Archive of Our Own

Crowley didn’t recognise it, the first time it happened. He should have done; he’d been doing this sort of thing for a while now. Temptation was his job, and it worked best when he took the time to feel his way into the detail of someone’s desires, to discover what they most wanted. He showed them what was possible, what they could have, if they were willing to take it; what they did after that was up to them.

So of course he could recognise desire when he sensed it. But that was humans. He didn’t expect it to apply to an angel.

They were in a tavern in Rome, that first time. He’d been trying to drink away his bad mood; hadn’t been the best of days, work-wise. The emperor he’d been sent to tempt didn’t, in all honesty, need much assistance, which was depressing on multiple levels. So he’d been pleased enough to see Aziraphale; the angel was interesting company. His enthusiasm about oysters had been entertaining, and his wish to invite Crowley along to share some of them more flattering than he probably ought to admit to.

He could tell how much Aziraphale desired the oysters, of course, that was blatantly obvious. He was already familiar with Aziraphale’s feelings about food. It was pleasant enough—enjoyable, even—to allow Aziraphale’s waves of greed to wash over him, with no need to do anything about it. It was a little funny, for Heaven’s representative on Earth to be getting so…Earthly. It gave Crowley a strange fond feeling.

In any case; he was distracted, and Aziraphale was eating, and maybe it wasn’t surprising that he identified that moment only in retrospect. The moment when Aziraphale looked over at him, his lips glistening with lemon juice, and as their eyes met, Crowley felt the tiny glint of a different kind of desire. Except at the time he didn’t feel it, or he did, and he put it down to Aziraphale’s appreciation for molluscs.

It was only much later, thinking back on it, that he realised it had been desire for him.

The first time he recognised it, straight off, was a century or so later, in Luoyang.

The Arrangement wasn’t yet in place, and Crowley had only seen Aziraphale once or twice since Rome, but apparently eating together was a thing they did now, and Crowley was fine with that. He was surprised, a little, by how pleased he was to see the angel; an enjoyable feeling of warmth located somewhere in his inner organs, just under the lungs.

Aziraphale was eating noodles, and enjoying them. Crowley had tried one of the jiaozi he’d been served with, and it had been pleasant enough, but he could rarely be bothered with all the hassle of food. He contented himself with another glass of rice wine.

“Are you not going to eat those?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing his plate with straight-up covetousness.

“Nah. You have ‘em.” He pushed the plate over towards Aziraphale.

“Are you sure?”

Aziraphale’s chopsticks were already poised, and Crowley grinned at him. “Oh, I dunno, maybe not, I might change my mind.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Crowley and took a jiaozi anyway.

“You’re teasing me. That’s not very kind.”

“Demon, remember? Not supposed to be kind. Actively supposed not to be kind, even. Are those different?”

Aziraphale gave the matter some thought as he polished off Crowley’s dinner. “Yes, I think so. Not being kind is not the same as being unkind.” He glanced over at Crowley. “I don’t think you are actively unkind, though.”

“You only see me when I’m letting you steal the food off my plate,” Crowley said. “Maybe I’m only not unkind to you.” The idea gave him a weird jolt behind the ribs.

Aziraphale looked over at him with a smile, and Crowley smiled back at him and leaned backwards in his chair; which was when he felt it. A spike of desire. Not for the food. For Crowley himself.

Crowley blinked, doubting himself, and Aziraphale looked away, and the desire was gone again. But thinking about it, later, after they’d bidden one another goodnight and Crowley was back in his rented room, he was certain he hadn’t been mistaken. Aziraphale—wanted him. Physically. The thought had a strange and unprecedented impact on his human body. Parts of it—in particular those parts that he’d only bothered to manifest in order to fit in with the humans—tingled. It was somewhat surprising to see desire showing up in himself rather than in others, but he could hardly fail to recognise it when it did.

There were, Crowley was aware, things that the humans sometimes did to themselves when they felt this way. And, well, he was always up for a little experimentation.

That flare of desire from Aziraphale was not, it transpired, a once-off. It kept happening. More often, and for longer every time. For a while, Crowley wasn’t wholly sure whether Aziraphale knew. He was an angel, after all; maybe he just didn’t recognise the feeling. Because if he did, surely he’d be—damping it down, or something.

Eventually, however, it became clear that Aziraphale did know. And that whilst he might not be wholly comfortable with it, he wasn’t doing much to suppress it, either.

Aziraphale, in fact, was flirting. Although Crowley wasn’t certain whether it was entirely deliberate, or whether the angel just had some kind of natural talent. He certainly seemed to have a natural talent in terms of awakening desire in Crowley himself. Meals out, over the next few centuries, became increasingly provoking.

Sometime around the start of the 8th century, they ran into one another in Ravenna, in what had been Italy and was currently part of Byzantium. Crowley was dabbling in the internal politics of the exarchate; Aziraphale had been talking to some cleric about some kind of map or book or something.

They’d gone out of the city to sit on a hilltop and drink, when Crowley finally cracked. They were watching what was shaping up to be a particularly glorious sunset and passing a flask of wine between them, while Aziraphale rambled on about this book or travelogue or whatever it was. Aziraphale was leaning towards Crowley as he talked. He kept glancing down to Crowley’s lips, and every time the tug of his desire strengthened.

Crowley’d been thinking about this for...a while, now, if you had a fairly generous definition of ‘a while’. He’d wanked over it more than once. And for some reason—maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way the sinking sun was shining off Aziraphale’s hair and gilding his profile, maybe it was how Aziraphale was looking at Crowley very much like he’d looked at the dish of the day at lunchtime—this time he did something about it.

