Happy Holidays, aten_ra!
Title: Feather
For: aten_ra
From: 37percent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley, Crowley/Gabriel, Gabriel/Mary (very vaguely hinted)
Summary: In order to save his skin (and more) from the enraged Messenger of Heaven, the former Serpent of Eden has to resort to what he does best...
A/N: A bit of humour, a bit of angst and a whole lot of wing!kink - in other words, Merry Christmas to you~
The initial post-Apocalypse-That-Wasn't euphoria soon ebbed away, letting the previously ignored feeling of a certain unease grow on them and steadily develop to the point of changing into a full-fledged paranoia. Crowley, already a master of denial, managed to keep calm for a bit longer than his opposite number; yet, after a series of disturbing events(1) he, too, began to nervously look over his shoulder every time he found himself outside... Or with his back to windows, doors, TVs, refrigerators and such. Which would really humour the angel, had he not been acting exactly the same.
No wonder that in the face of such an enormous, if imaginary, crisis they've decided to reduce their meetings to the necessary minimum: accidental meetings by their usual duck pond on a break from 'serious business'; barely audible 'hellos' while one was just entering the Ritz and the other leaving hastily. Short enough not to give away their counterpart's whereabouts but long enough to make sure they were both alive and kicking and improve their mood just a little - not that they'd ever admit.
The time spent that way was certainly close to the top on their lists of worst earthly experiences. Of course, the sense of having done something extremely wrong(2) had been following both Aziraphale and Crowley since forever; as was the feeling of being observed and scoffed at. But an expensive dinner and a bottle of finest vintage shared in a pleasurable company was usually enough to chase away all those nasty thoughts gnawing at their brains. Dealing with it alone was a completely different matter.
And while Aziraphale had been reading the same books ten times over without really understanding what they were about while constantly repeating that he's happy to finally have some _quality time_ on his hands, Crowley tried to simply sleep through the whole matter and wake up only when he'd be sure no Michael or Gabriel or what's-his-name-el would jump out from under his shower announcing the demon's inevitable and gruesome fate in a language covered with thick layers of dust and bad metaphors. Which obviously meant he had been tossing and turning in his luxurious bed for about a month before finally catching an eye... Only to wake up a couple of days later with a yelp, flushed face and a mantra of 'whatthehellwasTHAT's and 'thereisnowayIwould's playing on loop inside his head. It took several king-sized mugs of warm milk(3) to return the former Serpent to the Land of Nod, but that didn't last long as well... In Crowley's terms at least. And surely, the second awakening was no less embarrassing and certainly less pleasurable than the previous one.
It all began with a seemingly innocent and unusually gentle caress on Crowley's exposed, and oh so vulnerable neck. The softness - a feather, no doubt about it - continued it's venture along his neck, outlining the high cheekbone to finally disappear with a quick, playful flick along Crowley's nose.
"Mmmh... Angel..." the demon muttered drowsily and hid his face in a pillow. Aziraphale or not, sleep comes first.
"You got that part right, in a way", piercing the morning silence was an unexpected, yet very f a m i l i a r voice. Crowley's eyes shot open and panic surged along his spine. Some inner impulse told him to run for his life but when he wanted to push the offending entity away and risk a wild dash outside, he found his wrists tied together by a soft, cream-coloured scarf. Following it with a surprised gaze, he found the other end still wrapped about it's owners lean neck. Said entity, dressed appropriately for the season and accordingly to the latest (and most expensive) fashion trends was currently perched on the king-sized bed, one knee on each side of until now sleeping Crowley - which he'd find arousing had it been anyone else, but now was just plain scary.
Gabriel twitted a long sparkling feather between his fingers, not sparing the shocked demon even a slightest glance.
"A waste of a good feather if you ask me", he tossed the gleaming object aside and pierced Crowley with a gaze full of disgust.
"Soooo... What brings you here, Gabe? Could it be that you've actually missed me?" the demon let out an uneasy chuckle (sounding more like a squeak than anything else). The celestial above him scowled.
"I am here to deliver His Righteous Anger upon thee, Serpent", he declared in a pompous tone, then, leaning forward so that their noses almost touched, added, "Don't overestimate yourself".
Crowley didn't. He was desperately trying to buy himself some time.
"A punishment?!" he shot up realizing what he had been told; Gabriel moved back rapidly to avoid collision, "For what?! I thought things were worked out already!"
In response, Gabriel burst into mirthless laughter, his whole body resonating with the sensation.
"Doth thou thinketh thy Sins were to be forgiven by the Lord Almighty?", he said in a sing-song voice, clearly elated by his own words - to the point that for a moment there Crowley felt the urge to ask whether the over usage of archaic English wasn't by chance one of Gabriel's widely rumoured kinks; finally deciding against it - and also against pointing out that, being 'evil' by nature, he was most certainly unable to commit anything that fell under the category of 'sin' - he concentrated on finding a way to get away from the psychotic Messenger, if not with style then at least in one human-shaped piece.
Above him Gabriel's face turned grim again - probably unsatisfied with the lack of begging for mercy or any other response.(4) With an air of you've taken too much of my precious time already the archangel steadied himself atop of Crowley, who had to sustain yet another undignified yelp; he was more than sure Gabriel had been pressing against his... Vital regions... On purpose. For the additional Angel thwarts Evil imagery(5), it'd seem, from the Messengers back sprouted two magnificent, pristine white wings, which then hung ominously over the two.
