Happy Holidays, Emjay!
Happy Holidays, emjay!
Title: I’ve got what I want, already.
Gift recipient: emjay
Author: waxbean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Crowley’s plot to tempt Aziraphale doesn’t go according to plan - well, not his, I should say… (A/C)
Warnings and Author’s Notes: this is pretty smutty, slightly angsty, and overall, fairly funny. Emjay, I hope this does *what* you asked for!
Also a huge thanks to both of my incredible betas! You two know who you are - you are wonderful!
***
“Crowley, is there something that you want to tell to me?” Azirphale asked gently, after their waiter, who was wearing only a bright green thong and roller skates, sashayed away from their table.
Crowley looked at his… associate, for lack of a better word, and favored him with a smile. Aziraphale was daintily sipping on what had to have been the most colorful and ornamental drink in the entire bar. If he knew the angel, it was also a good bit enhanced and could undoubtedly knock out half the humans lined up at the counter.
“Whaddya mean, angel?” he replied, smirking.
“Well, it’s just that… how do I say this… I’ve noticed a particular trend in the places you’ve been taking me to of late. And so, I want you to know that I am open to anything you may want to... tell me. It shouldn’t surprise you to know that many a being has confided in me.”
With extreme self-control, Crowley kept his face carefully blank as he struggled not to laugh at the thought of Duke Hastur having a tête à tête with Aziraphale. “Indeed? Well, I’m certain you’d give anyone a fair listen. But you’ve really lost me, here. You’re going to have to spit it out, I’m afraid.”
Quite adorably, Aziraphale looked flustered. Two pink spots emerged on his cheeks.
“The concert tonight... that wasn’t just bebop, Crowley…”
“Yes?”
“It was gay bebop!” he whispered.
Crowley snickered at the thought of anyone considering the long-awaited Village People Reunion Tour to be “bebop,” gay or otherwise. “You think so, do you?”
“And this bar... it’s a gay bar.”
“So? Does it matter? The drinks are good. The lighting’s excellent. Besides, I thought your kind didn’t discriminate.”
“Well, that’s another matter altogether. Some do, some don’t. It can be rather vexing, to tell the truth. But I most definitely do not discriminate, which is why you must feel free to utilize my ear, dear boy.”
“I see. Well, I thank you, Aziraphale. But I assure you, there’s nothing I want to tell you.”
“Oh, no?” Aziraphale looked slightly confused, and Crowley saw his chance to put his plan into action.
For no obvious reason, their handsome, not to mention scantily clad, waiter returned at that moment.
“Is there anything I can do for you two?” he cooed.
Crowley shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up with his finger, and watched Aziraphale’s reaction closely.
“What about you, sir? Anything? Anything at all?” he asked suggestively, as he leaned in towards Aziraphale.
Crowley observed the scene appreciatively. The waiter was a young thing; all sinewy muscles and tanned skin. And, at the moment, he looked ready and willing to climb into Aziraphale’s lap. It could get to a person, Crowley thought. Or a Being. This human was definitely on the irresistible side.
Aziraphale’s cheeks blushed once again, though his tone brokered no nervousness. “No, thank you. I’ve got everything I want, already.”
“Well, sir, if you change your mind, here’s my number.”
Crowley cleared his throat. A little flirtation was all he’d enabled. Clearly, he must have overdone the temptation, though.
Without a backward glance, their waiter walked off. In fact, their waiter was quickly forgetting that he’d ever set eyes on an older blond gentleman wearing a decidedly unfortunate tweed jacket. Later on, his mother would be surprised to learn that his phone number had been changed, too.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, you old serpent. I know you.”
With that, Aziraphale tilted his drink back, downing it in one noisy gulp, and stood up. His coat was on before Crowley could decipher his sudden mood change.
“Wait,” he called out to Aziraphale’s hastily departing form.
He didn’t catch sight of Aziraphale until he got to the parking lot. There he could see his old friend, carefully walking through the crowds of young good-looking men, not pausing to pay them any attention at all. Crowley let out of sigh of relief when he realized that Aziraphale had finally paused next to the Bentley.
