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Crowley wasn’t often a snake these days. Aziraphale had seen more of the form a few millennia ago, perhaps. He certainly recalled three snakes on the Ark.[1] There had been more direct involvement in human affairs in those days, of course. Angels had often visited Earth, as had demons in disguises of varying effectiveness. For a couple of thousand years, an infernal snake might have been shocking, but it wasn’t impossible like it was today.

Aziraphale had been told these changes were all part of the Plan. If he liked, he could question that now, but it wasn’t first on his list of queries.

Anyway, there was unmistakably a dripping snake emerging from Crowley’s bathroom. It was enough of a surprise to make Aziraphale fumble the book he was carrying, and only quick reflexes saved the reading copy of Persuasion from further bent pages.

“Heavens!” Aziraphale said. “You could have warned me, dear.”

“It’s my flat,” Crowley pointed out. His speech tended more towards the hissy than usual, but it was otherwise intelligible. Aziraphale supposed the apple business would have been difficult without a voice.

Crowley also had a point, one that Aziraphale conceded now his heart had stopped racing. It was funny how the human body had its own ideas about giant snakes, but this was Crowley. Aziraphale had six thousand years of memories to override the instinctual fear.

“Quite right,” Aziraphale conceded. He’d been planning to have a bath in Crowley’s enormous, waist-deep tub, in the assumption that Crowley himself was busy elsewhere. Aziraphale had the keys to the flat these days, having been told in the most casual possible tone that he should come over whenever he liked.

Crowley’s tongue flicked from his mouth, forked and red. “Since you’re here, mind helping me dry off?” he asked.


Assenting meant Aziraphale was sitting on the bathroom floor, holding a towel the size of a sheet and clad in a blue and white striped bathing costume. His clothes were miraculously folded and on a dry shelf a good distance away from the bath itself, so nothing would be damaged while he undertook the task of getting Crowley dry.

Truth be told, the great serpent was doing most of the work himself. Crowley seemed to want Aziraphale there to hold the towel and wrap it around the impressive girth of him, so he could wriggle back and forth.

As he shifted the towel down past the neck, it struck Aziraphale that the span of his hand couldn’t cover the breadth of the thickest part of Crowley’s back. He could feel the ridge of Crowley’s spine under the now-damp fabric, and knew he’d have to shuffle to the side or ask Crowley to slide forward if he wanted to follow it from neck to tail.

The point was, Crowley was an impressive creature. He was no more than a couple of inches taller than Aziraphale in his other shape, and far slighter. Of course, Crowley could be whipcord strong when the mood took him, but Aziraphale had known with the certainty of a soldier that Crowley’s grip at Tadfield Manor hadn’t been enough to keep him there if he hadn’t allowed it.

He’d realised later, with a different kind of certainty, that he’d allow it again. Preferably in better circumstances, but he could imagine all kinds of those. The marble statue Crowley kept on display had only solidified Aziraphale’s thoughts in that direction.

Now, he was thinking about the firm flesh under his hands. Crowley’s serpentine coils were all muscles and sinews, under a layer of scales and skin. Aziraphale couldn’t resist applying some pressure along with the towel, as though he was giving a massage along a human back.

He felt Crowley relax a fraction, and carried on as he worked the towel right to the tip of Crowley’s tail. Aziraphale did have Crowley’s assistance, though as they progressed he was ending up with more and more of Crowley draped over him rather than resting on the bathroom floor.

“Now you’re dry, would you mind telling me what brought this on?” Aziraphale asked, putting on his best show of exasperation. He was still touching Crowley’s scales, now rubbing some of the ones further up his back absently.

Crowley lifted his head in a motion that reminded Aziraphale of a periscope. “I had to shed,” he explained, explaining nothing.

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You know, shed my skin. Happens every so often, and if I don’t do it, I start itching all the time. Even when I’m not a snake. It’s a bit like wearing clothes that don’t fit.”

“I’ve seen you in trousers you had to miracle on,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“That’s how they’re meant to look. Anyway, I’ll be out of this by noon and we can do lunch, if you want.”

Aziraphale’s hand paused. “Hypothetically, if I said I’d rather stay in, would that be a problem?”

Crowley was nothing if not adaptable. Aziraphale watched his unblinking eyes go from stunned to fascinated at speed. “Angel, you’re joking.”

“I’m quite serious. I’d prefer to be able to kiss you, but—“

He barely had the words out before Crowley shifted. The change started with hair sprouting from his head, while scales disappeared into his skin. Understandable that he’d rather not in this shape, Aziraphale thought, until he saw the divide at Crowley’s waist.

There were scattered scales above, growing denser until they formed a complete snakeskin over the tail Crowley seemed to have left unaltered. It meant his upper half was as human as ever, with a hand reaching up to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. The lower half was made up of the same coils Aziraphale had been admiring, in slightly abbreviated form.

