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Crowley, naked and tied to Aziraphale's armchair by his desk, has high expectations and is terribly disappointed when Aziraphale sits opposite him on a sofa and picks up a book. Looking utterly at ease.
Crowley gives him a few minutes and when nothing happens, the angel calmly reads his book, tiny glasses on his nose, he squirms.
"Angel."
"Yes darling?"
"I thought, I thought you said you will make me come."
"And so I will my dear."
"Well. You can't make me come just sitting there, reading."
"No?" Aziraphale looks over his book and over his silly glasses at him, smiling. "Shall we have a bet?"
Crowley frowns, "Do you want to talk me into an orgasm, I know you can do that."
"No, I shall say nothing."
"And you will keep your clothes on?"
Aziraphale smiles. "If you wish."
Crowley shakes his head. How. Alright. "Yeah, I'll take it. What are we betting on?"
"If I win, you'll be my plaything for the rest of the evening. I can do whatever I want with you."
"Well," Crowley agrees, "Sure, but am I not always that?"
"And if you win, I will be yours."
"Oh."
Aziraphale wiggles in his seat, getting comfortable, parting his legs, reaching for his cup of tea. "Deal?"
"Deal. But shall we set a time limit? Maybe an hour?"
The angel nods easily, smiling and gets back to his book, Crowley seemingly forgotten.
Crowley watches the angel, and it's nice. Just looking at him. For once not thinking about how to distract him, please him, annoy him. Just looking. He's beautiful in the golden light of the winter afternoon and Crowley can't help but imagine the many ways they could be enjoying each other if they didn't have a bet going.
Crowley periodically gets hard, thinking of the lovely angel cock, so thick and hard when the angel is aroused, how nice it'd be to kneel between those thighs, mouth full of it. Or have the angel stretch him on his lap, legs apart, fucking into him until they both collapse, satisfied, panting, into a sweaty heap.
But then he tries to calm down, unsure if he could come on a fantasy alone, but not willing to risk losing.
It’s about 10 minutes from the full hour and Crowley feels incredibly antsy. He could absolutely stay like this for hours if he had to, but something about knowing the hour is almost up…
Aziraphale shifts slightly on the sofa, and Crowley’s woken from his reveries. He watches the angel get hard against his thigh; his cock trapped in the wool-linen fabric. Even without lowering his gaze, he knows his own cock is mirroring Aziraphale’s. Although being naked, his own one, once fully hard bounces lightly against his stomach. He feels a crazy urge to stroke himself.
A few minutes tick by and Crowley wonders what the angel is thinking of to get so beautifully hard. He wants to touch him, touch himself. Rub their cocks together maybe. Mmmm. That would feel so nice. His own hot skin against the pulsing blood hot thickness of the angel. The gorgeous veins on him. Damn. He is going to come if he doesn’t stop thinking that way.
There is soft grunt coming from Aziraphale and Crowley feels himself leak. Ridiculous how worked up he gets over so little. But what will the angel do to try to get him over the finish line? There’s only minutes left.
Crowley’s busy furiously imagining what he will demand of Aziraphale when the angel groans again and his pelvis shifts. A small wet spot appears on the tan trousers.
Crowley moans. No - he wouldn’t. Fuck.
A small stream escapes the fabric from where Aziraphale’s cockhead is clearly outlined now in the wet fabric, showing how the hard cock twitches with the need to piss.
Aziraphale groans harder and the stream gets stronger, escaping the trouser leg with a hiss, pooling around Aziraphale’s thigh and slowly spreading towards the edge of the leather upholstery.
Crowley’s own cock feels on fire, he’s leaking hard and his hips are trying to thrust up. He’s not thinking about that though. Just about the warm liquid escaping his angel and how much he wants to break the rope binding him so he can kneel just there and press his lips against that hard, pissing cock.
They are both moaning, Crowley is biting his lip and the chair scrapes across the carpet as his body jerks with the need to touch.
Aziraphale keeps pissing into and out of his trousers, pale liquid pooling around him, darkening the fabric, his crotch, the leather, dripping down the sofa too. He’s still pretending to read his book as his hips thrust lightly, his cock sliding against the wet stain, clearly giving him some relief.
Crowley now wants him so badly. He loves how gone the angel looks. He drops his open book over his chest and closes his eyes, tipping his head back, moaning as the last of the urine escapes in interrupted spurts, in time with the movements of his hips.
Crowley is desperate, he would do anything for release now, he’s just about to beg when the angel opens his eyes and meets his, his pretty mouth in that familiar half open shape as he moans and Crowley looks down, to watch his cock twitch in the wet fabric as his come seeps through in long pulses.
The demon worries he screamed Aziraphale’s name a bit too hard as he came, but he knows the bookshop is soundproofed.
“Mmm, and with two minutes left,” Aziraphale says as he squeezes himself gently through the wet fabric, looking over Crowley with a lingering gaze, gathering his come onto his fingertips. He licks his index finger making Crowley groan and stands up, wet trousers and all and walks over to him.
