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Belle Chose

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"I've not—not personally used this one, no."

Crowley smiles something wicked, but not in the wicked-bad way. More like the wicked-wonderful way that makes Aziraphale's chest feel full and his lips pull in a returning smile.

"No? Oh, Angel," Crowley croons, shaking his head slowly. "You've been missing out, then."

Aziraphale makes a face, an eyebrow cocking up high. "I've been missing out?" He asks, incredulous. "Crowley, darling, as much as I loathe bringing such a touchy thing up, I have had a good deal more... experience with—"

"With cocks and asses and all that lot, yes, yes," Crowley waves this off with what he probably means to be nonchalance, but Aziraphale knows him too well, and can sense the embarrassment simmering under the surface. It is very endearing, so much so that Aziraphale doesn't even tut at him for interrupting.

"But thisss," he says, tailing it into a serpentine hiss as he crawls in a little closer to Aziraphale. They're currently sitting on the bed together, face to face, but they're both lacking clothing. Nothing but a pair of naked celestial entities, having a conversation about genitals while Crowley skirts his fingers very delicately over the inside of Aziraphale's thigh. "This is good. One of my favorites. There's so much—you wouldn't believe how much you can do with so little, Angel."

Aziraphale smiles something like a sensual smirk, both eyebrows bouncing up high as he says, soft, "I suppose you ought to show me, then."

"Suppose I ought to," Crowley says, but it doesn't come out cool-sounding at all. It sounds more like Crowley is about to have a stroke, like his brain is short-circuiting from the idea that Aziraphale is going to let Crowley teach him a thing or two about how fun a cunt can be, specifically by fiddling with Aziraphale's Effort at one.

Crowley swallows, but it's dry. Nervous.

Aziraphale, who is not stupid, nor is he blind, smiles something far sweeter than sensual, and leans in towards Crowley. He cups his hand, loving and gentle, against the back of Crowley's neck and pulls him in for a kiss that is surprisingly chaste, given the circumstances. It lasts a good moment or two, until Aziraphale pulls back and presses their foreheads together instead.

"What would you have me do, dearest?" He whispers, not without a smile.

Aziraphale's quiet excitement is delicious and contagious. Crowley swallows again, a bit more able to do so, and kisses the corner of Aziraphale's mouth briefly.

"You lie back," he murmurs, guiding Aziraphale to do just that. He keeps a hand on Aziraphale's side as he moves to lie back on the bed, head propped up against a plump row of pillows. Aziraphale smiles up at him, wiggling just a bit to get comfortable, and can't help but let out this soft little laugh that makes Crowley's heart want to fucking explode (in a good way, naturally). "Just like that," Crowley says in a voice that sounds completely breathless, which is weird, because it's not like he's actually out of breath or anything.


Crowley runs the tip of his tongue over his dry lips, eyes looking down over the length of Aziraphale's body. All of him is so fucking delicious, no matter what Effort he's Making; he's amazing because he's Aziraphale, not because of the flesh body he inhabits (though his body is remarkably fucking tasty, all plump and soft and perfect for pressing kisses all over).

With a hearty wiggle, Crowley arranges himself to lie down beside Aziraphale, essentially spooning him from the side. He props himself up on an elbow, shooting Aziraphale a smirk as he sets a hand on his chest, fingers dancing slowly down the pudge of his belly.

He can't help but ask, "You've truly never had this bit before?"

Aziraphale smiles, shaking his head. "No, no. I suppose I never put much thought into it. That and-- well, most of the partners I've, ah, engaged with, were more interested in other, er, organs." He pauses, only to give Crowley a playful squint. "Also, I am not as lust-driven as you seem to think I am, my dear."

"Maybe not, but the curiosity, surely..."

Aziraphale shrugs. "Well, if it helps any, I'm certainly curious now. Show me," he says with a fond smile that makes Crowley's entire body throb delightfully. "Show me what comes next, love. Teach me all about it."

"Right," Crowley croaks. His hand moves to cup just over Aziraphale's mound, which is soft and plump like the rest of him. There's hair there, which Crowley likes, and he just takes a moment to cup him there, watching Aziraphale's face do cute things as he decides if he likes the touch or not. To give him something to think about, Crowley slides his long fingers to either side of his slit, not to spread the lips, but merely to cradle as much of his front as possible. It's a good feeling, Aziraphale's whole mound in his hand.

Crowley takes his time in letting his fingers drag very delicately over the puffy lips of the majora, which feel so impossibly soft under the pads of his fingers. The skin is delicate, as Crowley knows, so he watches as Aziraphale's whole body shivers, his legs shifting a little, unsure of what to do with himself.