Though he didn’t have to, he walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for Aziraphale. The angel slid into the seat with a noisy “Humph” but did not otherwise acknowledge the gesture.
Crowley closed the door, trying to think of how he could pull himself out of this situation without sacrificing his plan.
No sooner had he put the key into the ignition, than Aziraphale turned to him, his gray eyes bright with anger.
“You, of all others, should know better than to insinuate-” Aziraphale began.
“Go on, angel. Get it off your chest. Insinuate what?”
“Insinuate that I would be attracted to men… that’s what this entire night has been about, hasn’t it? And this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this stunt, either. What about all those plays you made me go to a while back? The ones with boys playing female characters?” he demanded. “Just how long have you been toying with me?”
“Now, wait… that’s hardly fair. That was hundreds of years ago - women weren’t allowed on stage then!” Crowley interjected.
But Aziraphale was having none of it. Crowley hadn’t seen his associate this worked up since... well, he hadn’t had this amount of righteous indignation aimed at him since before The Arrangement.
“Oh! That’s not the point and you know it. You’ve been taking me to restaurants, and plays, some of them musicals that I’d certainly never heard of before, and now this bar tonight! That young man was wearing about as much material as the day he was born - which, incidentally, was not that long ago! What exactly are you playing at?”
Crowley gripped the steering wheel tightly, channeling his own snappiness anywhere but back at Aziraphale. It wouldn’t do to lose his cool now.
“Listen, had I known that you’d get this bent out of shape… what’s that look? It was just a figure of speech. I think I can see that you’re not “bent,” per se --- Aziraphale, I just wanted you to know that you could trust me, if there was something that you wanted to tell me.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were burning so brilliantly that Crowley feared for the wood paneling of his beloved Bentley.
“I tell you what. Let’s just go back to that little bar down the street from your shop. We’ll have a drink in a nice neutral setting and discuss this.”
Aziraphale merely “humphed” again but otherwise remained silent. Crowley optimistically decided to take that as an assent.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Crowley muttered, mostly to himself, though he knew that the angel’s hearing was as perfect as his own.
“Crowley! Once and for all, I will never be tempted by men... or by humans, in general. The very idea is loathsome to me.”
Crowley gulped. He feared that his plan was fast approaching unsalvageable. He hadn’t missed the mark quite as spectacularly as this in a long, long time.
After several awkward minutes, Aziraphale cleared his throat. Then, in a halting voice, he said, “You know, I don’t really want to go out, Crowley.”
“Angel, don’t make me say it...”
“No, I... er... I just meant that I didn’t want to go out for a drink. Not when I’ve got a new case of Bridalwood’s Special Reserve Syrah. Unopened.”
Crowley hesitated. It sounded like an invitation. Yet Aziraphale was clearly still humming with anger.
“Well, alright, then. That sounds very pleasant to me,” he said, cautiously.
“Very good,” Aziraphale huffed.
They finished the drive in heavy silence.
***
Crowley settled on the worn out sofa, which was far more comfortable than it had any right to be, while Aziraphale bustled about his tiny kitchenette. Several uneasy minutes later, the angel emerged, forcefully shoving a glass of deep red wine under Crowley’s nose.
“So, should we talk a little bit more about-” Crowley began.
“Have you?” Aziraphale interrupted.
“Er?”
“Well, have you? Have you ever indulged in humans?” Aziraphale demanded.
Crowley thought fast. This evening had turned out entirely differently from what he’d been planning. And admitting the truth to Aziraphale only promised to take things to an all-time low.
“You know very well that one-on-one temptation is not my thing. Hasn’t been for centuries. So inefficient,” he explained, while he sipped his wine.
“That is really not an answer to my question, Crowley.”
Aziraphale’s grip on his wineglass was vise-like. Crowley mentally added some protective properties to the glass. The wine was particularly good. It would be a shame for the angel to spill his.
“What’s the problem? I’m a demon. Why shouldn’t I? And besides, I thought you personally didn’t discriminate.”
