Consequences of a Drunken Confession
Disclaimer 1: This is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic
results if they really want to.
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Most likely you know more about whatever I'm writing about than I do.
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accept that some characters will have a bad ending or be unhappy.
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Disclaimer 6: If my characters' conversations seem odd or they appear to be talking past each other the latter might occasionally be intentional, but most
likely it is an accident and I'm not aware that they are. It's just my bad communication skills.
A/N: I'm far from one of the great masters of porn, I'm afraid, but I couldn't resist this prompt when I saw it.
Gift For: Meganbobness
Author's Note: I'm far from one of the great masters of porn, I'm afraid, but I couldn't resist this prompt when I saw it. I hope you'll enjoy it even if it isn't a smutty master work.
Summary: Aziraphale gets just a little too drunk with another angel and the ethereal (and occult) gossips do the rest.
Consequences of a Drunken Confession
The bookshop was closed that morning, so when the bell that announced the arrival of a customer rang anyway, Aziraphale concluded that it had to be Crowley and didn't even glance up from the book he was re-reading.
He was not indulging, of course! A merchant had to know his wares.
Besides, Crowley was the last person that had any right to accuse him of sloth.
"Oh, how adorably quaint and old-fashioned!"
That did not sound in the least like Crowley. Well, to be entirely honest, calling something old-fashioned was very much like Crowley, but it would be the first time Crowley declared something to be adorable ... at least in such a tone of gushing delight rather than dry sarcasm. It was much too ... angelic.
Aziraphale looked up.
"Jariel!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Why, it has been ages since the last time I saw you! How have you been? And what are you doing down here? Don't tell me ..."
"Oh no, don't worry. There is no emergency. I'm not even here on business at all, just, well, as you said yourself, it has been ages since we last saw each other and I thought it really was past time we got together for a good long chat."
Well, it probably was, Aziraphale decided and regretfully put away his book to fetch the wine he always kept on hand in case Crowley dropped by unannounced. He did not like the over-emotional, gushing exchanges his fellow angels usually engaged in, but angels were expected to be sociable and all-loving beings. It would not do to be so rude as to refuse an offer to socialise.
Thus he invited Jariel into his back-room, did his best to pretend to listen with the proper excitement and sweetened the procedure with generous helpings of wine, even stooping so low as to borrow Crowley's bottle-refilling miracle tricks, even though he normally insisted on buying his wine.
He'd buy some extra bottles when he went out to replace these after Jariel's visit, he promised himself.
"So of course he walked in expecting nothing at all and there they were! Chariel with full on effort hilt deep in Ligur's ass on this totally kinky pink cloud hovering in the middle of the room. Both had their wings spread wide and not a stitch of clothing on either of them, of course."
"Kinky pink cloud?" Aziraphale repeated. His brain was a little sluggish with all the wine, but something about that phrase didn't sound quite right.
"Why yes, I thought everybody knew that that's Ligur's biggest kink. He's secretly into everything fluffy and cute, don't you know, but pink clouds ... Well, they say he pops out a full-on hard effort when he only so much as hears them mentioned in a totally innocent conversation. If you ever want a hot night with Ligur, all you've got to do is sidle up to him and talk about how pink the clouds look at sunset. Though, I don't know why you'd want sex with Ligur, to be honest. I mean, I've heard that some angels are totally into fucking demons, but I just can't imagine what they see in them. Why, those brutes are all so monstrously ugly! Who'd want to touch that?"
"Not all of them!" Aziraphale protested indignantly. "Why, Crowley is quite the most attractive fellow I know!"
"Crowley?" Jariel said sounding quite surprised. "Well, I suppose ... He doesn't have horns or hooves in any case, though I think I heard Doriel mention that he has some vicious claws. I'm not sure I'd want to risk fucking that and getting torn open in a moment of passion."
"He does not!" Aziraphale protested. "He has perfectly neat, well-kept fingernails ... though they could do with an extra manicure from time to time ... But that's not from neglect! It's from grooming his wings too much. Crowley's awfully particular about his wings."