If this were a human—though he wasn’t that into humans, always seemed a bit unfair, somehow—he might use his powers to take a closer look at what they wanted, let that inform his approach. He didn’t want to do that to Aziraphale; it definitely seemed like it would be rude. Impolite. Inappropriate. (As a demon, he ought to be very up for being rude, impolite, and inappropriate, but he wasn’t, not when it was Aziraphale.)

He leaned, slowly, a little closer to Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and his adam’s apple bobbed. But he didn’t move away.

“This something you want, angel?” Crowley murmured, moving closer again. Aziraphale’s lips parted. He nodded, just barely, and Crowley touched their lips gently together.

He started slowly, unsure how Aziraphale was going to respond; but Aziraphale took to it with the same alacrity he’d taken to any other sensory pleasure he’d encountered. (Indeed, it was entirely possible that Aziraphale had been having this sort of sensory pleasure all over the place with the humans already; Crowley had never asked, though he had a small collection of fantasies on that approximate theme.) Aziraphale made a small noise in the back of his throat, and leant into Crowley. In very short order his hands were in Crowley’s hair, and Crowley’s arms were around Aziraphale, and Crowley’s tongue was finding out a lot about how Aziraphale tasted.

Aziraphale tasted amazing.

They wound up on the ground, on their sides next to each other, with Crowley’s hand around both of their cocks. Aziraphale shuddered, his head thrown backwards and his teeth in his own lip, until Crowley kissed him again and Aziraphale bit Crowley’s lip instead, which absolutely did it for Crowley. A dark part of him curled with satisfaction around the idea of an angel wanting a demon; the rest of him was busy revelling in the fact that Aziraphale wanted him.

“Won’t someone…see us?” Aziraphale worried at some point in proceedings.

“What, a human? Don’t be daft. Not unless we want to be seen. Feeling exhibitionist, angel?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and they got back to it.

Afterwards, they lay on the ground together, staring up at the stars, and Crowley was seized with a great and racking doubt. Had this really been a good idea?

“Well, that was a good idea,” Aziraphale said, with a satisfied wriggle.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” Crowley admitted.

“Ooh, me too,” Aziraphale agreed.

Crowley glanced over sideways at him. He was beaming happily up at the sky, and Crowley swallowed past a weird lump in his throat. “I know,” he said. “Demon, remember? You’ve been oozing desire all over the place for ages.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Crowley shrugged, shoulders serpentine against the ground. “Took me a while to realise it wasn’t just the baked goods you were after.”

“Well. We should certainly do it again, then,” Aziraphale said, comfortably.

“You don’t think…” Crowley grimaced. “I mean. I’m not sure they’d approve. Either of our…sides.”

“I don’t see that it’s any worse than eating and drinking, and they don’t seem to care too much about that.”

“With the humans, maybe, but…with me? I mean, I can claim I’m corrupting you if it comes down to it, but what about you?”

“Defeating your wiles,” Aziraphale said, cheerfully.

This didn’t sound entirely convincing to Crowley, but what did he know?

They did do it again. Not that often; nothing like every time they met up. They never talked about it, but Crowley was fairly sure both of them heard that little inner voice that said, this is going to cause trouble. But often enough, the circumstances would be right, and they’d catch one another’s eye, and, well. It was just bodily pleasures, wasn’t it? But every time, Crowley felt Aziraphale’s desire grow stronger and shinier, and his own rise more enthusiastically in response.

It was Aziraphale who raised the stakes. Of course it was.

It was in France, once they’d eaten the crepes that Aziraphale had nearly gotten himself discorporated for and retired to Crowley’s room. Crowley hadn’t had a room until that point, but it was easy enough to make it such that the innkeeper thought he had, and bespeaking some more wine and taking his friend up for a private conversation was hardly out of the ordinary either.

He’d nearly been knocked over by the pulse of Aziraphale’s desire when he turned round and saw Crowley in the jail cell. A flare of lust had tingled in response along his own nerve-endings, cock to spine to the back of his neck, and it had been an effort to suppress it so that he could resolve the more pressing problem. Crowley tried not to think too hard about how he’d gained the ability to tell when the angel was getting himself into trouble. He wasn’t sure he’d like any of the available answers. But he knew, and he’d gone to sort things out, and Aziraphale had wanted crepes, and then, very clearly, he’d wanted Crowley.

Which suited Crowley just fine.

They were a couple of flasks of wine down and kissing on the bed. Aziraphale’s hands were cupping Crowley’s arse, and Crowley’s hands were in Aziraphale’s soft hair, the ridiculous revolutionary hat discarded. Crowley’s hair was tumbled down around his shoulders; apparently Aziraphale hadn’t cared for the style. Crowley didn’t mind.

“You said once,” Aziraphale said, out of nowhere, pulling back from where he’d been grazing Crowley’s neck with his teeth, “that you can sense, ah. Desire.”

“Hm? Well, yes. Part of the job, isn’t it?”

“What sort of desire?”

Crowley frowned at him. “All sorts, I suppose. Appetites, maybe, is a better way of putting it.”

“You can sense my desire.”

“Yes. Often, what that tells me is that you’re keen for something to eat.”

“Or keen to take you to bed,” Aziraphale said.

“Uh.” Crowley, absurdly, felt himself going slightly red. “Yeah. That too.”

“What, exactly, can you sense?” Aziraphale asked. His thumbs were resting in the crease at the top of Crowley’s thighs, nudging inwards towards the base of his cock, and Crowley was finding it slightly hard to concentrate.

“I dunno. Just kind of generally, that you…want something.”

“Can you tell what I want?”

Crowley was genuinely shocked at the question. “Wouldn’t do that. Not without—I mean. That’s private.”

“You do it to humans, though,” Aziraphale pressed.