“Crowley, they’re humans. It’s not done… it’s not fair,” he spit out.
“Yeah? Have you told this to Raphael? Because I have it on good authority-” Crowley began.
“You will kindly stop dodging the question,” Aziraphale interrupted and this time the fury in his tone made Crowley wince.
“No,” he said in a small voice.
“No? No, what?”
“No, I haven’t... never with humans,” Crowley confessed.
“And why not?” Aziraphale asked imperiously.
“Eew! I just wouldn’t, that’s all,” Crowley said with an involuntary shudder.
“Then why on earth would you try to taunt me with young human men, Crowley?”
“Because I thought you would like them?” Crowley replied meekly.
“I think not. I think you wanted to humiliate me, didn’t you? You hoped that I would actually be tempted!”
Crowley looked at his now empty glass of wine. Aziraphale was right, of course. He had wanted to tempt the angel - just a bit - and the thought of humiliating him was certainly attractive, too. But there was more to it, as well. Quite a bit more.
Without warning, his drink was filled again, the dark red liquid nearly spilling over the ridge of the ornate old glass. He opened his mouth to tell the angel off for over-filling his wine glass but was stopped by the maniacal gleam in Aziraphale’s eyes.
“Drink up, my friend.”
Crowley sputtered, nearly choking on his wine at the maliciousness in Aziraphale’s voice. He hadn’t heard that particular tone in an age.
Though the wine was far too viscous to drink so quickly, Crowley managed to down his glass in seconds under Aziraphale’s intense scrutiny.
His left hand shook slightly and his glass nearly fell out of his grip. That wine was much stronger than Crowley had expected it to be.
He tried to stand, thinking that a gulp of fresh air might alleviate some of the lightheadedness that he was now experiencing - anything just to get him to a point where he could remember how to sober up.
Crowley had just begun to congratulate himself on managing to stand upright, when he heard Aziraphale laugh. It wasn’t a comforting sound.
“My dear boy, I think I’m beginning to see what this is really all about.”
“Wha...?” Crowley asked, turning around rather clumsily.
“Insulting me by trying to tempt me with humans... Really, how vulgar, even for a demon.”
Crowley tried to focus on Aziraphale’s dazzling gray eyes. Alas, he’d need them to stop swimming around the room if he was to have any success.
“I think you have seriously underestimated me, Crowley.”
All at once, Crowley found himself back on the couch. Once the room stopped spinning, he realized that wasn’t so much sitting on it as he was thrown across it. It was a rather interesting predicament to be in, he thought, as he turned his head so that his cheek was lying against the soft threadbare material of the bottom cushions.
“That wine wasss-” he mumbled, slurring his words.
“A bit strong?” Aziraphale finished. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Never trust those Californian upstarts, I always say.”
Crowley thought the room had gone rather cold. It was no matter since he himself was burning up...
“My clothes!” he exclaimed, realizing that he was naked.
“Hmmm... Yes, didn’t I tell you, I really quite liked your outfit tonight, my dear. Very flattering.”
Smack
Then, before he could even register any sense of feeling, a sharp loud smack sang through the air a second time. And then again. And again.
By the fifth slap, Crowley had the wherewithal to register that his Associate, his friend, his angel, was spanking him. And with true gusto, at that.
It was embarrassing, really, Crowley thought inanely. Not only was he lying on his belly, drunk enough to drool, being spanked by an angel, by Aziraphale, but he also was incredibly turned on.
With every smack, Crowley found himself grinding a bit more into the softness of the couch until he was good and hard and dizzy with lust.
Certainly no human could ever evoke this kind of feeling in him.
“Aziraphale,” he moaned.
Abruptly, and quite to Crowley’s surprise, the spankings stopped.
Crowley listened as the silence was punctuated by the soft sounds of Aziraphale’s breathing.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve been properly smited,” Aziraphale pronounced.
The callousness of his voice was gilded over with mockery. Crowley trembled as he realized he’d never been more aroused in all his thousands of years on earth.
“Yessss,” he whispered. “Too long.”
