Fandom: Good Omens
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: Explicit
Length: 2,055 words
Written for: trope_bingo prompt: character in distress (free space) and seasonofkink prompt: begging
Summary: Crowley knows that Hastur is outside the bookshop and it's really stressing him out. Aziraphale offers him some comfort and a bit of distraction.
Originally Posted: September 19, 2019
This is a sequel to All the World's a Trap. You do not need to read the first story to understand this one at all. This story occurs while Hastur is watching the bookshop (which is what the first story is about) and completely stands on its own.
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It's night and the bookshop has been closed for hours. Aziraphale watches as Crowley paces back and forth, ranting and waving his arms around. It's been going on for several minutes now and it's all very dramatic.
"He's out there again," Crowley wails. As if Aziraphale hadn't heard him the first two times.
Aziraphale suppresses a guffaw, and schools his face into a mask of seriousness."Are you sure, my dear?"
"Of course, I'm sure." Crowley growls. "I wish I knew what he was up to."
"You could always go out there and ask him." Aziraphale doesn't really support this option but he has little else to offer at the moment.
"Really? You think I should go out there and ask Hastur why he's spying on us? How exactly do you think that's going to go?"
"I don't know, dear, perhaps he'll tell you why he's here, or possibly he'll just leave." One could hope. Aziraphale is growing rather weary of these outbursts.
Crowley stops pacing. "He's lurking."
"Of course, he's lurking, he's a demon."
"I'm a demon. I don't lurk."
Aziraphale looks up and prays for the strength to get through the conversation without losing his patience. "Of course you don't, dear. Why don't you come over here and have a nice glass of wine with me." Aziraphale is already half-way through his second glass.
Crowley takes the offered drink, downs it in one swallow, and holds out his glass for more. Aziraphale makes a tutting sound before refilling his glass.
This is the third time (that they know of) Hastur has come to spy on them in the months since the world had failed to end. He never did anything or tried to engage them in any way. He stood outside the bookshop, smoking his cigarettes and lurking. There was always rubbish outside in the morning after one of his visits. Aziraphale wasn't exactly pleased about the situation, but someone needed to remain calm and reasonable about the whole ordeal and it certainly wasn't going to be Crowley.
He takes hold of Crowley's hand and dances kisses on his knuckles and along his wrist.
Crowley hisses. "He'll see."
"And so what if he does?" Aziraphale has grown weary of having to hide his feelings for Crowley.
Crowley pulls his hand away. "They'll know."
"What exactly will they know, my dear? That we're canoodling? I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed."
Crowley laughs. "Canoodling?"
"Whatever you wish to call it," Aziraphale says, pleased to have lightened the mood for the moment.
"Pretty sure we've been doing more than canoodling, angel."
"Would you prefer coitus, or perhaps having relations?" Aziraphale pours himself another drink. "Or possibly, making love?" He takes a sip and glares at the demon over his glass.
"You know me, angel, I prefer fucking."
Perfectly aware that Crowley is merely trying to provoke a reaction, Aziraphale gives him his best look of exasperation and says, "Language, dear."
"Hastur's out there with a hellhound and you're worrying yourself over a little profanity? Your priorities are a bit skewed, angel."
"Are you certain about the hellhound?" That was a troubling new twist.
"Very."
"Did he have it the last time?"
"No, I'd have told you."
Aziraphale links his hands behind his back. "Possibly he's taking it for a walk. Humans like to walk their dogs."
Crowley sputters. "Taking it for a walk?"
Aziraphale sighs. "Would you like another drink? Or maybe I could make you some cocoa, would you like that?"
Crowley gives him a look. "When the Heaven, do I ever want cocoa, angel?"
Aziraphale thinks back a moment and smiles. "February, 1947."
"What? Where?"
"Right here. It had been snowing for weeks. You showed up on my doorstep one morning, cold and lonely." Aziraphale had let him in, made him cocoa and snuggled with him under a blanket on the sofa. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, even though he'd known they'd both be in trouble if they'd gotten caught.
"Oh, yeah. I remember. Didn't you spike the cocoa with a significant amount of alcohol?"
"I did, you'd needed it at the time. Would you like me to do so again?"
"Nah, I'll take another glass of wine though." Crowley holds out his glass and Aziraphale fills it. It's time to open another bottle.
Two more glasses of wine later and Crowley is noticeably calmer, leaning against the wall where he can glare out the window. Aziraphale leaves him to his brooding for a little while he reorganizes one of his many bookshelves. When he finishes, he goes over to Crowley and pulls him away from the wall. "We will get through this. Whatever that nasty demon is up to -- we will prevail."
Crowley shrugs. "Yeah, I guess."
"Well, I know." Aziraphale pulls him close. "Why don't we go upstairs and see if we can get you a bit more relaxed.
Crowley seems like he's about to protest when a distant look settles over his face. Aziraphale waits. "He's leaving," Crowley says, relief in his voice.
"All the more reason to head upstairs, my dear." Aziraphale holds out his hand and they ascend to the bedroom together.
_______________
"I was thinking we could play a game, a bit of distraction, if you will." Aziraphale is in need of this as well. Hastur's visit has him more worried than he's willing to let on.
"What if Hastur comes back?"
"He didn't the last two times, dear." Aziraphale removes his coat and hangs it on a chair in the corner of the room.
"I know, I just can't get out of my own head."
Aziraphale slips off Crowley's jacket and places it with his own coat. "Let me help you take your mind off all that trouble." He unbuttons the demon's waistcoat; slides it off and follows it with shirt, sunglasses, and other accessories. "Shoes, dear."
Crowley cocks an eyebrow and miracles away his shoes with the snap of his fingers. "What kind of game do you have in mind, angel?"