Crowley shrugged. “That’s work. You’re not work. This is more along the lines of…recreation.” He had a lurking feeling that this was no longer exactly the entire truth, but there was no point in thinking too hard about that, was there? This was good, and it was what he had, so.

“But you could do it to me?”

“Hang on, hang on.” Somewhat reluctantly, Crowley sat up, and backed away a little. “What exactly are you asking, angel?”

“I’m asking if you can sense what I want,” Aziraphale said. He sounded slightly impatient, and a little embarrassed; and he wasn’t quite willing to meet Crowley’s eyes.

He could see where this was going now, and it was, self-evidently, an absolutely disastrous idea. In which respect it did of course bear a striking similarity to the situation they were already engaged in, wherein an angel and a demon had been shagging semi-regularly for centuries despite the likely consequences if they ever got caught at it.

Crowley, having never in his not-life met a disastrous idea that he wasn’t willing to throw himself at whole-heartedly, nodded. “Course I can. Or I could. So. Just to be clear. Are you asking me to use my powers to find out what you want, right now? Because I kind of thought it was fairly obvious already.” He glanced up and down the angel to make his point.

“Well,” Aziraphale said. He sounded extremely prim, which was a good sign that he wasn’t feeling prim at all. “I…found myself wondering. How it might feel. If you, uh, knew, more exactly.”

The idea of Aziraphale contemplating Crowley dipping into his secret fantasies sent a shiver up Crowley’s demonic spine. He edged closer, and licked at Aziraphale’s neck. “You’ve been wondering, have you?” he murmured into his ear.

“Well. When one does things to oneself, one knows, yes? Without the need for direction.” Aziraphale, Crowley had found in the past, was quite willing to direct in bed, which worked perfectly well for Crowley.

“You want me to just know what you want,” Crowley said.

“Yes. Will you?”

Really, really, really bad idea.

“Sure,” Crowley said, with a careless shrug. “Why not. Should be fun.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, that glorious bright smile that announced to the world that here was an angel, that smile that made Crowley’s insides turn over. He had the air of someone waiting for a delightful dish to be brought to him.

Crowley swallowed. He’d never felt nervous, doing this to a human. He’d never had to wonder where or how to start. Although in practice he’d only rarely done this sort of temptation himself, to a human; mostly you could take a quick look inside their head, then just point them at another nearby human who fit the bill and they’d get on with it by themselves, leaving you free to go off and have a nice quiet drink.

Aziraphale’s smile dimmed, just a trifle, and a tiny frown developed between his brows. “Of course, if you’d rather not…” No. No way. He wasn’t about to back down now.

“Hush,” Crowley murmured, and hooked a mental finger into the bright shine of Aziraphale’s desire, winding it towards him.

Right at the top of it, the first twist around the bobbin of his mind, Aziraphale was thinking very strongly about Crowley’s mouth. About—ah yes, Crowley’s tongue. There were some other ideas tangled in there which Crowley made a note of for later, but right now what Aziraphale wanted was kissing. Deep, dirty, kissing. Crowley smiled lazily at Aziraphale, leant in towards him, noting with satisfaction the angel’s eyes widening, and obliged. The feeling of desire pulsed in time with Crowley licking into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale wanted Crowley to change the angle, just a little; Crowley did. Aziraphale wanted Crowley to bite down, gently, then more firmly, on his lower lip. Crowley did. And every time Crowley met Aziraphale’s desire, it flared brighter.

Crowley wound another loop inwards. Skin. The images in Aziraphale’s mind now were of the two of them, naked, Crowley plastered close along Aziraphale’s side. Except it wasn’t exactly an image, more a set of feelings. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s idea of Crowley’s cock pressing into his hip, and it felt like it was Aziraphale’s cock pressing into his own hip. For a moment his mental eyes crossed. Bloody heaven, it was definitely nothing like this with the humans.

He pulled himself together, miracled away the clothing they hadn’t already dispensed with the human way, and pulled Aziraphale in close, soft angelic skin fitting warm against him. Yes, that was it. He felt the click of reality matching into Aziraphale’s desires, and Aziraphale made an inspiring noise at the back of his throat as he bit at the join between Crowley’s neck and shoulder. The sting of pain rippled along Crowley’s nerve-endings, running directly to his cock. Crowley scraped his fingernails down Aziraphale’s sides, then struggled to hold it together when Aziraphale gasped and pushed up against him, hard against Crowley’s thigh.

Something dark and demonic curled inside him, at the idea that he was getting to see what Aziraphale wanted; and that what Aziraphale wanted was him. What he wanted, right now, was to get his hands on Aziraphale’s cock. Thankfully, that was also exactly what Aziraphale wanted. And—yes, fine, Aziraphale did have a point, because what Crowley could do now, wound into Aziraphale’s desires as he was, was to touch it exactly as he wanted, exactly where he wanted, exactly when he wanted. It was like balancing on a wave, keeping track of what Aziraphale was feeling and what he desired to feel, matching one to the other…Crowley lost himself in the focussed elation of it.

“Oh fuck, Crowley, please,” Aziraphale said, and bit at his ear, and Crowley’s spine tingled.

Please what? he would have asked, except he knew, didn’t he? Aziraphale wanted very badly to come, but the thing was, more interestingly, he also wanted very badly and at the same time not to come, for Crowley to keep him here on the edge of the precipice for longer than this. And surely, the whole point of this exercise was for Crowley to know both of those things; and, knowing both, to take the option he might not normally pick up on.

Crowley hummed, took Aziraphale’s mouth with his own, and backed his touching off, stroking Aziraphale’s cock delicately, far too gently to bring him to orgasm. Aziraphale whimpered, and Crowley’s cock jerked in response.