Crowley whimpers when Aziraphale gets close. Realises how cold he’s been as he feels the warmth of Aziraphale’s body up close. He starts to shiver.
The wet index fingers drags over his belly, gathering his own come, as Crowley came all over himself in long, messy streaks.
“Open.”
Crowley opens his mouth obediently and Aziraphale pushes three of his fingers in, leaning down to kiss Crowley on a cheek. Crowley sucks, eager, pliant, happy, spent, annoyed, impressed.
“You did so well darling. And don’t think I wasn’t watching you. I wonder what you were thinking of, getting so beautifully hard for me several times over.”
“You are such a bastard angel.” Crowley says around his mouthful. “Ugh, what do you want from me now?”
Aziraphale kisses his lips, fingers gently tipping his face up. “Let’s have a bath love.” He says softly and starts undoing the rope, gathering Crowley into his arms and walking up to the small flat, wet and messy as they are.
A bath is of course waiting for them, all ready and hot and full of bubbles and gorgeous scents. Some soft melody wafting in from the bedroom too, one that Crowley does not recognise.
There are various fruits and cheeses and vegetables and dips on the table by the bath as well as a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“You have to join me, filthy angel,” Crowley says when Aziraphale lowers him carefully into the water, kissing him all the time.
“Hmm,” he answers, non-committaly but he does start to undress, teasing Crowley, slowly revealing his skin, his beautiful curves, that broad chest Crowley so loves to rest on.
The angel does make a face when he peels his wet trousers off, which makes Crowley chuckle.
“Not so hot now, is it.”
Aziraphale raises an eyebrow at him, however. “You didn’t complain earlier dear.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t. That was something. Next time though, I want to see you do that naked."
Aziraphale laughs at that and Crowley takes that for a maybe. Close to a yes. And he groans softly, imagining Aziraphale’s cock, hard and pressed into his belly, piss like a fountain, wetting his chest, his lap, his belly, then jerking as the angel comes all over himself, head thrown back, moaning.
He shakes himself in the bath, feeling how he’s gotten hard again when he notices Aziraphale watching him, fully naked now, with a smirk on his face. He’s so gorgeous.
“Fuck off. It’s not my fault you are so fucking sexy.”
Aziraphale laughs and climbs into the bath.
They share food and drink and touches and kisses, some gentle mutual masturbation, grasping each others cocks, mirroring each other’s movements. Not going too far, just keeping the evening gently buzzing.
When the water cools after about an hour, Aziraphale steps out, helps Crowley out as well and dries him off, kissing him everywhere with tiny, teasing, butterfly kisses.
“Go wait for me on the bed my sweet, I am not finished with you.”
“Not sweet,” Crowley grumbles but obeys, thinking he has an ace card up his sleeve.
Crowley settles on the bed and hears Aziraphale let the water out and presumably drying himself off and putting the bottles with fragrant liquids away.
When the angels walks into the bedroom, wrapped in his fluffy gown, drinking a glass of water, Crowley is lying nicely on top of the bed as asked, ankles crossed and hands behind his head. Like a renaissance painting. He hopes.
“Mmm,” Aziraphale kneels on the bed, looking over him appreciatively. He places the empty glass on the bedside table. Runs his fingers up Crowley’s thigh. “Fancied a change, yes? My lovely demon.”
Before Crowley can protest, Aziraphale leans down to kiss him.
“I wonder what should I do with you. Would you like some sweet love making? Your ankles on my shoulders as I stretch you on my cock?” Aziraphale says that as he lightly strokes himself. “Or shall I turn you around and fuck you hard into the mattress? Would you like to ride me? Shall I eat you out first? Yes, perhaps. That little wet cunt needs some attention I think.”
Crowley realises he’s been moaning all through Aziraphale’s little speech and his legs parted without any conscious thought. Damn. That angel will be the death of him.
“Aziraphale.”
“Yes Crowley, dearest,” Aziraphale leans over Crowley, meeting his lips with own, the robe dropped by the bed. He’s completely naked again and warm, and large and Crowley whimpers, as if it was the first time the angel was looming over him, all gorgeous and soft and aroused and so hot.
“Are you real?”
“Are you, my sweet thing?”
Aziraphale’s tongue is deep in Crowley’s mouth before he can reply and he can do nothing but arch his body into Aziraphale’s above him and try to match his intensity in kissing and wanting and being here, just here. Without worrying or second guessing.
Aziraphale presses his body into his for a moment and Crowley moans into his mouth, hands sliding into the beautiful, damp curls, pulling on them carefully.
“No,” he gasps when Aziraphale leaves his mouth and lifts himself off him, but the trail of kisses down his body shut down his complaining quickly as does Aziraphale’s next move which is apparently to spread Crowley’s legs wide, give him a wicked look and land, open mouthed over his vulva, his tongue swiping over him.
Crowley’s hips thrust up into Aziraphale’s face who holds firm, his large hands on Crowley’s skinny thighs as he feasts on him, licking and sucking and making the most outrageous noises, driving Crowley to distraction as he can feel his face his on fire.
