cover by me ♥
Fandom: Good Omens
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: Explicit
Length: 1,861 words
Written for: seasonofkink on dw - prompt: anonymity
Summary: At a private party in 1799, the illusion of anonymity offers a demon and an angel the freedom to be together, at least for a little while.
Originally Posted: September 9, 2019
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cover by me ♥
He sees Aziraphale standing in the corner, watching everything happen around him. There’s a lot to watch. The soiree has gotten a little torrid; these private masquerade things do. It’s nearly bacchanalian and is likely to become even more so as the evening progresses. The humans are breaking off into couples and moresomes; taking full advantage of the laxity anonymity provides. He’s surrounded by an abundance of temptation.
Temptation is the reason Crowley is here, but no one needs a demon to convince them to give into debauchery at a clandestine masked ball. Self-indulgence is the whole reason people attend affairs such as this. Still, he thinks it might be interesting to have a look around the place, so he makes the rounds before calling it a night. He’s on his way out when he catches scent of the angel.
He knows it's Aziraphale; he'd recognize his scent anywhere and he’s barely even disguised to Crowley. Costumes and masks aren’t much of an obfuscation when you radiate angelic grace, particularly when there’s a demon around who’s been in love with you for nearly six thousand years. The angel is dressed head to toe in white and cream fabrics, liberally embellished with brocade and lace. His delicate white half-mask is decked in gold adornments. To Crowley’s eyes, he’s the embodiment of temptation.
Crowley’s own costume; dark red trimmed with black, is quite understated compared to many of those that surround him. A crimson leather mask covers his face from hairline to just above his lips. The eye holes are covered in tinted glass, custom made to his specifications. He saunters over to the angel, circling around to make sure no one’s paying them too close attention and comes to stand on his left, just out of reach.
"Fancy meeting you here," he says.
Aziraphale turns, startled. He looks Crowley up and down and shakes his head nervously. "Oh, I don't think we know each other."
So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? "Well then, let me get you a drink and we can get better acquainted."
The angel fiddles with the buttons on his cream-coloured waistcoat. ”I think I'd like that."
It's a private gathering, the host is well known for his debaucheries, and in the dark corners, well...let's just say decadence prevails with abandon. Crowley liberates a bottle of wine from one of the tables he passes as they retreat to a shadowy corner that by some miracle is devoid of other occupants.
Crowley takes a swig out of the bottle before offering it to the angel. “So, what brings a gentleman like you to such a notorious gathering?"
“Oh, you know, a bit of this and a bit of that." The angel wipes the mouth of the bottle with a handkerchief before taking a drink. “What’s the purpose of your attendance?”
“Originally, business.” Crowley leans back against the wall, letting the shadows gather around them, not that anyone is watching, but he wants Aziraphale to feel more at ease.
“And now?”
“Er...possibly, pleasure?”
They drink in silence for a little while. Aziraphale watches the party and Crowley watches him.
"I saw you from across the room and knew that I just had to talk to you," Crowley blurts out.
"Oh, oh really?" The angel’s hands flutter.
"Oh, yes, you're very beautiful." The masks do make it easier to say words that have been hanging off the edge of his tongue for ages.
The angel blushes; eyelids flicker down and then up, he smiles. "You're quite lovely too, the red is extremely fetching on you."
"I'm glad you like it." Crowley takes a sip of wine. They're standing so close, almost touching now. "Do you think, even though we may be strangers --"
"We're most definitely strangers."
"Yes, most definitely strangers." Crowley takes another gulp of wine. "Even so, possibly -- perhaps -- you might allow me -- a kiss." He offers the angel the bottle.
The angel glances at Crowley’s mouth and takes a gulp of wine. Crowley watches as the angel’s tongue darts out to gather a stray drop of wine from his lips. Angels shouldn’t be this tempting. Crowley holds his breath and waits for an answer.
The angel hands the bottle back. “Yes, I think that would be acceptable."
Crowley grins. "Acceptable, really?" He takes care of the wine, sending it -- somewhere. Then gently pushes the angel up against the wall. Bodies pressed close together. Unquestionably, they’re touching now. Crowley slides his fingers along the edges of the angel's mask, leans in brushing against his lips, before dipping his tongue into his mouth. He tastes sweet, like honey.
The angel's fingernails are digging into his hips; a small sharp pain that sends pleasure through his veins. Crowley deepens the kiss. He knows who he's kissing. He slides his hand around the back on the angel's neck and snakes his fingers through the soft curls. He presses his needy cock against the angel’s hard bulge. Aziraphale moans and grips his hips harder.
The angel pulls back first, breathless. He hasn't moved far, his fingers still grip the demon’s hips. Crowley stills his movements, he doesn’t want to frighten him away. He doesn’t want to do anything to make this stop here. He waits. "All right?"
