Chapter Text
Mayfair, London, 1882
Crowley hadn’t slept worth a damn. He’d retired to his bed shortly after his fight with Aziraphale, thinking that sleeping would help to rid him of all the swirling thoughts he was having about that infuriating angel. He figured that if he was asleep, he wouldn’t be able to feel the anger, the irritation and… other emotions that he had towards Aziraphale. He’d thought that perhaps, if he were asleep, he would have a little bit of peace. But that had not been the case. His mind had been incredibly active, in the years while he was sleeping, and all of his dreams had been about Aziraphale.
Some of them had been almost a remembering of things they had done together over the last several thousand years: times they’d worked together or against each other, times they’d helped each other or canceled each other out, times they’d toasted to having the best jobs of any ethereal or occult being. Those had been nice dreams. But he’d also relived the fight they had in St. James Park multiple times in perfect, crystalline clarity, and those were much, much less pleasant. In fact, they were awful. In some of them, Aziraphale had been much more cutting, much more ugly when he told Crowley he wouldn’t get him the holy water. Those dreams had been absolutely unbearable.
There were other dreams, of course, and nearly all of them fell into the category of ‘nice’ or ‘unbearable’. He’d had dreams where Aziraphale wouldn’t even look at him, and dreams where Aziraphale would touch him tenderly. He had dreams where he’d been caught ‘fraternizing’ with Aziraphale by Hell and had been punished, and those had been horrible. But they were nothing compared to the dreams where Heaven found out Aziraphale had been ‘fraternizing’ with Crowley and he fell. Those dreams had made Crowley actively seek to wake up, so he could get away from them.
It had happened enough times that now he was just giving up. There was no point sleeping to get away from Aziraphale if that bastard was just going to invade his subconscious, was there? So, grumbling, he crawled out of his warm, soft bed and decided to… he wasn’t sure what, yet. Something to get his mind off of Aziraphale.
His first order of business was to find out what year it was, and that would be accomplished with a newspaper. Which, of course, he didn’t have, because he’d canceled all his correspondence twenty years ago. So, grumbling a little, he pulled on his clothes and his top hat, grabbed his walking stick, just for flair, and stepped out of his flat into the street.
Right away, he could see that the fashions had changed. It wasn’t a dramatic difference, men were still wearing waistcoats and trousers (thank somebody he didn’t have to go back to hose and breeches), but it was enough of a change that he was out of fashion. And that was conduct unbecoming for the demon he thought himself to be.
So as he strode down the pavement, he kept his eyes peeled for well-dressed gentlemen - and ladies, he supposed, were an option. He was a bit out of practice living as the fairer sex, but he thought he could give it a go, if he wanted to. It only took a minute before he ruled that idea out - the women were dressed in enormous skirts that looked like a pain in the arse to navigate. He’d pass, he decided.
He saw one man’s jacket that he liked, but not the color. He saw another man with a hat that Crowley liked better, but the rest of his outfit was atrocious. Finally, he caught sight of a man that was wearing what seemed to be the height of fashion in all black with just a hint of red. Using a little covert miracle from across the street, Crowley traded his own out of fashion clothes for the man’s highly fashionable ones, and tailored them with magic to make them fit. When he was satisfied, he sauntered off in a direction unknown, not sparing a thought to what the man whose clothes he’d stolen would think when he looked down at himself to realize that he was suddenly very out of style.
Now that he wasn’t sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb, he set out to find a newspaper. That was accomplished by nicking one off of someone’s doorstep, with no thought as to what that person would think, either. He strode down the pavement, looking over the paper until he spotted the date. It was 20 March, 1882. First day of spring, he thought ruefully, even while he fought to keep from shivering from the cold. Spring had always been Aziraphale’s favorite season. Seemed only fitting that thoughts of the angel would force Crowley into experiencing it.
Crowley spent a few minutes as he was walking catching up on the news of the day - and it seemed like little had changed. Victoria was still the Queen, and she still apparently had a stick up her arse. Parliament was full of fools… business as usual. Nothing of interest, really. There wasn’t any reason he could discern for him to be awake, except that he was afraid he’d be plagued by dreams of Aziraphale. The best thing he could do to clear his mind was stay awake and keep himself occupied. He didn’t need to spend any time thinking about that angel, he thought as he walked. There would come a time at some point where Aziraphale would get himself into some manner of a scrape, and then Crowley would, of course, swoop in to rescue him. Or they might decide to work together again. But that didn’t need to happen now. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even going to go to the books-
His thoughts screeched to a halt inside his head when he spotted an unmistakable white-blond head of hair over a sweet face a few yards away, across the street. Instinctively, he ducked behind a barrel, wanting to see but not be seen. Aziraphale looked just as soft as he ever did, and Crowley was amused to see that his clothes were a little out of date. But that was just par for the course for Aziraphale, wasn’t it? It was as endearing as it was frustrating.
