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Summoned

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A year and three months since the ineffable cock up

 

Crowley landed on his hands and knees, as he’d been before. The first thing he felt was entirely cold and empty, why had Aziraphale stopped? The stark change in sensation choked the moan he’d been halfway through. Had he done something wrong? This didn’t feel like Aziraphale’s style of punishment.

 

He slowly recognised the sensation in his stomach, not arousal building more and more under the expert touch of his angel, but the horrible tug of summoning. He punched the thin carpet beneath him. “Oh, you are kidding !” He shouted.

 

There were some varied gasps and a giggle from nearby. He looked up furiously. He was still out of breath, still sweating, he could still feel the residual sting of Aziraphale’s teeth on his shoulder. There were three young women on a couch before him, all holding each other and a glass of wine. 

 

“Is this-” Crowley sputtered as he gingerly moved from his slightly too vulnerable position. His muscles were against it, they wanted Aziraphale’s soft touch to help and massage him into his different positions. “Are you-” He sat back, leaning against his hand and glaring at the collection of women. “A girls night? Is that a ouija board! Are you fucking serious?

 

“This isn’t how I thought that would go,” one of the women muttered to her friends.

 

Crowley shut his eyes and took a breath, trying to smother the rush of disappointment and slight abandonment. He’d been enjoying that. Aziraphale had taken to biting him this month and it fucking worked, Crowley had been slipping into a very vulnerable, very pliant shape and to be pulled out of it, unceremoniously, cruelly. Well. He was beginning to properly appreciate how Aziraphale held him and kissed him after they fucked.

 

He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. His hair was long and messed and he was sure a few hickeys were starting to obviously form on his skin. He was still hard, that was going to take it’s time calming down, when he moved he felt the empty awareness of not having Aziraphale’s dick in him and it was keeping him more turned on than anything else. His scales were out, running from the nape of his neck and down his spine to his lower back. He could only glimpse the slight presence of them along his collarbone and inner thighs, but he knew where they sat. His eyes would be their full yellow, then. And his feet, they were his preferred snakeskin boot, but the edge he usually falsified was gone, they simply blended perfectly, inhumanly with his calf.

 

“I don’t even have my fucking phone on me,” Crowley groaned.

 

“He’s very human,” one of them women said. Crowley’s head snapped up to glare at her.

 

“No, look at the scales,” another responded.

 

“And the eyes,” said the third.

 

“And the dick,” the second said with a smirk.

 

The first grinned and giggled. “That’s not a dick, that’s a cock,” she said lasciviously.

 

Crowley stood up in a full motion, grunting slightly at how tender he felt. He threw his arm out towards the women, standing tall and, he was willing to say, beautifully. “Give me your phone,” he demanded of them.

 

“What?” The middle one asked.

 

“Phone,” he repeated, focusing on her.

 

She hesitated, but Crowley could tell he’d already won. He was fit and being naked in front of slightly tipsy women worked to his advantage. 

 

“Helen- !” One of the women admonished as the woman, Helen presumably, threw her phone at Crowley.

 

“He’s cute,” she said with a defensive twang.

 

Crowley caught the phone and hummed sarcastically at her, then turned his back on them and dialed his own mobile number. 

 

It took a few rings, then Aziraphale’s voice came through at a distance. “Oh dear, have I answered?” he said quietly.

 

“Angel,” Crowley growled.

 

The phone clattered slightly, then Aziraphale’s voice was clear in his ear. “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you, are you okay?” He asked.

 

“I’m furious,” Crowley hissed. He put Aziraphale on speaker and pulled up Google Maps to get his address.

 

“I’m not fantastically pleased with this development myself,” Aziraphale said, his pout almost tangible.

 

“I’m texting you my location, come get me,” Crowley said as he hit send.

 

“I'm not sure that-” Aziraphale paused as the phone buzzed loudly through the speaker. “Oh, oh I see, yes, I’ll be right there,” he said and promptly hung up.

 

One of the girls spoke up. “Um, sorry, are we- ?”

 

Crowley spun and interrupted her. “Get out,” he demanded.

 

The girl on the right frowned. “This is my house,” she said, affronted.

 

Crowley snarled.

 

The creak of a door filled the silence, followed by comforting and familiar footsteps.

 

“Casey, there’s someone here,” Helen muttered, but too late.

 

The living room door opened and Aziraphale poked his head in, checking he had the right room. His eyes scanned the room then stopped on Crowley, who threw his arms open to show his exasperation and helplessness.

