Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aziraphale let out a long sigh as he shut the door to his apartment and unbuttoned his coat. His feet hurt and as he leaned down to undo the laces of his shoes, he felt the stretch in his back that reminded him daily he was no longer as young as he used to be. 

Leaving his shoes by the entryway sideboard, he shuffled into the kitchen and put on the kettle. A long day but certainly not a bad one. Every day had been feeling longer recently. Since he’d been picking up Michael’s shifts at the beans side of Celestial Books and Beans for their parental leave, he’d been exhausted. He knew everyone needed to pitch in, but he really was better suited to working in the bookshop portion of the store, not the cafe, no matter what Anathema said about how good he was with people and how much she liked working with him. He liked working with her too, but it wasn’t as if the cafe was on the moon, and it was quite easy to cross the store to visit her when things were slow. Which he did. And often.

He rubbed the sore spot in his neck just as the kettle clicked and he mindlessly began going through the motions of making his evening tea. He had some leftover Chinese takeaway he’d heat up and then…and then…

By the time he was finished with dinner, it would be time for his favorite portion of the evening. What he’d been looking forward to from the moment he stepped through the door.

If anyone knew what Aziraphale did when he booted up his laptop and set it on the coffee table every other night, they’d surely think him some sort of pervert. A sex addict.

But everyone needed hobbies. At least that was what he told himself when he paid his monthly subscription fee to famousanus.com.

He put his dishes in the sink and when the clock ticked to 6:50, he took off his waistcoat and grabbed his laptop. It was time.

He loaded Tony J.’s page like he did every other night. He’d been a longstanding fan. Since Tony had been only doing partnered work, before he was popular enough to do cams. The minute Tony had announced a scheduled stream, Aziraphale had subscribed immediately. It had been worth the five-dollar monthly fee. More than really given the fact that he attended every stream. And watched all of Tony's bonus content.

There were dozens of people already in the chat. Aziraphale never participated. People said the most awful things. Degrading Tony for his work like perhaps that got them off. Asking for Tony to do things even though they weren’t paying extra. 

Tony J.’s webcam flashed white and then Tony came into focus. He was already shirtless – just in his gray briefs – sitting on a bed with black satin sheets. It was a look that showed off exactly how slim he was, made the cam light set up glint off his golden red chest hair. He smiled at the camera and Aziraphale’s heart gave a lurch. 

The thing that had drawn Aziraphale to Tony J. when he'd first discovered his work, besides the fact that he had the sort of long-limbed, wiry body Aziraphale had always been attracted to, was that Tony was older than so many of the gay porn stars out there. They were so often plucked and waxed and shined and terribly, terribly young. When Tony smiled, it carved dimples in his cheeks. It showed off crow’s feet. He had the lines in his throat of a man in his forties and despite how thin he was, a softness at his hips and belly because he had lived a life. He wasn’t some sleek twenty-year-old.

It was unbearably sexy. 

Tony ran a hand through his short red hair, smile going crooked and showing off the slant of his teeth. “A lot of you here tonight. Rough Monday?”

And he was English too. Londoner by the sound of it. That had always spurred Aziraphale’s fantasies. They were probably in the same city. What if they ran into each other at a random pub and by some miracle went home together? He could finally trace the snake tattoos that ran across Tony’s biceps and wound over his chest. Feel the texture of his chest hair, learn the exact length of that gorgeous torso. Taste his mouth, lick over the enchanting, uneven curve of his teeth, that one crooked canine that made his smile so attractive. 

Tony brushed his hand over his stomach, just a play of fingers over his belly button, a tease. Then he slid his hand down and palmed himself through the fabric of his underwear.

Aziraphale couldn’t lie. This was the other reason he liked Tony J.

His entire life he’d been a bit of a size queen. He liked a cock that made him choke. That hurt a bit in the taking of it. 

Tony’s cock was huge. Looking at it, even half-hard and hidden by the thin fabric of his briefs made Aziraphale’s mouth water. 

Tony hooked his thumb into his briefs to drag them down, exposing the tip of his cock and Aziraphale’s breath began to come fast. He shifted in his seat as Tony slipped his briefs down his hips and then reached for the lube beside him with his free hand, toying with his balls with the other. 

Aziraphale loved the flash of ginger hair at the base of Tony’s cock. He kept it well-groomed, but it wasn’t shaved. Aziraphale could only imagine what it would feel like to touch.

His cock was exquisite. At least ten inches and uncut. As he stroked himself to full hardness, his lubed hand made filthy noises around the shaft, noises that pulled at the arousal in Aziraphale’s gut, almost driving him to touch himself too, but he wanted to wait and savor it. It was always a game of patience with cam nights. The excruciating pressure building inside him, desperate for release, even as he knew that the longer he waited, the better it would be.

Comments flooded the chat. Aziraphale ignored them as he always did, eyes fixed on Tony, the twist of his wrist, the flex of the muscle in his arm. He was left-handed. Or at least that was the hand he used to pleasure himself.

Tony pressed his right hand against the flat of his chest and his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, fuck. Do you like that? Are you touching yourself too?”

He brushed his thumb over his nipple, his hand moving in lazy pulls over his shaft. It was fully hard now, the head exposed over the foreskin and leaking precome.

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, his own cock pressing against his zipper. “Make yourself feel good for me.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. Did he want to start now? It was getting hard to resist. He pressed his hand against his inner thigh to stymie the urge. 

“I like it nice and wet,” Tony said, hand slipping over his cock. He thumbed over the head before sliding back down. “Do you? Makes it so easy to make myself feel good.”

Aziraphale unzipped his trousers and pressed the heel of his hand against his aching erection. A little jolt of pleasure raced through him. Sliding his hand into his boxers, he finally wrapped it around himself. He wasn’t going to last. At this point, watching these videos had him trained.

Tony arched off the bed and up into his own hand. The tendons in his neck stood out as his mouth dropped open and he gasped. “Oh, fuck yeah.” 

His hand sped up on his prick and Aziraphale matched the pace, his own orgasm steadily approaching. 

“I’m going to come, fuck.” Tony groaned, reaching down with his other hand to tug on his balls.

The lewd sight, the stretch of Tony’s arms, the slick sounds, sent Aziraphale into a spiral and he came over his hand with a stifled moan, soiling his boxers. He sucked in huge breaths, heart beating fast, as Tony came too in messy streaks all over his belly. 

Tony laid there for a second before sitting up and reaching for the camera, signature grin in place. His cheeks were a little pink, heated with pleasure. “Thanks for watching. As always, whatever you do for the rest of the night, do it with style.”

The camera shut off and Aziraphale was left with the chat room as it pinged off. He sighed and got up from the couch. He needed to clean up and go to bed. He had another shift at the cafe tomorrow and he needed his rest.

**

Aziraphale was looking forward to Michael coming back from leave. He hated working cafe shifts. He wasn’t meant for this sort of thing. He much preferred helping customers find books. Pulling shots and frothing milk and smiling at cranky people demanding caffeine was extremely draining. And he always went home reeking of coffee.

He didn’t even like coffee.

“Double mocha with whip.”

Aziraphale didn’t even look at the newest customer as he scrawled that on a cup to hand off to Anathema. “Name?” he asked.

“Crowley. Er. Anthony. Whichever,” the man said. Why someone would sound so nervous ordering a coffee, Aziraphale had no idea.

Then Aziraphale looked up.

He counted himself lucky he didn’t drop the cup then and there. “I’ll just jot down Crowley,” he said with his best customer service smile.

Except Crowley. Or Anthony. Was not another faceless customer in a long line of faceless customers. The man before him was one that Aziraphale knew so well he could tell you the exact shade of his nipple hair. He was Tony J. And Aziraphale had just come so hard he’d seen into the cosmos while watching him jerk off the night before. Which he’d done for approximately a year and a half. He’d seen the man’s arsehole. He’d enjoyed seeing the man’s arsehole.