“And you’ve grown lazy and impertinent under the auspices of The Arrangement, haven’t you?”
“Yesssss, yesssss,” Crowley hissed, thrusting his hips into the couch.
“You’ve forgotten your place?” Aziraphale asked haughtily just as Crowley felt one white-hot hand touch the side of his bare hip.
“Yesssss,” Crowley winced, rocking his hips ever so slightly to increase the friction between his skin and Aziraphale’s hand.
“And you will never try to tempt me with humans again?” A second hand gripped the other side of Crowley’s hips.
“No, never,” Crowley managed to whisper.
“And you will never violate any of those poor souls yourself?” Two hands, nearly searing his skin with their touch, pulled his hips up off of the couch.
“Never!”
“Well, then...” the angel murmured, his voice holding a hint of softness that had not been there before.
And then, against the stinging flesh of his arse, Crowley felt the softest touch... it was a caress really- not a healing touch, but more like a feather-light breath moving over his sensitive skin. It was both exquisite and painful and Crowley couldn’t think of any other way that he’d rather be touched.
“Oh, Crowley, my dear. I’m afraid I can’t just let you off so easily,” Aziraphale breathed across his skin.
Crowley tried to answer. He really did. But the moment he felt the angel’s tongue, wet and slightly rough, whip across a most sensitive spot, his language skills failed him completely.
“Ngk.”
“What was that?”
Another lick, wet and firm, ghosted across. Then again, this time dipping in, teasing him. His flesh still burned from Aziraphale’s punishment, and now it also burned from this most intimate of touches.
In and out, the angel’s tongue tortured him. He couldn’t move, not that he wanted to, because Aziraphale’s hands - those sweet pudgy-fingered hands that could both steal chocolate biscuits and wield a Holy Flaming Sword - gripped him fiercely.
It was disorienting. And Crowley didn’t know if he was more drugged from the nearly lethal dose of alcohol or from Aziraphale’s own brand of exquisite opiates.
“Want to be...” he groaned, hoping desperately that he would be understood.
From behind him, he heard a low deep laugh as Aziraphale’s tongue ceased to move, signaling his assent. Seconds later, Crowley felt the alcohol leave his bloodstream. Only then did he realize that the intoxication from the wine had been nothing compared to the effect of Aziraphale. Nothing. And now, without the heaviness of the alcohol to dull his senses, he felt the full shock of the angel’s ministrations.
Aziraphale continued to hold him down, his fingers digging into Crowley’s red raw skin.
With sudden clarity, Crowley knew that he could change the nature of this encounter - if he wanted to. A thousand different strategies competed for his attention... he could slither into reptilian form and give the angel a good solid bite... or at the very least, he could flip over and wrestle his body away from Aziraphale. However, he chose to do none of those things. He merely sucked in a breath and waited with anticipation to see what was next.
Then he realized that Aziraphale had been waiting for him to come to that decision, too.
With renewed vigor, Aziraphale attacked him. He felt the scorching touch of the angel’s tongue again, diving even more deeply into him, simultaneously teasing and tormenting him.
And then he stopped, forcing Crowley to catch his breath.
“On your knees,” Aziraphale barked.
Crowley complied so fast that he wondered if would have been able to refuse, had he wanted to.
His eyes were closed. He licked his lips. Though he’d gazed at Aziraphale for thousands of years… though he’d seen him take a variety of forms... he’d never seen him-
A sudden physical intrusion interrupted his thoughts, assuring him most definitely that Aziraphale had made quite the effort, indeed.
It was a heady experience to be fucked by an angel, Crowley decided. And he was just as certain that it was as addictive as any drug, adrenaline rush, or power trip. As his felt his body rushing towards an indescribable and heretofore heartily under-appreciated surge of the most incredible sort of feelings, he realized that his plan was finally coming to fruition.
Of course, until now, he hadn’t really known what his plan was all about. He’d had an inkling of sorts. But now, as Aziraphale moved within him, fucking him deeply and most thoroughly, he understood. And he knew that Aziraphale understood, too.
