Well. I suppose we all figured where this might be going.
Have 5k of filth, my dears. You're welcome xD
~oOo~oOo~oOo~
"You want me? Fucking take me then, coward!"
Before he knows what's happening, Aziraphale has eliminated the last bit of space between them and captured Crowley's mouth in a frantic kiss, swallowing the choked noise of surprise that rips from the demon's throat.
It's forceful and desperate, the same way it had been that first time, only now it's Aziraphale who has the lapels of Crowley's shirt fisted in his hands, Aziraphale who hauls him in and presses their lips together like it's the only time he'll get to do it.
Crowley leans into it desperately, helplessly. His mind goes blank, all the anger he fuelled up as self-defence only moments ago blown out by the sensation of Aziraphale's tongue curling against his own. He finds himself with his back against the wall, his fingers tangling and twisting in platinum locks before he can think better of it, demanding lips moving against Crowley's and coaxing a shameless moan from him.
Aziraphale breaks away, his panting breath ghosting over Crowley's parted lips.
"This." Aziraphale's voice is low and breathy in Crowley's ear. "This is what I wanted to do that day."
It's obvious what day he's talking about, a day Crowley has vehemently avoided thinking back to, because it's catalogued in his mind as the day he lost his angel for good. Only, his angel is here, right now. He's holding Crowley against the wall with a sure grip, keeping him caged in and helpless, and he's standing so close, so close-
"You said-" Crowley swallows, his mouth dry, breathing heavy. But you said- "You said you forgave me", he manages, aiming for accusatory, and missing spectacularly as it comes out high and pleading instead.
Aziraphale shakes his head, something pained in his eyes.
"I wanted to hold onto you and kiss you until you forgot your own name", Aziraphale says, leaning in to press his mouth to Crowley's throat. "I wanted to push you against one of my bookshelves", he says, lips grazing against Crowley's skin, "just like this. I wanted to learn the shape of your lips and the taste of your tongue."
Crowley groans, can do nothing but watch as Aziraphale draws back and looks at him, his eyes overtaken by a dark sort of sadness.
"But I couldn't do any of that, could I?", the angel says. "Not right then. If I'd let myself touch you, I couldn't have brought myself to leave you afterwards. And I had to leave, we both know I did."
Yes, Crowley knows, but it doesn't make him hate the fact any less.
"You know what you did, don't you, Crowley?" There's a dangerous edge to Aziraphale's voice now, something hurt but thrilling nonetheless. "You took our first kiss from us", the angel says. "I had wanted it for so long, and you took it from me."
I forgive you.
Crowley feels tears spring to his eyes, hot and stinging in the corners. He sucks in a sharp gulping breath, but it does nothing to release the ache in his chest.
"Oh no nonono." Aziraphale lets go of Crowley's shirt with one hand, cups it around the demon's face instead. "None of that now, look at me. Look at me."
Crowley does, yellow eyes wide and unguarded, and it feels so naked and exposed, it feels terrifying and freeing.
"I understand", Aziraphale says, "I hurt you. We were both hurting. But I wished I could have forgotten everything that held me back. I wanted to forget all about Heaven, all about the threats and dangers and offers. I wanted to forget anything but you and your lips on mine."
Aziraphale presses a kiss to his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
"I wanted to have you right there on the floor of my shop", he breathes into Crowley's skin, nose grazing the demon's cheek. "I wanted to spread you out in all your serpentine beauty. I wanted to consecrate the carpet with the drops of your release."
Crowley whimpers helplessly, straining against the angel's hands holding him in place, revelling in the fact he couldn't escape this if he tried. The words hurt, but there's something twisted and festering inside him that needs to hear them, soaking up every word hungrily, only to grow even more ravenous.
"Is that what you would have wanted?" Aziraphale's hips shift against Crowley's, sending a tingle down between his legs. "For me to have you right then and there, on my precious carpet in broad daylight, where anyone could have walked by and seen?"