“Oh, that’s not fair, you know…” Aziraphale said, breathlessly, when Crowley stopped kissing him, dipped into that bright line of desire again, and, raising an eyebrow, bent down to kiss his nipple. He squeaked and tried to push his cock into Crowley’s hand.

“You know what I know,” Crowley said, and blew at the nipple. “I know what you really want.” He paused, suddenly aware that there was a whole crashing disaster waiting to happen here if he got this wrong, if he pushed further than Aziraphale had expected. “You can tell me to stop.”

“No,” Aziraphale said, and clutched at him. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Crowley began to bring him back up towards the edge of orgasm, before he realised that what Aziraphale wanted now was not just what Crowley was doing, which he did very much want, but also to touch Crowley, to feel Crowley’s cock in his own hand. Before he could move to make that easier, Aziraphale sighed out a great shuddering breath, and reached for him, his fingers wrapping firm and perfect around Crowley’s cock.

There was more swirling now under the surface brightness of Aziraphale’s desire. Crowley was far from sure whether he wanted to look any deeper. There wasn’t anything, yet, that Aziraphale had wanted that was all that different from anything they’d done before, or might have done another time. This was really good sex, but that was all it was, and Crowley had the strong feeling that it would be best to keep things at that level.

Aziraphale’s breathing was getting harsher. He would come, if Crowley kept on with what he was doing...but he could feel that Aziraphale still didn’t want to, not wholly, not yet, and he let go and ran his fingers down Aziraphale’s cock, down the seam of his balls, tracing a fingernail along his perineum.

“Crowley. So good.”

There was a roaring in Crowley’s ears; his hand shook. Aziraphale rubbed a thumb over the head of Crowley’s cock, and Crowley very nearly came himself. He couldn’t. Not yet. Instead he listened again to Aziraphale’s desire, to his wish for Crowley to tease around his hole, just there, like that…just a little, just the tip of a finger, tantalising. His spare hand was on Crowley’s shoulder, nails digging in.

There was more that Aziraphale wanted. Crowley could feel it. Lurking under the surface. Sharks under the water.

Crowley liked to play with dangerous things. Sharks; fire; Aziraphale.

But he wasn’t ready to go looking any deeper. It wasn’t that Crowley was going to be shocked or surprised by anything Aziraphale might want to do with their human bodies. It was more that—this was intimate, already, maybe too intimate, and if he let himself know Aziraphale more, if he let himself fall further, they would be, he would be, too…

He couldn’t do it.

So he stayed on the surface, stroked Aziraphale just the way he wanted it, kissed at his chest and bit at his neck, let Aziraphale kiss him and tug hard at his cock; and the third time Aziraphale came up to the brink, Crowley twisted his fist just the way he could feel would be perfect, and pressed his thumb in at just the right spot, and Aziraphale tipped over into the brightness of orgasm. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s ecstasy in his mind and the wet heat of Aziraphale’s come on his hand, and lightning sparked in response along his spine and through his cock. He thrust desperately into Aziraphale’s hand, and orgasm overtook him in a rush.

Just for a moment, as they shuddered against one another, cheeks pressed together and Crowley gasping into Aziraphale’s neck, Crowley saw something else that Aziraphale desired. Something too large and terrifying to even begin to look at, something that dazzled him even as he let go, let the wound thread of desire spin back inside Aziraphale’s mind, too scared to risk seeing any more.

They lay together for a while, breathing hard despite the fact that neither of them needed to. Crowley tried very hard not to think about anything.

“My word,” Aziraphale said, at last.

“That what you wanted, angel?” Crowley asked, doing his best to sound casual.

“Mm. Rather better, in fact,” Aziraphale said, and ran a hand casually down Crowley’s back. It shouldn’t have felt like it did, at once ice-cold and burning. Crowley was fairly sure that the fact that it did had nothing to do with Aziraphale and quite a lot to do with him himself.

They were an angel and a demon. Occasionally, they engaged in minor indulgences of the flesh. Occasionally, they engaged in them together. That was all. Crowley told himself that, very firmly, and tried to forget that he might have seen something more of Aziraphale’s deepest desires, if he’d risked looking. That there was a moment where they might have known each other more deeply. They’d been kicking around Earth together for nearly six millennia, after all. They knew each other well enough, didn’t they?

Some years later, having spent a lot of time not thinking at all about how disastrous this could potentially become, Crowley stared at a piece of paper in flames on a pond, furiously aware of the space where Aziraphale was no longer standing, and swore at himself for some minutes. So much for Aziraphale knowing anything of him.

Even once they were friends again, they didn’t get up to anything carnal. It wasn’t that neither of them wanted to. Crowley certainly did, badly enough to think about it entirely too often; and every so often he would look at Aziraphale and find Aziraphale looking back at him, his desire flaring bright between them. In the ruins of a church, the dust still settling around them. In the Bentley, Aziraphale offering him a tartan thermos. But then Aziraphale would look away, or Crowley would find an excuse to leave. It felt more dangerous, now. More precarious.

It did happen again once. They fucked frantically on the night that the Antichrist arrived in the world, after Crowley had talked Aziraphale into the ‘godfathers’ business, both of them terrified and in need of comfort, though neither admitted it out loud. But just the human way. Crowley hadn’t been about to offer to do the desire thing again. Aziraphale hadn’t asked.

Eleven years after that came the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, and the whole Heaven and Hell business that followed. They floated back to the bookshop together after the Ritz in a haze of disbelieving relief and...well, Crowley wasn’t going to admit to an emotion like joy, not even now, he was still a demon, but it was perhaps a little bit like that.

They were barely inside the front door before Aziraphale’s mouth was on Crowley’s, his hands all over Crowley, and Crowley was giving as good as he got. It was short and sweet and messy, that first time; after which they went upstairs to Aziraphale’s bed, used primarily as a reading-nest but quite comfortable once Aziraphale cleared all the books off it, and did it long and languorous and indulgent.