The Arrangement was by no means over. But in the space of an evening, it had undergone a dramatic rewriting.
fin
Title: I’ve got what I want, already.
Gift recipient: emjay
Author: waxbean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Crowley’s plot to tempt Aziraphale doesn’t go according to plan - well, not his, I should say… (A/C)
Warnings and Author’s Notes: this is pretty smutty, slightly angsty, and overall, fairly funny. Emjay, I hope this does *what* you asked for!
Also a huge thanks to both of my incredible betas! You two know who you are - you are wonderful!
***
“Crowley, is there something that you want to tell to me?” Azirphale asked gently, after their waiter, who was wearing only a bright green thong and roller skates, sashayed away from their table.
Crowley looked at his… associate, for lack of a better word, and favored him with a smile. Aziraphale was daintily sipping on what had to have been the most colorful and ornamental drink in the entire bar. If he knew the angel, it was also a good bit enhanced and could undoubtedly knock out half the humans lined up at the counter.
“Whaddya mean, angel?” he replied, smirking.
“Well, it’s just that… how do I say this… I’ve noticed a particular trend in the places you’ve been taking me to of late. And so, I want you to know that I am open to anything you may want to... tell me. It shouldn’t surprise you to know that many a being has confided in me.”
With extreme self-control, Crowley kept his face carefully blank as he struggled not to laugh at the thought of Duke Hastur having a tête à tête with Aziraphale. “Indeed? Well, I’m certain you’d give anyone a fair listen. But you’ve really lost me, here. You’re going to have to spit it out, I’m afraid.”
Quite adorably, Aziraphale looked flustered. Two pink spots emerged on his cheeks.
“The concert tonight... that wasn’t just bebop, Crowley…”
“Yes?”
“It was gay bebop!” he whispered.
Crowley snickered at the thought of anyone considering the long-awaited Village People Reunion Tour to be “bebop,” gay or otherwise. “You think so, do you?”
“And this bar... it’s a gay bar.”
“So? Does it matter? The drinks are good. The lighting’s excellent. Besides, I thought your kind didn’t discriminate.”
“Well, that’s another matter altogether. Some do, some don’t. It can be rather vexing, to tell the truth. But I most definitely do not discriminate, which is why you must feel free to utilize my ear, dear boy.”
“I see. Well, I thank you, Aziraphale. But I assure you, there’s nothing I want to tell you.”
“Oh, no?” Aziraphale looked slightly confused, and Crowley saw his chance to put his plan into action.
For no obvious reason, their handsome, not to mention scantily clad, waiter returned at that moment.
“Is there anything I can do for you two?” he cooed.
Crowley shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up with his finger, and watched Aziraphale’s reaction closely.
“What about you, sir? Anything? Anything at all?” he asked suggestively, as he leaned in towards Aziraphale.
Crowley observed the scene appreciatively. The waiter was a young thing; all sinewy muscles and tanned skin. And, at the moment, he looked ready and willing to climb into Aziraphale’s lap. It could get to a person, Crowley thought. Or a Being. This human was definitely on the irresistible side.
Aziraphale’s cheeks blushed once again, though his tone brokered no nervousness. “No, thank you. I’ve got everything I want, already.”
“Well, sir, if you change your mind, here’s my number.”
Crowley cleared his throat. A little flirtation was all he’d enabled. Clearly, he must have overdone the temptation, though.
Without a backward glance, their waiter walked off. In fact, their waiter was quickly forgetting that he’d ever set eyes on an older blond gentleman wearing a decidedly unfortunate tweed jacket. Later on, his mother would be surprised to learn that his phone number had been changed, too.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, you old serpent. I know you.”
With that, Aziraphale tilted his drink back, downing it in one noisy gulp, and stood up. His coat was on before Crowley could decipher his sudden mood change.
“Wait,” he called out to Aziraphale’s hastily departing form.
He didn’t catch sight of Aziraphale until he got to the parking lot. There he could see his old friend, carefully walking through the crowds of young good-looking men, not pausing to pay them any attention at all. Crowley let out of sigh of relief when he realized that Aziraphale had finally paused next to the Bentley.