“That’s…uh…fine,” Tony–Crowley said awkwardly.

He was wearing sunglasses–designer things that matched his overall aesthetic. Tight black jeans, tight charcoal gray shirt, black blazer. His short red hair was even redder in person and up close the hawkish quality of his nose could actually be a strange bend in the bridge that was strangely charming.

God. Charming.

Aziraphale was not meant to find a porn star charming.

“You can pick that up at the end of the bar,” Aziraphale said politely.

The man stared at him for a beat too long before bobbing his head and turning away. He hoped he hadn’t been obvious. Blushing or something like that.

Letting out a long breath, he turned to the next customer. “How can I help you today?”

**

The barista was adorable. Which was an absolutely asinine thing to think. And hardly encapsulated the truth of the matter which was that his eyes lit up when he smiled, and his nose turned up just so and something about it made Crowley’s stomach flutter. Flutter! 

He took his mocha and stammered out a thanks, grateful he was wearing his sunglasses because that meant the man probably couldn’t tell how flustered he was. He was being foolish. His thoughts were tending towards asking the barista to coffee. Like they weren’t already in a damned cafe. As if that weren’t a terrible breach of etiquette to ask someone out when they were working. And not to mention the final nail in the coffin: Crowley knew better than to try to date anyone outside of his line of work. It never ended well. The minute they found out he made porn for a living, it all went downhill.

Some people tried to be supportive but inevitably, jealousy always won out. People would try to stop him from doing it. But Crowley was good at it. In front of the camera was the only place in the world where he felt confident, and he wasn’t about to give that up. Some people were given the ability to solve complex problems or make beautiful music or talk to people, Crowley was given a large dick and an ability to move his hips in ways some called downright sinful. 

Crowley had fallen into porn the same way some people fell into modeling. Years of failing at being a lawyer and then it had just happened. He'd been at a pool of all places, rinsing off after a swim, trying to erase a particularly bad day in court from his brain through the art of exercise and a man came up to him and offered him a job. He'd been lucky really. And he loved it. Porn was his calling, and he was fine being alone. No awkward conversations and reminders of why he'd been a bad lawyer in the first place. Being alone didn't mean he was lonely. He had plants. And a cat. 

He sat at a table by the window at Celestial Books and Beans and glanced back at the barista who was deep in conversation with his coworker.

He was so cute. Might be an asinine description but it was apt. Pretty too. Fluffy blond curls and a waistcoat over a button down which was all covered by a black apron. He wasn’t wearing a name tag which was a shame. Crowley wished he could know his name so he could think of something else besides Hot Barista.

Crowley tried to put it out of his mind. It was hopeless to have a crush on anyone. It was just a random barista at a random cafe. He’d forget about it tomorrow.

**

Crowley, he’d said. Aziraphale thought helplessly as he rushed through the door to his flat and took off his coat. His hands shook as he undid his shoes. Crowley. Was Crowley a name he used at coffee shops? Certainly not, Aziraphale thought as he put together his tea. He’d said a whole name. Anthony Crowley. Tony. 

Unless it was just that he didn’t want to be recognized. Was that why he wore sunglasses?

Those were very nice indeed. They emphasized his dimples. 

Aziraphale skipped dinner so he could log on to Tony J.’s page. It wasn’t a cam night, but he was desperate to confirm what he already knew so he scrolled to previously posted videos. It had been a few months since Tony had posted anything with a partner on his page, but Aziraphale had seen most of the videos a handful of times. 

He chose one of the ones in a bedroom and watched with bated breath as Tony J. bore his partner back onto the bed, kissing him deeply. There was that flop of russet hair. Long nose. Sharp jaw. It was him.

The man beneath Tony – Crowley, his name was Crowley. Would it be a terrible transgression to think of him as such? – moaned into his mouth and arched into him as Crowley slid his hands into his shirt to pull it off. He made quick work of the man’s clothes, barely pausing to take off his own shirt until his partner was nude beneath him. He was just so…good. Aziraphale loved these videos. They weren’t all grunting and shaved balls. Of course he knew there was still an element of unreality, but it looked like it felt wonderful, like Crowley was making his partner feel good, kissing them, sucking them off instead of just plowing inside and getting his rocks off. He always ate them out too. 

Aziraphale’s breath came fast. It was extraordinary to watch. Arousing beyond belief. The way Crowley’s cheeks hollowed so he could suckle the man’s taint. The sight of it sent sensations of intense want all through Aziraphale’s body, a weakness sliding through his legs as he watched. Crowley bent the man’s legs back and licked over his hole in wide open licks, almost sloppy. His eyes were heavy lidded and dark and his mouth red and wet as he began to fuck the other man open with his tongue, his hands heavy on the back of the other man’s thighs. Aziraphale couldn’t help it, he began to imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that mouth, to have it focused entirely on his pleasure. His cock ached with the intensity of his want, arse clenching on nothing.

The camera moved, panning over Crowley’s back and giving Aziraphale a fabulous view of his shoulder blades, the scaled snake tattoos that curved over them, and the long line of his spine. His jeans were still on, belted at the waist, and as he released the man’s legs, he rose up on his knees and reached for his belt buckle and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d seen this man in person. Been in the same room with him. 

It made the prospect of seeing his cock unbearably real. 

The snap of the metal coming undone sent a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. Crowley shoved his jeans and briefs down his hips and down his thighs, pulling them over his knees and, in a strangely alluring tangle of limbs, yanked them off his feet before tossing them to the side.

His cock bobbed in front of him, huge and intimidating and the man he was shooting the scene with rose up and wrapped his hand around it before sucking it into his mouth. Crowley sank his hand into his hair and thrust his hips, not enough to truly fuck his mouth, but it was so hot to watch the way his muscles moved like he had total control. His head tipped back, and he groaned as the man on his knees did something with his mouth, a lewd suck. 

Aziraphale’s dick was tenting his trousers, soaking a wet spot into the fabric. Everything was ten times as arousing now that he’d met Crowley. He’d heard that voice in person, the one telling the man in front of him to take him deeper, sweetly saying how good he was for choking on his cock.

He watched as Crowley wrapped a hand around his partner’s throat to pulled him up into a deep kiss.

Aziraphale scrambled to undo his trousers and finally start touching himself while Crowley pushed his partner back against the pillows, one hand on his shaft, stroking it to hardness. He pushed the head of his cock against the tight rim of his partner's hole, smearing lube over it before slapping his dick against it with an obscene wet noise. The man's hole clenched on thin air as if chasing the sensation and Aziraphale felt it acutely, his stomach heating and his own arsehole aching for stimulation. Then Crowley slowed, sinking inside him, and the man grasped his thighs, tilting his hips back for better access so Crowley could control how deep he fucked him.

The muscles of Crowley’s hips and arse tensed as he began to fuck the other man with shallow thrusts, one inch at a time, that huge cock spearing him open. The man moaned, saying all sorts of lewd things about how big Crowley’s cock was, how it felt, and Aziraphale imagined it too, stretched on that truly mammoth prick. How it would leave him aching, rim gaping and slightly sore. 

He gasped and began to move his hand faster as Crowley took the man’s thighs and hooked them over his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. It was magnificent to watch. Crowley was magnificent. His hair dropped over his forehead as he began to breath hard and he came down on his hands, folding the man beneath him nearly in half. His cock plunged inside him all the way, skin hitting skin, his balls slapping against the other man’s arse. That was what sent Aziraphale over the edge, one quick tug and his orgasm rolled through him with a heavy groan.

Crowley was still fucking on the screen. It was still beautiful.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was a mess.