More than anything, though, Aziraphale seemed… chipper. He seemed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. And for some reason, that irked Crowley tremendously.
It wasn’t even a conscious decision to follow him, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He couldn’t have justified it if he’d had to, but he felt compelled to keep an eye on him. What if he was in some kind of trouble already, and that’s why Crowley’s brain had been waking him up? What if he needed Crowley in some way?
That was all the justification he needed, he told himself. So he followed Aziraphale for about a quarter of a mile, until the angel seemed to reach his destination. It was a large house, stately and fairly modern, with several horses out front. Aziraphale seemed to perk up when he saw one particular horse, and Crowley didn’t really have a chance to wonder why before Aziraphale had done a little motion with his hand, and suddenly there was a green flower on his lapel. He greeted another man that was approaching warmly, although Crowley couldn’t hear what he was saying, and Crowley noted that that man also had a green carnation on his lapel. The man and the angel seemed glad to see each other, and went into the building together.
That was odd, Crowley thought as he slinked in the shadows across the way. Why had he miracled a flower onto his lapel? Aziraphale had never shown any particular preference for green. Why would he wear a green flower? It didn’t make sense.
Crowley turned his attention to the building he’d gone into - and the fact that two other men had gone in behind Aziraphale, also wearing green carnations on their lapel. He concentrated on the building, trying to see if he could pick anything up from it, and then he did. It was lust. That was even more confusing. Why would Aziraphale be in a place that smelled so strongly of lust, Crowley could smell it across the street?
He came to his answer a few minutes later, after he’d seen three more men with green carnations go into the building - and no women. It seemed clear that this was some sort of cathouse, and that there were women of ill repute inside. That made Crowley smirk to himself. He could imagine the angel inside, proselytizing to the scarlet women - and their johns - and that was deeply, deeply amusing. In fact, he wanted to see that. So, making a decision, he miracled himself a green carnation onto his fancy lapel and strode across the street, determined to - help? Hinder? Scoff? Rescue? He had no idea what he was about to do, but he thought that perhaps - perhaps if he interacted with Aziraphale, his mind would rest. It was a slim hope, but he couldn’t resist the siren call of Aziraphale being nearby.
When Crowley opened the door to the building, he was met by very posh decorations in the foyer - and a wall of lust hitting hm in the face. It was almost overpowering, and he was even more sure that this was a cathouse of some sort.
He used his senses to try to hone in on Aziraphale, and figured out that the angel was in one of the adjoining rooms. He decided to try the room to the left first, and stepped inside, casting his eyes around for the blond-
“Hello…” said a man just inside the door, in an inflection that confused Crowley. He turned to see a well-dressed gentleman with dark grey hair arranged in some stupid fashion, surrounding a face that was passably handsome, Crowley guessed. Pity about the hair ruining everything.
“Hi there,” Crowley said in a somewhat friendly manner. He might need an ally, depending on what happened here.
“I’m Gregory Furfur,” the man said, extending his hand.
“Furball?” Crowley asked, taking the offered hand. It was limp and a little damp.
“Furfur,” he corrected, although Crowley didn’t notice. He’d gone back to scanning the crowd. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
“Ah, you must have missed me. I’ve been here loads of times.”
“Oh, no, I feel quite sure I’d have remembered you,” Furfur said, looking Crowley up and down.
Crowley still didn’t see any ladies - of the night or otherwise. So far, this looked to be a complete sausage party. What was worse, though, was that he didn’t spot Aziraphale in this room. Still, he thought it would be best if he got a little intel out of this Furry guy. So he turned his attention to him, noticing the smell of lust coming off of him. Shit. Well, maybe he could use that to his advantage.
“Where are the ladies?” Crowley asked. “Aren’t they usually here by now?”
Furcoat gave him a puzzled look. “Ladies? Do you mean the cook and the housekeepers?”