 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale sighed, his eyebrows flying up. He quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the three women on the couch, decided they weren’t much of a threat, and went back to trailing his gaze comfortably over Crowley. “Yes,” he muttered, with a large smile.

 

Crowley sighed and tipped his head to the side. He could pretend Aziraphale’s hungry look wasn’t doing anything to him, except he was naked so his chest flushed obviously and he felt his dick returning to full attention. The room began to feel a whole lot warmer. “Make it snappy, angel,” he said, putting on his annoyance a bit.

 

Aziraphale’s eyes moved slowly down Crowley’s body, lingering everywhere. He cleared his throat and glanced to the women again. “Ladies, would you leave us?” He asked.

 

“This is my house!” Casey repeated, somehow more annoyed than frightened.

 

Aziraphale turned to them properly. “It’s such a shame the summoning didn’t work, isn’t it?” He commiserated.

 

“Oh,” Helen said, nodding in agreement.

 

“Perhaps a night out on the town will ease the sting of disappointment,” Aziraphale suggested. 

 

The third woman stood up and smiled. “I’ll just get my purse,” she said. The two remaining women began cheerfully discussing a nearby bar they could visit as they pulled their shoes on.

 

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked.

 

Aziraphale walked around the circle, eyeing it closely. “This looks simple, there’s no funny business with it?” He asked.

 

Crowley turned, facing him as he walked. He’d gotten fully dressed, every button done up, but left his coat behind. Crowley sighed, it took so long to undo those buttons, all his good work dashed. He did appreciate the cut of that vest, though. “Yeah,” Crowley confirmed. “Just kick any bit and we can get back to it.”

 

Aziraphale stilled, standing by the edge of the circle and smiling at Crowley warmly. There was a hint of steel in his eyes and Crowley remembered that Aziraphale had also been interrupted without warning a few short minutes ago. Crowley lowered his gaze and, yes, Aziraphale’s pants were still a touch tight at his crotch. Crowley flushed with warmth at the thought.

 

The third woman poked her head back in and beckoned her friends out at last. Aziraphale smiled blandly at them as they left and said, “Have a blessed night, ladies,” without a touch of irony.

 

The door shut and the room went quiet. “Any time, angel,” Crowley encouraged, although he wouldn’t complain too much if Aziraphale preferred to stay and keep looking at him like that. There was something magnetic in this distance.

 

Aziraphale stared at him for another second, mulling, then quickly kicked the line of chalk, breaking the cast immediately. Crowley smiled with sarcastic thanks and stepped forward.

 

“Ah, ah,” Aziraphale said, raising a hand to stop him. He was still a full meter away, but Crowley obeyed.

 

"What?” Crowley snapped.

 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Stay,” he said mildly.

 

Crowley would stay, then. “Angel,” he said reproachfully, questioning. He stepped back, returning to the center of the circle.

 

Aziraphale returned to walking slowly around the edge of the broken circle, looking at him. Crowley was a proud man, he liked his body, it did what he wanted, but this observation made him blush regardless. It was too matter of fact. Too much a mix of personal and impersonal. Aziraphale could easily be a rich man eyeing a nice car but for the touch of knowing between them that promised it was deeply meant.

 

“Aziraphale,” he said quietly, not sure what he was asking for.

 

“Does it force your demon aspects, or are you doing it for show?” Aziraphale asked. 

 

“Forces it,” Crowley admitted. “I could cover them up now.”

 

“Do not,” Aziraphale said certainly.

 

Crowley would not, then.

 

Aziraphale stopped walking. Crowley could feel himself swaying slightly, this constant gaze was growing to be too much for him. He wanted to be touched .

 

Aziraphale raised his hand and spun a finger around slowly, clearly instructing Crowley to turn on the spot. 

 

Crowley swallowed, then obeyed. He turned slowly, coiling and uncoiling as he went. He knew how he looked, he’d tempted enough people into lust to know. He moved his hair aside, giving Aziraphale a better view. He swung his hips, curled his spine, stood well, and glanced at Aziraphale in a manner too competent to be called coy. 

 

Aziraphale leant against the wall and began absentmindedly unbuttoning his vest. “You are beautiful, Crowley,’ he muttered.

 

Crowley stopped turning once he was facing Aziraphale again. “I think I’d like to negotiate for my release,” he said hoarsely. 

 

“What do you have to offer?” He asked. 

 

Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale’s tight crotch. “I’ll help deal with that,” he said.

 

Aziraphale followed his gaze and smiled. He dropped his hand to his crotch and ran his thumb up his length. Crowley looked away for a second, then realised that was absurd and looked back. Aziraphale’s smile grew at Crowley’s reaction. “You’re helping a’plenty from there, my dear demon,” he said simply. 