Chapter Text

Crowley, Anthony — Tony J. — was back. Standing in front of the till, this time in a soft-looking gray Henley that gapped at his throat and was tight enough to show off the wiry muscles of his biceps. 

Muscles he got from fucking, Aziraphale’s mind supplied unhelpfully as his hand shook where it hovered over the buttons on the register.

"How can I help you today?" he asked, slipping into customer service mode. It hid all sorts of ills.

"It’s, uh, really pissing down."

Aziraphale stared at the man. "Pardon?"

"Raining. Um…outside. Came in to get out of it. Sorry. Do you have any drink recommendations?"

Distinctly thrown off, Aziraphale struggled to come up with an adequate response. "Do you like…anything in particular?"

"No."

This was a very strange conversation. Aziraphale glanced at the board behind him. "The special today is a black and white mocha."

"Sure. That. Sounds good."

"Size?"

"Large."

Something was certainly large. Aziraphale's face began to heat at the innuendo that naturally popped into his mind as he punched in the order and let the man pay. Not wanting to be an absolute creep by admitting he remembered his name, he asked, "Name for the order?"

"Crowley," he said.

Aziraphale smiled brightly just so he wouldn’t blush. "That will be right up."

Crowley retreated to a table and sprawled in a chair, long legs stretched out in a way Aziraphale found hopelessly sexy.

Anathema slid up beside him as he pulled the first shot for the mocha. "Do you know that guy?"

"Uh, no," Aziraphale said quickly.

"So he’s just interested in you then," she said.

"What?" Aziraphale squeaked, nearly throwing the espresso portafilter. "Absolutely not."

Anathema laughed. So hard she snorted. "Oh please. He was all I– just – what do you like? I’m a nervous weirdo."

"Anathema," Aziraphale hissed between his teeth as he poured the milk to steam it.

“What? He’s hot. Go give him his coffee and flirt.”

His whole body was getting hot at the prospect of trying to flirt with the man seated by the window. It really was pissing down as Crowley had said and he was gazing out over the street, one leg crossed over the other. His hands were on the table and Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice how big they were in person. But he knew that. He’d seen them wrapped around his cock as he stroked it; the way the tendons in the back of his hands flexed was a sort of art. Erotic and mesmerizing. 

Aziraphale approached his table with a growing nervousness that he tried to tamp down. “Your black and white mocha.”

Crowley looked up at him and grinned. It was the same grin he gave the camera at the start of his cam sessions and Aziraphale’s stomach swooped dangerously. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses and his eyes were such a beautiful brown. Honeyed. 

“Thanks,” he said. He sat up straighter, his foot coming down off his knee to hit the floor. “What’s your name?”

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley cocked his head and mouthed the word as if feeling out the shape of it. 

“It’s from the bible,” Aziraphale explained. Like he always did. “An angel.”

“Perfect,” Crowley said nonsensically as if frustrated by Aziraphale’s words. “Of course.”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for more than that, but Crowley stared at the lid to his drink, eyebrows drawn together. He supposed he’d hoped Anathema’s comment had held a grain of truth, but he wasn’t going to stand around in silence.

“Well, enjoy your drink. I hope it stops raining.”

“Uh, thanks,” Crowley said and Aziraphale left. Not exactly a successful interaction.

**

Crowley was an idiot. A fool. 

He drank his black and white mocha and stared at the barista who was busy at work behind the counter. Aziraphale. A fucking angel. How fucking fitting. Pretty and cute and Crowley had a crush.

He’d come back to the sodding bookshop because…because…

Because he’d wanted to talk to the barista, but he didn’t know how. Just his luck the man had tried to talk to him and all he’d managed was a few gruff words. An abject failure. 

The shining point of light was that the man had come out from behind the counter and Crowley had gotten a magnificent view of his arse and truly, what an arse. Crowley had thought he’d probably have a good one given his general stocky shape which looked absurdly good in his tight apron. 

Crowley scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He was being a pervert. You’d think he had enough sex in his life to get it out of his system. Apparently, not. One cute barista had him in knots. He hadn’t even meant to come in here the other day. It had been cold, and he’d been tired from staying up too late shooting pictures for tips after camming. He’d made good money on it, but it would do him no good if he kept it up and looked like a corpse for his shoot tomorrow. He’d simply reasoned that it was a good idea to get a few shots with come on his belly, fresh-off a wank. He could always fake it with some coconut oil, but he liked a bit of veracity in his photos. Added a je ne se quois.

He pulled up his calendar on his phone to check who he was shooting with. Threesome with Jeremy and Ben. He frowned. Who was Ben? Staring at the appointment, he racked his brain. Had he done a scene with a Ben? Jeremy, he knew pretty well. They’d done a few blow job scenes back before Crowley got popular enough to branch into solo work. He supposed if Jeremy was okay with Ben then Crowley would be too.

He sighed and drained his drink. Time to go home and do his work early so he could get some rest.

**

Aziraphale was grateful to have a day back on the bookshop side of things. Working through the inventory and speaking to customers about books came much more naturally to him. Somehow a box of books didn’t feel nearly as heavy as a box of flavored coffee syrups.

He was busy shelving some newly received hardbacks when a flash of red hair caught his attention. It couldn’t be. Twice in the coffee shop was one thing, they certainly had regulars. But what would Crowley be doing over here?

He slipped around the corner of the shelf and there was Crowley, paging through a romance novel. He glanced up at Aziraphale’s appearance and rushed to slide the book back on the shelf. 

“Um, hi,” he stammered. “You’re the, uh, the barista. Angel barista.”

Aziraphale’s ears began to heat. “Aziraphale.”

“Right,” Crowley said. “I’m Crowley.”

“I remember,” Aziraphale admitted, which was mortifying. He tried to erase the anxiety and embarrassment by adding, “Are you in the market for a book?”

“Just browsing.”

“A fan of romances?”

“Um…yeah? Guess so. Like the romantic…ness,” Crowley said, glancing at the shelf and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was wearing those tight jeans again and this time a loose, black v-neck. Aziraphale could just see the edge of the winding snake tattoos on his chest. It was scintillating.

Aziraphale pulled the book he had been looking at back off the shelf. “Oh, have you read any more of Wester’s work? It’s quite good. She has a whole series of excellent romance. I think she does a wonderful job of dialogue and really developing the connection between the main characters.”

Crowley gave him the wide-eyed look of a prey animal. He shrugged a shoulder. “Do you have any recommendations?”

It was Aziraphale’s favorite thing to hear in the context of his work and it set him off. The floodgates opened and before he knew it, he had a stack of paperbacks in his hands as he explained the pros and cons of each one to Crowley.

Crowley stared at him, and it made Aziraphale realize he was babbling. He shut his mouth abruptly. Crowley didn’t look annoyed, or bored. In fact, his small, secretive smile made Aziraphale’s heart beat a little faster, and was doing nothing to stop his burgeoning crush. He forcibly stopped himself from going on another tangent and returned to the topic at hand: the author Crowley had originally been looking at.

“Though if you like Wester, I’d recommend Hewitt. I can’t remember the name of the first in the series, but I could look it up for you. If you like.”

“You could text me,” Crowley said suddenly, phone appearing in his hand. “When you find out.”

Aziraphale blinked as the phone was pressed into his palm. That wasn’t what he meant. He meant he was going to look it up on the work computer. Give Crowley the information now. Except this was an opportunity he was struggling to find a way to decline. “I-”

“Maybe you’ll think of other recommendations.”

Aziraphale punched in his phone number, shocked down to his toes. Was this happening? Really? It couldn’t be what he thought. Not from someone like Crowley. The Tony J.

It wasn’t as if Aziraphale was terribly lacking in the romance department when he tried to meet people, but Crowley was – well, to put it mildly he was sexy as hell. Aziraphale typically attracted people who wore khakis and thought fashion involved unbuttoning the top button of a dress shirt. Mostly because Aziraphale was that sort of person.