What they didn’t do was talk about anything, which in all honesty suited Crowley just fine. He’d more or less admitted his emotions to himself, privately, a while back now, but even now, he wasn’t sure the time would ever be right to admit them to Aziraphale. They could openly enjoy one another’s company now, and also one another’s 'company', and that was all perfectly good. It would do. It was more than Crowley had ever expected he’d get.

It was a couple of months before Aziraphale mentioned Crowley’s powers. He was reading some ageing hardback tome or other, while Crowley stretched out next to him on the sofa. Crowley’s head wasn’t in Aziraphale’s lap, because apparently that got in the way of the book, and he objected violently to being used as a book-rest, but it was next to Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale was absently running his spare hand through Crowley’s hair, which was pleasant to a degree Crowley was still reluctant to admit to.

“Do you remember,” Aziraphale said, without looking up, but with a faux-casual tone that made Crowley’s ears prick up, “that time in France, when you, um…”

“Rescued you from the Bastille?”

“Used your demonic powers of temptation on me,” Aziraphale said.

“That wasn’t exactly temptation,” Crowley said. “As I recall, you didn’t need tempting. It was temptation-adjacent, at most.”

“It was rather lovely, was what it was,” Aziraphale said. His cheeks had gone a little pink, and he gave a tiny, probably-unconscious wriggle on the sofa. He was still looking at the book, but he hadn’t turned a page since the conversation started.

Crowley contemplated waiting it out, so that Aziraphale would have to actually ask instead of hinting; but he had a very long history of responding to Aziraphale’s hints, and it wasn’t like he didn’t recall the last time fondly either, even if he had long had the feeling that they’d had some kind of narrow escape.

“Are you suggesting you’d like to do it again?”

“Well.” Aziraphale did look down at him now, and his green-blue eyes did the thing they always did to Crowley. “If you were amenable. I mean…”

“I’m generally pretty amenable to sins of the flesh,” Crowley said.

Desire coiled in the pit of his stomach. There was the background desire he generally felt for Aziraphale; but more urgently, licking up into his chest, desire stoked by the idea that Aziraphale actively wanted an aspect of Crowley that was very definitely demonic. That he wanted Crowley not in spite of who he was, but, but…

They were on their side now, weren’t they? Neither of Heaven nor of Hell. Back then, reaching into Aziraphale’s wants had felt like a bad idea, and it probably still wasn’t a great idea, all in all, but…Well. Things were different now. Maybe it was safer, to see. And it had been good.

“It’s not a sin, darling,” Aziraphale said, mildly. He was a lot less reactive to that sort of teasing now than he once had been. Another way that things had changed.

‘Darling’ was new, too.

“Well, I’m amenable to not-sins of the flesh, then,” Crowley said.

He sensed Aziraphale’s familiar bright wave of desire. It felt warmer, these days, than it had all those millennia ago when they first knew one another. It didn’t just flare now, it curled its way towards him and tugged. Crowley couldn’t remember when it had changed. It didn’t matter, did it? Aziraphale glanced around the shop, which was, conveniently, empty. “Well…” he said, a little coyly. There was a rattle from the front door as the sign flipped to CLOSED, and the bolt went across the door.

Crowley shuffled up along the sofa, sliding in underneath the book that Aziraphale was still holding in one hand, and looked up at his angel. It was an awkward angle, but Aziraphale bent down immediately to kiss him gently on the lips. Crowley’s own desire flared.

“Shall I, then?” he murmured, and Aziraphale said into his mouth, “Oh, please do.”

Crowley reached out with his mind and pulled at that silvery brightness, twisting Aziraphale’s desires into a thread that he could wind into himself. Surface stuff for now. He pulled it through his mind, feeling it, then sat up and swung himself over to straddle Aziraphale’s lap, pushing his fingers into the angel’s hair and holding him still to be kissed.

Aziraphale gasped and pushed up against Crowley’s pelvis, grinding his cock against the cunt that Crowley was manifesting today. That wouldn’t be news to Aziraphale, who had enthusiastically gone down on Crowley only that morning. A rapid flurry of feelings and images thrummed through Aziraphale, a shivering desperation already of more more Crowley more, and they'd barely even started. Crowley pulled again at the waves of Aziraphale’s desire, skimming for the strongest feelings...

There.

He slid his hands out of Aziraphale’s hair, running them down his shoulders. He pushed Aziraphale’s hands away from his own back, and pinned them against the sofa, his hands around Aziraphale’s wrists. This wasn’t something they’d done before, and Crowley balanced for a moment on a wave of doubt/certainty, before Aziraphale’s head went back, and he whimpered in the back of his throat. Crowley, satisfaction thrumming through him, rocked his hips against Aziraphale and curled his tongue deep into Aziraphale’s mouth.

This situation would, he thought, only be improved by the removal of at least some of their clothes; but right now this was supposed to be about what Aziraphale wanted, and perhaps Aziraphale was enjoying the fully-clothed thing. He picked gently at the desire-thread, and was gratified to discover that Aziraphale too was desperate for more skin.

This was exactly the sort of thing that miracles were for, in Crowley’s estimation; he toyed briefly with the idea of doing it slowly, but if both he and Aziraphale so badly wanted to feel skin…He made an abbreviated gesture without letting go of Aziraphale’s wrists, and both of their clothes disappeared.

“Very s-smooth, darling,” Aziraphale gasped, managing a tiny smirk even as his desire still clamoured skin skin Crowley more.

“Not sure you’re in a position to be making smart remarks right now, angel.”