 

“What do you want?” Crowley asked, his quiet desperation leaking through.

 

“Touch yourself,” Aziraphale instructed. 

 

Crowley nearly moaned at the thought. He reached for himself slowly, fluttering his fingers down his abdomen to help prepare himself for the contact. It made no difference, when he finally gripped himself he groaned quietly in surprise, his eyes fluttering shut. He stroked himself once, gently, and gasped. He was much too far gone for such a simple touch.

 

“Let me see your eyes, love,” Aziraphale said softly. 

 

Crowley opened his eyes and was glad he had. Aziraphale had unbuttoned his pants and slipped his hand in. Crowley couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but there was very little left to his imagination as Aziraphale’s hand moved quietly up and down. “I do so adore that colour,” Aziraphale said. 

 

Crowley stumbled forward, wanting to be closer, wanting to touch him. Aziraphale’s hand stilled as he watched him approach, his expression unreadable. Crowley stopped at the edge of the circle, not wanting to step beyond without permission.

 

“Good,” Aziraphale murmured. “What do you want, dear?” 

 

Crowley swallowed a moan, it manifested as a quiet whine instead. Aziraphale glanced at his dick and Crowley remember the instruction he was operating under and began stroking himself again. It felt too good, he couldn’t keep this up.

 

“Tell me,” Aziraphale said oh so gently.

 

Crowley had been honest with Aziraphale since they’d discussed their desires. Crowley had laid more love and adoration Aziraphale’s feet than he could have handled in return and Aziraphale hadn’t turned tail and run. In the past five months or so Crowley had been forced to trust him absolutely. “Touch me,” Crowley finally gasped.

 

Aziraphale seemed surprised at his request. But after a heavy moment he nodded, smiling at Crowley softly. “Kneel, dear one,” he instructed tenderly.

 

Crowley caught himself before his instinct to fall to the ground took its chance. He instead lowered himself to one knee, then brought his other leg in. He shuffled close to the chalk edge, looking at Aziraphale all the while.

 

“Would you beg?” Aziraphale asked him.

 

Crowley’s breath left him like he’d been slapped. “You know I would.”

 

Aziraphale smiled, he looked simply delighted. “Do so,” he ordered with contradicting mildness.

 

Crowley’s head tipped up, the one touch of rebellion at odds with the rest of him. He was too aroused, too clouded with lust to bother with pride. Regardless, Aziraphale could ask him to beg any time and he likely would. “Please,” he said fervently. “Touch me, angel, please.”

 

Aziraphale’s fingertips were on his chin, holding his head in position. Crowley’s chest heaved but his breaths were short. His hand still slid slowly over his dick, filling with stronger and stronger want, but all he felt now was Aziraphale’s touch. Then Aziraphale’s dick was at his lips, then in his mouth and Crowley nearly sobbed at the contact. He leaned in, taking him quickly, pressing his nose against Aziraphale’s shirt as hard as his throat would let him. 

 

Aziraphale’s hand found the back of his head and tightened in his hair, holding him in place and close. Crowley moaned at the touch, the tug, the pain. 

 

Aziraphale pulled him back, giving him a second to breath in hastily, then pushed his dick back down his throat. Crowley bucked at the speed, but held it and sucked. His hands flew to the back of Aziraphale’s thighs, wanting to hold him there, wanting to stay as full of him as he could. 

 

Aziraphale pulled his hair and pinched his arm. “Keep behind the line, dear, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt,” he said shakily. 

 

Crowley moaned again, but obeyed, although he didn’t want to. He pulled his hands back, letting them drop where they would. Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around the back of his head and his jaw, holding him, controlling where he went. 

 

Between Aziraphale’s thrusts and controlling hold, Crowley found there was very little for him to do but breathe and try to do the occasional clever thing with his tongue. So he knelt there and let Aziraphale fuck his mouth and loved every second of it. 

 

He began to feel disconnected from himself, like he was smothered or floating. He could hear himself moaning, the sounds coming unbidden, unfiltered. Aziraphale’s breathing changed, tightened, and Crowley leaned forwards, wanting to do a good job for him, knowing he was succeeding. As he did his hand fell against his dick and the sensation that shot through him was so intense and surprising that it broke entirely through the fog that had formed around him. 

 

Crowley’s eyes flew open and he moaned, desperately hard, desperately keen. He ran a few fingers up his dick as Aziraphale began to fuck him harder. Crowley looked up and found Aziraphale staring down at him lovingly, reverently, faithfully. 