Where the Metatron could have returned any second and- oh fuck-
"And what if I did?" Crowley's breath is panting, his voice a punched-out whisper.
What if I didn't care who saw, what if I didn't care what you did as long as it was you?
What if I wanted them to see? What if I wanted them to know that you're not theirs to take away, not anymore, that you couldn't be theirs because you're m-
The blue of Aziraphale's eyes burns into him, and Crowley doesn't look away, lets it singe and brand him, lets it fan the fire already raging inside him.
Seconds tick by, he's forgotten to breathe, there's nothing but the thumping of his pulse in his ears and Aziraphale's heat against his body and the tension in the air between them.
Then it snaps, Aziraphale moves, fingers tightening and hips pushing and mouth latching onto Crowley's jaw, all wet and desperate, lips and teeth. It punches a surprised moan from the demon and he clings back, soft pyjama shirt crinkling under his forceful grip.
"Aziraphale."
"Tell me to stop."
Aziraphale presses him against the wall, cold in his back, the angel hot and solid against his front, caging him in.
"Tell me to stop", Aziraphale says again, leaving frantic kisses along Crowley's collarbone, up his neck. The demon groans, tilting his head helplessly to give those hungry lips better access to his touch-starved skin.
"Crowley." Aziraphale sounds just on the edge between frenzied and controlled, just a word from Crowley away from tipping over into one or the other. "You have to tell me to stop. Please, if you want me to stop, I will."
Aziraphale draws back, stormy blue eyes boring into gold as he circles the demon's wrists with his fingers, just holding on gently where they hang at Crowley's sides. They're so close, so close Crowley can feel the angel's breath on his lips, the heaving of his chest against his own. He shakes his head, but the look on Aziraphale's face tells him that it isn't enough.
"Don't stop", he manages, and maybe it's stupid of him, maybe it's reckless, maybe he'll live to regret it later, letting it come to this here, right now, like this, for the first time- but he doesn't care. All he wants right now is to have this moment, this moment when Aziraphale wants him just as badly as he has wanted the angel for centuries.
"Don't stop", he says, and means it. "Don't ever stop", he says again, and he needs...he needs-
"I don't want to hurt you", Aziraphale says, and there's genuine fear in his eyes, and they both know it's justified, Crowley knows the angel is talking about so much more than his physical strength, more than the raging rivers of grace in his being that could smite Crowley on the spot if he wanted to. No, this is about more than Crowley's body, and he should be scared, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care, his heart is in splinters as it is, who cares-
"You've already hurt me", he says, can't swallow it down, and regrets it the next second. Not because it isn't true, not because he isn't entitled to say it, no. Because Aziraphale lets go in shock, withdraws, hurt and guilt battling in his eyes, and Crowley can't have that, not right now.
"No!" Crowley hauls him back in, places the angel's hands back where they were, where they belong. "Don't you fucking dare walk away now. You left me once already, you ain't gonna do it again."
"We shouldn't-" Aziraphale squeezes his eyes shut but doesn't pull away again, doesn't loosen his hold around the demon's wrists. "Not- not like this-"
"Exactly like thisss", Crowley hisses, hates himself just a little because it's strangely gratifying, the way the angel's face contorts at his words, twists into something desperate and pained. He doesn't want Aziraphale in pain, not really, but he also doesn't want to pretend he hasn't been left in agony all this time.
"I need this", Crowley hears himself say, coming out as scraped raw as he feels. "Aziraphale. Please, you don't understand- I need this", he says again, because he can't find any other way to say it - this longing too big to be held in words, this desperation too wild to be tied down and contained.
"Crowley." There's a tension in Aziraphale's voice, a warning blanketed in velvety softness. "I'll hurt you", he says like it isn't even a question. "Again."
Aziraphale swallows hard, and all Crowley can concentrate on is the mesmerising movement of his throat.
"S'okay", he breathes, and he's sure he means it. Aziraphale will hurt him again. He'll probably hurt Aziraphale too.
