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Sink Your Teeth In (Pulse Point)

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The second that the guard has him shackled to the wall, Aziraphale realizes that this might not have been his best idea.

 

All he wanted was some crepes. And yes, it might not have been a good idea to come to France right now. At least, not dressed the way he was but Aziraphale has standards, okay? He sure as Hell wasn’t going to beat himself up for that, right? Right?

 

God, his Alpha is going to kill him.

 

Shifting in the hard, metal chair he was not so eloquently shoved into, the Omega twiddles his fingers, shivering a little as the cold air of the cell blows across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale can see the way the guard is eyeing him from his place near the door, the way the man’s dark gaze raked over the angel’s legs and lingers on his neck.

 

He knows that his outfit makes him look, well, desirable, but to see it reflected in dark Alpha eyes that aren’t his mate?

 

Aziraphale feels like he’s going to throw up.

 

His Mating Mark burns against the back of his neck and the angel bites his lip. Clearing his throat, Aziraphale lifts up one hand and adjusts his cravat, effectively drawing the human’s stare away from his throat. The man blinks, his bearded face stretching in an amused smirk.

 

“Do you think it would be possible for you, uh, to loosen these shackles?” The angel asks, shaking a wrist and listening as the metal clanks. “They are quite unnecessary, I can assure you.”

 

The guard barked out a laugh, shaking his head and takes a sudden step closer. His scent, dirty and smelling of rotting logs and unwashed socks, nearly causes Aziraphale to gag, unable to keep from flinching. The Frenchman stops near the back of Aziraphale’s chair, his protruding stomach an uncomfortable weight against the angel’s upper-back.

 

“Pretty.” Is all the man says, reaching down and Aziraphale shrinks back a little under his harsh touch, trembling in fear as the Frenchman’s chipped nails trail down his cheek.

 

“Pretty Englishman. Too bad you must die.”

 

Heart hammering in his chest, Aziraphale raises his eyes and glares at the Alpha, lip curling into a snarl as the man’s hand ghosts over his throat. Leaning away from the invasive touch, the angel clenches his hands, feeling the sting of nails digging into his palms and his cuffs clanging together.

 

“Oh, but must I?” The blonde asked, forcing himself not to tense up further as the man grabs at his cravat again, pulling at the fabric with a harsh tug and causing the next words to come out slightly garbled. “Surely we can talk this out, good fellow?”

 

“No.” The guard says, accent spitting the word out. “Bonded?”

 

Aziraphale blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“You,” The Frenchman says, giving the fabric around Aziraphale’s neck another harsh pull that has the angel biting back a whine of pain. “Bonded?”

 

Oh.

 

“Why yes, yes I am and my Alpha is not going to be happy when he hears about this, good sir.” Aziraphale says, squishing down a hot coil of guilt because no, Crowley is not going to be happy at all.

 

This time, the guard actually laughs, a full belly laugh that causes the angel to shiver in pure dread. His dark eyes, when the man finally gathers himself again, are alight with wicked amusement and Aziraphale ducks his head as they raked over his form once more.

 

God, Aziraphale feels so disgusting.

 

“Alpha not here.”

 

The human leans down to breathe the words into Aziraphale’s ear, finally managing to get the cravat from around the angel’s neck and the Omega can’t keep his cry quiet as the Alpha touches his Mark.

 

The pain, the way the man’s fingers dig into the sensitive skin, the pure wrongness that flares throughout Aziraphale’s whole body, is the final straw and the angel shoots up.

 

“No!” He shouts, his sudden defiance seeming to startle the guard. “Please, no.”

 

The man shakes his head, taking a slow step toward Aziraphale, his hands held out and fingers curled. “Silly Omega. Stay still.”

 

“No.” Aziraphale stumbles further backwards, his back pressed against the nearest wall and his eyes wide in fear. “No—“

 

Aziraphale barely has time to move again, however. The only warning he gets is a sudden flare of Alpha power before the guard in front of him is pinned to the spot, his mouth still open and crooked teeth on display. Mark burning a soothing fire now, the Omega spins around, nearly tripping in his haste.

 

“Crowley.” He breathes, sagging in relief because his Alpha is here and everything is going to be okay now. “Oh, my dear--“

 

Pushing off the wall, the Alpha walks with his usual swagger the few feet over to where Aziraphale is trembling. His scent, warm and smokey and home, fills the Omega’s nose and Aziraphale can’t help the small whimper that pushes past his lips as he basically collapses into his mate’s arms. Crowley tightens his grip on his angel, nuzzling against his soft curls.