 

Crowley swallowed, watching Aziraphale closely. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he gasped, his hand tugging at Crowley’s hair restlessly. Crowley could identify an unspoken request, and swallowed again, then again, then again. He needed to breath, but not badly, and Aziraphale had begun to moan, so he swallowed again.

 

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped. He leaned over Crowley, his hands scrambling for purchase in his hair. He was as far into Crowley as he could be, but he thrust a few times more regardless. Crowley nearly came from being so fucked, but he held it, and instead swallowed again, ignoring the sparking stars behind his eyelids as his body screamed at him to breathe. 

 

Aziraphale came, holding Crowley to him, moaning into the quiet room. Crowley swallowed his load and Aziraphale groaned, his knees beginning to buckle. 

 

In one moment, Aziraphale pulled out of his mouth and fell to his knees before Crowley. Crowley began to gasp for air immediately, the sound loud and harsh to his ears. “Oh, dear, oh, my dear,” Aziraphale muttered, more than a little breathless himself. He reached for Crowley and pulled him into his lap, past the edge of the chalk circle. Crowley clambered onto Aziraphale hastily, wrapping himself around his angel, still catching his breath. He luxuriated in the contrasting sensations of cloth and fabric against his bare skin as he sat in his still fully clothed lover’s lap.

 

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed again as Crowley shivered in his arms. He found a lock of Crowley’s hair and tugged it, pulling Crowley towards him until their lips met and they could kiss at last. Crowley kissed him hard, crawling constantly up his body and slipping down again like a desperate snake.

 

Two of Aziraphale’s fingers slipped into his ass without warning and Crowley yelled quietly into Aziraphale’s mouth. They found their path easily, Crowley still relaxed from being fucked by Aziraphale on the bookshop floor earlier. Aziraphale kissed him tenderly while he fingered him roughly and Crowley shivered in his lap, taking everything Aziraphale gave him. 

 

Aziraphale’s other hand trailed from his cheek down Crowley’s chest to his dick and gently, so lightly, began to stroke him. Crowley sobbed tearlessly, trying to kiss Aziraphale through his overwhelmed emotions. 

 

“I’ll mess your clothes,” Crowley gasped. 

 

He felt Aziraphale’s chest shake in silent laughter. “Oh, do, love,” Aziraphale muttered into his ear. At that Aziraphale’s ministrations changed. He sat up, his fingers fully in Crowley and curling perfectly as he stroked his dick harshly, with intention.

 

All Crowley could do was hold on, not slip too far off his angel’s body, and moan. His orgasm was already there, it needed no building, but the intensity of Aziraphale’s actions shocked him into not coming for a full five second before suddenly it hit him like an unexpected freight train in the night and he came, shouting loudly, wordlessly into the room. 

 

Aziraphale eased off quickly, his arms wrapping warmly around Crowley and pulling him into a welcome hug as he shook and gasped.

 

Crowley calmed quickly. Aziraphale’s thumb stroked along the line behind his ear fondly, helping to ground him. Aziraphale’s other thumb found his hip bone and began gently pressing small circles into the dip in his hip. 

 

“Don’t slip too far, dear,” Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley out of his softly building drowsiness. “We were interrupted earlier, and I mean to finish what I started.”

 

Crowley groaned, burying his head into Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale’s finger pressed harder, scraping behind his ear and down his neck. Crowley felt his abdomen stirring at the contact, he could take more, he wanted to. And this time it promised to be full of contact, Aziraphale had been working on biting him to bruising along his wing line when he’d been summoned. 

 

“Let’s get home, love,” Aziraphale suggested quietly. Crowley didn’t respond but to turn his head and kiss Aziraphale’s neck, leaving small and not so small kisses up his neck to his jaw and mouth, where Aziraphale reciprocated with a smile. 

 

Aziraphale kissed him for a few long seconds, all generosity and warmth. Then his fingernails dug into Crowley’s hip and he used Crowley’s gasp to move him off his lap and onto the ground. 

 

Crowley leaned back languidly, comfortably rearranging himself to rest on his elbows behind him. He looked up at Aziraphale with a smirk. “Not here?” He asked. He shifted his legs so that one knee fell open obscenely as he tapped up Aziraphale’s thigh with his other foot. 

 

Aziraphale looked openly at him, taking his time to drag his gaze shamelessly from one point of interest to the next. Then he sat up straighter, kneeling before Crowley proudly. He rested a hand on Crowley’s snakeskin ankle, holding on slightly harder than strictly necessary. “I’m not quite as Babylonian as you, dear heart, I shan’t get undressed in a stranger’s house,” he said primly.