“Ah, no. I mean the ladies.”
Now Furbearer laughed. “Oh, my dear, you are silly. There are no ladies. This is a Gentleman’s Club.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right, I knew that. Of course. So, uh, what are we doing here? Chess? Brandy? Some manner of ridiculous dance?”
Furby stepped a little closer, and his eyes darkened. “Well, I know what we could do.”
Crowley missed every single signal. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
Now Furious ran a finger down the lapel of Crowley’s jacket in an unmistakable caress. “There are several open rooms, if you fancied a shag.” He leaned closer. “I can suck a billiards ball through a lead pipe,” he intoned in a seductive voice.
“What in the hell would make you think I want to do something like that?”
Fursona flicked the green carnation with one fingertip, playfully. “This, my dear, indicates that you’re open to either buggering or being buggered while you’re here. And as I mentioned, there are rooms dedicated to that exact purpose…”
Crowley was staring at him, eyes wide behind his dark glasses, utterly stunned. That couldn’t be right, could it? Furiosa must be playing some kind of trick. It had to be that.
Out of the side of his eye, he saw one man lean over and whisper into another man’s ear. The second man giggled, then took the first man’s hand, and they exited the room together.
Oh, fuck, Furbish wasn’t kidding. This was real. But what the fuck was -
“Crowley?” came the sweetest voice in the world, breaking into his thoughts.
Crowley wheeled around to find Aziraphale standing there, looking puzzled.
“What the fuck are you doing in this place, angel?”
He could see when Aziraphale got huffy. “I might ask you the very same!”
“Not the same thing you’re apparently doing!”
Aziraphale drew himself up to his full earthly height. “You have no idea what I’m doing or not doing.”
Crowley was just about to retort when he heard, “Are you two, like, a couple?”
He had completely forgotten that Furwad was there, and had no idea what to say.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to come up with anything, because Aziraphale stepped in.
“Crowley and I are old work acquaintances,” he said smoothly, then put his hand on Crowley’s arm with surprising strength and pulled him away. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I think he and I need to have a little conversation.”
“Actually, he and I were just about to -”
“No we were not!” Crowley asserted.
Aziraphale tugged him by the arm again. “Come along, dear. I think we need to talk.”
He followed the pull of Aziraphale’s hand down a corridor that was lined with multiple rooms. Several doors were closed, but a couple of them were open - and Crowley could see that each room looked very much like a bedroom. Oh fuck, Furrow had been telling the truth!
Aziraphale pulled him into one such room, and Crowley barely took a moment to look around and see that it was furnished lavishly, with a comfy looking bed and a fireplace. None of that mattered, except that it confirmed what Furphy had said. And he was scandalized.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded of Aziraphale, who was snicking the lock shut on the door - and performing a little miracle to soundproof the room.
“I might ask the same of you,” Aziraphale said, coming to face him now.
“Do you know what these people are doing?”
“Intimately.”
All Crowley could do was give a shocked Ngk
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him. “Now I’ll thank you to tell me what your business is with these men. Are you here to out them?”
“What? No!”
“Tempt them? Wile them?”
“No, it’s - it’s not that.”
“You mean them no harm? Because I must tell you that I’m very protective of these men. For many of them, this is the only safe place they have, and I won’t have you -”
“I’m not here for them!” Crowley spat.
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “Then why are you here, pray tell?”
Crowley sputtered for a moment. “I just…”
Now Aziraphale seemed to be growing angry. “I haven’t seen you for years - years, Crowley - and then you show up here, at my club, and you’re chatting men up -”
“I wasn’t chatting people up! I just… I saw you outside.”
“And? What of it? I’m a member here.”
Realization was setting in, and he couldn’t look away from the green carnation on Aziraphale’s lapel. He was a member of this club that was apparently for men to have sex with each other. The only logical conclusion was that -
“You come here a lot?” he asked, his voice a little choked.
“I do, yes. They’re very sweet, and all terribly bright. And… well.”
“Well what?” Crowley demanded.
“It’s been years. I get lonely.”
“So you chose to fraternize with these men?”
“I’ve always kept up relations with the humans, if you remember. And so have you.”
“Not these kind of relations, where I actually joined a club so I could fuck them!”
“That’s not why I’m here!” Aziraphale shot back.
“Then why?”
“I told you. They’re all very kind, and nearly all of them have dazzling personalities -”
“Yeah. I’m really sure that it’s their personalities that gets you going, angel.”
