beside him.

 

By the time his boyfriend settled down beside him Crowley's lips were still shiny and slick, from spit and the edible lube. He could barely focus on anything else. Besides the soft stroking, brushing away the curls plastered across his sweaty forehead as the hot thrums of pleasure pulsed through his body.

 

When the high finally began to simply become a pleasant warmth relaxing his muscles, like hot cocoa on a cold day, Aziraphale wiggled his way into the sheets, he was already dreading the odd stickiness he but found not only his own release was cleaned, but his cheeks had been cleaned too. His tongue no longer felt like jelly, mumbling lazily into the man's shoulder when he tried to go for a kiss, nuzzling into his tanned shoulder with a half hearted laugh, "I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth."

 

Barking out a laugh if his own, he was pulled closer practically feeling the stupid, amused smile in his hair "Fair enough."

 

Gentle brushes eased his train of thought, sighing peacefully into damp skin, "Enjoyed yourself I take it?"

 

"Incredibly so."

 

Snickering just a little more than he should be, perhaps in a way proud he managed to unravel such an uptight bookshop owner, the ginger thumbed his sweaty brow lazily. The blonde did the same. "Good."

 

Aziraphale wasn't much of a napper, quite the opposite when it actually came to getting to bed on time. But even he could start to feel the pleasant heaviness settling into his muscles and curling around the man who made him feel amazing. The world didn't spin as much with his eyes closed. Unfortunately, pressed so close with the gentle strokes shot his eyes back open when something rather obvious brushed against his thigh.

 

"O-oh. Nearly forgot-." Sheepishly shifting up to his elbow. "Would you like me too?-"

 

Arms circled him once more, dragging him back into his comfortable position, Crowley tucking his head beneath his pointy chin "No worries angel."

 

Flushing further in embarrassment he smiled, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. A little relieved despite the lingering pity "Perhaps next time then."

 

It wasn't everyday another man gave into his desires of playing pillow princess. (Crowley explained just what it implied and as embarrassing as it was, it did fit the bill, at least in some cases.) Let alone indulging in his so called boring hobbies.

 

Crowley assured him he didn't need to get off this time around. That despite the slowly deflating throb against his thigh, both partners didn't need to everytime. This was just for his partner, his angel, a nickname that was both for his true name yet it still made butterflies struggle in the confines of his belly.

 

To make him feel good and bask in the afterglow together. Just as he promised the first night they met. It was still a very tempting way to start off.

 

Aziraphale couldn't remember a time he felt so at peace. Full of heavy comfort and another warm body at his side. Let alone someone who allowed him to explore even the weirder side of his kinks and this was only their first go. He found himself wondering just what next time would hold.

 

In fact, Aziraphale caught himself imagining next time, and the time after that. How his favorite positions would go with this man at the reigns giving him overwhelming amounts of pleasure. A man who managed to make him feel something again, and not only that. But put up with his nonsense long enough to see him practically naked.

 

Craning his neck to look up at his lover, careful to brush away the damp waves of copper. Aziraphale lost his nerve again, those bright eyes always managed to steal his breath away along with any logical sense in his mind. He settled for a soft, affectionate peck before wiggling back into his delightful position on Crowley's arm.