"Oh really? My, you are well informed about the guy! So what demonic traits does he have?" Jariel asked. "There's got to be something. There always is."
"What? Why would ... Oh right! His eyes," Aziraphale confided not entirely coherently. "He has the most beautiful yellow reptile eyes. Slitted, you know. They go wonderfully well with his dark hair. But of course you don't get to see them a lot because he hides them behind glasses all the time. Not, that I don't like sunglasses, you know, but ... well, it's a pity about those eyes."
"So you and Crowley, eh? Why, I'd never have guessed! Is he good in bed then? I don't think I've even met anyone who's had him before. Thought he only did humans or something."
"What?!" Aziraphale looked at Jariel aghast. What had he said that had given the other angel that idea? Clearly he'd allowed himself to get much too drunk. He sobered up hastily. "Oh, no, no, no, you misunderstand entirely. There is nothing at all between myself and Crowley. You are quite right about him preferring humans for all I know. I was merely saying that I can see what an angel might find attractive in a demon like him. I have to admit I that I can't explain Chariel's interest in Ligur either. Quite an unpleasant and ugly fellow, I've always thought. But of course I don't know him nearly as well as I do Crowley."
"Oh, what a pity ... But you would if ... you know, Crowley did ... swing that way?"
Oh, for Heaven's sake, couldn't they just go back to talking about Ligur?
"I ... well, I have never thought about it. It's not like Crowley ever showed any interest and I am an angel after all. I'd never impose any attentions where they are not wanted. That would be sexual harassment, you know, completely inappropriate."
"Why, of course, of course. So an angel showing sexual interest in him makes him uncomfortable? What a completely inappropriate reaction for a demon!"
"No!" Why really, how dense could an angel be? "I've never tried that. He's never signalled an interest so I've never thought about whether I might have any. That's all. I don't know how he'd react to an angel making advances ... but I do believe it is improper for our side to take the first step."
"Oh, I see!" Jariel giggled for no reason Aziraphale could discern, except perhaps that he had drunk almost as much of the wine as Aziraphale himself had and was less used to it. "Oh what an unfortunate muddle!"
"You should sober up," Aziraphale recommended.
"Before you fly home, I mean," Aziraphale explained. "You are showing quite a bit more influence of alcohol than is recommendable when in the air and there are quite a number of planes and helicopters flying about these days. The humans in them might suffer a lot worse than an inconvenient discorporation in a crash."
"Oh yes, of course. So thoughtful of you to remind me."
He stayed for another three hours of non-stop gushing gossip, though.
Aziraphale thought that surely he must have fulfilled his angelic socialising quota for at least a month after Jariel's visit, but only two days later he was stricken with another angelic visitation ... and one of a much less harmless kind at that.
At least there was no mistaking the sound of somebody whooshing down his chimney for Crowley stopping by for a casual visit, so Aziraphale was on his feet and heading towards the fireplace to welcome his guest by the time Gabriel's feet touched the ground.
"Oh my, all this soot in human chimneys. My wings must look a fright," the archangel declared, regarding his stained robe with distaste.
"That is why we have doors," Aziraphale pointed out before he remembered his place.
Gabriel blinked. "What is?"
"The soot in the chimney. You wouldn't get it in your clothes or wings if you simply landed in the street and came in through the door like a human. It's what we ... I do anyway."
Gabriel merely fluffed his feathers at the suggestion, however, and miracled the soot off his robes. Then he settled comfortably in Aziraphale's armchair, bent his right wing forward so he could groom it and twitched the left towards Aziraphale almost casually.
The invitation was obvious enough, nevertheless, and though Aziraphale was reluctant to touch his superior so intimately, not entirely unwelcome. Gabriel had exquisite black-and-white-patterned wings that were much praised by many a plain mono-colour-feathered angel and Aziraphale had often wanted to take a closer look. Well, he'd have the chance to look as closely as anybody could ever want to now.
A bit nervously he pulled up another chair so he could sit behind the wing as he groomed it, sat down and ran his fingers gently through the feathers. They felt as soft as silk and looked as glossy as Crowley's. For a moment, Aziraphale wondered whether the demon's wings would feel the same.