 

“Ah,” Crowley agreed, raising his eyebrows. Had Aziraphale just implied Crowley was whorish? Crowley hoped so, his blood was starting to return to his dick at the thought. 

 

Aziraphale began moving his hand slowly up Crowley’s leg, feeling every sinew and muscle that complicated itself in his natural shoed form. “Although,” Aziraphale muttered, more to himself than Crowley as he closely watched his own exploration of Crowley’s leg. “If you should choose to dress like this more often that would be most welcome.”

 

“I’m naked plenty,” Crowley pointed out casually. His calm tone was contradicted by his now entirely erect dick. Aziraphale lifted his leg, rubbing small circles into the tender boney buckle as he did, and rested the heel of Crowley’s foot on his shoulder. Crowley began to shiver, but didn’t move, he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

 

Aziraphale left a light kiss on Crowley’s inner ankle, where a faux stitch lay, as he ran his hand further up Crowley’s leg. “Not like this you aren’t,” Aziraphale disagreed breathlessly. 

 

Aziraphale leaned forward, his fingers trailing past Crowley’s knee. Crowley’s leg slipped naturally further past Aziraphale’s shoulder as he came closer. Aziraphale stilled on all fours above Crowley, his hand absentmindedly continuing it’s study of the scales peppering Crolwey’s inner thigh. 

 

“Changed your mind about heading home, then?” Crowley asked breathlessly. He wanted Aziraphale to fuck him here, like this, but he didn’t want Aziraphale to regret it afterwards.

 

Aziraphale hummed, long and low, closing his eyes. “No,” he sighed apologetically as his hand slipped up inside Crowley’s thigh, along his crotch, and pressed on his leg. Crowley’s leg fell off Aziraphale’s shoulder quickly and hit the ground at quite an angle. Crowley lay beneath him, held down and open and totally vulnerable. Crowley chuckled, his arousal clouding but not completely shrouding his amusement at Aziraphale’s contradicting actions. 

 

Aziraphale’s hand on his thigh crawled to his groin, moving inexorably slowly towards his dick. Crowley felt his resolve weaken completely, then swell. He reached out and caught Aziraphale’s wrist before he touched him. “Do that and I won’t be able to balance enough to fly,” Crowley gasped.

 

“I’ll carry you,” Aziraphale offered immediately. 

 

Crowley’s heart leapt a few feet at that. Aziraphale had made something of a point in the past year or so since the apocalypse to prove his loyalty to Crowley. It was sometimes tiresome, but mostly it was like this, touching and far too soft for Crowley to handle. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut as his heart returned erratically to his chest. “Don’t- no need, angel,” he muttered. 

 

He felt Aziraphale nod above him, then the hand on his groin pressed in, making him groan quietly, as Aziraphale used the leverage to help him sit back. Crowley opened his eyes to see Aziraphale kneeling between his legs, his eyes bright and face flushed. 

 

Aziraphale’s chest was heaving to match Crowley’s, they both sat in a moment of quiet trying to catch their breath and regain some composure. Aziraphale’s hand fluttered down the front of his shirt, trying to piece himself together, but along the way he encountered the residue of Crowley’s earlier release.

 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, the disgust clear in his voice. He looked down at his sticky hand. “Oh,” he repeated, more sadly, studying the ruined shirt. Crowley started to laugh and sat up, leaning forward over his legs to blow on the stain, clearing it away. 

 

He was better at the cleaning miracles than Aziraphale because Aziraphale’s method of removing the substance worked, but it had been stained. Crowley fiddled with time slightly, returning the item to how it had been before the damage took place and sending any residue into the ether. Aziraphale didn’t need to know how tiring a miracle it was to cast, Crowley would always be happy to spend energy on him.

 

Aziraphale looked at him with admiration and joy. Crowley smiled back warmly, filling with contentment. 

 

“Home,” Aziraphale said shortly. 

 

Crowley nodded and stood, holding out a hand to help Aziraphale up. Aziraphale took it and brushed himself off once he was standing, then released his wings. 

 

“Oh, keep your scales on,” he requested with a sly smile, then took off without waiting for a response. 

 

Crowley’s eyebrows flew up. Aziraphale had been obvious in his admiration, but Crowley had assumed it was something of an act, to suit the scene they’d found themselves in, not a sincere attraction. He had never loved his scales, he didn’t hate them but they were just how he was and he didn’t care much. He liked the idea of Aziraphale liking them, and Aziraphale had asked, so Crowley would keep his scales on for the night at least. Maybe more.

 

He spread his wings and followed eagerly.