Crowley nipped sharply at Aziraphale’s neck, exactly where he knew Aziraphale wanted it, then tipped himself forwards, plastering them together. His clit was pressed against Aziraphale’s cock, and Aziraphale was pushing up into him in abortive stutters, panting desperately, as Crowley mouthed along his neck to find the spot that Aziraphale was thinking of just above his collarbone. Aziraphale tugged against Crowley’s hold on his wrists, silvery desire coiling there, and Crowley tightened his grip just enough to make Aziraphale arch against him and then relax with a shuddered sigh.

Still biting at Aziraphale’s collarbone, relishing Aziraphale’s tiny moans, Crowley hooked his finger back into that thread of desire. It was growing more complex, pulling up deeper wishes from Aziraphale’s subconscious. For a moment, Crowley hesitated. He’d stopped here before, hadn’t he? Stuck close to the surface, avoided anything more difficult. It wasn’t like he hadn’t found plenty enough already to make for spectacular sex. Knowing more than that...it could still be dangerous. Couldn’t it?

He balanced on the moment of decision.

“Crowley. Please,” Aziraphale said, hoarsely.

Did Aziraphale even know what he was asking for? Did either of them know where this was going?

Did it matter?

Aziraphale moved his head, nudging towards Crowley, asking for his mouth, body and desire together. Crowley gave one final nip to his neck, and came up to kiss him, deep and open like Aziraphale wanted.

And underneath him Aziraphale deliberately opened himself up. His desire, no longer a nice tameable thread that Crowley was pulling on, came tumbling into him, the breaking of a vast overwhelming wave.

Desire for physical things: for Crowley to hold him down, to torment him, for Crowley’s mouth and hands and skin. Desire for Crowley to have what he wanted, to take his pleasure from Aziraphale. That complicated twine of wanting something and at the same time wanting to give up control, to be denied, to be used.

And around all of that, surging beneath with it, twisted into every part of it, something Crowley could barely recognise at first. Not a demonic feeling at all. One he shouldn’t even be able to sense.

Love.

“Angel,” Crowley croaked.

He was barely aware that he had let go of Aziraphale’s hands and had his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair again, scratching at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck and twisting into his curls. He could feel how much Aziraphale wanted that, and how he wanted Crowley to tug at it, to hold him still for the kiss, and Crowley was doing that even as he was overwhelmed with the sea of Aziraphale’s adoration.

Aziraphale’s arms were around his back again, and he was kissing Crowley hard and deep. Crowley managed, somehow, to pull back, sliding his hands down to Aziraphale’s shoulders, thumbs resting on his collarbones.

“Angel, what the…”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale looked worried. “Are you...I’m sorry, am I being…” Crowley saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Being too much. I don’t want to, I know I can be, I’m sorry, I...”

“No,” Crowley said, as he felt Aziraphale retreating from him, pulling everything he was feeling back in again. He shook his head frantically. “Not too much, never too much, never. Angel. You’re perfect.” Oh heaven, was that too much?

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, relaxing.

Crowley felt that wave of desire and emotion flood back towards him, and bit off a gasp.

“But something’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, the worry still there.

Fuck, he was going to have to say something, wasn’t he? He clenched his teeth.

“I didn’t...I didn’t expect…” He couldn’t. He couldn’t say it.

Aziraphale looked searchingly into his eyes for a moment, and Crowley tried not to cringe, or run away. He couldn’t run away. He could feel Aziraphale’s love curling around him. He couldn’t leave that.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale touched his cheek, eyes widening. “I love you. Of course I love you. Didn’t you…?”

“No, Aziraphale, I didn’t know,” Crowley said. He wanted to be cool, offhand, but it came out aching and desperate, his own feelings pulsing desperately inside him.

“I assumed…I thought it was so obvious, I thought you must...I mean, I didn’t let myself know it for such a long time, but you see so much more clearly than I do. And then, once I did know, you’ve always said you can feel me wanting things...”

“That’s desire. Not the same.” Crowley thought back to what he’d backed away from seeing, back in 1793; but surely Aziraphale hadn’t felt that way back then.

Aziraphale smiled at him, but there was a slight ache in his gaze. ”I think it’s been a while since my desire for you was separate from my love.” He stroked the line of Crowley’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I should have said.”

“Yes.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said again, simply, like it was easy. It had never been easy. Crowley knew that right down to his bones, but if his angel wanted to make it that way…

“Love you too,” Crowley gulped.

It was terrifying, like cracking his chest open right down the middle, everything inside him pulsing painfully against the cold unforgiving air; but he couldn’t leave Aziraphale alone there.

Aziraphale’s eyes went even wider, and then he was kissing Crowley, desperately, relaxing boneless against him, opening himself up even further, and Crowley let himself be caught by the wave of Aziraphale’s feelings.

Crowley’s demonic powers didn’t work this way. There was hardly anything Aziraphale was feeling right now that he ought to be able to sense. Maybe that was Aziraphale’s doing. Maybe it was the two of them melded together somehow. And in that case, if he was seeing Aziraphale, maybe Aziraphale was seeing him too. It wasn’t the cold unforgiving air that surrounded him; it was the embrace of Aziraphale’s warmth.

“I thought, I hoped,” Aziraphale was saying, in between kisses.

Crowley considered saying, didn’t you know—Aziraphale was an angel, he sensed love, except Crowley hadn’t let himself think ‘love’, not ever—but this didn’t seem like the time to have that conversation in reverse, not when there was so much else they could be doing.