It has always hurt, this love. It has always had a price, being together.
And it has always been worth it.
"It's okay", he repeats, "It's fine. I don't care-"
"It's not fine", Aziraphale cuts him off, eyes begging for Crowley to give him an out, to finally tell him to stop- or to make it impossible for him not to take what they both want.
Crowley can do that. He'll say whatever Aziraphale needs to hear if it'll just make the angel let go and give in.
"I want you to", Crowley says, leaning in to brush his lips over Aziraphale's cheek, feels him shiver in response.
I want you, even if it hurts. I'll only ever want you, even if it kills me.
"Want you like this", Crowley whispers, kissing Aziraphale's jaw, next to his ear. "You want me?"
Aziraphale brathes out, fingers twitching around Crowley's arms.
"You know I do."
"Then have me."
There's pain in Aziraphale's eyes still, forceful hesitation. But there's heat and there's longing and there's desire- and Crowley is hungry for it, he's fucking starving and only Aziraphale's hands on his skin can alleviate this torture.
"Have me", he demands again, watches the battle Aziraphale is fighting with himself. Crowley kisses him, claims his mouth, clings to his back.
"I swear, Aziraphale, if you stop now I'm never gonna forgive you."
He didn't mean to say it like that, so horribly reminiscent of those fateful words, but there it is, and it has the desired effect.
Aziraphale's eyes go wide for a moment, then something closes off behind them, a darkness taking over that is as enticing as it is dangerous.
Crowley wants it all, wants it with an intensity that is almost maddening.
The fingers around his wrists close in an almost painful grip, his hands get yanked up over his head, trapped against the wall by angelic strength he couldn't escape if he tried. Crowley can't help the moan that slips past his lips, and he might be embarrassed about it if he wasn't so desperately turned on.
"Is this what you want, then?" Aziraphale mouths at his throat, over his jaw. "You want me to take you right here, just like this?"
The angel presses even harder into him, grinds his hips forward, the hard line of his cock pushing into Crowley's thigh, so close to where he's wet and aching himself.
"You can have anything, my darling", Aziraphale promises, even while holding Crowley as a willing hostage against his own apartment wall. "Anything you want. I'll give you anything you need, just say the word."
"I-I need-"
"Yes. Tell me." It's clearly an order, and Crowley aches to obey, to be good for him.
"Please..."
"Tell me."
"This!", Crowley chokes out. "Right here. Aziraphale, please, I-"
I want to feel you against me, around me, inside me. I want to lose sight of every night I spent alone in a bed wishing I could forget how much I wanted you there, the way I touched myself imagining it was you. I want to pretend you need me as much as I need you.
"I need to feel it", Crowley finally says, and it tastes like a long-guarded secret, an embarrassing truth he'd been hiding from curious eyes. "I need to feel you. That you're here. That you...want me." That you love me. "Please."
He holds Aziraphale's gaze, allows every last drop of his desperate desire to show in his eyes, and it's impossible not to let the vulnerability beneath leak out too, but he doesn't care, he just wants.
"Please", he breathes, voice soft. "Angel."
The effect the word has is instantaneous and glaringly obvious, a breathy little gasp, a fire in blue eyes.
"Angel", Crowley says again, wrapping his tongue around it to taste every syllable. "Make me feel it."
And Aziraphale nods, kissing him hard, and Crowley nearly sobs into it, because yes, this is just what he needs, and his angel is gonna take care of him, is gonna give him what he wants, he knows it.
Aziraphale is here and his hands are holding him in place with bruising strength that'll surely leave marks, and his cock is pressed into Crowley's front, and he just wants more, closer, harder-
One of the angel's hands wanders down Crowley's upper thigh, well-manicured nails dragging over the fabric of Crowley's tight jeans. Fingers wrap around the underside of his leg just above the knee, lifting it up and drawing him in to wind around Aziraphale's waist.