He didn’t have long to observe, because Crowley was surging forward and kissing him. The tongue Aziraphale welcomed into his mouth flicked in impossible ways, with the tip split into two forks he could feel moving independently. Aziraphale knew this trick, liked letting Crowley taste and take his fill.

When Crowley broke off the kiss, Aziraphale’s lips were swollen and wet. He opened his eyes to see Crowley’s pupils blown so wide the yellow of his eyes was a mere outer ring.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed. Only he could manage to hiss words without sibilants, though perhaps the shifted tongue helped.

Aziraphale laughed in spite of himself. “If you’ll come to bed, yes,” he said.


Aziraphale watched Crowley pull himself up onto the bed in wonder. There were so many sinuous little movements that were pure Crowley in this shape. He still carried himself with natural insouciance, and splayed this body all over the place too. When Aziraphale joined him, Crowley proved himself strong enough to hold his human half up while he wound around Aziraphale’s legs and belly.

For his part, Aziraphale was stroking his hands down Crowley’s tail again. He felt permitted to linger now, and to let his touch turn downright tender.

The fresh scales weren’t cold, or even cool to the touch. They were warm with stolen body heat along the length of Crowley, and too smooth for Aziraphale’s manicured fingernails to catch on their edges. The wider ones on Crowley’s underside were a particularly tempting target, a vivid shade of cinnabar and sensitive enough to make the skin beneath twitch and fold.

Aziraphale’s hand skimmed over a larger gap in the scales. Close to the line between skin and snake, there was a softer section of them, one which swelled into a mound and parted in the valley between the peaks. When Aziraphale dipped a curious finger further inside, he felt slickness and walls that tightened around him. More than tightened, they were clenching and stiffening, with a sense of something pushing him out that was unlike the welcoming human cunt Crowley sometimes sported.

He brought his finger to his mouth and tasted. Crowley was salt-earth on Aziraphale’s tongue, and tasted more like the beads of fluid that gathered on the tip of his cock when he opted for one of those.

The question was answered when the lips of Crowley’s slit parted. Something translucent unfolded from it, swelling outwards until it was evident it was in fact two somethings side by side. They were completely separate, unlike the forked tongue, and the tips were flushing full with blood. In front of Aziraphale’s eyes, they unfolded like flowers, with the flat tips curving down to swollen bases.

The end of Crowley’s tail was busy too. It hooked on the waistband of Aziraphale’s bathing costume shorts and pulled them down as far as it could from one position. With the white-blond thatch of hair exposed, it was easy for that tail to slide further down. Aziraphale’s breath caught when it grazed the hood of his swollen clit.

“Too much?” Crowley asked, pulling the tail back, and Aziraphale shook his head fervently.

Crowley used his hands to undress Aziraphale the rest of the way. He tossed the bathing costume aside and pinched a freshly exposed nipple, treating it to a flicker of his tongue tips as a faux apology.

Aziraphale was on his back now, with his hips held up by a coil of Crowley’s tail acting as a muscular bolster pillow. He could feel it pulse and shift as Crowley slithered about, grabbing Aziraphale’s belly to shower nips and kisses on the curve of it.

“Could you …” Aziraphale started. He swallowed, and tried again. “Would you mind, er, letting me ride you?”

One of the translucent cocks gave a twitch at that, and Crowley disentangled from Aziraphale readily. His tongue was out again, and Aziraphale was sure Crowley was scenting him. He’d be able to taste-smell how wet Aziraphale was, if he hadn’t already.

Aziraphale hooked one leg over to straddle where Crowley’s hips gave the slightest flare. There was a slightly flatter but still powerful breadth of snake tail there to grip between his thighs, and with his hands on Crowley’s shoulders for leverage, he found he could roll his hips comfortably.

Neither of Crowley’s cocks were smooth. The folds and ridges towards the base that looked merely decorative caught delightfully against the plush lips of Aziraphale’s cunt when he caught them between his body and Crowley’s. Curious, he angled himself so a ridge just caught the spot where the inner folds of his labia met under his large, stiff clit. The catch of it had him dripping, leaving the shaft and scales shiny.

Prone to savouring his sensual pleasures as much as his food, Aziraphale rubbed against Crowley until the slippery noises grew downright obscene and his thighs trembled. He’d been ready to take Crowley since his bathing suit came off, but there was such delight in being languid about things, in leaning in for kisses that Crowley turned open-mouthed and sloppy.

“Are you ready, dear?” Aziraphale asked, knowing Crowley’s hands were clenched tightly in the sheets to keep some semblance of self-control.

“Yeah,” Crowley managed, rather shakily. “Been ready for a while, angel.”