Crowley’s hands were back in Aziraphale’s soft hair, one thumb stroking at the place just under his ear where he loved to be kissed. Aziraphale’s hands were up under his shirt, reaching up for his shoulderblades to stroke at the metaphysical join of his wings, and he made a very embarrassing noise into Aziraphale’s mouth.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, “and I really want you, I don’t want to stop, please, Crowley, please can we…”

“Anything you want,” Crowley said, with great and genuine fervour, and miracled them upstairs to Aziraphale’s great squishy nest-cloud of a bed.

Crowley had no compunction now about rooting through Aziraphale’s desires, winding out and twisting together the bright shiny surface—touch me this way, make me feel this—and the darker more complicated undercurrents — hold me down, control me, make yourself feel, see me, let me see you.

See me. Let me see you. That was terrifying, still, in both directions, and yet…

And yet, here and now, he couldn’t hold anything back, and he didn’t want Aziraphale to hold anything back either.

They were tangled together on the bed, arms and legs and inhuman selves, Aziraphale still broadcasting everything he felt straight at Crowley.

“Let me,” Crowley said, hoarsely, desperately, not even entirely sure what he was asking.

“Oh god, Crowley, please,” Aziraphale breathed.

He flipped them over and pinned Aziraphale to the mattress, wrists over his head. Aziraphale cried out and arched up as Crowley straddled him, rubbing his clit and his cunt along the shaft of Aziraphale’s hard cock. Crowley felt at the shape of Aziraphale’s desire, and bent down to bite sharp bruises across Aziraphale’s chest and curl his tongue over his pink nipples. He revelled in the noises Aziraphale was making and in the feel of his desire, twisting at once towards and away from what Crowley was doing to him.

Crowley could feel Aziraphale wanting Crowley to hold him down at the same time as being desperate to hold Crowley and feel his hands on Crowley’s back. He wanted Crowley to bite him, hard enough that he wanted it to stop, and then he wanted Crowley not to stop.

Crowley wanted, as he always did, to make Aziraphale feel good. But the feel of Aziraphale’s conflicting desires, of Aziraphale wanting something at the same time as part of him resisted it: that fed something demonic within him, something that had him rubbing his clit against Aziraphale without mercy as Aziraphale twisted under him.

“Please,” Aziraphale begged, and Crowley felt Aziraphale’s clear sense-memory of his cock inside Crowley, of him coming, buried to the hilt inside Crowley (his cunt or his arse or…there were a lot of sense-memories wrapped up in there, and Crowley thrilled at every one of them). And at the same time he wanted Crowley to deny him.

Crowley badly wanted to fuck Aziraphale’s brains out, to come clenched around his cock. But he wanted more, too; and it wasn’t like he didn’t have options, right now.

“Not yet,” he said, and heard the echo of a hiss in his voice.

He swiped his forked tongue around one of Aziraphale’s nipples, licked up Aziraphale’s neck, relishing his angel’s moans and the burn of his desire. Everywhere he and Aziraphale touched, his nerve-endings sparked, lighting up his body just as the exultation of knowing just what Aziraphale wanted lit up his mind. Heat curled through his pelvis, his cunt tingling sharply as he rubbed his clit against Aziraphale’s cock while Aziraphale writhed desperately. He rocked his hips faster, his thighs tensing, until he came with shocks like starbursts radiating through his body.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Aziraphale said, breathless. “Crowley, you feel so...I want…”

“Ssss good, though, angel?” Crowley asked, cautious again for a moment. He could feel how much Aziraphale wanted more, wanted to keep going, but this was still uncharted territory. Desire didn’t necessarily mean thing you wanted, not always.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, fiercely. He tilted his head, trying to reach up towards Crowley. “Yes. It’s so good, you’re so good, giving me…More, Crowley. Please. I want…I’ve spent so long thinking about you, about this.”

“We were doing it, for a fair while,” Crowley pointed out.

Aziraphale made a frustrated noise. “But not like this. Not—it was always good, darling, you always felt so good, but we were…I want you to know. I want—you should have everything of me, Crowley. Please.”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, overwhelmed by Aziraphale and his open-handed, open-hearted appeals. He wanted this too, so badly, he wanted to delve into Aziraphale’s secrets; and Aziraphale wanted him to…

He swallowed, and opened his eyes, and stared into Aziraphale’s eyes, his irises a rim around his wide black pupils, as he dipped back into Aziraphale’s desire. He was pulling handfuls of it out now, caught up in being allowed to do this, at Aziraphale underneath him panting and desperate, given up on reaching Crowley’s mouth and biting instead at his collarbone, the meat of his shoulder.

So much here. So many things Aziraphale wanted, so many ideas and images and thoughts. So much desire for Crowley, and Crowley still couldn’t quite believe it. But not all of that was for now, and what Crowley needed was to find from all of that what Aziraphale might want right now…

There. He pulled something out, something that made his own stomach curl tight and dark; but Aziraphale wanted this, Crowley knew it for certain. He smiled down at Aziraphale, letting his mouth curl wickedly, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

“The thing is,” Crowley said, bending down to kiss at the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth, sipping at Aziraphale’s little moans. “The thing is, I can think of things I could do with my hands right now, if I wasn’t having to hold you down.” He tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s wrists for emphasis. “But I don’t want you moving, either.”

“You c-could tie me up,” Aziraphale whispered, which was something else Crowley had already seen in that mass of desire and fantasy. Something for another time.

“I could,” Crowley agreed cheerfully. “Or I could use my powers. But I don’t want to. What I want, is for you to do what you’re told.”

Aziraphale’s eyes fell shut, his body pulling tight as his desire flared, before he relaxed again.

Crowley didn’t let go of him yet. That was just the first part. The easy part. What Aziraphale wanted, deep in that swirl of desire, was something more. He took a long breath, then leant down to whisper into Aziraphale’s ear.