 

His cuffs snap off with a pop and the Omega sighs in relief.

 

“What the Hell are you doing here, dove?” The Alpha asks against his mate’s hair, leaning back just enough so that he can cup Aziraphale’s soft cheek. “Do you know how worried I was when I went to your bookstore and you weren’t there?”

 

Aziraphale ducks his head further, shame fizzling in his veins at the obvious worry and fear in his Alpha’s voice. Curling up further into his husband’s arms, the Omega whines a little, baring his neck as Crowley lets out a small growl. Sudden lips attack the creamy skin at the base of his jaw and the angel shivers, pulling Crowley closer.

 

“I-I was—oh—I was hungry.” Aziraphale says, blushing a bit as Crowley freezes and leans back with the most confused expression.

 

“So you came all the way to France—“ Looking his mate up and down, Crowley licks his lips as his golden eyes darken. “—dressed like that? In the middle of a bloody Revolution? Because you were hungry?”

 

“Uh, y-yes.” Aziraphale scoffs with an eye-roll, blushing even harder as Crowley just continues to stare down at him. “You can’t get decent crepes in England at this time of year and I will not stand for those dreadful scones.”

 

“Oh, angel.” Crowley laughs a little, leaning down to press a sweet kiss against his mate’s forehead, his grip on Aziraphale’s waist tightening. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

 

“Well, for starters—“

 

Suddenly the Alpha snarls, the sound filled with so much anger and possessiveness that Aziraphale jumps, whining at the flare of his mate’s energy. Crowley just pulls him impossibly closer, nostrils flaring and his tongue flickering out as he trails his nose down his husband’s neck. Aziraphale leans into the small touches with a quiet moan, trembling.

 

“D-Darling,” Aziraphale whimpers, tilting his head even further as Crowley growled low in his throat. “What’s-what’s wrong?”

 

Your Mark.” The Alpha rumbled as he shifts, moving them so that he can hold his Omega in his arms and get a good look at the mating bite on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “What the fuck did he do to you, sweetheart?”

 

“Oh, um, that.” Aziraphale swallows, throat tightening. “It’s nothing, dear. The guard, he just wanted to-to see if I was bonded.”

 

He touched you.” Crowley hisses, the air around him drumming in possessive pheromones and Aziraphale feels his knees go weak in response. “Touched your Mark. He hurt you, love.”

 

Aziraphale doesn’t have a response to that and just sags even further against his Alpha, allowing his mate to take most of his weight as the red-head begins to lick and kiss at the sensitive skin around his Omega’s Bonding Mark.

 

Crowley floods the room with his scent, nuzzling his cheek against his Omega’s. Aziraphale groans at the feeling, unable to stop himself from snapping his hips backwards toward the tantalizing warmth exuding from his husband.

 

“Mine.” Crowley snarls, his hands traveling from Aziraphale’s waist to trail up his back, his nails gently scratching at the soft skin. “Mine. Mine. Mine.

 

His lips move to the very center of Aziraphale’s Mark and he starts to bite, fangs grazing the sensitive skin. The Omega nearly buckles under the weight of his desire and overwhelming love he can feel radiating from Crowley, tears filling his eyes as he leans into each nip and kiss.

 

He keens when, after a particularly sharp bite, Crowley lifts him up effortlessly, strong hands cradling the swell of Aziraphale’s ass as the Alpha rumbles in pleasure.

 

“My Omega.” Crowley presses Aziraphale against the wall, careful to keep his mate’s head from hitting against the sharp stone. “My mate, my husband. Mine.

 

“Yours.” Aziraphale whines, drawing the demon even closer and feeling the lean muscles in Crowley’s arms twitch. “Always yours, my dear. N-No one else’s.”

 

Suddenly, Aziraphale feels Crowley reach one hand up and undo the buttons on the angel’s shirt with only a snap of his fingers. The Omega shivers as the cold, dungeon air makes contact with his overheated skin, choking on a gasp as Crowley leans down and begins trailing hot, open-mouth kisses down his neck and chest.

 

“Oh, p-please.” Aziraphale moaned, feeling his instincts rear their head and he can’t stop himself from fully submitting, giving his entire self to his Alpha. “Crowley. Sir, please. Please.”

 

Crowley lets out a small grunt at the sudden use of his proper title, his kisses stalling as he rises up to his full height, pressing his entire body against Aziraphale and thrusting against his Omega. Aziraphale gasps at the show of pure dominance, allowing Crowley to press even further in-between his legs as the Alpha ruts against him.

 

“So good, baby.” Crowley hissed, his tongue trailing down Aziraphale’s throat and stopping near where his shoulder meets his neck. “So wonderful and perfect and gorgeous and mine.”