Crowley is only too happy to follow the direction, hooking his leg just so he can press the heel of his foot into the plushness of Aziraphale's arse, effectively pulling him in even closer and making sure their chests stay glued together as tightly as possible, not an inch of unnecessary space between them. Aziraphale hums his encouragement into the seal of their mouths, warm hands now working at the hem of Crowley's shirt, gathering up the fabric until he can slip underneath and get them on Crowley's bare skin.
Crowley's hands tighten involuntarily in Aziraphale's hair, that first touch of his angel's hands finally on him hitting him harder than it should, making him realise this is truly happening. Aziraphale pulls away, looks at him, lips red and swollen and sinfully gorgeous, and Crowley couldn't look away if he tried.
He forces himself to breathe while Aziraphale pointedly holds his gaze, his hands that have settled around Crowley's bare waist now leaving their resting place in a slow, deliberate drag of fingers against skin, down down down- until he can press them just past the hem of Crowley's pants.
The angel lifts an eyebrow, and it's a question, a taunt, a tease all in one.
All breath leaves Crowley's lungs.
Fucking Hell, the angel is gonna be the death of him.
He nods, a jerky shake of his head, then a few more frantic little movements when Aziraphale doesn't react. A smile tugs at the corner of the angel's mouth, kind yet somehow provocative.
"Words, dearest", he says, and Crowley has to swallow against his dry throat.
"More", he manages to croak out, and it seems to be all Aziraphale needs, the teasing little smile transforming into one of pleased satisfaction.
Their clothes vanish with a snap of angelic fingers.
The rush of cold air is a shock, but Aziraphale is there right away with his body-heat as he kisses Crowley deeply, tongue sweeping through his mouth like he owns it, their skin sliding together in the most delicious way. He's soft in all the right places, with a steady strength underneath, the curve of his belly pushing into Crowley, firm muscle shifting under the demon's hands on his back. It's everything he ever wanted and more.
"Look at you", Aziraphale says as he untangles Crowley's thigh from around his waist and pulls away, bringing just enough space between them to let his gaze sweep over Crowley's form, eyes settling hungrily on the patch of curly red hair between the demon's legs. His cunt throbs in response. "You're gorgeous", Aziraphale breathes, hands trailing down Crowley's abdomen, rough fingertips dragging past sharp hip-bones and into the groove where hip meets thigh, inching in slowly.
"What a lovely effort you've made, and oh-" Aziraphale's groan mixes with Crowley's own gasp as the angel's fingers press between his folds without hesitation, finding him flushed red and wet with need. "You're positively dripping for me, darling." The angel rests his forehead against Crowley's, fingers teasing without ever dipping inside. "Beautiful. Simply beautiful."
A slick thumb sweeps over Crowley's clit, the glide easy and so good.
He pants, opening his legs wider on instinct, and Aziraphale understands the invitation, two thick fingers working their way inside him while his thumb keeps drawing patterns around his sensitive clit.
"Is this what you wanted?" He can hear Aziraphale's quickening breath as he fucks him on his fingers, the slick sound of it filling the air between them. "Allowing me inside you, feeling me-" Aziraphale's breath hitches as he rocks the hard length of his cock into Crowley's thigh.
"Yes." Crowley knows his nails are biting into Aziraphale's skin, and he can see the little crescent indentation he leaves on his shoulder, imagines the red scratch marks it leaves across the angel's back as he drags his hand down. He pushes back into the pressure of Aziraphale's hand, clenches around his fingers, filling him up just enough to dim the worst of the ache inside him for more, but far from enough.