Though he didn’t have to, he walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for Aziraphale. The angel slid into the seat with a noisy “Humph” but did not otherwise acknowledge the gesture.
Crowley closed the door, trying to think of how he could pull himself out of this situation without sacrificing his plan.
No sooner had he put the key into the ignition, than Aziraphale turned to him, his gray eyes bright with anger.
“You, of all others, should know better than to insinuate-” Aziraphale began.
“Go on, angel. Get it off your chest. Insinuate what?”
“Insinuate that I would be attracted to men… that’s what this entire night has been about, hasn’t it? And this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this stunt, either. What about all those plays you made me go to a while back? The ones with boys playing female characters?” he demanded. “Just how long have you been toying with me?”
“Now, wait… that’s hardly fair. That was hundreds of years ago - women weren’t allowed on stage then!” Crowley interjected.
But Aziraphale was having none of it. Crowley hadn’t seen his associate this worked up since... well, he hadn’t had this amount of righteous indignation aimed at him since before The Arrangement.
“Oh! That’s not the point and you know it. You’ve been taking me to restaurants, and plays, some of them musicals that I’d certainly never heard of before, and now this bar tonight! That young man was wearing about as much material as the day he was born - which, incidentally, was not that long ago! What exactly are you playing at?”
Crowley gripped the steering wheel tightly, channeling his own snappiness anywhere but back at Aziraphale. It wouldn’t do to lose his cool now.
“Listen, had I known that you’d get this bent out of shape… what’s that look? It was just a figure of speech. I think I can see that you’re not “bent,” per se --- Aziraphale, I just wanted you to know that you could trust me, if there was something that you wanted to tell me.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were burning so brilliantly that Crowley feared for the wood paneling of his beloved Bentley.
“I tell you what. Let’s just go back to that little bar down the street from your shop. We’ll have a drink in a nice neutral setting and discuss this.”
Aziraphale merely “humphed” again but otherwise remained silent. Crowley optimistically decided to take that as an assent.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Crowley muttered, mostly to himself, though he knew that the angel’s hearing was as perfect as his own.
“Crowley! Once and for all, I will never be tempted by men... or by humans, in general. The very idea is loathsome to me.”
Crowley gulped. He feared that his plan was fast approaching unsalvageable. He hadn’t missed the mark quite as spectacularly as this in a long, long time.
After several awkward minutes, Aziraphale cleared his throat. Then, in a halting voice, he said, “You know, I don’t really want to go out, Crowley.”
“Angel, don’t make me say it...”
“No, I... er... I just meant that I didn’t want to go out for a drink. Not when I’ve got a new case of Bridalwood’s Special Reserve Syrah. Unopened.”
Crowley hesitated. It sounded like an invitation. Yet Aziraphale was clearly still humming with anger.
“Well, alright, then. That sounds very pleasant to me,” he said, cautiously.
“Very good,” Aziraphale huffed.
They finished the drive in heavy silence.
***
Crowley settled on the worn out sofa, which was far more comfortable than it had any right to be, while Aziraphale bustled about his tiny kitchenette. Several uneasy minutes later, the angel emerged, forcefully shoving a glass of deep red wine under Crowley’s nose.
“So, should we talk a little bit more about-” Crowley began.
“Have you?” Aziraphale interrupted.
“Er?”
“Well, have you? Have you ever indulged in humans?” Aziraphale demanded.
Crowley thought fast. This evening had turned out entirely differently from what he’d been planning. And admitting the truth to Aziraphale only promised to take things to an all-time low.
“You know very well that one-on-one temptation is not my thing. Hasn’t been for centuries. So inefficient,” he explained, while he sipped his wine.
“That is really not an answer to my question, Crowley.”
Aziraphale’s grip on his wineglass was vise-like. Crowley mentally added some protective properties to the glass. The wine was particularly good. It would be a shame for the angel to spill his.
“What’s the problem? I’m a demon. Why shouldn’t I? And besides, I thought you personally didn’t discriminate.”
“Crowley, they’re humans. It’s not done… it’s not fair,” he spit out.
