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The darkest hours of the night have passed, and dawn is slowly making its way to the cottage. It’s summer, and the sun will rise early. The same cannot be said of Crowley, at least not without the proper motivation.
Aziraphale stares at Crowley as he sleeps, his face half turned into the pillow, mouth slightly open. He’s had his hair cut short recently after wearing it long for the past several years, and Aziraphale can’t keep his eyes off of him. Not that he’d ever had much success in that direction, and Crowley looks gorgeous no matter his preferred style. It’s just such a change, to always be able to see the sharp line of Crowley’s jaw, the tempting freckled column of his neck.
A sigh rises up in Aziraphale’s chest as he stares, which is something he’s allowed to do.
Would it…would you find it strange, if I stared at you while you slept?
he’d asked.
Knock yourself out,
Crowley had said, but the way he’d turned his head had done nothing to hide the charming blush on the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks, the way he’d bitten his bottom lip to keep from grinning.
That had been early in their life together here in their cottage.
Since then, there’s been a great many things it’s been made clear Aziraphale is allowed to do.
Aziraphale indulges in the sight of Crowley sleeping, his eyes trailing over the demon’s bare back. The sheet has slipped down in the night, and if Aziraphale had given it a helping hand, well, that was only because it had been getting warm in their bedroom and he’d hate for Crowley to be uncomfortable.
Crowley is sleeping in the nude, as he often does in the warmer months, which is something that, every year, tempts Aziraphale to do just a
little
miracle and delay the arrival of autumn. He takes a finger and trails it down Crowley’s spine, watching the blood rise to the skin in the wake of his touch, watching Crowley shift sleepily.
Aziraphale thinks perhaps he would enjoy providing Crowley with the proper motivation to rise early today.
He stands from their bed and pulls his vest over his head, steps out of his pants. Then he gathers Crowley in his arms, sheet and all, in a bridal carry. Crowley only tucks his face into Aziraphale’s neck and hums as Aziraphale opens the french doors from their bedroom out into the garden.
There’s a line of pink at the bottom of the horizon, beginning to lighten the grey of the sky.
It’s warm outside, but pleasantly so, and the dewy grass cools the bottoms of Aziraphale’s feet as he walks. He lays Crowley down and spreads the sheet out below him, then joins him there, settling his weight over Crowley and kissing his jaw, down his neck, along his clavicle. Feeling Crowley’s body beneath his, skin to skin from chest to hips to thighs, Aziraphale feels a steady heat beginning to gather between his legs, his cock hardening against Crowley’s leg.
“Are we in the garden?” are the first words Crowley speaks, voice dreamy.
Aziraphale takes Crowley’s jaw in a gentle grip and turns his head to the side, so that the nearest plants are in view. He kisses Crowley’s earlobe and murmurs, “We are, love. Look at all the flowers.”
“Flowers?” Crowley says, and Aziraphale purses his lips to keep from laughing. “
Flowers,
he says, those are my prize-winning, internationally acclaimed
gardenias,
Angel.”
“Awake now, darling?”
“Oh, you bastard,” Crowley says, turning his face and looking into Aziraphale’s eyes. Aziraphale’s breath catches.
After all this time, all these thousands of years, it’s those eyes that take his breath away, every single time. Not just their beauty, not just the way they’re the only pair like them in the world. Not just because they belong to Crowley, his Crowley.
It’s the love in them, shining through clear as a written declaration. Aziraphale just smiles down at Crowley, enjoying this display of harmless temper just as much as he enjoys Crowley’s softer, sweeter moments. And there’s Crowley’s blush, another beautiful sight.
“I know what you’re after,” Crowley says in a tone that’s probably meant to sound like
you-can’t-fool-me
but really sounds like
and-I-want-it-too.
“Do you?” Aziraphale asks, tilting his head and trailing the backs of his fingers from Crowley’s temple, over his cheekbones, down to his neck. As he does, he shifts his touch, dipping into another reality, so it’s not just their human forms that are touching.
It’s a bit like tugging aside someone’s shirt to get at the skin, and a bit like opening a door to find your lover bathing nude behind it, but mostly it’s like coming home. It’s the release of a breath long held.
Crowley’s scales come to the surface by Aziraphale’s will, and the sclera of Crowley’s eyes goes golden from edge to edge.
“Oh,” he says, a little shakily.