"So, is everything alright in Heaven?" he asked to cover his awkwardness.
"Oh yes, everything is fine. Business as usual. Except that Raphael and Michael have had another falling out, but you can't exactly call that unusual either, can you?"
"Too many training accidents again?" Aziraphale guessed.
"And unnecessary battles. Or so Raphael says. He claims that Michael is provoking the demons even when they aren't even up to any mischief. Of course, other sources ..." Gabriel trailed off, apparently busy with a knot of tangled feathers.
"Other sources?" Aziraphale prompted obligingly to keep the conversation going. He did not want to think about the fact that he was grooming an archangel.
"Well, other sources in Heaven claim that Raphael has been seeing Dagon on the sly lately and some of them claim to know that a few days ago Dagon was on his way to their top secret love nest when he ran into Michael on the prowl. It apparently came to a fight and Michael rammed a spear into Dagon's crotch. They say that the injury left him unable to perform as well as Raphael would like and will take some time to heal. So according to those sources, Raphael is blaming Michael for his sexual frustration, but cannot admit it without revealing his affair with Dagon, so he's complaining about injured angels instead."
"And which version is correct?" Aziraphale dared to ask. The archangels were usually well informed about each other's love-lives.
"I am not sure. I asked Haniel, but he had a giggling fit and all I could make out through that was that he thinks that at least it is distracting angels from your confession concerning Crowley."
Aziraphale gasped. "My confession?"
"Why, you weren't seriously trusting Jariel to keep silent about that!"
"I thought he was too drunk to remember," Aziraphale admitted with angelic truthfulness. "And there isn't anything actually going on between us. All I confessed to ... all there actually is ... is that I think he's quite an attractive fellow."
"Yes, but Crowley, Aziraphale? That pathetic excuse for a demon? I mean, come on! Michael is more aggressive than he is. Really, you might as well take an angel with a slightly tarnished reputation as fuck Crowley. If you're going to go for a demon, do it properly. I hear Hastur's looking for a new fuck-buddy now that Ligur's taken up with Chariel."
"I'm not interested in Hastur in the least!" protested Aziraphale. "He's pot-ugly and he's ... well, I have some bad memories concerning him. It's Crowley I like."
"Then do take Michael," Gabriel suggested with another fluff that spread fresh soot over the feathers Aziraphale had just cleaned. "He's been insufferable ever since Chariel left him for Ligur. Come to think of it, that would give him a reason to be stabbing at demons' crotches. Anyway, he's available, good looking, an angel, but has a nasty reputation and a much more respectable position than your excuse for a demon."
Michael? Sure, being an archangel's lover was considered quite a success ... for an angel that wanted to fuck his way up in the celestial hierarchy, which Aziraphale thought a morally doubtful thing to do. Besides ...
"Thank you very much, but I am perfectly happy as I am. I have no ambitions to be anyone's fuck-toy. It's Crowley I like. Only Crowley. If all you've come here to do is offer me a list of inferior substitutes, you can just up and leave again, because I am not interested in anybody else. I want Crowley or nobody!"
To Aziraphale's surprise Gabriel did get up and head for the fireplace. There he stopped for a moment and looked back over his shoulder, looking downright crushed.
"I was merely trying to help ... you as well as Michael, you know. You have no idea about the way angels are going on about you up in Heaven. They are laughing their wings off at .. well, you not only being too cowardly to choose a proper demon, but also not angel enough to actually sleep with him."
Aziraphale blushed, but he'd made his stand now and wouldn't back down.
"Maybe so, but it's my choice and I'll have sex or not have sex when and with whom I want, not to prove anything to anybody else. And if Michael actually wanted something from me ... well, you'd think he of all angels would be angel enough to tell me himself."
"Very well, I'll tell him so," Gabriel said and stuck his head into the chimney.
"No Gabriel, don't!" Aziraphale shouted after him. "I meant it when I said I want only Crowley. And, Gabriel ..."
There was a whooshing sound as the archangel disappeared back up the chimney.