“Angels can’t disobey, can they?” He licked the shell of Aziraphale’s ear, lightly, and Aziraphale whimpered. “Can’t disobey Heaven. But you have. You’re not theirs any more, and you’re not doing what they tell you. I’ve got you now. My angel. So how about you obey me, instead. Do what you’re told by a demon. My good, obedient angel, gone bad. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Oh god. Oh Crowley.” Aziraphale was shuddering.

“Isn’t it?” Crowley let his voice harden.

“Yes. Yes. I want...”

Crowley pressed his wrists into the bed, and let go. Aziraphale didn’t move. His eyes were shut, and his breath was coming in pants.

“There you go. There’s my wicked, willing, angel,” Crowley said, softly, and ran his fingernails down Aziraphale’s chest. He scraped them over his nipples, hitting exactly the spots he knew Aziraphale most wanted, watching for every jump and twitch.

He slid down to grind against Aziraphale’s thigh while he ran a hand over Aziraphale’s cock, gently, teasingly. Aziraphale made a high, desperate noise, but his hands still didn’t move.

He could feel how much Aziraphale wanted this, and giving it to him was incandescently good. And at the back of that, behind the deep and centuries-long desire to look after his angel, was the darkness in his demonic soul that was panting and clawing at the idea of him, a demon, unforgivable, having this power over an angel. The best of all angels. His angel.

His angel, who wanted him back. Who loved him back.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, jerking against him as he rubbed his thumb over the tip of Aziraphale’s cock. Crowley’s cunt clenched, heat pooling in his pelvis, as he felt Aziraphale’s desire to be touching Crowley twisting together with his wish to keep his hands exactly where Crowley put them. He ground against Aziraphale’s thigh again, and felt Aziraphale’s mouth watering at the idea of how Crowley must taste right now; oh, and there was a good idea. Crowley grinned, and bent himself to the task of giving both of them exactly what they wanted.

Some time later, Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he begged, “Oh, Crowley, darling, please, please fuck me.”

Crowley could feel his desire becoming more all-encompassing, a wish for something that enveloped the two of them, together, a wish for Crowley to release him…

He wound his fingers into Aziraphale’s, tugging his hands away from their white-knuckled grip on the bars of the headboard, rose up on his knees, and settled himself down onto Aziraphale’s cock. He had intended to go slowly, draw it out, but he couldn’t; as soon as he felt himself parting around Aziraphale’s slick cock, he was overcome with both of their desire, their shared desperate wish for Aziraphale to be deep inside him.

“Aahhh,” Crowley choked out, his cunt clenching around Aziraphale’s cock, every nerve in his body tingling.

“Fuck,” Aziraphale said, hips rising against Crowley’s weight.

“Hold me,” Crowley begged, and Aziraphale’s arms were around him, the two of them rocking together, desire and sensation washing backwards and forwards between them until Crowley couldn’t tell who was feeling what any more, it was just overwhelming pleasure, delight, love…

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, into Crowley’s neck, rocking upwards into him, each tiny movement sending shockwaves through the whole of Crowley’s body.

“Loved you for so long,” Crowley confessed, feeling broken open.

“This is ours now,” Aziraphale said, desire and love and a glorious celebratory satisfaction in his voice and in his mind, and Crowley washed himself in it, fed it back to Aziraphale again, and it was in that wash of shared delight and openness that they both came, mouths and bodies and celestial selves locked together.

They stayed wrapped around each other for a long while afterwards, floating in a mutual haze of pleasure, Crowley lost in the feel of Aziraphale’s skin against him. Aziraphale was still flat on his back, with Crowley’s leg thrown over his thigh, and they were pressed together from hip to shoulder, sweat still drying on their skin. Human bodies really were a bit sticky, with all the fluids. Not that Crowley, at that precise moment, was complaining.

“Gosh,” Aziraphale said, finally, still sounding a little shaky.

“What you had in mind?” Crowley asked, suddenly unsure.

“Rather more than I had in mind,” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley stiffened, worry coursing through him, and Aziraphale turned to face him, throwing his arm tight around Crowley’s back, “In a good way, darling, in ever such a good way, truly.” He dropped kisses on Crowley’s nose, his cheeks, his lips. It was wonderful, and excruciating.

“Mmph, angel, sod off,” Crowley said, half-heartedly.

Aziraphale kissed him again. “I love you,” he said. “And I love fucking you.”

“Such a dirty mouth, on an angel,” Crowley said. “Shocking.” He gulped. “I love you too.”

The admission was still terrifying, and he suspected it would be for a while. You couldn’t just brush away that many years of denial with a shag, however outstanding it might have been. But they were here, now, together; and for the first time, that felt like a solid truth, one that he could rely on.

Aziraphale was smiling at him with a soft fondness. Crowley felt he might very well drown in the angel’s green-blue gaze. Aziraphale loved him.

“It is slightly unfair, though,” Aziraphale said. “You can just find out what I want. Whereas for me to know what you want, I’m going to have to get you to tell me.”

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah, well, ‘m a demon, aren’t I? No shame when it comes to my dark desires.”

“That’s just not true, though, is it,” Aziraphale said, comfortably, nuzzling into his jaw. “You’re good at meeting my dark desires. I’m not sure you’re going to be all that quick to cop to your own.”

Crowley made a scoffing noise, uncomfortably aware that Aziraphale might not have demonic powers that enabled him to visualise Crowley’s desires, but he saw quite a long way into Crowley nevertheless.

Aziraphale was busy gathering him up, foot hooking around Crowley’s ankle, hand stroking gently over Crowley’s back, and Crowley found himself shuddering embarrassingly and tucking his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I love you a very great deal,” Aziraphale said, into the top of his head. “I have a lot of time to make up, you know, showing you.”

Crowley closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around his angel, and let himself be known.