“Yeah? Have you told this to Raphael? Because I have it on good authority-” Crowley began.
“You will kindly stop dodging the question,” Aziraphale interrupted and this time the fury in his tone made Crowley wince.
“No,” he said in a small voice.
“No? No, what?”
“No, I haven’t... never with humans,” Crowley confessed.
“And why not?” Aziraphale asked imperiously.
“Eew! I just wouldn’t, that’s all,” Crowley said with an involuntary shudder.
“Then why on earth would you try to taunt me with young human men, Crowley?”
“Because I thought you would like them?” Crowley replied meekly.
“I think not. I think you wanted to humiliate me, didn’t you? You hoped that I would actually be tempted!”
Crowley looked at his now empty glass of wine. Aziraphale was right, of course. He had wanted to tempt the angel - just a bit - and the thought of humiliating him was certainly attractive, too. But there was more to it, as well. Quite a bit more.
Without warning, his drink was filled again, the dark red liquid nearly spilling over the ridge of the ornate old glass. He opened his mouth to tell the angel off for over-filling his wine glass but was stopped by the maniacal gleam in Aziraphale’s eyes.
“Drink up, my friend.”
Crowley sputtered, nearly choking on his wine at the maliciousness in Aziraphale’s voice. He hadn’t heard that particular tone in an age.
Though the wine was far too viscous to drink so quickly, Crowley managed to down his glass in seconds under Aziraphale’s intense scrutiny.
His left hand shook slightly and his glass nearly fell out of his grip. That wine was much stronger than Crowley had expected it to be.
He tried to stand, thinking that a gulp of fresh air might alleviate some of the lightheadedness that he was now experiencing - anything just to get him to a point where he could remember how to sober up.
Crowley had just begun to congratulate himself on managing to stand upright, when he heard Aziraphale laugh. It wasn’t a comforting sound.
“My dear boy, I think I’m beginning to see what this is really all about.”
“Wha...?” Crowley asked, turning around rather clumsily.
“Insulting me by trying to tempt me with humans... Really, how vulgar, even for a demon.”
Crowley tried to focus on Aziraphale’s dazzling gray eyes. Alas, he’d need them to stop swimming around the room if he was to have any success.
“I think you have seriously underestimated me, Crowley.”
All at once, Crowley found himself back on the couch. Once the room stopped spinning, he realized that wasn’t so much sitting on it as he was thrown across it. It was a rather interesting predicament to be in, he thought, as he turned his head so that his cheek was lying against the soft threadbare material of the bottom cushions.
“That wine wasss-” he mumbled, slurring his words.
“A bit strong?” Aziraphale finished. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Never trust those Californian upstarts, I always say.”
Crowley thought the room had gone rather cold. It was no matter since he himself was burning up...
“My clothes!” he exclaimed, realizing that he was naked.
“Hmmm... Yes, didn’t I tell you, I really quite liked your outfit tonight, my dear. Very flattering.”
Smack
Then, before he could even register any sense of feeling, a sharp loud smack sang through the air a second time. And then again. And again.
By the fifth slap, Crowley had the wherewithal to register that his Associate, his friend, his angel, was spanking him. And with true gusto, at that.
It was embarrassing, really, Crowley thought inanely. Not only was he lying on his belly, drunk enough to drool, being spanked by an angel, by Aziraphale, but he also was incredibly turned on.
With every smack, Crowley found himself grinding a bit more into the softness of the couch until he was good and hard and dizzy with lust.
Certainly no human could ever evoke this kind of feeling in him.
“Aziraphale,” he moaned.
Abruptly, and quite to Crowley’s surprise, the spankings stopped.
Crowley listened as the silence was punctuated by the soft sounds of Aziraphale’s breathing.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve been properly smited,” Aziraphale pronounced.
The callousness of his voice was gilded over with mockery. Crowley trembled as he realized he’d never been more aroused in all his thousands of years on earth.
“Yessss,” he whispered. “Too long.”
“And you’ve grown lazy and impertinent under the auspices of The Arrangement, haven’t you?”