He runs his hands down Crowley's chest, letting the fine hairs tickle his fingertips. "A fun game." He unbuttons Crowley's trousers. Slowly he slides the zipper down and peels the tight material off his narrow hips. Crowley steps out of them and Aziraphale picks the trousers up off the floor, folding them neatly before placing them on the chair.
He turns back and savours the scene. Crowley's hard length peeks up from under the waistband of his pants. Aziraphale takes a step closer and presses his hand against it. Crowley groans as Aziraphale slips his fingers under the waistband and carefully slides the pants down and off. He pauses to fold them, placing them neatly on the chair with the rest of the clothing.
As much as Aziraphale loves when Crowley indulges him, he cherishes opportunities where he can cosset the demon even more. Crowley rarely asks for anything and he deserves to be pampered, deserves to be shown how much he's loved.
Aziraphale circles around Crowley. It's a very nice view. He makes an appreciative sound. "I've always been quite fond of your corporeal form." Crowley doesn't say anything, but Aziraphale notices his head shaking slightly. He still doesn't do well with compliments. Aziraphale runs his fingers over the shimmering black scales at the base of the Crowley's spine. "So lovely," he murmurs. Aziraphale loves the scales, loves the way they catch the light and how they feel against his bare skin.
He stands in front of Crowley, allowing his gaze to drift down to his erection, and just barely brushes his fingers along its rigid length.
"So, this game," Crowley says breathlessly.
"It's very straightforward, you just need to tell me what you want."
Crowley takes in a shaky breath and lets out a groan. They've played this particular game before and while Crowley always enjoys it, Aziraphale knows it takes him out of his comfort zone.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Aziraphale gently kisses the skin just below Crowley's jaw. "Touch you?" He runs his hands along the demon's hips.
Crowley shudders. "Err..both?"
"Which would you like first, my dear boy?"
"Kiss me."
Aziraphale smiles. "Say please."
"Angel, please!"
Aziraphale dances kisses along Crowley's clavicle and up his neck. He cradles his hands around his face and kisses him, tongue tasting and probing. Crowley moans and pushes his hardness against him. He presses back with his own arousal for a moment before regaining control over himself. "Get on on the bed."
Aziraphale takes a step back, removes his waistcoat and places it with the rest of the clothing. He turns to see Crowley sitting on the bed. "On your back, dear."
Aziraphale settles himself on the edge of the mattress and gently scrapes the back of his fingernails down the front of Crowley's thigh. Spreading his legs a bit further apart, he trails his fingers along sensitive skin before moving up and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He skims kisses down to a nipple and gently glides his tongue around the hard nub. He draws it into his mouth, sucking gently before moving on to the other one. Aziraphale kisses his way down Crowley's chest, drifting his hands along his hips as he squirms beneath his touch.
"What would you like now, my dear?"
"Angel," he says breathlessly, gripping the duvet tightly in his clenched fists. "Put your mouth on me -- please!"
Aziraphale puts his mouth on Crowley's inner-thighs; kissing, licking, and carefully nibbling. He sweeps his tongue along his scrotum and carefully teases kisses right next to, but not touching his arousal. Crowley moans and squirms beneath him. "Please."
"Please what, love?" Aziraphale sprinkles kisses along his hips.
"Oh fuck -- my cock -- suck my cock -- I'm begging you, angel, please!"
"All you had to do was ask, my dear."
Aziraphale teases along the shaft, flicking lightly with his tongue before slowly taking it into his mouth. He finds a rhythm and takes Crowley to the edge, backing off each time he feels him getting close. He looks up, serpentine eyes meeting his. Aziraphale resumes licking and teasing before sucking him in deeply. This time when he's back on the precipice, Crowley begs, "Please, angel -- please let me come -- please."
Aziraphale shows how merciful he can be by increasing the tempo. Crowley goes still beneath him and then his mouth is filled with a familiar bitter wet heat. He swallows, and sits up; a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"You're such a bastard, you know that, right?"
"And you love me."
"Yeah, that I do, angel. That I do."
Crowley looks considerably more relaxed. Aziraphale, on the other hand, is quite aroused. "Is there anything else you would like, my dear?"
A sly smile crosses Crowley's face. He rolls to his side, head propped on his hand, other hand slithering along Aziraphale's thigh. "Your cock in my mouth."
"I think we can do something about that." Aziraphale stands and begins to divest himself of the rest of his clothing only to find himself completely disrobed.
Crowley shrugs. "You were taking too long."
Aziraphale moves back to the bed and sits down. Crowley pushes him onto the pillows and kisses him. He starts with his mouth and snakes his way down Aziraphale's body before wrapping his lips around his erection. Deft tongue tasting, teasing, and coaxing him toward completion.
He threads his fingers through Crowley's hair as the heat pools in his abdomen, and for a moment everything goes blindingly white. He opens his eyes and sees Crowley wiping his mouth with the back of his hand; lips red and swollen, a smug smile on his face.
Hands linked, they cuddle under the blankets together.
"Feeling better now?"
"Shut up," Crowley playfully nips his shoulder.
Aziraphale laughs." We don't appear to be besieged by packs of hellhounds or denizens of hell.
"Yet," Crowley says.
"I told you we'd be all right."
"You were just as worried as I was, you're just better at hiding it."
"Possibly"
"Sss'no possssibly about it, angel," Crowley softly hisses.
"Gonna fall asleep," Crowley says, eyes closing.
Aziraphale slides his fingers languidly along his skin. "You needn't worry, I shall be here."
"Promise, angel?"
"Always," He says softly, and it's more than a promise; it's a vow.
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