Any worries quickly dissolve as his body starts to shake and he feels an orgasm approaching and starts to beg Aziraphale to not stop, his fingers tightening into Aziraphale’s hair at which Aziraphale grunts because he does not like that but Crowley can’t help it and he comes, shouting Aziraphale’s name, spasming around nothing, against Aziraphale wet mouth.
“Well done darling,” Aziraphale smiles at him, looking up, slick hanging on to his red lip as he licks at it, making Crowley sigh and squirm.
“You are impossible angel.” Crowley pants, his body trembling, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm in his pelvis, his belly. It was so good it almost hurts.
Aziraphale straightens up on his knees, stretches. His cock swaying between his thighs, heavy and hard and wet at the tip, leaking.
Crowley knows he's staring at him open mouthed, as if he's seeing him for the first time. Damn.
“Fuck me angel. Please. Give it to me. Please. Angel. Aziraphale.” Crowley’s not sure what he’s saying right now, he just knows his legs are far apart again and he’s lifting his hips in offering. “Please.”
But Aziraphale leans over him, kissing him with his slick mouth. His cock brushing against Crowley’s belly, leaving a wet streak.
“That was very naughty of you,” Aziraphale says, “pulling on my hair like that.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry angel, didn’t mean to.” Crowley whisper-moans into Aziraphale’s mouth.
The angel wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him a bit lower down.
“Hands up darling.”
Crowley obeys, groaning, as Aziraphale clasps his wrists with his hand, above his head. His body jerks under the angel, suddenly needing to wrap his arms around the solid body above him but now he can’t.
Aziraphale, his knees astride Crowley’s hips, kisses Crowley again, claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss, hard and hungry.
“Yes," Crowley moans, "need you. Need your cock. Fuck me. Fill me angel, stretch me on your cock,” Crowley groans when Aziraphale starts sucking bruises into his throat. “Mhm, mark me. Angel. Please. Need you. Holy fuck.”
Crowley looks between their bodies as Aziraphale lifts himself on his free hand, holding him fast with the other, his cock hanging hard and so large between them. So thick, the head flushed, he must be aching for it.
“Aziraphale. For fuck’s…”
Hot stream hits Crowley’s belly as Aziraphale grunts above him, squeezing his wrists harder as he moans and his hips thrust, his urine splashing all over Crowley’s belly and chest.
Crowley cries out and is so close to an orgasm, his vision whites out. Aziraphale lets go of his hands which immediately grasp the sheets by his side as he lifts his body in silent begging now, just gasping, unable to even cry the angel’s name.
The angel moves down and grasps his pissing cock, grabbing one of Crowley’s thighs as he spreads him out and aims the hot stream over his clit, up close, making Crowley shudder and come so hard he sees stars.
Still clenching through the waves of his peak, Crowley feels the hard cock enter him, stretch him, push into him mercilessly, fucking into him with hard thrusts, liquid splashing everywhere as Aziraphale does not stop pissing and Crowley thinks he is too, his body shaking through waves and waves and he is sure he’s crying, writhing on the bed as the angel fucks him hard, moving in and out of him wetly, warmth pooling inside Crowley, under him, until Aziraphale grunts and stills between his legs, deep inside him, his face a picture of ecstasy as his body shudders with his orgasm, Crowley feeling the tell-tale twitches of his thick cock inside as he comes.
After a while of nothing but heavy breathing and soft moans as both of them come down from their high, Aziraphale pulls carefully out of him, and collapses next to Crowley, who feels himself leaking and is unsure if it’s Aziraphale's piss or his own or his come or everything all together.
He’s shaking and whimpering still when Aziraphale pulls him onto a hug, waving a hand over them after a while, making them clean and dry.
“You were amazing Crowley. Incredible. I hope I didn’t go too far.”
“Fuck you angel. How am I supposed to just go about my day tomorrow without telling everyone how you fucked my brains out and washed me from the inside with your piss.”
Aziraphale does have the decency to blush as Crowley caresses his cheek.
“You destroy me so wonderfully. How do I deserve you.”
Aziraphale does not answer but wipes Crowley’s tears and runs his thumb over his lips, Crowley licking on the pad of his finger.
“I hate you. I don’t know how I can exist when you are so… so…”
“Shhh, my dear, I am so glad you enjoyed yourself.”
Crowley scoffs. “Enjoyed myself my arse.” He’s still breathing a bit fast. “I didn’t know I could come like that you asshole.”
Aziraphale laughs. “I love you too you silly thing. Now let me get us a drink.”
“Again? Aziraphale, I don’t think, I am ruined for today, I…”
But Aziraphale is watching him with a twinkle in his eye, shaking his head.
“Just don’t want us to be dehydrated dearest. However unhuman we are.”
“Bastard.”
“Mhhmm.”
“I love you too,” Crowley shouts after him, trying to calm down now, watching the gorgeous angel walk into the bathroom, returning with glasses of water.
Crowley is almost asleep but he drinks up.
“You are so wonderful angel. I hate you.”
“I know you do darling. Now sleep.” And Crowley feels soft kisses on his face and strong arms around him as his body goes slack and his mind goes blank.