Aziraphale raised a brow. “Is that jealousy, dear?”
“No,” Crowley lied. “It’s just - it’s not safe!”
“It’s perfectly safe. I’m immune to human disease, and none of them can harm me physically. Plus, it’s great fun.”
Crowley was completely discombobulated, thrown entirely off-kilter, and he had no idea at all what to say.
Aziraphale seemed to sense this and raised an eyebrow. Crowley could see that he’d shifted into bastard mode, and it made his mind spin more. “You don’t indulge in pleasures of the flesh?”
“Not like this!” Crowley fairly squawked.
“Would you like to?”
In another, future age, people would say that Crowley.exe had stopped working. For the moment, however, his brain spun like a water wheel on a mill - that was empty. Just spinning uselessly. His heart was also beating like a drum.
Aziraphale’s bastard smile grew, but it was also soothing somehow. Gentle. He reached first for Crowley’s sunglasses and pulled them off of his face, tossing them carelessly to the side. That done, he put his hand out slowly to wrap his fingers around Crowley’s in an achingly tender touch. Far and away the most tender of any touch he’d ever had from the angel - or anyone.
“You’re trembling, darling,” Aziraphale said gently, and that ‘darling’ shook Crowley almost as much as the gentle touch. “You’re quite soft, aren’t you?” he asked, using his fingers to play with Crowley’s. His eyes darted down to the fall of Crowley’s trousers, and his bastard smile grew. “Not entirely soft, though.”
“Nggh.”
He was still playing with Crowley’s fingers suggestively. “You’re doing so very well, my darling,” he said.
Crowley let out a tiny gasp, and Aziraphale clearly didn’t miss it, because his eyes lit up.
“Did you like that, Crowley?” he asked, again in that low, seductive voice. “Did you like hearing that you’d done well?”
“N-no.” It was a lie, and it tasted like ash in his mouth. But it should have been true, and he didn’t understand why it wasn’t.
Aziraphale was still cradling his hand, which was now beside his cheek. “Would you like to know how many of the men out there would kneel before you, with only the slightest wiggle of your little finger? This little finger?” he said, with a tiny squeeze to Crowley’s littlest finger. “Can you feel the jealousy from the other men that I took you off with me, before any of them got the chance?”
He managed to get some words out, through his parched lips. “Don’t - don’t want them.”
“Really?” Aziraphale said in a tone that was almost filthy. “What do you want, darling?”
With his eyes still locked on Crowley, Aziraphale lowered his head at the same time he raised Crowley’s hand a couple of inches, and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to Crowley’s wrist.
Crowley gasped again.
“Good boy,” Aziraphale praised, and Crowley nearly swooned. Aziraphale’s smile grew almost wicked. “Judging by your reaction, it seems you do like to be praised. But I’d like to hear you tell me. Did you like that, darling?” he asked, before he pressed another kiss to Crowley’s wrist. He wondered wildly if Aziraphale could feel his pulse fluttering under his lips. “Do you like hearing how good you are? Do you like knowing that you’ve made me happy?” Crowley wanted to nod, but Aziraphale kissed his wrist again, and this time flicked his tongue out to taste, making Crowley nearly moan. Aziraphale’s eyes were dark when he asked, “Would you like to please me, Crowley? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
Crowley snapped with an almost audible sound and grabbed him by the lapels, hauling him into a kiss that was nothing short of fierce. Demanding. Needy. He wondered for a half a heartbeat if he’d done the wrong thing, but he didn’t get long to wonder before Aziraphale was kissing him back with something like desperation, his arms wrapped around Crowley, holding him close and not letting him escape.
There was no thought of escape in Crowley’s head. He was lost, utterly lost in Aziraphale’s kiss, his tongue mapping out the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth. He was already hard and aching in his trousers - and thank someone, Aziraphale was also hard. Crowley clutched him, trying to pull him closer, grinding his cock against Aziraphale’s, enjoying the little moan Aziraphale gave when he did so.
The next thing he knew, he had been pushed against the wall with Aziraphale’s entire body while Aziraphale continued to kiss him. The angel situated a thigh between Crowley’s, and Crowley didn’t hesitate a moment before he started grinding against it, giving himself some much needed friction. The kiss broke when Crowley found the need for oxygen too great, but Aziraphale seemed to have no such need. He went immediately to lay kisses along Crowley’s neck, tasting him, licking him, nibbling him. All Crowley could do was continue to grind against him, feeling himself climb inexorably.