As he handed back the phone, Crowley grinned at him, a flash of those crooked teeth that Aziraphale found so endearing, and Aziraphale’s heart gave another pathetic patter. What did it matter in the end? It was simply a phone number. Crowley probably wouldn’t use it.

**

Aziraphale sat on his couch and hesitated. He prevaricated. He patted his hands on his knees. He picked his nails and hemmed and hawed. Should he? He desperately wanted to. It was a habit. A hard one to break.

He turned on his laptop at seven o’clock and went to Tony J.’s page. He would just look, he said to himself. Check to see if he was camming. 

Of course he was camming. He cammed every other night without fail. And as the screen flashed white and Crowley faded into view, Aziraphale’s heart sped up. That smile, those dimples, the crinkles around the beautiful eyes.

Oh lord, he was gone on this man. A crush! On a porn star!

“Hey there,” Crowley said smoothly. Gone was the fumbling awkwardness Aziraphale saw every time he came into the shop. This was what he was used to. The man’s easy confidence helped him slip into his own relaxation as he leaned back against the couch cushions. It was then he realized Crowley was wearing the same shirt he had seen him in earlier, that same soft looking black v-neck but now paired with charcoal boxer briefs. 

His breath came out of him in a hard rush. 

Crowley stretched his arms over his head, purposely arcing his body seductively, exposing a strip of skin between his waistband and the bottom of his shirt. “What do you think? Slow or fast tonight?”

The chat pinged off and Crowley laughed. “I’m not even going to look. I’ll do what I like.” He slid his hands up under his shirt and sighed. “Slow. A bit of dirty talk. You like that.”

The chat filled up with things Aziraphale dared not read. 

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you,” Crowley said, sitting up and sliding to the edge of the bed. It changed the angle of the shot, so his legs were out of view, just his torso and face. His pulled his shirt over his head and it left his hair a tousled mess. The right sort of look for someone about to go to bed. About to be kissed. “Nice and easy.”

He licked over his teeth, a whole lascivious ordeal that had Aziraphale hard in a second. Then he moved back onto the bed, somehow devoid of his pants, cock hard against his belly. “Maybe you should open yourself up for me just like I would. One finger at a time.”

Aziraphale whimpered. He almost never did that while watching the cams, afraid he’d miss something if he got too distracted, but Crowley was asking him, eyes boring into the screen as he lazily palmed his cock with one hand with the other resting behind him to prop him up. 

He hastily shucked off his sweater and undid his trousers, tearing them off with the same alacrity Crowley showed in his most passionate videos. He grabbed the lube he kept on the side table for his evenings with Tony J. and spread some over his fingers.

“Get yourself nice and wet. Sloppy-like,” Crowley said. He continued to play with himself in a way that was driving Aziraphale mad. It was so casual, like it meant nothing. 

Sucking in a huge breath, Aziraphale hitched up his knee and slid his fingers behind his balls. He felt silly like this. Exposed. He only ever did this in bed. Rarely watching pornography.

He rubbed circles over the tight furl of his rim, feeling it twitch under the pad of his finger and, rather fantastically, imagined it was Crowley touching him like this. Those confident, lazy hands at work between his legs. 

“I’d make you beg for my cock by the time I was through with you,” Crowley said and there was a little hitch in his breath. “But I know how big I am. I’d have to ease you into it. Just put the tip in. Let you get used to it.”

Aziraphale slid his finger inside and moaned at the thought of more, of being full. His cock throbbed, dripping onto his stomach, as he watched Crowley release his grip on his prick and roll up onto his knees. 

"Are you fucking yourself open for me?" Crowley asked. "Touching yourself? I could make you come on my cock."

Aziraphale bore down on his finger and wrapped a hand around himself. The dual sensation was overwhelming. It had been quite some time since he’d gone through the effort.

Crowley began to pump his cock, rolling the foreskin along the head. His breathing stuttered for a moment before he spoke. "I’ll give you one inch at a time. Fuck you good and shallow until you can take more.”

Aziraphale moaned, imagining that huge cock barely penetrating him, teasing him. He couldn’t help it, he added a second finger, desperate to feel more. He hadn’t dated in so long. He hadn’t needed to. He was sexually fulfilled enough with his private sex life, but for a moment he yearned for the stretch of a partner, the pressure of it, the lack of control. 

His head hit the back of the sofa and his eyes fluttered shut. He had to force himself to open his eyes and train them back on the screen. It was worth it to see Crowley reach down and begin to play with his balls as he began to fuck his fist. 

A visible shiver passed through Crowley, and he stopped touching himself, dropping forward onto one hand as if his spine could no longer hold him up. The change in position moved him closer to the camera and when he swore under his breath, it was so close to the mic that it passed through the video and made Aziraphale tingle. It also afforded a view of Crowley’s cock hanging between his legs, slick with lube and at this angle, so long as it swung between Crowley’s legs, all Aziraphale could think about was getting his mouth on it. A single drip of precome mixed with lube gathered at the tip and fell to the sheets before he reached forward to grasp his cock once more. The pace was different this time, focused and determined.

"I'd get you under me until I could fuck you deep," Crowley said, voice almost all growl. Aziraphale could hear the rush of his breath through the mic and his stomach was tying up, his own blood was rushing to his head. "Fuck that tight arse until you were open and loose and ready for my come."

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale said, a tight breath in his throat. His orgasm was thundering inside him, coming up quickly in a way it hadn’t in a long time even as his wrist cramped at the odd angle and repetitive motion. 

Crowley hung his head, and his arm shook as he came across the sheet in thick white strips. His breath whooshed out, loud enough to be picked up by the mic, a sharp exhale followed by a huge inhale. Aziraphale could imagine the way it would feel brushing across his skin. He tightened his grip on his own cock and came with a gasp, stars in his vision, that thunderous feeling in his gut now accompanied by lightning.

When he opened his eyes, it was to Crowley’s grin.

“Thanks for joining me tonight.” He was breathless. They both were. “As always, whatever you choose to do with the rest of your night, do it with style.”

**

Crowley flopped onto his couch, loose-limbed after his orgasm, and feeling distinctly pleased by the new number burning a hole in his phone. He pulled it up. Aziraphale Fell. He even had his whole name. Angel.

Maybe it had been silly to spend his cam session imagining Aziraphale, but he liked to think it gave him a bit of pep in his step. It was certainly better than normal if he judged by the number of tips he’d gotten. 

Hi, he typed out. Wait, he thought. No. Bad. Not enough context. Aziraphale didn’t have his number and getting a random hi out of the blue would make absolutely no sense.

Hi, this is Anthony Crowley. From the cafe.

Crowley looked at that and considered for a moment. Simple. To the point. And yet lacking. Did he need a reason to be texting? Aziraphale had offered the number for the purpose of discussing books. Yet Crowley didn’t give two shits about books. 

He added, for good measure, Thanks for the recommendations today.

He contemplated a few emojis but felt that would be trying too hard before he hit send. He let his phone drop onto his chest just so he wouldn’t be left staring at the screen. As he contemplated his ceiling, he thought about his cam session. It had been a bit better than normal, thinking about Aziraphale. 

He’d looked at his hands today, holding those books at the shop. They were nice. Manicured with thick fingers that looked wonderfully soft. He’d stood so close that Crowley had gotten a whiff of his cologne, something sweet and gentle. 

His phone buzzed and he scrambled to pick it up.

Aziraphale: It’s one of my favorite topics of discussion. Any time.

Crowley: I’m not actually a great reader but I like a few things. It’s nice to listen to people be excited about what they like.

Aziraphale: Goodness and yet you let me prattle on.