"... do take the door," Aziraphale muttered to the empty room.
Aziraphale felt quite uneasy about the matter afterwards. Had he really kicked an archangel out of his home, insulted another archangel and confessed to loving a demon that was apparently considered thoroughly sub-standard by the gossip-mongers of Heaven? Sure, he was quite content with the status and job he had and Heaven could hardly demote him any further than it already had after the Eden incident, but Gabriel was in a position to make life a lot less comfortable for Aziraphale and, well, it wasn't pleasant to know that one was being talked about and ridiculed behind one's back.
And just what would it be like the next time he had to visit Heaven? Would they have largely forgotten the incited by then, or would he have to face their ridicule?
Well, he decided, he would not back down. He loved Crowley, the sweetest and most decent demon he had ever met and he would not let the opinions of some
angels change his mind. He would stand up for his demon no matter what they said.
Crowley was in a bad mood. For the first time this century Hell had remembered that he had to hand in yearly reports, hand written, at least one-hundred pages each, in triplicate, each copy to be personally handed over to a different arch-demon in a different part of Hell.
The demon had started to feel unaccountably sick the moment he'd passed the first frozen salesman and it had gone steadily downhill from there. After marching past all the ugliest pits in Hell and cooling his heels in the waiting rooms of two thoroughly unpleasant demons, both of whom had not bothered to furnish their waiting rooms with anything other than out-of-order water dispensers and a handful of reports on the Spanish Inquisition for their visitor's entertainment, all he wanted to do was throw the third copy into Dagon's ugly face and run all the way home before the arch-demon managed to get the paper out of his eyes.
That would not be a wise move, however. Dagon could and would get him, even if against all likelihood the stack of paper really could hold him up long enough for Crowley to escape Hell. He could come after him in person, or have somebody drag him back, or simply wait and let Crowley wonder exactly what he'd do until the next yearly report was due.
So Crowley went to Dagon's office, trudged past the secretary shouting "I'm Crowley. Here to hand in a report!" over his shoulder and went into the waiting room.
No water dispenser, out of order or otherwise, was in evidence. Instead the room was full of broken chairs of every kind. Crowley noted it with a touch of gratitude for the newness of the torture. He was still trying to make up his mind which broken chair he should attempt to sit in first when the secretary appeared behind him.
"Demon Crowley? Oh, Demon Crowley, Sir?"
Crowley turned around slowly and eyed the imp in the most threatening manner he could muster. "Yeees?"
"Arch-demon Dagon is not in, Sir!" the secretary squeaked cringing with fear. An impressive success that surprised even Crowley himself. "He says to please visit him at his home as he is currently unable to leave his bed."
Crowley stared at the secretary, which caused the imp to cringe some more.
"They say he had a run-in with Michael himself," he confided to appease the demon. "And suffered a most ... intimate wound."
Well, there was nothing for it but to go along with the request. Crowley dutifully threatened the imp into giving him Dagon's home address, marched past a couple more stomach-turning pits full of souls and then threatened another imp into taking him to Dagon's bedside.
To his rather pleasant surprise, the imp did so without a detour into another waiting-room, a curiosity that Crowley only managed to explain to himself when he realised that Dagon was indeed unable to do so much as lift a leg without pain and as a consequence was thoroughly bored.
For Crowley, that was both good and bad news. The good was of course that he was spared another long, boring wait. On the other hand, however, it meant that Dagon did all he could to prolong his stay, reading the report out loud and asking for clarification of every point he could think of.
"Why doesn't it say anything about your sex-life?" the arch-demon whined when they were finally done. "I like some good steamy porn as much as the next demon."
"Is that wise, considering your injury?" Crowley dared to suggest.
Dagon frowned. Clearly it wasn't, but he didn't want to admit it.
"I wasn't even making an effort at the time," he retorted instead.
"Who would," Crowley agreed. "In the presence of someone so uninspiring as Michael, I mean," he added hastily when Dagon's look darkened even further.
"Indeed. Even his fellow wimpy angels aren't interested in that loser. Did you know his last lover left him for Ligur after only a few weeks? But we were talking about your sex-life, I believe."