"Inside me." He reaches for Aziraphale's cock, wraps his fingers around him before he knows what he's doing. He strokes the velvety hardness, revels in the sight of Aziraphale's eyes fluttering shut, the steady movement of his own hand working between Crowley's legs faltering momentarily. "Now, Aziraphale, can't wait, you gotta-"
"Crowley." Aziraphale's panting breath hits his lips, eyes open again, dark and stormy. "Darling-"
Darling. Crowley's head is swimming. Darling, darling, darling-
"Inside me", Crowley chokes out again, desperate for it in a way that feels almost painful. "Please please I gotta feel you, I need-"
A whine of protest slips past his lips as Aziraphale's fingers suddenly withdraw from him, but he barely has any time to mourn the loss when he's hoisted up by strong hands under his thighs, both legs wrapping around the angel's waist by pure instinct as Aziraphale holds him up against the wall. Crowley's cunt clenches around nothing at the display of strength, feeling mournfully empty, but then there's the miraculously slicked head of Aziraphale's cock rubbing over his swollen clit, nudging against his entrance-
"Relax", Aziraphale breathes into his ear, and somehow it's the easiest thing in the world to follow every command the angel gives, to give in and welcome the press of his angel inside him. "There you go." Aziraphale eases into him, Crowley sinking down with a low groan, relief and desire mixing inside him.
"Feel it. That's it." Aziraphale lets him breathe, resting their foreheads together as he allows Crowley time to adjust to being filled so completely. "I'm right here, Crowley. I'm yours, my darling, m-my-"
There's a tremor in his voice, no way to deny he's as affected as Crowley is, chest heaving with panting breaths, a fluttering heartbeat under Crowley's palm when he rests his hand under Aziraphale's collarbone. It's not only his words, it's something in his tone, something in the way his voice cracks that clutches Crowley's heart in a fist and squeezes.
"'Ziraphale-"
"I'm here", the angel says again, lips pressing to his jaw, down his neck, and yes, Crowley thinks, but for how long, how long-
"You're mine, aren't you, sweet thing? Perfect and stunning and all mine-"
Aziraphale rocks his hips, not enough to withdraw from Crowley's body, but enough to feel like he's pushing in even deeper, carving out a space for himself, claiming Crowley's body as his from the inside out, and the demon can't do anything but gasp into the sensation, nodding helplessly.
"Say it."
"Yours", Crowley says, and it comes out like a sob, like the ugly truth is being torn out of him, desperate and overwhelmed as he clings to Aziraphale's shoulders, trying to push back into the motion of the angel shifting ever so subtly inside him because he needs more, he needs-
"Move", he says. He's not above begging at this point. "Please, move, ah-"
Crowley is broken off on a choked moan when Aziraphale does just as he asked, pulling away and thrusting back in with a quick snap of hips, hands securely on Crowley's thighs to keep him up. Crowley can't take his eyes off him, the way his muscles work beneath his skin with every movement, the way his hair is starting to become sticky with sweat, clinging to his forehead, the wild determination on his face as he holds Crowley's gaze with dark eyes and parted lips.
"Tell me if it's too much", Aziraphale orders, fucking into Crowley at a steady pace. "You gotta tell me if-" He gasps for breath, never breaks the connection between their eyes. "Crowley, please, I can't-"
"Harder." Crowley's fingers lose themselves in the damp locks at the back of Aziraphale's neck, his clit throbbing rhythmically with every thrust. "God- Satan- please, I wanna feel you for days, Aziraphale. Even if you leave again I wanna feel this-"
"Won't leave." Aziraphale shakes his head, pulling Crowley's hips down to meet his cock. "Never going to leave again unless you send me away. My darling demon, my Crowley-"
Crowley's head rolls back as far as the wall will allow, a bunch of unintelligible noises leaving his mouth as sparks of pleasure keep assaulting his body, shooting up his spine and spreading into his limbs to eventually settle somewhere deep in his gut, a pleasant yet frustrating pressure building there that demands to be fed.
Aziraphale's voice washes over him, clouding his mind and coaxing him to believe whatever pretty lies the angel tells him, promises and declarations Crowley fears are born from nothing but the heat of the moment. But he can't help it, he can't stop- he craves it, he's hungry for it, and his heart is a fucking traitor, eating it all up like the starved thing it is.