Aziraphale beamed down at him, and released one shoulder to follow Crowley’s flank down to the hips again. He wrapped his hand around one of the organs in a light grip and ran the pad of his thumb over the tip where it was flush with blood. He didn’t see the harm in a few strokes, especially not when Crowley was choking back a whimper.

The ‘harm,’ as it were, revealed itself when Crowley’s cock pulsed in Aziraphale’s hand and spilled a spurt of hot fluid over his fingers. Not wanting to be cruel, Aziraphale worked him through the orgasm, milking him of every last drop, and was licking his fingers clean by the time Crowley stopped crying out.

“Oh, Crowley,” he sighed. “I didn’t—”

“Wasn’t gonna last.” Crowley’s voice was thick as treacle. “It’ll be better now.”

Before Aziraphale could ask how, he felt the other shaft against his knuckles. It was still stiff, while the first was slack against Crowley’s scales and gradually retreating back inside his reddened, open slit.

Aziraphale’s cunt clenched on nothing but anticipation, and he was downright hurried about lifting his hips up. He allowed Crowley to handle his own cock this time, taking control only when the flattish tip was lined up perfectly at the mouth of his cunt.

While it was as stiff as anything human, Aziraphale could feel the strangeness of it as he lowered himself down. Like the one he’d held in his hand, it was slick and slippery in a way human skin wasn’t, and the slide of it would have been almost frictionless without those ridges. Despite its size and the stretch of it spreading him open, Aziraphale could take the blunt tip and first few inches easily.

It tapered further then, so he had to wriggle down to get more inside. With some effort, lifting his hips and spearing himself back down again, he took the swell of it inside by degrees. When he was stretched out at the widest point, his world narrowed down to no more than that sensation, and the thought of being filled with Crowley.

“All right?” Crowley was still hoarse, though perhaps from how tight Aziraphale was around him now.

Aziraphale couldn’t come up with much more than a “mmm” in response, but his point must have been clear enough. Crowley pulled him in for another kiss, hand firm on the back of his neck, and he got his bearings through the taste of Crowley’s mouth and the steady guidance.

It was good enough that he wanted more, wanted to feel Crowley around him.

“More, please,” he murmured. “Tightly. Like before.”

If Crowley was confused, he didn’t show it. He planted a kiss on Aziraphale’s neck and brought the end of his tail back around on the bed, swishing it in a large arc so he could coil as much of himself as possible in loops around Aziraphale’s chest and belly. He was curled up closely enough that Aziraphale couldn’t move more than an inch or so in any direction other than vertically, with the bulk of his tail pressing against the plush curve of Aziraphale’s belly.

Aziraphale had enough freedom to grind, and even to lift his hips a few inches. When he tried that, he caught himself on the wider part of Crowley’s cock again and his cunt swallowed the rest of it effortlessly as he slid back down.

He pulled up again, and this time Crowley thrust his hips to meet him. It was a rolling, sinuous rhythm that left Aziraphale panting and grasping tightly at one of the coils. His clit bumped against the place Crowley’s slit began on each downward bounce, and the bulge of the shaft was well placed to find his sweet spot as it dragged against his inner walls.

He was so close, and knew he was babbling that and more at Crowley as he switched to grinding down. There was enough of a ridge on the scales at Crowley’s opening to send bursts of pleasure through his clit, and the jerks of his body turned to shaking as he came.

He pulsed around Crowley, who must have been holding back. The aftershocks were paired with a few ragged thrusts that ended in Crowley spilling inside him, all the coils tensing, then turning loose and languid.


“That was— Crowley, are you asleep?”


Crowley barely moved, even when Aziraphale nudged him. His eyes were open, but the more snakelike they were, the more that tended to happen even when he slept.

“Crowley! Really, that was very good, so I hope you don’t take offence, but I’m going to have to ask you to please get off me now.”

What had been a welcome grip was just heavy now. Crowley was slumped all over the place like an enormous, floppy hose, and though his cock had furled back into its slit, Aziraphale’s labia and clit kept rubbing against scales as Crowley breathed and making him whine with oversensitivity.

Rather than unwind himself, Crowley cuddled up closer, nuzzling Aziraphale’s neck. He was always incorrigibly handsy after they made love, and snakes craved heat, didn’t they?

Deciding to wait before he tried waking Crowley again, Aziraphale rested his head on a coil and closed his eyes. He could hear — and feel — Crowley start a soft, wheezy snore, and sighed. In theory, he could throw Crowley off, or miracle himself away. He could finally have the bath he'd been hoping for, too. As much as Crowley slept, he wouldn't miss this nap.

Nevertheless, there was something lulling about the sound, and about being around Crowley when he was so relaxed.

“Just this once,” Aziraphale mumbled, and miracled away the wet spot before he too fell asleep.