"Yeah? Feel nice?"

"Very," Aziraphale breathes, running his teeth over his lower lip. "It's—quite sensitive. Oh my."

Crowley smiles. "Absolutely. And you've seen nothing yet, Angel."

Aziraphale pushes his head back against the pillows, spreading his legs a bit more for Crowley's touch. "Then show me," he says, almost cocky, and Crowley stifles a laugh towards Aziraphale's shoulder.

He just pets at Aziraphale's slit for a while, getting him used to the feeling of the new space between his legs. Often there's nothing, otherwise there's a plump cock down there that's usually only used to help his trousers keep proper shape, and maybe in part because he likes it, too. But he doesn't seem to be averse to this, if the way he opens his legs and tilts his hips into the touch is anything to go by. The slight wetness is also a very pleasant indicator, and when Crowley feels it on his fingers, he doesn't even notice he's pulling his hand away until he's popping his slick fingers into his mouth and listening to the murmur of arousal Aziraphale makes at the sight.

Crowley makes a bit of a show of it when he knows he has an audience of one, and hums around his fingers. He makes sure to suck them clean, until he tastes nothing but the salt of his own skin, and pulls his fingers from his mouth with a slick noise. Aziraphale is staring at him, and Crowley looks to him for only a moment before Aziraphale drags him down for a kiss that has an excessive amount of tongue, which is just what Crowley likes.

They start kissing proper like that, pushing tongues together and licking the insides of cheeks and teeth. A few moans trickle in where possible, and Crowley gets very caught up in how good it is kissing Aziraphale, until he feels a hand grab at his wrist and push it down to Aziraphale's crotch.

He slots his fingers between Aziraphale's lips, unable to keep a little moan from slipping out. He loves to touch Aziraphale, but there's something very arousing about the idea that Aziraphale has never played like this before, has not taken the time to explore this arena of human sexuality. And that's not a bad thing, not something Crowley wants to mock him for, it's merely the thought of getting to teach Aziraphale something so fun, so lovely, is making him wet, too.

He slides three flat fingers, held together, along Aziraphale's slit. Aziraphale pauses in kissing him to let his mouth hang open as a very soft oh falls from his mouth. His cheeks are getting red not from embarrassment, but from the way that human bodies are full of blood and like to flush when there's lots going on, particularly things like this.

"What d'you think, Angel?"

Aziraphale nods, a little shaky. "Lovely."

Crowley hums in agreement, leaning in to kiss Aziraphale's cheek as he spreads his fingers, thus spreading Aziraphale's slit under his hand. He pulls his fingers up towards the tip of the vee, where he takes his middlemost finger and presses just a bit, searching, searching--

Aziraphale rumbles out a moan that is quiet but very meaningful. His hips shift not to get away from the touch, but adjust so that Crowley's finger is rubbing against the top of his cunt. But Crowley touches and touches, until he frowns a little when he can't seem to get it--

Ah. But Aziraphale wouldn't know about that bit, not if he hasn't ever played with parts like these before.

Crowley leans in to kiss him, some of the worry melting away as Aziraphale's tongue traces over the flats of his teeth, and pulls back with a smug little smile.

"As much as I like touching you, sweetheart," Crowley says, his lips brushing against Aziraphale with every word he murmurs, "I think you need a demonstration for this one. To get all the bits right. They can be finicky buggers—hard to get all the parts just from a glance, you see."

Aziraphale is, blessedly, not offended by this. He nods a bit, looking to Crowley with nothing but affection in his gaze. "Certainly," he agrees. "Let up, dearest."

Crowley feels his heart leap into his throat, which is a very disgusting human-thing that happens sometimes. He takes a breath as he rolls back, so that he is the one lounging on the pillows with his legs spread while Aziraphale sits somewhere around waist-level; he's looking down between Crowley's legs specifically to see what Crowley has Efforted into existence. If they weren't already in bed and a little worked up, Crowley thinks Aziraphale might be keen to take some god damn notes on his snatch.

A little wiggle, a little adjusting of the hips, and Crowley lets out a breath as he reaches his hand down. He knows what he's doing—these are rather fun to play with—and his fingers easily slot at his slit before he spreads them, holding his lips open.

Aziraphale's gaze is focused, and perhaps studious, but Crowley thinks there's a fair bit of lust simmering just under the surface there. He smiles to himself, licks his lips, and says, "You got this part right—lovely work, by the way, Angel. I'm going to have a taste of you later. But," he pauses, and pulls his fingers up so that he's got two fingers bracketing the fat nub of his clit while his middle finger rests just above it, so tempted to nudge at it, but not yet. "You're missing this bit, which is the fun part."

