Forgivable

CHAPTER EIGHT: Slow

       Please forgive me.
       It was hard to say - not because he didn't feel it, but because he felt it too much.
       Cowley's eyes widened slightly; he looked as though he'd been struck by something. Then he cleared his throat.
       "I'm... sorry too," he said, the last two words coming out in a rush, his breath soft against Aziraphale's mouth. They were so close that the angel had to tip his head back to see into the golden eyes. The heat from the demon's body was enveloping the angel, warming him - soothing him, even as the nearness of his lips made Aziraphale's skin flush. Crowley raised a second hand to the angel's face, framing it between his palms.
       "Sorry?" Aziraphale pressed his hand into Crowley's chest. "What could you possibly have to be sorry about?" He could feel the beating heart beneath his palm, faster than normal.
       "I shouldn't have kissed you like that - like I did the day you left," the demon said.
       "Oh." The angel's heart sank, and his fingers curled against Crowley's chest. He had thought...
       "I should have kissed you like this."
       And then Crowley's mouth was there, on his - but not angry this time, not desperate and fierce and ruthless. It was sweet and gentle; testing. His lips were full and soft, his hands barely grazing the angel's face but lighting fires where they touched him.
       Aziraphale inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering closed, the scent of the demon filling his head. His mouth opened in a sigh, and Crowley's mouth opened against his.
       The demon's tongue met his, tasting, so tender that tears prickled at the corners of the angel's eyes. He gripped at the front of the demon's shirt, afraid of losing him, his warmth, his body pressed against him. Crowley growled against his mouth, and it vibrated through the angel, down his chest to his belly, which tightened with need. He whimpered, and his hand drifted down the demon's front and around his side, pulling him closer almost unconsciously.
       The demon's hands were still bird-feather soft against his face but his kiss deepened, exploring more urgently, his teeth nipping gently at the angel's lips. Aziraphale realized vaguely that Crowley had backed him against the wall, was pressing his body against his. He didn't know how it had happened and didn't care, only cared about the hands that left his face and gripped his waist, pulling the angel's hips firmly against him.
       Desire washed over Aziraphale at the feel of their hips pressed together, both of their hard lengths straining toward one another. He gasped aloud. All over his body, his skin was humming, desire pulling him in closer to Crowley, as though they could fuse together.
       Crowley broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale's, gulping for breath.
       The angel's head swam, need pulsing in his head, his groin. "Why..." he gasped, "why did you stop?"
       The demon gritted his teeth, his eyes closed. Aziraphale could still feel the demon's pounding heart, his own racing to meet it. They were entwined, Crowley's lean form pressing his into the wall, the long lines of him heating Aziraphale's body. Aziraphale saw for the first time that their bodies were awash in a golden glow, like a fire that wrapped around them and held them tightly together.
       "We need to slow down, angel," Crowley ground out. "And if you whimpered like that one more time I wasn't going to be able to stop."
       "But I don't want you to stop," he whispered. He brought a hand up to tangle in the demon's soft red hair.
       "I don't want me to stop either." Crowley trailed his lips across Aziraphale's cheekbone, grazing the skin in front of his ear, making him shiver when he murmured, "but this is moving too fast."
       He kissed the skin behind his ear, and Aziraphale whimpered again.
       The demon growled, pressing against him. Aziraphale felt the pulse in Crowley's groin and was instantly awash in pure, undiluted lust, like a plume of fire through the core of him. His hands in the demon's hair tightened.
       "You can't do that," Crowley panted.
       "But I... want you. I need you." He heard the wanton hunger in his own voice but didn't care. Crowley's lips had traveled to his neck, and his eyes fluttered closed again as he sighed, his back arching, his hips pressing forward into the demon's. It was Crowley's turn to gasp as his need had him clutching the angel's waist between his hands, no longer gentle.
       "Have you... you haven't..." Crowley's fingers softened against his hips; he was clearly making an effort. He leaned his forehead against the wall beside Aziraphale's head. "Have you... done anything like this before?"
       "Never," Aziraphale admitted.
       "Ever kissed anyone?" The demon's voice hummed against his skin. He shivered again.
       "Only you. I've only ever wanted to kiss you." His voice felt dreamy, the sharpness of his pulsing need blunted again. The demon's weight against him felt so warm, so right. Then he realized what Crowley was asking. "Er... have you?"
       The demon shook his head, his soft hair brushing Aziraphale's cheek. "I've... thought about it. Thought about you. Like this."
       Aziraphale turned his head, kissing Crowley's neck, breathing in the scent of him. Crowley groaned and lifted his head to give him better access.
       "It's not like you," Aziraphale said, trailing his mouth down the demon's neck, into the collar of his shirt, "to want to slow down."
       The demon turned his head to meet Aziraphale's lips in a kiss, drinking from his mouth like it was the Fountain of Life before pulling back to look into his eyes. "It's not for me," he said.
       "But I want..."
       "I know what you want." One hand left the wall to splay on Aziraphale's naked stomach, the long fingers reaching under his waistband, so close... Aziraphale's eyes closed, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord, trying to make contact with those fingers. "It's what I want too." He removed his hand and pinned it against the wall again, leaning back slightly to look the angel full in the face. "If I were only concerned with what I want, we would be on the floor right now. But I've been waiting for this for a long time. You've been waiting for this for a long time. And I'll be damned if the first time will be sloppy and rushed and desperate."
       "I need you," Aziraphale said, "so badly." He saw the lust darken Crowley's eyes, dilate the pupils in that sea of gold. He cleared his throat. "But - yes - I see what you mean."
       "So... we'll go slow."
       Aziraphale nodded, straightening. "Slow."