"I'm not an incubus," Crowley pointed out. "And I don't usually do one on one temptations. They are simply too time-consuming in relation to their yield."
"I was referring to that angel of yours," Dagon revealed.
"What, Aziraphale?" escaped Crowley in his surprise. He should of course have pretended confusion which angel Dagon was referring to. "Do you mean that angel?" he added in an attempt to at least partially remedy his mistake.
Dagon snorted. "Of course I mean that angel. How many angelic lovers do you have?"
"None," Crowley returned completely honestly. "Aziraphale is my ... angelic counterpart, you could say, their permanent agent on Earth. I see a lot more of him on business than any other angel because of that, but I have never attempted to ... Well, I have attempted to tempt him, of course," he amended hastily. "But not into lust. He is prone to gluttony, you see."
"Is he now?" Dagon asked with a lecherous grin that made Crowley want to turn around and run.
The arch-demon might be unable to leave his bed, but he could still send someone after him to drag him back, though, so Crowley hastily described 'a few dinners to discuss business' and extra helpings of cake.
"Yes, yes," Dagon said impatiently "I'm sure that was entertaining, but if you have never tempted him into lust, why is all of Heaven talking about that angel being head over heels in love with you?"
"All of Heaven is doing what?" Crowley asked incredulously. "And whoever told you what they're talking about up there?"
"Oh, all of Hell knows, of course. Angels are such gossips, you know ... But I have it from no lesser person than Raphael, who has it from Uriel, that Gabriel heard from Haniel that Aziraphale told Jariel what sexy eyes you have and what a pity it is that you always hide them behind those ugly sunglasses of yours."
"Well, I can't let the humans see them, can I? Dead give-away."
"Of course, of course, but the point is that that angel of yours likes them. And that isn't even all," Dagon continued eagerly. "Raphael also told me that Michael wanted to tempt Aziraphale away from you ... or maybe he just wanted to get laid, since his performance has fallen so far that his lover actually considers Ligur an improvement. Anyway, Michael sent Gabriel to make Aziraphale an offer in his name and guess what!"
"What?" Crowley asked obediently. "Aziraphale doesnít want to settle for a worse lover that Ligur either?" It was nonsense of course, but it might please Dagon.
What angel in his right mind would turn down Michael no matter how bad the sex might be?
"Aziraphale told Gabriel to fuck right off, because you are his one and only. Or at least that's the way Haniel tells the story. Uriel on the other hand claims to have heard that Aziraphale felt insulted that Michael didn't even come to ask him himself, but Raphael tells me that Haniel is much more to be trusted in these matters."
"Right," Crowley said, and then seeing his chance and seizing it added: "I'll hurry back up and look into the matter then. I'll let you know as soon as I find out what really happened."
He'd look into the matter alright, he decided on the way back up to Earth. In fact he'd go straight to the bookshop and tell Aziraphale the whole ridiculous tale over a bottle of wine or two and they'd have a good laugh about it. In fact, he'd do that right away. Getting drunk with his favourite angel was always the best medicine to get over a visit in Hell.
When he reached his Bentley again, he hopped in and drove straight to Soho, parked outside the bookshop and had already pressed down the door handle when he noticed the much too strong angelic aura radiating from it.
"So, did you or did you not tell Gabriel that you would not fuck me if I wasn't angel enough to ask you myself?" a booming voice demanded.
Michael! Obviously the ridiculous tale was really going around in Heaven as well as in Hell and now the leader of the hosts had heard it ... in Uriel's version no less!
Crowley knew that he should run. He was no match for Michael of all angels and when he came out of the shop and found a demon standing right in front of him ... but he could not abandon Aziraphale to face an angry archangel on his own either. So he just stood rooted to the spot pray... curse... hoping that the angel would find some way to pacify Michael.
"Why no, I didn't!" Aziraphale's voice squeaked.
"So you're calling Gabriel a liar?" Michael demanded.