The angel nods and looks at him as if he's trying to see through his mask to his eyes. There’s a determined look to him as he reaches out and drifts fingers along the edges of Crowley's mask. For a moment Crowley thinks he’s going to unmask him, then his hand trails down to his lips. He pushes a finger into his mouth and Crowley sucks on it. This is not what he expected, as much as he expected anything when seeing the angel across the room.
The angel pulls his hand away, unfastens his trousers and gently pushes him down to his knees. Crowley wraps his hand around the angel’s thick jutting cock, licking it from base to tip before sucking it into his mouth. Aziraphale moans, fingers entwined in Crowley's hair.
The floor is hard under his knees, but he barely notices. He licks and sucks at the cock in his mouth, reveling in the taste and feel. He hopes that his inexperience isn’t too painfully obvious. Too soon the angel is moving away and Crowley lets himself be pulled back up to standing. For a moment the demon worries he's done something wrong but then the angel kisses his neck, grips Crowley’s arse and whispers in his ear. "I want to come inside you."
Crowley groans, buries his face into the angel’s neck and nibbles at the skin there. How can the angel taste so good everywhere? Crowley’s so hard and so filled with need right then, it nearly devastates him when Aziraphale puts his lovely cock away and fastens his pants back up. Then they're making their way through the halls to an unoccupied room with a bed and a lock on the door. Aziraphale pulls him into the room, locking the door behind them.
Crowley is suddenly overcome with nerves. It doesn’t do anything to dampen his arousal, but he’s trembling very slightly. This is new for him. He’s flirted and tempted but he’s never taken anything this far before. He worries the angel will see his nervousness and stop.
The angels starts undressing, peeling off delicate layer after layer of clothing until he’s completely naked except for the mask. It’s mesmerizing. Crowley feels dazed as fingers dance over his own clothes, undoing and removing until he too is left only in his mask. Then he’s being pulled toward the bed and gently pushed down on his back. He's not sure what's turned the angel brave all of a sudden, but he likes it. He likes it a lot.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
“Ngk.” Crowley’s forgotten what words are for a moment.
The angel gets down on the bed with him, holding his face in his hands. “Words please, my love. I need to know that you’re all right with this.”
My love. The words echo in his brain, breaking him out of his stupor. “Yesss -- I’m good angel, don’t worry.”
They’re kissing again. The masks are awkward but when Crowley reaches up to remove his, the angel’s hands are there to stop him. He wants to object. They’re alone in a locked room, they’re safe, but there’s something about the anonymity that seems to be fueling Aziraphale, so Crowley lets it go.
After a while, strong hands guide him onto his stomach. Plump fingers slicken his hole and he hisses at the sensation. He glances over his shoulder and sees the angel rubbing his shaft against his arse. His cock throbs at the display. The angel presses forward, slowly breaching his entrance. It’s a strange pleasure; warm, full, and with just an edge of pain. Then he’s sliding out and filling him up all over again.
Crowley closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in the rhythm of the angel’s thrusts. He feels a hand wrap around his cock and whimpers. It’s such a relief to be touched. The angel’s strokes bring him so close. He’s never felt so lit up and alive, he knows it won’t be long now. The tempo of the angel’s thrusts pick up, and he thinks he hears the unfolding of wings from somewhere behind him. The angel cries out as he spills his seed inside him. Crowley buries his screams into the pillow as he ejaculates all over the angel’s hand and onto the bed beneath them.
He thinks maybe he may have passed out for a minute or two because when he gathers the energy to pull himself together and turn around, the angel is in the process of dressing himself. Crowley sits up and watches him finish putting everything back in place. The mess is gone, he hadn't even noticed the minor miracle.
Aziraphale stands fully dressed, pulling down the edges of his coat. He looks uncertain suddenly. Some of the earlier bravado seems to have faded. "Was that --"
"It was--" Crowley has no idea how to express what he's feeling in words. He'd been waiting so long and it's all so wonderful and so much.
“I know --" The angel's voice is soft, almost apologetic. He leans down and kisses Crowley. "You should probably get dressed, I'm going to go get another drink, I think."
"I'll meet you out there in a minute."
He watches the angel leave and feels lost for a moment, then with a snap of his fingers he wills his clothes back onto his body. With another thought, the bed is made. He looks around the room, it looked almost as if no one was ever in there. Time to go.
On his way out he spots something white on the floor beneath him. Bending down he picks it up; it’s a large white feather. He lifts it to his nose, breathing in the scent of his angel, then tucks it inside his jacket before heading back out to the party. Aziraphale isn't the only one who could use another drink.
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