“My darling,” Aziraphale cooed between nips to his throat. “You taste heavenly. No, that’s not quite right. You taste of musk and the salt tang of sweat, and of eternity, and of lust. You want me, don’t you, Crowley?”
“Oh, fuck,” Crowley moaned, while Aziraphale ground against him, and he ground back.
“Would you like to know how often I’ve thought of you, here, in this place?” he asked as he brought Crowley higher, still nibbling at his throat and grinding against him. “Could I tell you how many times one of these humans reminded me of you? A flash of the eye, a tilt of the chin? And then, suddenly, it was like you were with me, here. But they’re not as good as you are, darling. Not even close.”
Crowley keened.
Aziraphale suckled on his earlobe, then blew on it and murmured, “Will you let me have you, Crowley? Will you let me do the things to you I’ve thought of? That I’ve dreamed of?”
Crowley tried to answer, but he wasn’t able to. His words were stolen by the orgasm that had just hit him like a tidal wave, knocking his words out of his mouth. He spilled helplessly into his trousers, his mouth open on Aziraphale’s shoulder, while Aziraphale continued to grind against him and murmur praise.
“That’s it, darling,” Aziraphale said soothingly, still rubbing his hips against Crowley, prolonging it. “That’s it. Let go for me. Such a good boy…”
Crowley shuddered with the enormity of his orgasm - and the sound of Aziraphale’s voice when he said ‘good boy’. It seemed that marked the end of he orgasm - and it seemed that Aziraphale knew it, because he slowed his grinding.
Instantly, Crowley was terrified that Aziraphale was done with him. That he was going to chastise Crowley for such a display - or, worse, laugh at him. Crowley's hot shame mixed with the terror, and couldn’t look Aziraphale in the eye when he pulled back a little.
“Well, now, that is a lovely sight, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said in a tone that was buttery - and a little bossy. “I like seeing the evidence of your lust for me.”
Crowley was trying to catch his breath - and his thoughts. “Look, Aziraphale -”
“Would you like some more of that, darling?”
His head shot up to look Aziraphale in the eye. “Are you serious?”
“I am. Would you like to do more of that? Do it properly?”
“Ssssatan,” he swore, not even noticing that he’d hissed. All he could do was nod, his eyes wide. “Yeah. I would.”
“Very good,” Aziraphale said, with a smug tone. He took another step back, leaving Crowley bereft - but he could see the large tent in Aziraphale’s trousers. Aziraphale did a quick little motion with his hand, and suddenly the angel was naked, in all his splendor. Oh, fuck, he was so beautiful, just the most gorgeous of God’s creations, with the biggest, fattest cock…
“Hmm,” Aziraphale said, giving him an appraising look, “that’s very, very nice.”
Crowley tore his eyes away from Aziraphale’s body when he realized there was a cool breeze on his skin. He looked down at himself to realize that he was stark naked - with a giant erection jutting out from his body obscenely.
His mind was spinning a million miles a minute, and he raised his eyes to look back at Aziraphale. Without thinking about it, he wrapped his hand around his cock and started to stroke it idly. He tried to sound braver than he felt when he asked, “You like what you see, angel?”
“I do, very much. And I think I’d like to get intimately acquainted with your body, if that’s alright.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s alright. I’d like that.”
“Very good,” Aziraphale said, just before he dropped to his knees in front of Crowley and took his cock into his mouth.
Crowley cried out brokenly, bringing his hands up to fist in Aziraphale’s hair while Aziraphale bobbed on him. His mouth was a revelation, so hot, and wet, and oh fuck. Crowley’s whole body curled around Aziraphale’s head, bobbling on him, and he let out ragged moans when he felt Aziraphale’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock.
“Angel… oh, fuck. Oh, fucking… yes, that’s right. Play with my balls. Oh, fucking shit, your mouth feels better than anything I’ve ever - ah! Ah!”
Aziraphale was making obscene slurping sounds as he sucked him, interspersed with moaning. Crowley was also a symphony of sounds, moans and pleas and cries - and the angel’s name, over and over.
He let out a sound of near anguish when Aziraphale pulled off with one long suck, replacing his mouth with his hand and looking up at Crowley with stormy blue eyes and his lips swollen and shiny from the blowjob. “How was that, darling?”