"Crowley", Aziraphale breathes into his neck, and the demon soaks it up, he's dreamed of Aziraphale saying his name like that, he's brought himself to climax countless times to fantasies of that voice in his ear, none of which had come even close to the real thing.
Crowley reaches down between them until his fingers find his clit, moaning at the sharp edge the touch adds to the pleasure of being filled over and over, Aziraphale's cock dragging against him like he knows just how to drive Crowley insane.
"Yes, yes, touch yourself for me." Aziraphale kisses him, open-mouthed and messy. "So beautiful, Crowley, look at you. You feel so good, darling, such a gorgeous wet cunt just for me-"
He's never heard Aziraphale talk like that, and it's unexpectedly erotic, the thought of his prim and proper angel losing himself enough in Crowley's body to resolve to such vulgarity.
"A-Angel", he chokes out, and it's like an electric shock runs through Aziraphale at the sound.
"Yes", the angel gasps, "Oh yes, yes, that's it. Say it again. Crowley. Say it again."
His thrusts speed up, slamming into him even harder than before, and Crowley welcomes it, welcomes him, anything Aziraphale wants to take, everything Crowley is, it's all Aziraphale's to own.
"Angel", he mumbles mindlessly. "Angel, angel-"
"That's right", Aziraphale says, and the open delight in his voice would be enough to bring Crowley to his knees if he wasn't currently held up against the wall by strong arms and a divine cock. "My dearest, my darling, my sweet demon-"
Crowley chokes on a sob, his eyes fluttering shut because it's just so much, so good, so good-
And suddenly, Aziraphale slows down, grinding his pelvis against Crowley in a way that has his stomach dragging over the demon's clit in little circles, and Crowley whines high in his throat, wiggling uselessly to get more friction. Aziraphale ignores him, fucking bastard that he is. The angel grabs his jaw, breath fanning over Crowley's lips.
"Open up those pretty eyes, darling", the angel says, dark and breathless. "Keep them open for me, I want to see every lovely expression you make."
Crowley obeys, of course he does, his eyes having gone full snake as he forces them open, no white left at the edges, slitted pupils dilated.
"That's it." He starts fucking him again, slow shallow thrusts at first, then picking up his pace. "So good for me, so beautiful. Taking me so well."
That hand that had been holding his jaw vanishes, trailing down to find Crowley's clit instead after Crowley's own had fallen away, and it's even more intense like that, maybe because he can't anticipate what those fingers will do next, maybe just because it's Aziraphale.
"Fuck-" He fights to keep his eyes open, Aziraphale told him to. "Fuck, angel, I-"
He's so close, so fucking close, can feel the edge approaching fast, just another well-aimed thrust of that divine cock and he's gonna-
And then, Aziraphale suddenly stops again, pulls out of him without warning, and Crowley groans in protest at the loss, hates how empty he feels now without Aziraphale filling him up, how he's suspended at the precipice but unable to cross it without that last bit of something to push him over-
"What-" He whines high in his throat, can't comprehend how the sudden lack of stimulation feels so thrilling in its own way, has him keening and ready to beg for Aziraphale to give him more, loving that he's completely at the angel's mercy - his body surrendered to Aziraphale's hands, his pleasure surrendered to Aziraphale's care.
"Good Lord, just look at you", Aziraphale coos in his ear. "Lovely creature. So sweet in your desperation. You like this, don't you?" Crowley can't answer, but he doesn't need to, Aziraphale already knows. "I can see it", the angel says, voice low. "You love how you can feel yourself tethered right on that edge, so close to your release. Can you taste it yet?"
Crowley only whimpers, and Aziraphale's lips curl in a pleased smirk.
"I think I'd like a taste as well."
Before he knows what happened, his feet are planted back on the ground, and the angel is on his knees before him, one of Crowley's thighs slung over his shoulder and spreading him open. For a second he feels how Aziraphale breathes him in, breath hot against Crowley's core, and then there's a tongue licking into him, dragging from his dripping folds up to his clit, circling it with deliberate strokes that make his knees buckle. He wails, hands flying to grip Aziraphale's hair as the angel hums happily and licks deeper.