Crowley: Hardly prattling if I found it interesting.

Crowley was grinning madly at his phone. This was happening. He was talking and not failing and being confident without his dick out.

Aziraphale: You might be the first.

Crowley: Tell me about your other favorite topics of discussion. Maybe those will be boring enough to put me to sleep.

Aziraphale: Perhaps you should share your hobbies.

Crowley got up and ambled to the alcove that held most of his plants to snap a few pictures.

Crowley: Ask and ye shall receive.

**

Aziraphale was having difficulty focusing on his work. 

Crowley had texted him last night. Immediately after signing off camming, Crowley had texted him. Both of them freshly orgasmed and relaxed, they had texted for almost an hour. Not that Crowley knew what Aziraphale had done. Or knew that Aziraphale knew what he had done. It felt terrible. Like some sort of lie.

The worst part was that Crowley was nice to talk to. Through the medium of a screen, he was significantly less nervous. He was funny. Sarcastic. Almost sweet. 

He also made the most blazing hot pornography Aziraphale had ever seen and the knowledge of that was never going to leave Aziraphale’s mind, budding friendship or no.

“Why are you smiling?” Anathema asked. The morning had been slow and Aziraphale was busy refilling the coffee grinder. He adjusted the bean bag in his hand to pour more sedately and didn’t answer.

“Does it have to do with that conversation I saw you having with the Hot Sunglasses Guy yesterday over in the romance novel section?”

Aziraphale put the bag of beans down and gave Anathema a flat look. “Why must you pry? I don’t pry into whatever it is you’re doing with the poor lad from the flower shop next door.”

Anathema shoved her glasses up her nose and had the decency to look chagrinned before she said, “You could.”

That stopped Aziraphale short. “I– really?”

“His name is Newt and he’s very nervous so we’re working up to something.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t seem like you at all. Waiting around.”

“Turning over a new leaf,” Anathema said haughtily. “Maybe you should too. Take a chance.”

“I gave him my number,” he confessed. It felt good to say something. To talk about it. If only he could say the rest, but he didn’t want to scar the poor girl.

Anathema shoved him in the arm. “Oh my god.”

Aziraphale shrugged her off. “It’s not anything drastic. He texted me. A little. About books. And plants.”

“He likes youuuuuu,” Anathema said in a singsong. 

He walked away then, taking the bean bag with him into the storeroom, and when his phone dinged in his pocket, he fished it out.

A photo of a cat lounging in a sunny windowsill greeted him. 

Crowley: This is my other hobby. His name is Bentley.

Aziraphale’s heart gave a valiant and useless thump as he set down the coffee beans. He was doomed.

**

Crowley: Favorite type of cheese?

Aziraphale: Sharp white cheddar.

Crowley: Least favorite vegetable?

Aziraphale: Green bean. Are you making a list for a charcuterie board?

Crowley: I’m trying to start a conversation but you’re not doing a great job.

Aziraphale: Maybe you’re doing a bad job on your end.

Crowley: [Picture of Bentley standing on his hind legs, peering into a cup on a glass side table, the edge of a black leather sofa in the picture.] Bentley says hello. And also that you’re a menace.

Aziraphale: That’s awfully rude of Bentley. Maybe his owner is a menace and he’s grown biased about the state of humans.

Chapter Text

Crowley: I read that book you suggested.

Aziraphale: And?

Crowley: It wasn’t entirely a waste of time.

Aziraphale: What a wonderful endorsement. I imagine they’ll use that as a quote for the cover.

Crowley: -_-

**

Aziraphale finished battling with the case of chocolate syrups and when he walked out of the supply closet, Anathema jerked her thumb in the direction of the window table and said, "Hot Sunglasses Guy is here. You should take your break."

Aziraphale frowned at her. "I'm not going to go over there and impose-"

"He literally asked after you so go live your romcom life." Anathema’s tone brooked no argument. She was good at that, all no-nonsense, vaguely aggressive and interfering. She’d be a terrifying parent one day. Or schoolteacher.

Taking off his apron and setting it aside, Aziraphale cast her a death glare even as his heart sped up. He walked around the counter and caught sight of Crowley, legs stretched out under the window table he seemed to prefer. He was doing something on his phone and hadn’t noticed Aziraphale yet. Which was probably for the best since it gave Aziraphale a moment to collect himself. He was wearing short sleeves and Aziraphale could see the barest peak of the snake tattoos on his biceps. Good Lord, the man was fit. His forearms were a sin.

Crowley finally looked up and his face broke out in a huge grin. "Aziraphale, you are working today."

"Yes, I was just in back. I'm on break now actually."

Crowley’s grin broadened. "You could…um, sit with me. If you like. Unless you have some sort of break ritual that I’d be interrupting.”

"No, that would be nice." Aziraphale glanced at him as he took a seat. He had that nervous edge to his expression that was growing quite familiar. Oddly endearing and yet a little bit pitiful. It would be more pitiful if Aziraphale hadn’t seen his cock and balls countless times. "You know you don’t have to be quite so nervous around me."

"What? I’m not– no, I don’t get nervous. Cool as a cucumber, me."

Aziraphale flexed his jaw so he wouldn’t laugh. "Right. Certainly."

Crowley flopped forward onto the table, defeated. He set his phone down. "Fine. Yes. I have, maybe, a slight tendency to be anxious around new people. When I was a kid, I had issues talking. Used to get stuck on my s's. Was bullied something awful. Had to take extra classes. My dad though. He was a lawyer and thought I had to be one too. So I tried. I was very bad at it. There aren’t words for how bad I was at it. Choked in front of people. I’d forget things I'd memorized. It was awful. I just... I don’t do people."

That’s not true. I’ve seen you do people, Aziraphale thought inappropriately which he duly ignored. 

"So I maybe get a bit," Crowley waved his hands, "tongue-tied when I'm talking to strangers."

Aziraphale patted his hand. "Well, my dear, I have good news."

Crowley looked up at him, oddly hopeful.

"We aren’t strangers anymore."

**

Crowley was making bad choices. Texting the cute barista. The angel. Thinking about him while he cammed. He was crushing and hard. It was all an inevitable clusterfuck waiting to happen.

They were sort of friends. They were definitely flirting. Crowley wasn’t fool enough to think the man wasn’t gay or even uninterested. It was the simple terror of knowing what came next, of the inevitable downward spiral that always came with his love life. I like you. I do porn. I wasn’t hiding it but now you hate me and think I’m a slut or a cheater or what have you.

There was no way around it and Crowley had been so good at not falling for random men. Maybe he’d been lonely. Maybe it had been too long since his last relationship.

But he knew what it was. It was those big hazel eyes. That sweet smile.

He was always a sucker for a smile.

So once more, he walked into Celestial Books and Beans and admitted to himself he was there for one thing. He would do better this time. They’d been texting. He wouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to be. They knew each other now. Time for suave Crowley to come out. Confident Crowley. More like the Crowley who was in front of the camera.

He stepped into the cafe side of the shop and walked directly into Aziraphale. Directly into was a quite literal description. He collided with Aziraphale’s side and Aziraphale spilled the milk he was holding, splashing it over his apron and soaking his front. Crowley automatically reached for him, shame taking hold in his gut. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck, right idiotic of me. I didn’t–”

Aziraphale waved him off. “It’s fine.” 

The milk was evidently empty because he tossed the carton into the trash bin. “I’ll just go clean up.”

Crowley followed after, all apologies. “I wasn’t paying attention. My head’s all a jumble these days. Long night. You know.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said under his breath. Rather nonsensically, Crowley thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, holding open the door to the toilet for Aziraphale so he could go in as he undid his apron and tossed it on the sink. 

Aziraphale looked down at his shirt where the milk had splashed up nearly to his throat and sighed. Crowley stepped in after him. “I’m a mess at home too if that makes any difference.”