Aziraphale hums agreement and continues to bring Crowley’s other form forward, the gorgeous red and black scales that trail out from his eyes, trace over his jaw, swirl down his neck, painting patterns on his skin. They thicken at his waist and Crowley gasps as he realises that Aziraphale is not stopping at his hips.
Aziraphale kisses down Crowley’s body, using his lips as well as his fingers to change Crowley’s form.
“Our garden always puts me in mind of how you looked at the beginning,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s skin as it changes to scales, as his legs come together, becoming a thick, muscled tail.
“Angel,” Crowley rasps out, his body writhing beneath Aziraphale’s, his tail wrapping around Aziraphale’s bare legs.
“Oh that feels lovely, that’s right darling, hold on to me—”
Aziraphale kisses his way back up Crowley’s body, his hands sliding along Crowley’s tail. He lingers at Crowley’s hips, at the place where skin gives way to scales, licking at the elegant join, savouring the contrasting textures. Crowley’s skin is salty, and his scales don’t have much of a flavour, but the feel of them is pleasing on his tongue all the same.
Crowley whimpers and grips at Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulling him up for a desperate, sloppy kiss.
“Angel,” he pants into Aziraphale’s mouth. “Angel, Angel, Angel—”
“I’m here, my love, I’m here.” Aziraphale lets Crowley take his full weight, and Crowley’s long tail falls across Aziraphale’s waist, up his back, its tip tickling at Aziraphale’s neck. “Right here. Right here with you.”
He kisses Crowley and touches the warm, soft scales on his face, grips at the densely muscled tail.
The sun is rising now, and it casts a warm glow across Crowley’s face, illuminates the metallic sheen of his scales. Aziraphale strokes them, brushes his lips at the corners of Crowley’s eyes.
“Sunrise is my favourite time of day,” he whispers. “Would you like to know why?”
Crowley takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands, those lovely long fingers, and Aziraphale turns his face to nuzzle into Crowley’s palm.
“Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I saw the first one, at the beginning. I saw the first sunrise and when I saw those colours I thought of you. The way the sky went pink and orange and then a brilliant blue, I thought, oh, I know who should see this. I know who would look at this and find it just as beautiful as I do.”
Crowley’s thumbs are stroking along Aziraphale’s cheekbones, and he’s looking at Aziraphale so softly that Aziraphale can practically feel his heart melt inside his chest, a physical sensation, like the inside of a
chocolat coulant.
“I was holding you in my heart as I watched the sun rise, my love. And even when I learned that this would happen every day, when I learned what a day was, that sight lost none of its wonder for me. It still hasn’t,” Aziraphale says, and he touches Crowley’s lips with gentle fingertips, hoping he’ll understand.
Crowley wraps a hand around Aziraphale’s wrists and his eyes close as he kisses Aziraphale’s fingers. Aziraphale sighs out a breath and kisses Crowley’s neck, letting his free hand wander down Crowley’s body.
“And there you were. As a snake, as a human, as so many things in between as you explored yourself, as each day you chose your own skin. My love, you were so beautiful. Every iteration of you was pleasing to my eyes. I hardly knew what I wanted then. I do now,” Aziraphale murmurs, letting the tips of his fingers ghost around the edges of Crowley’s vent.
Crowley arches up into the touch, and he’s so strong like this, Aziraphale’s whole body moves, his knees nearly rising up off the ground where he’s straddling Crowley’s tail.
“Angel—”
“Oh my love. I know now.” And Aziraphale dips two fingers into Crowley’s slit. They groan together, and Aziraphale hides his face in Crowley’s neck. “So wet for me, sweet thing,” Aziraphale whispers, and Crowley writhes on his fingers.
“You were—you too, sweetheart, I saw you on that wall and I—”
“I know, I know darling, oh,
God—”
Crowley is panting in his ear and rocking up into his touch, holding him with that tail tighter than arms ever could, and Aziraphale slicks his thumb with the arousal at Crowley’s slit to caress the two little clits at its apex. Crowley shudders beneath him and Aziraphale can’t help but kiss the moans from that tempting mouth.
Crowley opens to him and as their tongues slide together Aziraphale shifts reality here too, here where Crowley is soft and vulnerable, and Crowley’s tongue goes longer and forked, his canines grow sharper.
Aziraphale pulls away to look at Crowley, who looks positively frantic with need. Crowley lifts a hand and touches his fangs with a questioning look. “Oh, yes, my love,” Aziraphale answers, and Crowley shivers, his eyes half closing in arousal. “But not just yet.”