It's torture, sweet sweet torture, and Crowley isn't sure how long he can stand this, he doesn't ever want it to end. Aziraphale feasts on him with all the hedonistic enthusiasm of an angel prone to earthly delights, spearing Crowley with his tongue before pulling back and playing with his clit, sucking it into his mouth, then releasing him to drag the flat of his soft tongue over him or use just the tip to tease the swollen nub until Crowley is shaking with it.
He is being held against the wall by pure angelic strength at this point, stars dancing before his eyes and moans falling freely from his mouth, incoherent strings of fuck and angel and please, don't stop, so good, please please-
He's nearing climax again, riding the waves of it, trying to coax the angel deeper, to give him more, until he's had all of him, every little piece Aziraphale can possibly give him, so if this is all he gets, at least he knows there's not a damned thing they didn't take from each other in this moment.
"Aziraphale, angel, angel-", he babbles mindlessly, hips twitching, pushing eagerly into the pressure of Aziraphale's mouth, and then from one second to the next it's all gone, leaving him flushed and empty and shaking as the nearing point of relief is ripped away again.
Crowley sobs, hands clawing at the angel's back, and he's absently aware that he feels the uneven bumps of freshly healed tissue under his fingers, black painted nails raking over scarred skin - and then he's being pressed against the wall by miles of hot slick skin, the angel is in front of him again and kissing the protest right off his lips, licking into his mouth as greedily as he had licked into his cunt, and Crowley can taste himself on Aziraphale's tongue, and oh god-
Hands lift him back up, grabbing greedily at his arse, and Aziraphale is plunging into him again, pushes his cock deep inside him in one powerful stroke, punching the breath from Crowley as he starts to fuck him hard without preamble.
"Yes!" It's a cry of pure relief and overwhelming ecstasy that is ripped from Crowley, finally feeling that stretch again that he's been craving, his sensitive walls contracting around Aziraphale's cock to feel the girth of him as Crowley pushes back into every powerful thrust.
"Don't stop", he says, and it's a command as much as a plea. "Don't stop, angel, use me, yes, yes-"
"I love you." It's a breath in his ear, a whisper nearly drowned out by the slapping of their skin. "Do you hear?", Aziraphale says, louder, steadier. "I love you so much it tore me apart to be without you. I love you so much it felt like I couldn't breathe. I love you wholly, desperately, irrevocably-" The angel presses their foreheads together, their shallow breaths mingling in the space between them, and Crowley latches onto every word, and there's hope bubbling inside him, beautiful and dangerous.
"Oh Crowley." Aziraphale bites his lip, hips stuttering. "Crowley-"
Crowley clings to him as hard as he can.
His heart is soaring, his cunt is throbbing, and his mind is wild with thoughts and blissfully empty with sensation at the same time.
I love you, everything inside him cries back. I love you, I love you, I love you-
"Don't stop", Crowley gasps instead, a tear trailing down his cheek. "Just don't stop."
"Come for me." One more thrust, right where Crowley needs it. "Please, my love, show me-"
"M'so close", Crowley says, and he can tell Aziraphale is too. "Angel. Mark me. Come on, lemme feel you, need to feel you come inside me-"
The angel's fingers find his hair, tangling in the strands and tugging sharply, and it's all Crowley needs to finally fly over that edge, his vision whiting out as he's enveloped by waves and waves of euphoric bliss.
He can feel the moment Aziraphale comes, the rush of heat and the deep press of his cock as Crowley clenches down on him, the breathless moan in his ear, and then the way Aziraphale slumps into him, both of them sinking slowly to the ground in a hopeless tangle of limbs.
The angel's mouth finds his own, kissing him deeply, strong arms holding him close.
Crowley closes his eyes and falls into it.