Aziraphale laughed and took off his bowtie to undo his shirt buttons. “I’m not sure why it would. It makes me feel sorry for you more than anything.”

“I do love a bit of pity,” Crowley said, leaning against the sink next to him. They’d been texting regularly, and it was doing wonders for his confidence around Aziraphale. They were something like friends now, and maybe it was a bad idea, but Crowley thought it was also rather nice.

Aziraphale shook off his sleeves and rinsed the fabric in the sink. He was only in his undershirt, the tight bands of the t-shirt cutting across his thick biceps. God, he had freckles on his arms. He was gorgeous. Crowley swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the feelings inside him, the rioting tangle of physical appreciation and genuine attraction that made him want to yank Aziraphale against him.

Aziraphale turned off the tap and shook the excess water from the fabric. "I suppose that will do."

Then he turned around and looked up. His eyes locked with Crowley's, a sharp recognition in them like he saw every lewd thought passing through Crowley’s mind and Crowley saw the breath catch in his throat. A slight blush stole over Aziraphale’s cheeks, fetching in the light of the warm exposed light bulbs above the mirror. The air seemed to thicken around them, and the moment stretched as Aziraphale’s eyes drifted to Crowley’s mouth. He had two choices: he could laugh and play it off; or he could go for it.

He chose the latter.

He pushed Aziraphale back against the counter, one hand to his hip and the other sinking into that soft blond hair as he captured his mouth in a kiss. The shirt in his hands fell to the floor with a sad, wet plop and Aziraphale clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer. 

That answered any sort of question Crowley might have about whether this was a welcome advance.

Aziraphale moaned into the kiss, scraping teeth over his lower lip and just begging for Crowley to slide their tongues together, to fuck his mouth open, wet and heavy. So he did, sucking on Aziraphale's tongue, tipping Aziraphale's head back with the hand in his hair so he could move and mouth over his jaw. He smelled so good. Sweet and heady.

He loved this. He could feel his nerves falling away with every second he had his mouth on Aziraphale's skin. This was where he was confident. What he was meant to do. 

"I want to suck you," Crowley said into his ear. 

Aziraphale trembled, hands tightening in his jacket. "I'm-I'm at work."

"Is that a, no? A not right now?" Crowley asked before pressing several hot kisses over his neck.

"It's a lock the door and be quick," Aziraphale said, a magnificent sort of breathlessness in his words.

Crowley stepped back and twisted the lock. This was a gift from the heavens. An angel fallen into his lap. When he turned back it was to grab Aziraphale by the belt and kiss him again. Aziraphale fell into the kiss easily. Crowley could tell in an instant he was the sort that liked to be taken care of in bed. Not quite a pillow princess but wouldn’t say no to a good spoiling.

Which suited Crowley just fine, since he intended to spoil Aziraphale as long as he let him.

He tugged Aziraphale’s shirt out of his waistband and began to sink to his knees, bunching the cotton fabric up over the swell of his belly so he could kiss the exposed skin. He groped Aziraphale’s chest and tweaked one of his hardened nipples. He had good tits. Good for sucking. Crowley had a little momentary flash of imagination where he did just that. However, a nipple detour was best saved for a longer endeavor not a quick suck job at Aziraphale's workplace.

Instead, he kissed down the trail of hair over Aziraphale’s belly button as he undid his belt and pushed down his trousers. Aziraphale trembled, his hands falling to the counter behind him. That sweet smell that Crowley liked so much lingered on the skin here too, but alongside it was the smell of sex as Crowley tugged down his boxers. 

Just like the rest of him, Aziraphale’s cock was cute. Short and fat. The sort that would stretch Crowley’s mouth to the edge of discomfort but barely bump his throat. It also dripped, beads of precome forming at the tip and Crowley desperately wanted to take him raw, but in his line of work he had to use protection unless they talked about it. And he was not in the mood to stop and have a long conversation.

Thankfully, also in his line of work, he carried what some people might consider a ridiculous amount of sex paraphernalia.  So he ripped a condom out of his jacket and slid one over Aziraphale’s shaft, caressing his balls along the way. Aziraphale seemed to like that, a little moan breaking out of his mouth. Bending over to kiss him before he could do anything else, Aziraphale licked along his teeth, drawing a whimper from Crowley. He’d thought about kissing Aziraphale so much and it was as good as he had hoped. Crowley was forced to break the kiss – with no little amount of regret – in order to get to what he was really after: a cock in his mouth. Aziraphale’s cock in his mouth. 

He mouthed over Aziraphale's hips, nipping over the slight roll of his tummy before taking his prick into his mouth. He was used to the slight tang of latex and the clinical slip of lube. It all just felt like sex, like intimacy, and it buzzed through his brain like touching a livewire.

Aziraphale’s hand fell to his hair, soft and tentative, and he heard a little groan. Music to his ears as he rolled his tongue over the soft head of his cock, suckling the tip before taking him all the way down to the root. He'd been right. Aziraphale fit beautifully in his mouth. 

He rubbed delicate circles into Aziraphale’s hip bones with one hand and used the other to cup his balls while he sucked, bobbing his head and knowing he could get Aziraphale off with just his mouth.

The hand in his hair went tight and Aziraphale gasped his name. He loved hearing that. It was his favorite part of sex, real sex. He was Crowley hear, no fake names or personas. He got to be himself. Aziraphale’s hips stuttered. His hand fell from Crowley’s hair and slapped back against the counter. He was falling apart all due to Crowley because Crowley was good at this. 

"I'm going to come," Aziraphale said, breathing hard and Crowley thumbed his balls, sucking until he felt a flood of heat in his mouth. Crowley looked up at him, letting his cock pulse on his tongue, as he took in the sight of Aziraphale post-orgasm; cheeks flushed, mouth open. He was beautiful. Letting Aziraphale slip from his mouth, a string of spit connected the tip to his lips, and he had to wipe it away with the back of his hand.

Aziraphale grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up into a kiss, messy from the start. "You are amazing at that. I knew you'd be amazing."

A warning light flashed in Crowley's brain.

"Do you want me to return the favor?” Aziraphale asked between sloppy kisses. “Given how large you are, a hand job might be easier."

A second warning light flashed on.

“How do you know how large I am?"

Aziraphale hesitated, hands dropping from his shoulders as he cleared his throat. “Um. I can tell through your jeans?" Aziraphale offered lamely.

Crowley pulled away, as the third warning light flashed on, and sirens began to wail in his head. “Does the name Tony J. mean anything to you?”

The look on Aziraphale’s face said it all.

“Fuck,” Crowley said, grabbing some paper towels to clean up and put himself to rights. “You recognized me, and you didn’t say anything?”

“How was I supposed to start that conversation?” Aziraphale retorted tartly. “Hello there! Are you Tony J.? Big fan. My favorite video is the one where you fuck your costar on the kitchen counter but I’m partial to your cam work.”

“You watch my cam work?” Crowley asked incredulously.

Aziraphale began to turn red. “You’re very attractive. I’ve followed you for…quite some time.”

“Jesus…fuck,” Crowley ran his hands through his hair and turned away as Aziraphale took the moment to zip himself up. “Was I just some–I don’t know–some fantasy of yours? Fucking a porn star? Is that why you were nice to me?”

Aziraphale reached out for him immediately. “No! I mean…the thought crossed my mind at first. But only in a sort of…what if context. But it was the only way I knew you! But now, I–I like you. I like texting with you and—and getting to know you. Crowley, I mean, not just Tony J. And…I’d like to take you to dinner if you’re amenable. Not that I minded the rather sudden blow job, but it wasn’t my intent.”