Aziraphale nods slowly. "I see, I see."

"It's even more sensitive than this bit," Crowley says, using his other hand to smooth over the majora; he's still holding it open, so he's mostly just petting the flat of his cunt, wetness smearing on his palm. He's so wet just from thinking about Aziraphale, just from barely touching him. He lets out a sigh that is more of a moan. "Can you imagine it?"

"I'm not sure," Aziraphale says, which is not very sexy, until he follows it up with one of those sweet smiles as he asks, "May I touch?"

Crowley feels all coolness and common sense leaving his stupid fucking body. He runs his teeth over his lower lip, giving a nod that he hopes comes off as quiet and suave, but knows it comes off as more bashful and eager. Ugh. The things Aziraphale does to him are absolutely fucking illegal, and the smug bastard knows it.

Crowley loves him.

Aziraphale scoots in closer, so Crowley moves a leg so that Aziraphale is between them. He feels his cunt twitching at both the cool air and the fact Aziraphale is right there and Crowley wants him to touch it so badly. He doesn't have the higher brain function to get himself to stop twitching, so accept his fate he must.

Aziraphale's hand is unbelievably gentle as he pets the pads of his fingers over Crowley's slit. He looks to Crowley's face as he does it, for confirmation, and Crowley feels his brow twist up as he gnashes on his lip and nods, nods, nods.

So Aziraphale's fingers spread him a little, taking the place of Crowley's up near his clit. He watches Aziraphale observe him, moving the skin a little to perhaps test out the feel of it, but it feels nice so Crowley doesn't mind. He definitely doesn't mind when Aziraphale uses his thumb to press down on the bump of his clit, and Crowley gives a proper moan at that, his legs writhing as his body pushes into the touch.

"Oh my," Aziraphale whispers with a smile. "That sensitive?"

"Yessss," Crowley drawls, his tongue getting lazy and hissing out the sound. "Feels divin—feels—feels... wicked. Sss'excellent when you—here," he mumbles, distracted, and reaches down to cover Aziraphale's hand with his. He pushes his hips into the touch while encouraging Aziraphale to touch him more, really massage at his clit, and Crowley makes a noise that borders on obscene when Aziraphale finally seems to Get It.

"How's that?"

Crowley forgets his words, so he says, "Fucking heavenly."

"Goodness," Aziraphale coos, in that affectionate way he talks to Crowley usually reserved for when he's fucking him, or watching Crowley touch himself when Aziraphale is in a voyeuristic mood. "It must be quite nice, then. Hm?"

"Ahh. Yeah," Crowley sighs. "But there's—there can be more to it, too. Another good bit about these parts. Here—hold up, Angel," he grunts, and it's a little remorseful, but Aziraphale's fingers are too distracting against his clit, so he has to move them. Aziraphale obeys, sitting pretty and patient while Crowley shifts his hips, sets a foot flat against the bed so he can properly show Aziraphale what he's going to do.

"This part," he says, a little breathless as he holds his lips wide and traces his fingers along the edges of cunt, right where it's wet, the bit just before the inside. "It's—well, I like when it's—since you're wrecking me, Angel—I like to..." and he trails off, because there's no better way to explain than to just show Aziraphale what he likes, what he wants. He forgoes the foreplay he might do with himself, were he alone and having to work himself up to this point, but since Aziraphale is here and he can already feel a bit of dampness on the sheets from how fucking eager he is, Crowley just slides two fingers inside with a struggled grunt.

"Ah," Aziraphale hums. "This is the bit I'm familiar with."

"Yeah," Crowley wheezes, distracting himself by hooking his fingers and pushing up. "This isn't the best part—it's good when it's—it's got to be all together. Something to fuck while you rub up—" and just saying it makes Crowley's pussy throb and squeeze down on his fingers, and he lets out something that isn't a whimper because demons do not whimper, and uses his other hand to rub his clit again. Yeah, that's more like it.

He starts getting to it, really working at it, panting and huffing and fucking himself on his own fingers. He feels Aziraphale's hand fall on his thigh, then it moves up to his wrist, to guide it away from where his fingers are buried inside himself. He makes another not-whimper, but Aziraphale shushes him, moving closer to him.

"May I?" He asks, all soft and kind and fucking perfect. Crowley feels something weird in the back of his throat, but nods all the same.

"Yeah," he whispers. "Give it a try."