Crowley grabs at Aziraphale’s waist and wriggles beneath him until Aziraphale’s hard cock slides over the arousal that’s leaking from Crowley’s vent. “‘Ziraphale,” he gasps. “Sweetheart, would you just—stop teasing, I—”
“My love,” Aziraphale says, and angles his hips, sliding his cock inside Crowley and biting his own lip to steady himself. Crowley lets out a cry and goes pliant in Aziraphale’s arms as Aziraphale begins to thrust.
Crowley’s vent is shallower than his cunt. It’s something Aziraphale could change, if he wanted, but it’s one thing to reveal one of Crowley’s truths, one that lives behind and alongside another truth, and another entirely to alter it for his convenience.
“So beautiful, my love,” Aziraphale whispers, gently penetrating Crowley with as much of his cock as Crowley’s body can accommodate. “Always so beautiful—”
It’s a tease for Aziraphale and full satisfaction for Crowley, and something about that makes it perfect for Aziraphale too.
“Sweetheart,” Crowley gasps out, and draws Aziraphale’s face down for another kiss. His fangs scrape along Aziraphale’s bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the sting, and that’s perfect too.
“That’s right,” Aziraphale murmurs against Crowley’s mouth. “My darling, that’s right, just take it, you feel so good, so good, so good—”
Crowley tucks his face into Aziraphale’s neck and his forked tongue flicks out over the skin, and Aziraphale feels the scrape of Crowley’s teeth again. Aziraphale angles his pelvis, grinding his pubic bone against Crowley’s clits. Crowley’s teeth sink into Aziraphale’s skin and the arrival of the anticipated pain, the feel of his blood rushing warm into Crowley’s mouth, has Aziraphale crying out and climaxing like a thunderclap, intense and unexpected and entirely overwhelming. He pulses into Crowley’s slit, his thick cock nowhere near fully sheathed.
Aziraphale pants into Crowley’s ear, his limbs gone lax, and he swears he can feel Crowley smirking, those lips curled up at his neck.
“Proud of yourself?” Aziraphale breathes, nipping at Crowley’s neck.
Crowley wriggles underneath him, and Aziraphale gasps again at the sensation of Crowley’s vent gripping his oversensitive cock, the feel of how messy Crowley is, Aziraphale’s release mingling with Crowley’s own arousal.
He slips a hand down and probes around the edges of Crowley’s slit, enjoying the way that makes Crowley hiss in a breath and writhe even more.
“You are exquisite,” Aziraphale says, letting his softening cock slip free and replacing it immediately with his fingers, filling Crowley up again, fucking his come back into Crowley’s vent.
“Fuck,” Crowley says, his head tipping back. Aziraphale takes his fingers from Crowley’s slit and brings them to Crowley’s mouth, smearing come and slick over Crowley’s lips, then slipping his fingers inside. Crowley sucks and licks them clean, his eyes rolling back in his head, and Aziraphale feels his cock hardening again, sliding against the scales of Crowley’s tail.
He kisses Crowley, sharing the taste they made together from his mouth, and he likes it so well he kisses down Crowley’s body to lick at it directly from the source.
“Angel,” Crowley moans at the feel of Aziraphale’s tongue licking into his slick, come-filled vent. “Sweetheart,
fuck—”
Aziraphale closes his eyes and grips Crowley’s tail, his fingers scraping along the scales, as he takes Crowley’s slick and his own come into his mouth, letting it coat his lips and tongue, swallowing it down. He sucks both of Crowley’s clits lightly into his mouth and smiles at the way that makes Crowley buck against his face.
When Crowley comes, Aziraphale feels more slick gushing over his tongue and down his chin, hears his own name shouted in Crowley’s voice, and he wants to stay down here for hours. Until the sun rises high in the sky and Crowley’s body is sated to the point of exhaustion, until Crowley’s slick leaves a damp patch on the earth beneath them.
He licks lightly at Crowley’s vent as Crowley comes down, intending to settle in, to do just that, but Crowley has other ideas.
He wraps his powerful tail around Aziraphale and pulls him up, up, until he’s no longer straddling Crowley’s tail but his face. Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hips and guides Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth. Aziraphale breathes heavily and supports himself on his forearms, shaking in anticipation, expecting Crowley to bob his head.