“Fucking… Aziraphale… I don’t even know…”
“Would you like more? Would you like to fuck me?”
He nodded dumbly. “Yeah. Yeah, I would. Please.”
“Well, I would very much like to feel this,” he said with a little twist of his wrist, “in my arse. So, to that end, I think you should go to the bed, shouldn’t you?”
Crowley scrambled to obey. It was a matter of half a second before he was on the bed, and as soon as he was able, he turned around to find Aziraphale coming towards him, almost stalking over to the bed. His eyes were flashing, and his cock was huge, and oh, fuck, this was happening….
“Look at you,” Aziraphale said as he clambered up onto the bed. “You are laid out for me like the most delicious feast. And I want to take my time with you, to savor you properly. But for the moment,” he said as he clambered onto Crowley and straddled his waist. “I want to ride you.”
Crowley moaned helplessly, feeling almost weak while Aziraphale used a miracle to slick Crowley’s cock behind him, then lined it up with his arsehole and eased down onto it. Crowley wanted to close his eyes and savor the feeling, but his gaze was transfixed on Aziraphale’s face, and the way his eyes were closed in bliss.
“Ooh, darling,” he purred, sinking lower. Crowley was biting his lip to keep from whimpering. “Your cock feels so very, very good in me. I do like the way you fill me. Mmm,” he hummed when he had taken Crowley as far as he could go. He sat there for a moment, with his hands resting on Crowley’s chest, and then began to swivel his hips, so Crowley was fucking him shallowly. “Oooh,” he purred.
It was a sentiment that Crowley could get behind. He was a little afraid he was going to explode from lust - and from some other emotion he didn’t dare name. He couldn’t concentrate at the moment, anyway. His cognitive brain was entirely offline, and all he was able to do was feel... Aziraphale’s arse was tight, and hot, and slick, and it truly felt like Crowley had found a long-awaited prize that was made just for him. The only thought in his head was that he needed to enjoy every second of this.
Aziraphale opened his blue eyes and looked down at Crowley the moment he started bouncing a little. “Do you like that, my sweet? Do you like the feel of my arse around you? Do you enjoy fucking me?”
Crowley nodded, his mouth open to facilitate harsh breaths. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“You’re so good at this,” Aziraphale praised, bouncing a little harder. “Mmm, I could get used to this, my good boy.”
He whimpered, and Aziraphale smirked.
“Do you know, I’ve always liked to think myself good at multitasking. I think I shall try that now,” he said, then bent over so he was able to apply his mouth to Crowley’s neck. His hands were on Crowley’s chest, and Crowley gave a little cry when Aziraphale pinched his nipple. “Oh, you like that. That’s good to know.”
“Angel, please…” he begged.
Aziraphale bit his earlobe a little harder than was necessary, making Crowley moan again, and then whispered, “Do you know what would please me, Crowley?”
“What?” he asked, his voice little more than a croak.
“Fuck me, darling. Fuck me like you mean it.”
Again, something inside of Crowley snapped, and he started fucking into Aziraphale with all the power in his body. Aziraphale still had his head down by Crowley’s ear, and his wail of pleasure drove Crowley higher, spurred him on. He dug the tips of his long fingers into the cheeks of Aziraphale’s arse, bared his teeth with exertion, and fucked Aziraphale as hard and fast as he could.
“Yes! Yes!” Aziraphale cried, fantastically loud in Crowley’s ear. “Oh, my good boy, yes! You fuck me so well, you fuck me like you were born to do it… fuck me harder!”
Crowley was mindless, all of his attention focused on fucking Aziraphale the way he wanted. In a human, he might have been concerned about hurting them, but Aziraphale’s cries were very obviously cries of pleasure - and pleas for more.
“Darling! Ah! Ah! The head of your cock his hitting me just right, you fill me so completely… fuck me! Fuck me! I’m going to come, darling! Show me how good you are!”
He wanted very, very much to show Aziraphale how good he could be, so he put on a burst of power, thrusting into him with all he had. He was barely hanging onto his sanity by the very tips of his fingers, and Aziraphale’s cries became more high-pitched. He shouted that he was coming about a half a second before Crowley felt him spill all over his belly - and that thrust him into his own orgasm. He came like a freight train, deep in the angel’s arse, feeling like every cell of his body was detonating with pleasure.