“Yesssss, yesssss,” Crowley hissed, thrusting his hips into the couch.
“You’ve forgotten your place?” Aziraphale asked haughtily just as Crowley felt one white-hot hand touch the side of his bare hip.
“Yesssss,” Crowley winced, rocking his hips ever so slightly to increase the friction between his skin and Aziraphale’s hand.
“And you will never try to tempt me with humans again?” A second hand gripped the other side of Crowley’s hips.
“No, never,” Crowley managed to whisper.
“And you will never violate any of those poor souls yourself?” Two hands, nearly searing his skin with their touch, pulled his hips up off of the couch.
“Never!”
“Well, then...” the angel murmured, his voice holding a hint of softness that had not been there before.
And then, against the stinging flesh of his arse, Crowley felt the softest touch... it was a caress really- not a healing touch, but more like a feather-light breath moving over his sensitive skin. It was both exquisite and painful and Crowley couldn’t think of any other way that he’d rather be touched.
“Oh, Crowley, my dear. I’m afraid I can’t just let you off so easily,” Aziraphale breathed across his skin.
Crowley tried to answer. He really did. But the moment he felt the angel’s tongue, wet and slightly rough, whip across a most sensitive spot, his language skills failed him completely.
“Ngk.”
“What was that?”
Another lick, wet and firm, ghosted across. Then again, this time dipping in, teasing him. His flesh still burned from Aziraphale’s punishment, and now it also burned from this most intimate of touches.
In and out, the angel’s tongue tortured him. He couldn’t move, not that he wanted to, because Aziraphale’s hands - those sweet pudgy-fingered hands that could both steal chocolate biscuits and wield a Holy Flaming Sword - gripped him fiercely.
It was disorienting. And Crowley didn’t know if he was more drugged from the nearly lethal dose of alcohol or from Aziraphale’s own brand of exquisite opiates.
“Want to be...” he groaned, hoping desperately that he would be understood.
From behind him, he heard a low deep laugh as Aziraphale’s tongue ceased to move, signaling his assent. Seconds later, Crowley felt the alcohol leave his bloodstream. Only then did he realize that the intoxication from the wine had been nothing compared to the effect of Aziraphale. Nothing. And now, without the heaviness of the alcohol to dull his senses, he felt the full shock of the angel’s ministrations.
Aziraphale continued to hold him down, his fingers digging into Crowley’s red raw skin.
With sudden clarity, Crowley knew that he could change the nature of this encounter - if he wanted to. A thousand different strategies competed for his attention... he could slither into reptilian form and give the angel a good solid bite... or at the very least, he could flip over and wrestle his body away from Aziraphale. However, he chose to do none of those things. He merely sucked in a breath and waited with anticipation to see what was next.
Then he realized that Aziraphale had been waiting for him to come to that decision, too.
With renewed vigor, Aziraphale attacked him. He felt the scorching touch of the angel’s tongue again, diving even more deeply into him, simultaneously teasing and tormenting him.
And then he stopped, forcing Crowley to catch his breath.
“On your knees,” Aziraphale barked.
Crowley complied so fast that he wondered if would have been able to refuse, had he wanted to.
His eyes were closed. He licked his lips. Though he’d gazed at Aziraphale for thousands of years… though he’d seen him take a variety of forms... he’d never seen him-
A sudden physical intrusion interrupted his thoughts, assuring him most definitely that Aziraphale had made quite the effort, indeed.
It was a heady experience to be fucked by an angel, Crowley decided. And he was just as certain that it was as addictive as any drug, adrenaline rush, or power trip. As his felt his body rushing towards an indescribable and heretofore heartily under-appreciated surge of the most incredible sort of feelings, he realized that his plan was finally coming to fruition.
Of course, until now, he hadn’t really known what his plan was all about. He’d had an inkling of sorts. But now, as Aziraphale moved within him, fucking him deeply and most thoroughly, he understood. And he knew that Aziraphale understood, too.
The Arrangement was by no means over. But in the space of an evening, it had undergone a dramatic rewriting.
fin