Aziraphale settles down with him, to get his hand at the same angle as Crowley's was. He slides his fingers over him, and the wetness is borderline embarrassing, but there isn't time to get embarrassed before Aziraphale's fingers push inside him with the utmost of care. They're bigger, wider than Crowley's, but that's alright, that's more than alright, because the more he has to clench and fuck himself against, the better he feels.

"Oh," Crowley says, stupidly, and Aziraphale leans in to pepper his shoulder and neck in kisses. Crowley's skin feels like it might just simply burst into flame, but that's nothing compared to how hot his pussy feels against Aziraphale's hand, red and wet and ready.

Aziraphale has his two middlemost fingers in him, curled up just like Crowley's, and that's very good. Crowley has a nice time just rolling his hips and squeezing around his fingers, which earns a marvelled little oh my from Aziraphale, who kisses him even more. And then, then, Aziraphale stretches his thumb up to slide over his clit, side to side, and Crowley thinks he might just explode into some fantastic display of light and sin.

"Ohfuck," Crowley gasps, nodding his head vigorously. He reaches for Aziraphale's hand, covering it with his own and pushing it hard against his cunt, shoving his hips into the touch at the same time. "More—yeah, faster, just like that, Angel," he whispers the words jumbled together and full of lust. "Oh, fuck—"

It is outright obscene. The sound of Aziraphale's fingers, wet with Crowley's slick, pushing into him and out of him, dragging over all the right places. The pads of his fingers rub the inside bit, the part that goes so well with his clit, and Crowley all but yowls about that, tossing his head back and baring his teeth, because he doesn't want to scream but oh, he really does. Maybe it's because Crowley has rigged this set up for some amazing wanking sessions, but his orgasm ramps up like the way Crowley drives in downtown London—ninety miles per hour with little regard for anything else happening around him. It's happening, oh, and he's dripping, and the bedsheets are damp and he's cumming, fuck—

He doesn't say anything intelligible while he cums, mostly just yelling and wheezing and moaning out in the filthiest ways imaginable. He tenses up tight and just shakes, shivering and trembling from so much going on; it's not just his orgasm, but the fact Aziraphale is there, wringing it out of him while whispering sweet things against the shell of his ear and into his hair while he does it. It's very different from furiously finger-fucking himself in the silence of his dark, lonely apartment.

"Angel," he murmurs, "Aziraphale, tell me you liked that as much as I did."

Aziraphale laughs, but it's not a cruel sound. He smiles into Crowley's temple, his fingers very slowly pulling out, but not away. He continues to softly play with his slit, curious but loving, and Crowley hums his approval about it.

"It was certainly something," he agrees, fond. "I always enjoy touching you, though, so I might be a bit biased in that regard."

"We all have our vices," Crowley mumbles. He looks to Aziraphale quietly, watching the way Aziraphale so lovingly watches him back. He feels like the only thing in the entire fucking world right now, with the way Aziraphale is looking at him. Aziraphale always has this way of looking at him that makes nothing else matter, nothing in the entire universe, in all of Her creation, matter as much as he does in those moments. It's overwhelming, sometimes, but right now it just feels... good.

Crowley starts to prop himself up, bringing his face closer to Aziraphale's. "I've got plenty," he adds with a wicked smirk, a hand reaching to smooth over Aziraphale's side. "One of 'em, for instance, is wanting to bury my face in that gorgeous snatch of yours."

Aziraphale makes a laugh that borders on shy, but Crowley easily scoops Aziraphale into a hug and rolls them over. He's got Aziraphale on his back once more, but this time he crawls his way eagerly down to settle between Aziraphale's legs, which stay shut for a moment before Aziraphale opens them with an apology. "I'd forgotten that—top bit," he explains, and Crowley laughs a little as he wiggles in close.

"Can't forget that," Crowley tuts with something like fondness. "Won't give me much to play with if you leave it out. Let's see here," he murmurs, using two hands this time to rub and pet Aziraphale's slit, testing and teasing at the same time. Aziraphale's legs twitch and relax, so Crowley takes it a step further by spreading him wide.

"Oh, look," Crowley croons, smiling into Aziraphale's pussy as he circles the pad of a finger around the clit Aziraphale has made for himself. It's a plump thing, not unlike the cock he Efforts for himself, and looks downright fucking delicious. Crowley sees him twitch, needy, and grins as he leans in to ghost a breath over him.

Aziraphale shivers. "Heavens—"

"It's much better than that, Angel," Crowley purrs, and moves in to take Aziraphale's clit into his mouth.