“You want to date me?” Crowley asked, reeling from all the new information. Aziraphale knew who he was. Knew about the porn. He seemed fine with it. He’d planned on asking him out. “I’m not going to stop making porn, you know. It’s my job.”

Aziraphale’s eyes skittered to the side as if he were embarrassed but then he laughed. “I’d certainly hope not. Since I enjoy watching you perform quite a bit.”

Crowley laughed too, a huge exhale of relief. “OK. A date. I think I know just the place.”

**

It turned out to not matter where they went (even though it was a lovely little Thai place where the owner knew Crowley and Aziraphale thought that was adorable) because they ended up back at Crowley’s immediately after, kissing before the door was even shut.

“You’re a very good kisser,” Aziraphale said breathlessly as they broke apart to take off their shoes and, on Crowley’s part, to shove off Aziraphale’s jacket.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Crowley bore him back against the wall to kiss him again, that same deep sort of kiss that boded so well for exactly how their evening would go, licking into his mouth with a confidence that was entirely antithetical to the nervous, awkward man who came into the coffee shop. It turned Aziraphale’s knees to jelly. He clutched at Crowley’s arms and kissed him back, moaning when the kiss turned soft, a slide of lips. Then Crowley began to mouth over his jaw, his hands going to Aziraphale’s hips to draw his shirt out of his trousers. 

“Tell me about the sort of things you wanted me to do to you when you watched me work.”

Aziraphale whimpered. He was man enough to admit it. “I loved watching you eat people out. I thought about you doing it to me. Then fucking me.”

Crowley’s hands dug into the flesh of his sides before sliding down to grope his arse. “Convenient. Ever since I met you, I’ve been admiring your arse. Thinking about getting my mouth on it.”

“Oh, dear Lord.”

“How about we go to bed?”

“Please,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley pressed another hot kiss to his throat, his mouth dragging over the pulse beating a frantic rhythm so hard against his skin there was no way Crowley couldn’t feel it. “I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself at this rate.”

“As if you’re only going to come once tonight,” Crowley said, grabbing his hand to drag him towards the bedroom.

“Crowley! I’m forty-nine,” Aziraphale protested.

“Yeah, and I’m very good in bed.”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale said, blushing. “Where is this confidence coming from? You’re very different in the bedroom.”

Crowley paused. He dropped Aziraphale’s hand. “I guess it’s what I’m good at. Aren’t you more confident when you know you’re good at something?”

“I suppose so. I’m certainly not complaining.”

Grinning, Crowley pulled him close, evidence of his interest pushed against Aziraphale’s hip. “I’d hope not. I’ve got plans.”

The first thing Aziraphale noticed when they got in the bedroom was that it wasn’t what he expected at all. There were no silk sheets. In fact, the sheets weren’t even black, they were gray, a soft looking cotton. And there were two nightstands. Crowley’s bedroom didn’t have nightstands. “Wait, this isn’t where you cam.”

Crowley laughed. “I have a spare room for that. I’m not going to work where I sleep. That’s bad sleep hygiene, Aziraphale.”

Even while speaking, Crowley didn’t stop pushing him back onto the bed, hands on his bow tie, then his buttons, before pushing his shirt off his shoulders. “This undershirt thing is sexy.”

“It’s just an undershirt.”

“You’re sexy then,” Crowley said, shoving his knee between Aziraphale’s legs until he was forced to fall back onto the bed. Crowley took advantage of his supine position by grasping his belt and undoing it, making quick work of his trousers and tearing them down until Aziraphale was left in just his boxers and his undershirt. He felt ridiculous, his cock tenting the soft cotton. He was about to be naked with a porn star. 

Then Crowley was over him again, pushing away the flash of insecurity as their legs tangled, his jeans rubbing against the soft skin of his thighs as Crowley kissed him. That drove all the thoughts from his head completely as he sank his hands into Crowley’s hair. His heartbeat quickened, he could feel it in his temples as Crowley began to kiss over his neck, a scrape of teeth and then down his body, one hand creeping under his shirt before his mouth joined it.

“Take this off,” Crowley demanded. “And turn over.”

The words thrilled Aziraphale. Crowley was so confident, determined. Aziraphale sat up and peeled off his shirt before moving to follow his instructions. He’d never wanted someone with this visceral need. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. He practically had years of foreplay under his belt with the man.

Crowley kissed his shoulder blades, kneading his arse with open palms before peeling down his boxers. He brushed his knuckles along the underside of his bum as he pressed sucking kisses into Aziraphale’s hips, making him shiver and clutch at the linens. 

“I’m going to make you scream, angel,” Crowley said, voice dark and full of promise.

A thumb brushed over his hole, a delicate, barely-there pressure that curled Aziraphale’s toes and pulled a moan from his throat. Because he was wise and knew exactly how this was going to go, Aziraphale snatched a pillow and held it to his chest. 

Crowley chuckled and pressed the pad of his thumb more firmly against his rim, then brushed down over his taint, gentle yet sure before both hands moved to grasp his buttocks and hold him open. “God, you have a magnificent arse.”

Aziraphale bit the pillow pressed into his face, holding back any embarrassment that threatened to rise inside him at being so entirely exposed to Anthony Crowley – Tony J. – who was practically a connoisseur of arseholes. Aziraphale’s was just another one for him to see. 

He shivered at the thought. Such a long-held fantasy come to life.

A hot breath ghosted over the back of his thighs, the only warning he had before Crowley fluttered his tongue against his perineum, soft at first, then licking up over his arse. He suckled at Aziraphale’s hole, making his thighs shake, before licking him softly. So delicate that Aziraphale wanted to cry for more. It was the sort of tease that ached, that made him desperate. Then the thumb was back, pressing down on his anus, circling the muscle with an almost questioning pressure before Crowley licked him again. It felt as if his body was turning to liquid, like every inch of him was heating. Could he come from this? It felt like a near thing.

Crowley shuffled behind him, and he heard the snick of his belt and movement of clothes being taken off. The bed dipped and when Aziraphale turned his head to look, Crowley was standing beside the bed, shirtless as he fished in the nightstand for lube and a condom. 

This close Aziraphale could see the scales on the snakes of his tattoos. The way they wound around each other. 

Crowley tossed the condoms and lube on the bed and took off his jeans. The muscles in his abdomen flexed underneath the softness of his belly. Then he was just in his briefs, his huge cock straining the line of his boxer briefs. Aziraphale was practically drooling. His stomach was hot, and his cock was leaking all over the bed. He’d never been harder in his life. The sexiest man he’d ever seen was about to fuck him. God was on his side and smiling.

Crowley got back into bed and brushed his hand over Aziraphale’s back. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“I’m going to open you up on my fingers. Would you roll on your back for me so I can see your face?”

Aziraphale maneuvered himself onto his back, thrilled at the way Crowley seemed unable to stop touching him, hands finding their way to his sides to squeeze the flesh there, touching his chest, his belly, moving down between his legs to brush over his erection. 

Crowley snagged the other pillow from the top of the bed and put it under Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale squirmed. “You can just fuck me.”

Crowley laughed. He had the utter gall to laugh. “You’ve seen my cock, sweetheart.”

Aziraphale certainly had.

Crowley opened the lube and poured some out on his fingers. “Besides, if I make you come like this then I get to challenge myself.”

Reaching between them, Crowley grasped his cock with one hand, stroking it with lazy pulls while the other hand moved behind his balls and pressed against his hole. It was that same gentle pressure, a slow circling that had Aziraphale twitching and wanting more almost immediately. Crowley pushed the tip of one finger inside him. “Going to make you nice and wet for me,” he said, widening his legs enough to further spread Aziraphale’s knees. 

He just used that one finger, barely dipping it inside in slow pushes that gave Aziraphale little shocks of pleasure with every movement of Crowley’s hand on his cock. He fisted his hands in the sheets, back tensing as he tossed his head. He was going to be a mess.