"Oh no, not at all. But it isn't what I meant. Someone must have misinterpreted. What I did say was that I believe that if you actually wanted to have sex with me you would be angel enough to come and tell me yourself and not need Gabriel to play matchmaker. I never meant to question your courage, just to prove that you are not interested in a sexual relationship with me."
There was a crashing sound that made Crowley jump.
"Now please, don't damage the books. These are priceless first editions. ... Wanton destruction is not at all angelic."
Apparently Aziraphale was still unharmed and not fearing for his corporation. In fact the crashing stopped, so his arguments seemed to be successful.
"Well, I am here and not sending Gabriel, so where would you like to do it?" Michael demanded.
"Why, fuck, of course!"
Oh well, apparently the only thing Aziraphale was in danger of was having substandard sex and that only if Dagon's assessment of Michael's skills was at all accurate. Crowley didn't trust it much. Dagon was hardly an impartial judge, after all.
Now that he was sure his angel was not about to be discorporated, Crowley started to back away. He'd come back later when the angelic aura was back to its usual level and chat with Aziraphale then. Maybe not about angelic sex, though.
"Oh that. I don't," Aziraphale stated loud and clearly.
Was he really turning down Michael? Crowley once again froze in the road.
"I thought all of Heaven knew that I love Crowley by now. I donít want anybody else. So please don't take it personally, but I'm not interested."
What was this? Dagon's interpretation was right after all? But then ... Crowley almost walked into the bookshop after all, but then he remembered that Michael was still in there. A very angry Michael who had just been turned down and would be coming out any moment now.
Crowley settled for a compromise: He fled to the back door.
To Aziraphale's surprise Michael didn't react at all the way he had expected. He reached for Aziraphale's shirt as if he hadn't heard his words at all.
"Why don't we do it right here among your beloved books," he suggested. "That'll be nice, won't it? I'll show you what a demon in bed I can be. Your Crowley is nothing compared to me."
"Michael!" Aziraphale shouted, more exasperated than scared. Michael was an angel after all. There was no real danger. His words just hadn't sunk in properly, yet. "I said no!"
The door opened and a man dressed in too tight leather trousers appeared in it.
"Is everything alright there, Mr Fell?" young Martin who sold sex toys and porn DVDs next doors asked. "I was just passing by and heard shouting."
Michael turned his head and looked at Martin in surprise.
"You weren't trying to force anything from poor old Mr Fell that nice young men down the road would be happy to give you for a few pounds, were you?" Martin hinted.
Michael blushed bright red and let go of Aziraphale's shirt as if it had burned him.
"Oh no!" he stammered. "Of course not. I ... I just ... got a little carried away. So sorry if I scared you, old friend."
He left in quite a hurry after that, but Aziraphale hardly paid it any attention. He'd always known what a good man young Martin was, but it was good to see proof of it.
"Thank you, Martin, that was very kind of you, though I don't think you needed to be concerned. He is a perfectly good man and would have remembered himself in time."
"You are too naive, Mr Fell," the young man said, shaking his head sadly. "You are such a good man yourself that you always think the best of everybody, but some people are downright demonic at heart. One can't be too careful."
"I've met some demons," Aziraphale assured him. "Some of them are a lot better than you'd think. But don't stand in the door like that, do come inside. I was just going to make tea ..."
"That's very kind of you, Mr Fell, but I have to get back to work. I was on my way back from lunch, you see, and the sex toys don't sell themselves."
"Ah, maybe some other time then?"
"Gladly. But do remember to be more careful around the sort of customers we get in this area."
Martin was a good boy, Aziraphale thought as he put out the closed sign and headed for the back-room. Too bad he couldn't stay for tea. The angel would have liked to have some company.
He opened the door and blinked ... The lights in the room were dimmed even though they were not equipped with a dimmer, the furniture had been rearranged and in the very centre of the room stood a couch that Aziraphale had never seen before and on that couch, in a pose Aziraphale knew only from the covers of the DVDs Martin sold, lay a demon.
Except that the humans on the DVDs usually were wearing leather straps or lingerie or very uncomfortable looking latex clothes. The demon on the couch was wearing nothing at all. Not even sunglasses. And that even though he was making an effort ... And what an effort!