But Crowley only tugs at Aziraphale’s hips, encouraging him to thrust into Crowley’s mouth. Tentatively, Aziraphale does, and oh, God, that’s
filthy.
Filthy and utterly perfect, fucking Crowley’s face, the welcoming embrace of his lips and tongue, the hot velvet grip of his throat.
“Love,” Aziraphale gasps out, his hips moving faster, Crowley gripping his arse, humming around his cock. “You gorgeous thing, my sweet demon, oh, fuck
me
that’s good—”
Aziraphale’s fingers curl into the grass as he chases his pleasure, Crowley gagging beneath him but not loosening his clutch on Aziraphale’s arse, just taking it.
His vision whites out as he comes down Crowley’s throat, and it takes real effort not to collapse onto Crowley’s face right there. He rolls over onto his back, careful not to let his leg drag against Crowley’s face, and tries to catch his breath. Crowley climbs on top of him, golden eyes half-lidded, lips red, come dripping from the corner of his mouth and down his chin.
Aziraphale lifts a shaky hand to smear it into Crowley’s skin. Crowley’s hair is mussed and wild, the flush on his face goes all the way down his neck and onto his chest. He’s an absolute mess, smeared with slick and come and sweat.
It’s a privilege to see him like this. His Crowley, who always keeps his hair and his clothes just so, who hides his eyes behind designer sunglasses and his delight behind a semi-permanent scowl. To lay beneath him, out here in the sunshine on a grass-stained sheet, naked and sated and sweating…Aziraphale doesn’t have the words.
“Just a few moments more,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s pleading. “Just a few moments more, and I’ll run you a bath, my darling. I promise.”
Crowley turns his head and takes Aziraphale’s thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean, forked tongue wrapping around it.
“Long as you like, sweetheart,” he mumbles around the thumb. “You know I—you know I like it.”
And that’s a privilege too, to hear it said openly.
Aziraphale draws Crowley down, holding him against his chest, the slim human frame a light pressure compared to the heavy snakelike tail that’s settled between Aziraphale’s legs.
“A bit longer, then,” Aziraphale whispers, running his fingers through Crowley’s hair.
They stay there in silence, the sun rising higher in the sky, and heat gathering with it. Bees are buzzing lazily in the gardenias and their bodies are becoming slippery with sweat before Crowley speaks.
“Swim today, sweetheart?” He sounds a little sleepy.
“Let’s,” Aziraphale says. Then, more brightly: “Ooo, and we can stop at that little ice cream parlour after.”
Crowley chuckles against his chest. “Thought that was implied. Think I’m going to take you to the sea and not buy you an ice cream?”
“You spoil me, love,” Aziraphale sighs dreamily.
“Right. You just fucked me silly in our garden, and
I
spoil
you.”
“Two things can be true,” Aziraphale says primly.
“Think I’ll need my legs back for swimming. Will that…” Crowley fiddles with Aziraphale’s chest hair. “Will that be…can always bring the tail back, tonight, if you—”
And no, no no no, Aziraphale does not like where that is going one bit.
He kisses Crowley’s cheek and puts his fingers at Crowley’s hips, folding reality again, and the scales give way to skin, Crowley’s long lovely legs reappearing, and his gorgeous cunt between them.
Crowley whimpers as Aziraphale rolls him over, hooking fingers into his cunt, which is as wet and messy as his slit had been.
“Thou art all fair, my love,” Aziraphale says. “I want every part of you. Every facet. Every truth.”
His cock is hard again, and Crowley’s legs are spreading, wrapping around his waist, urging him inside, and so Aziraphale fucks into Crowley again, slow and steady, until their hips are pressed together. He rocks against him, kisses Crowley’s mouth, feels their tongues touching, warm and soft.
Crowley sighs happily in his arms. “Feel so good, Angel,” he says. “Always, always, so good.”
Aziraphale rocks into Crowley’s cunt, their slippery bodies sliding together as they were made to do. He wants Crowley on top of him later, riding him. He wants Crowley on hands and knees, back arched while Aziraphale licks him clean. He wants to feel Crowley pulse around his fingers while he watches Crowley’s face contort in ecstacy.
And he’s allowed to have it. All of it. They can stay here as long as they’d like, luxuriating in their pleasure, until nightfall. Until dawn rises again, and beyond it, if they wish.
Perhaps it’s not time to leave the garden after all.