 

“Ah.” Aziraphale gasps, his fingers digging into his mate’s back as he pulls Crowley impossibly closer. “Please, Sir. P-Please don’t stop—Oh, Crowley—“

 

“Want me to take you home, dove?” Crowley asks in-between warm kisses, glancing up from where he was sucking an impressive hickey against Aziraphale’s neck, golden eyes dark in lust, love, and Alpha instincts. “Take you home and spread you out in our bed, fuck you nice and slow until you are begging for release? Fill you up with my seed and make sure everyone who comes near you knows that you’re mine?”

 

“Please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease—

 

Crowley pretends to think about it, his hand creeping up and brushing against the swell of Aziraphale’s ass. The Omega jumps, moaning as his mate’s grip tightens, long fingers ghosting over the Omega’s still clothed hole.

 

Aziraphale grinds down into his touch, his whole body shuddering as his mate presses him further against the wall.

 

“Or do you want me to—“ Crowley pants. “—to fuck you hot and hard, take your greedy hole and pound into you until you can’t walk. Tie you to the bedpost and have my way with you over and over again, push you until you can’t say anything other than my name? Huh, sweetheart?”

 

“Oh, anything.” The angel sobs, clenching his eyes shut as Crowley leans back. “Anything, I’m yours, please.”

 

“You’re so good for me, darling.” Crowley coos, allowing Aziraphale to stand up and get his bearings again. The Omega staggers only a little, a whine slipping past his wet and kiss bruised lips as he shakes his head to clear the desire fueled fog. “Such a good little mate. I’m gonna just deal with this bastard and then we can go home, alright?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Aziraphale says, nodding and allowing his mate to step away. “P-Please hurry, my dear.”

 

Crowley presses a warm kiss against the Omega’s forehead. “I promise.”

 

Then he’s snapping his fingers and turning around, lips already pulled into a furious snarl. Time resumes, the guard no longer frozen in mid-air getting thrown back into the world of the living, hands still outstretched and lips pulling into a sickly sweet smile.

 

“Omeg—“ The guard starts to say again, his voice thick with poisoned honey. He stops however, dark eyes widening in confusion, as he takes in the sight of Crowley in front of him. “Who are you?”

 

Crowley shrugs, his whole body seeming to shake in pure anger even as he coolly stands there. Aziraphale shivers at the Alpha rage quickly filling the room, baring his neck even though he knows the anger is not directed at him. Crowley sends comforting pheromones his way, tilting his head toward his mate and Aziraphale relaxes just the tiniest bit.

 

“No one.” Crowley hisses at the guard, snapping his fingers and making the other Alpha freeze again, his body stiff. “Just your worst nightmare.”

 

Allowing his pure demonic nature to the surface, Crowley slinks the last few feet to stand in-front of the Frenchman, snarling when the guard attempts to move. Grabbing the man’s arms, Crowley sinks his claws in, sneering in glee at the startled, pained yelp the man lets out.

 

Leaning down, Crowley drags the human the last few inches, feeling the tender flesh tear even further at the added weight.

 

“Let me make one thing very clear to you.” The Alpha snarls, his words spitting fire. “You touched my mate. My Omega. You hurt him and tried to fucking kill him. You are going to die right now, slowly, painfully, in the most inhumane way possible. Do you want to know how I know this?”

 

The guard sobs.

 

“Because I am going to kill you and send you down into the rotting pits of Hell where you will spend millions of years getting what you deserve.”

 

Aziraphale forces himself to look away after that, to ignore the loud shrieks of agony and the sickening crunch of bone. Crowley’s own pleased growls and grunts fill the air and Aziraphale doesn’t know if he should be terrified or turned on.

 

Then silence falls.

 

The stench of human blood, salty and rusty and thick, fills the air and the angel has to swallow down bile. With a pop, Crowley cleans up the mess, removing the stains from his clothes and the pool of red slowly growing on the stone floor.

 

With a huff, the demon shakes his head. After retracting his claws and double checking that none of the carnage remains, he makes his way back over to his mate, pulling his Omega into his arms.

 

“Ready to go home now, my love?” He asks, nuzzling against Aziraphale’s soft curls.

 

The Omega whimpers a little, gripping Crowley’s arms as his head spins.

 

His blue eyes, glazed over in love and lust, lock onto his mate’s and he barely has time to mutter a quick, “Yes, please, dear,” before they are back in the familiar warmth of the bookshop, their clothes miracled away and Aziraphale’s now bare body pressed against the nearest wall.