Aziraphale stared. "C... Crowley?"
Crowley sat up. "I'm sorry. The rumour mill said that ... well, that you might like a little surprise like this and I thought I'd give it a try, see how it goes. Just give me a moment to get dressed and then we can have some wine and ..."
"No, no," Aziraphale assured him. "I do like it! I am just ... well, surprised. That's all. And I ... well, I've never before ... you know. I ... er ... will you tell me how to ... um ..."
"You've never?" Crowley looked at him with those beautiful wide yellow eyes. "Not even with Wilde?"
"No," Aziraphale admitted, walking into the room and sitting down next to the demon a little nervously. "Not even with Wilde. He offered, but ... It was his writing I liked, not him. Not in the way I like ... you."
He thought he should be looking into Crowley's eyes, especially when he actually could see them for a change, but somehow his eyes kept wandering down to the demonís crotch. It was twitching excitedly now, eagerly. Should he touch it, or was it too soon? No wait, he was doing it in the wrong order.
"I've got to undress first, right?"
"Oh, allow me," Crowley said and reached out.
He ran his hands over Aziraphale's chest before he started to unbutton his shirt. How different from the way it had felt when Michael had grabbed him!
"First," Crowley whispered hoarsely into his ear and Aziraphale felt something flicker teasingly against his earlobe. "You have to make an effort."
Oh yes, of course! Sex did not work without genitals! How could he have forgotten ... but oh, that tongue at his ear was distracting, to say nothing of the things Crowley's hands were doing at his waist now.
"Right, the effort ... er ... which one? I mean ..."
How was it possible that he didn't know Crowley's sexual orientation after all these millennia?
"Either is fine as long as it's you," Crowley assured him.
Aziraphale decided to go with male then. His corporation appeared male to humans after all and he was also used to being considered male by his fellow angels. Besides, it would be easier to do with Crowley's own effort there to copy from.
But Crowley's was changing! Was it shrinking?!
"No, don't!" Aziraphale protested. "I like you male!"
"I notisssed," Crowley hissed. "But it'ssss got to be thssinner. Firssst time, you know. You wouldn't like me to go plunging thssssat into you all unprepared ... Or would you prefer to ..."
"No, no, it's fine. You ... er ... know how."
Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated on manifesting a penis. It was rather difficult with Crowley nuzzling him so lovingly while he was trying to focus on something else, but he managed. It wasn't quite as impressive as Crowley's and somehow his wings popped out at the same time, but Crowley seemed to consider that an added bonus and responded in kind, then ran his hands over the top of Aziraphale's wings.
Aziraphale moaned. He'd never realised how sexually stimulating having one's wings touched could be! Perhaps it only worked this well when one was making an effort. His penis was definitely throbbing in time with Crowley's strokes.
Tentatively, Aziraphale reached out for Crowley's wings in return. There wasn't a single feather out of place there to be groomed, but oh, how cool and soft they felt! Better, so much better than Gabriel's. Or was that difference only in his head, because this was Crowley?
He didn't get the time to think it over, though, for now Crowley was moving on to stroke his skin and if that had a different effect on the throbbing at all, it was to make it more intense. So intense that Aziraphale wanted ... wanted ... What exactly was it that he wanted?
He could only whimper to express this unidentifiable need, but Crowley seemed to understand him anyway, because somehow he had moved them both into the correct position and was now pressing against Aziraphale from behind and sliding ...
"Wait," Aziraphale managed to gasp. "Don't ... don't we ... need ... lube ..."
"Demon," Crowley replied panting. "Remember? Just got to ... think it ... lubricated."
And indeed, Crowley's specially thinned penis slid deep into Aziraphale easily and yet so ... so ...
Aziraphale gasped. A single touch of Crowley's hand on his throbbing cock was all it took for him to come and then fall limply forward onto the couch exhausted and exhilarated and ...
"Sorry," he mumbled embarrassedly. "Much too fast."
"It was perfect," Crowley whispered lovingly into his ear as he withdrew. "Because it was you."