Crowley pulled his finger out and added more lube alongside a second finger, still not going at the pace Aziraphale wanted. He wanted to be fucked and here Crowley was, lazily fingering him, toying with him, and then – oh and then Crowley pressed against his prostate as he thumbed over the head of his cock and Aziraphale’s hips jerked off the bed. 

A moan broke out of Aziraphale’s mouth, turning into a sharp yelp as Crowley grinned down at him and did it again, forcing Aziraphale to fuck his fist and bear down on his fingers as two things happened at once: his orgasm began to build in his balls and, incomprehensibly, his scalp began to tingle. 

“Crowley, I’m - oh - I’m going to -”

His orgasm rushed out of him in an overwhelming wave as he came over Crowley’s hand and onto his belly. Crowley didn’t stop fingering him, gentling his touch as he released his cock and moved up his body to press a kiss to his mouth. “That was fucking hot.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Crowley said. “Bit of clean up first.”

Crowley withdrew and cleaned up his hands with tissues before doing the same to Aziraphale’s belly. 

Then he took his pants off and there it was. His cock. The cock. The one Aziraphale had been wanking to for so long.

Unaware that Aziraphale was staring at him with stars in his eyes, Crowley ripped open the condom and rolled it onto his prick. It was magnificent. Bigger in person and gorgeous and about to be inside him. 

Sliding back onto the bed, Crowley settled between Aziraphale’s legs and leaned down to kiss him. His prick brushed against Aziraphale’s belly, heavy and slick with the lube from the condom. Aziraphale’s arsehole twitched with anticipation; this was going to be the fuck of his life.

Crowley rose up on his knees and made a little noise in his throat like he liked what he saw, liked the look of Aziraphale spread out on his bed. He took his cock in a lubed hand and stroked it once before nudging it behind Aziraphale’s balls, pressing the head of his prick against Aziraphale’s hole. Aziraphale moaned at the heated sensation, ready to be opened up on that huge cock. He hadn’t fucked in ages, and this would be the fuck of the century. He would feel it for a week and if he was lucky, remember it for the rest of his life.

Crowley pressed against him slowly, just barely entering him, using his hand to control the depth of the penetration. The gentle stretch of it was agonizing. Aziraphale wanted more and squirmed on the bed, tilting his hips on the pillow that kept him up at the perfect angle to be fucked. But Crowley kept up that interminable pace, pressing his cock just barely inside him, not even slipping the head fully past his anus. 

Then, miraculously, Crowley let one hand go to his hip to still him and the other held up his sac as he pushed inside one agonizing inch at a time. Aziraphale gasped, back arching. His hand flew to his cock. He massaged the tip and felt the whole thing grow hard in his fist.

“Fuck,” Crowley said, air rushing out of him. “You’re tight.”

“You feel amazing,” Aziraphale breathed. He hooked his calf around the back of Crowley’s thigh and urged him forward. 

Crowley rocked his hips tentatively, fucking him on the first few inches of his cock. It tore a moan from Aziraphale’s throat and Crowley held his hip tight to stop him from moving. The grip almost hurt and Aziraphale loved it.

“Harder,” he gasped. Crowley groaned, head hanging forward as he watched his own cock disappearing into Aziraphale’s body.

He hooked his arms around Aziraphale’s thighs to tip them back and Aziraphale grunted. “Wait, no - not that flexible.”

Crowley pulled back, slipping out of Aziraphale and making him ache immediately. He rolled over and bunched the pillow under his belly, arse in the air, his cock hanging between the pillow and his legs. “Like this. Put it in.”

“Christ,” Crowley said under his breath as he palmed a handful of Aziraphale’s arse. “You’re fucking gaping.”

Aziraphale pressed his face into the mattress, a harsh groan breaking out of him when Crowley pushed inside. It was so good. So big.

“All of it,” he begged. “Give me all of it.”

Crowley’s hands tightened on his hips, and he paused for a moment, before fucking into him in one deep push. Aziraphale wailed, clutched at the blankets. Crowley’s pelvis came flush with his backside, his balls against his taint as his cock speared him open. He withdrew slowly and rocked back inside with the sort of undulation that dragged expertly across his prostate and made him want to scream and rend the sheets in half.

Then Crowley did it again. Slow and agonizing.

“Harder,” Aziraphale begged again. He was so full that he felt as if he could barely breathe.

Crowley groaned and snapped his hips. That was it. So perfect. The aching drive of two bodies coming together as Crowley sped up the pace of his thrusts. Their skin slapped together, the lewd sound filling the room.

“So good, so good,” he gasped incomprehensibly. He was crying, drooling into the sheets as Crowley fucked him. Desperately, he reached under his body to tug on his trapped cock. He was hard again. The delicious edge of pain and being stretched so magnificently had him leaking all over himself.

“Gorgeous. Fucking. Angel,” Crowley said between thrusts. Aziraphale realized he’d never been fucked like this. Not with such abandon. Like fucking was an art.

Then Crowley did something with his hips that made Aziraphale’s eyes roll back in his head and his soul leave his body. His orgasm rioted inside him, a steady build, twisting up like a coil. He knew that Crowley had promised to make him come more than once but he didn’t believe it. As Crowley moved again, steadily striking a rhythm that pushed him into pure pleasure, he gasped Crowley’s name and came across the sheets. Crowley’s movements slowed and Aziraphale felt him pull out with regret.

“I want to come on you. Let me come on you,” Crowley said, voice suddenly there and hot in his ear. Aziraphale moaned in agreement. He had very little capability to think at the moment.

He heard the filthy wet sounds of Crowley masturbating behind him and then felt the hot splash of come all over his buttocks and lower back as Crowley groaned his release. Drifting a bit, Aziraphale laid there as Crowley got out of bed. He felt the damp press of a cloth over his back and when Crowley got back into bed, Crowley rolled him over and tossed the filthy pillow aside so he could clean up Aziraphale’s belly.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale said with a sleepy smile. “That was very good.”

Crowley smirked. “Yeah? You liked it?”

“You absolutely know I did, and I won’t stroke your ego any further.” Aziraphale rolled closer, blissfully fucked out and very much wanting a cuddle. But first: “Now, tell me, when is our second date?”

Crowley pulled him into his arms. “How about breakfast tomorrow?”

**

Several months later

"Ughhhhhh," Crowley moaned from the nest of blankets.

"Why are you moaning?" Aziraphale called from the living room. "Do you need coffee?"

"I have to go to work," Crowley whined.

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway immediately. "A new shoot? You haven’t done one in a while. Who is it with? Oh my goodness. This is quite a bit of information very suddenly.”

Crowley peeked out from beneath the pillow. "It’s weird you’re more excited about this than me."

Aziraphale flapped his hands. "Last time you didn’t tell me it was a threesome and when it posted I nearly had an apoplexy. I need warning for these things."

"We were barely dating when that went up," Crowley protested. Then he sat up. "Wait. Was that the night we fucked three times? Did it make you that horny?"

Aziraphale didn’t even have the decency to blush. He just looked righteous. "It was very sexy to watch you suck two cocks at once."

Crowley crawled out of bed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Schedule’s in my phone. But I think it’s with that insipid romance production company? I should probably shave so I don’t give anybody beard burn. They like kissing at that place."

Aziraphale’s eyes burned a hole in his head. "I love those videos."

Crowley started to laugh before hauling Aziraphale close and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "You’re a pervert and I love you."

With a gasp, Aziraphale pulled back just as Crowley clamped his mouth shut with an audible click.

"You love me?" Aziraphale asked, eyes shining with barely restrained delight.

"Maybe?"

Aziraphale wrapped him in his arms and squeezed him tight. "I love you too." Then Aziraphale swatted his bum. "Now go to work."