Aziraphale goes taut all over. He struggles out a moan as his hips push right into Crowley's face, which is involuntary, because Crowley hears him wheezing out a hurried, "Sorry-- so sorry, love--" but there is nothing for him to apologize for. Crowley doesn't dare move his mouth to say this, instead working on Aziraphale's clit eagerly. He presses his tongue flat against it, then allows his tongue to wiggle into a more forked state before he slots Aziraphale's clit right in the center of it, between both halves of his tongue.

"Ahn—Crowley, o-oh my."

Crowley hums a low sound against him, and Aziraphale whines about it in the most lovely sort of way.

He's wet, he's sopping-- there's slick and drool on Crowley's chin but it's lovely, it's perfect. He shifts himself to get a hand up to help him. He plays with Aziraphale's slit a bit, just tracing his fingers over the outside as he sucks on his clit mercilessly, until Aziraphale starts begging for him to use his fingers, do something, please, please, oh fuck--

So Crowley slides a finger or two in, and he knows just how to crook them to get to the best spot, where everything feels divine and all there is to think about is how good it's going to be when you finally cum. He knows what he's doing, and he has no problem fucking Aziraphale nice and tender with his long fingers while his mouth does obscene things, slurping around him and licking and making sure every nerve in Aziraphale's cunt has something to report back to his brain and render him completely fucking stupid.

Aziraphale's hands scramble for something to hold. He gets one in Crowley's hair, cradling his skull in a way that might be sweet if he weren't just holding his face against Aziraphale's pussy, trying to grind against his nose and chin while Crowley eats him out. His other hand reaches down further, between Crowley's shoulderblades, and that's a nice feeling too. Crowley moans about it against Aziraphale's clit and Aziraphale's legs spread wide as his hips buck freely into Crowley's face.

At this point, Aziraphale has stopped trying to say words and is just letting sounds fall out his his mouth. The thing is, they're gorgeous sounds, completely debauched, and Crowley works in earnest to see what he'll sound like when he his the edge, when he's finally cumming. He's pushing against Crowley in all the right ways, obviously close, but he just needs the right encouragement for it to happen. Crowley's fingers push deeper, he flattens his tongue against Aziraphale and just lets him ride his face, bucking and writhing until it hits.

And it hits hard.

Aziraphale cries out, legs locking as he shivers and shakes with it. Crowley can feel it, the way his clit pulses with his heart, how his cunt squeezes spastically around his fingers. It's bizarre. It's amazing. It's filthy. It's perfect. It's wet and messy and Aziraphale is near-screaming about it as it rips through him like a goddamn natural disaster, and Crowley keeps himself right there between Aziraphale's legs, mouth latched on and fingers rocking minutely as he rides it all out.

"Ah, I'm—oh, my," Aziraphale's slurring out. "Oh my stars. Oh my."

Crowley lifts his mouth with a wet noise, looking up to Aziraphale and knowing he's a fucking mess. There's wetness all over his face, spit and slick, and he licks his lips to remind himself of the taste of it all. Fucking amazing.

"Catch your breath," he soothes, and climbs up Aziraphale to tuck into his side. His lower half is still kind of between Aziraphale's legs, but his top half is nestled right beside him, an arm slung over his middle while he uses the back of his other hand to wipe his face up a bit. He's a bit breathless, too, because breathing is something they've both had to work on over the centuries, because humans don't like humans who don't breathe.

Aziraphale nuzzles towards him lazily, not like he's tired, but more that he's just had his pussy eaten too good to have much brain function left in him. He looks at Crowley with something like pure adoration, and Crowley feels his own cunt throb in want at the sight of it.

"Lovely," Aziraphale murmurs, running his hand through Crowley's hair, keeping it out of his face. "Lovely, lovely boy."

Crowley doesn't say anything to that, but he thinks maybe Aziraphale is catching on to the way his legs push together, trying to sate the heat Aziraphale is building up in him again. He doesn't know if Aziraphale knows all the things he does to him, but he certainly isn't about to advertise it if Aziraphale doesn't know it.

"You use this one often, then, hm?"

Crowley shrugs, not too keen on admitting how often he likes to pound his own pussy. "Ah. You know. It's easier, in some respects. And—and," he clears his throat, his voice only a smidge breathy, "it's good for multiple rounds. No breaks. I, ehm—I like that bit."

"Oh," Aziraphale drawls, and it's a very thoughtful noise indeed. Borderline lascivious. "Multiple times... you've only come once, my dear."


Aziraphale nudges Crowley, starts rolling him onto his back. Crowley thinks he might absolutely fucking die from the smile Aziraphale is wearing, especially when he presses it against Crowley's lips to grace him with a tender kiss.

"We should fix that, shouldn't we."

So they do.