If there really were individuals able to recall the most important things at just the right time, Crowley certainly wasn't one of them. However, the very moment he saw the shield of whiteness above his head it triggered a memory of something he had been told a relatively long time ago and in odd circumstances, namely that angelic wings were really, really sensitive... and not just to pain. Back then the demon just smirked, unable to believe that Himself designed his purest and most trusty servants to fly around with an enormous, easy-accessible erogenous zone of sorts strapped to their backs. But in current situation he could do little more than put that statement to the test and see what the outcome might be.
With the dexterity and speed that'd make a viper blush, he slithered from under the archangel and, already from behind, sunk both hands into the sea of whiteness. A hiss of satisfaction escaped his lips as the celestial stiffened with a sharp intake of breath.
"What art thou..!"
But Crowley had had enough of the pompous talk already, and instead of letting Gabriel finish, he began to stroke the insides of his wings. What was meant to be the end of the angel's exclamation, probably finished by 'vile demon' or similar invective, turned into a stifled groan - not dignified at all, but for Crowley perfectly satisfactory.
And stimulating, in more ways than one.
That however, didn’t distract him from his task in the least, nor caused an underestimation of his ‘enemy’ - Gabriel had been widely known for having a level of self-control at least as high if not higher than his self-esteem. Even now, despite the waves of pleasure spreading from his wings throughout the whole of his treacherous body, he writhed and groaned in discontentment, refusing with all his might to give in. But against Anthony Crowley, the former Serpent of Eden and Master Tempter, it had been a losing battle.
And Crowley was putting his all into that one seduction of the stubborn archangel - he hadn’t forgotten his life actually depended on whether Gabriel succumbs or flares up with Divine Anger... Or, to be more precise, on the amount of time it takes him to go from the former to the latter. To make matters more complicated, as if trying to shed the long-lasting frustration, the demon began to press himself unconsciously flush against his adversary, needy of the heat emanating from the celestial.
Needing and wishing. Wishing it’d be someone else from the angelic flock moving underneath him - a body perhaps not as lean and divinely perfect; but in spite of, or maybe because of that, so much more welcoming. He wanted to see those familiar pale eyes glaze over with lust and perhaps something else he didn’t dare to name. He wanted to make the Angel... His Angel... Moan; make his breath hitch while he could learn the softness of his feathers...
That passion, increasing with each stroke, each caress, was what finally pushed Gabriel over the edge. His wings stopped twitching nervously and stiffened; shivers running through his body multiplied, causing his whole body to bolt up, desperately reaching for the climax; finally, voicelessly shouting out a name (6), he released, the untamed angelic force gushing out of him all at once and knocking Crowley off the bed. The demon writhed in pain and his mind went blank for a second(7).
After regaining consciousness, and more or less control over his body, Crowley’s first impulse was to make a wild dash out of the room, out of the flat and out of the country on the first plane to Australia or further. Then he realized the room was empty; that is if he didn’t count himself and a bunch of suspiciously more vigorous plants on the window sill. Giving a hiss of warning in their direction, he dressed up quickly and headed for a small bookshop in Soho.
***
“I get a feeling, Angel, that you don’t get as worked up about the whole thing as you should”, Crowley glanced scornfully above his sunglasses. Aziraphale, occupied with arranging sweets on a plate, turned around and raised an eyebrow at his impromptu guest, sighed deeply and took his place at the opposite side of the table.
“But of course I am worked up, demon dear”, the angel stirred his tea, a deep frown settling across his forehead, “Still...”
“I could’ve been killed back there!”
“But instead you tried to tempt an archangel! And Gabriel of all..!”
“In self-defence, don’t forget that”, the demon scowled, “Besides, I didn’t get any in the end.”
Above his teacup, Aziraphale went pink with embarrassment. Crowley, instantly remembering some not really innocent thoughts concerning the celestial, averted his gaze and muttered:
“It might mean they’re not over us and that bit of apocalyptic misbehaviour yet... What?”, he snapped noticing a smile tugging at the corners of his counterpart's mouth.
"Quite on the contrary", the angel beamed at him, "From what you've said, it looks like Gabriel, having, so to speak, a bad hair day..."
"Oh, really? Wouldn't have noticed", Crowley voiced out bitterly, but noticing a dangerous flicker in those calm eyes, he waved a hand in surrender, "Do go on."
“As I was saying... On days like that, Gabriel tends to become obsessed with cases he believes were misjudged by the Almighty. A bit problematic for them, but meaningful for us - you see, if Gabriel decided to assault you in such a fashion, it clearly shows Himself has given up on us”, satisfied with his little speech, Aziraphale sipped his tea.
“Wait, wait, wait a minute... Let me see if I get this straight”, Crowley patted his index finger against the table, “What you were saying is... Gabriel can actually question His decisions... Without getting kicked out of Heaven?!”
Aziraphale stirred in his chair, got up to get the cookies, returned, fidgeted some more and started absent-mindedly munching on a cracker.
“You see, dear... Gabriel is a high rank angel, the most privileged apart from Michael... And before you interrupt with the Morningstar argument, it is widely understood among us,” he pointed at the ceiling, “That he might be a little. Confused. You know, being simultaneously the angel of Good News, Mercy, Vengeance, Death and all that. Those functions shouldn’t really mix, should they?”
“So everything about the End of the World case is peachy now, huh?” Crowley finally stretched in his chair and reached for a cupcake. Then, as if recalling something, “By the way, you claim the good old Messenger has... err... Fits of that sort more frequently?” he grinned at the reluctant nod and leaned forward, “First-hand experience, Angel?”
The bookshop owner choked on his tea.
“Crowley! My boy, that was simply... Contrary to what you might think, Heaven is by no means a... a... a brothel with wings!!” he went red with anger, embarrassment, or perhaps both.
“Even if there are some relationships other than professional”, he muttered into his Earl Gray, “They’re purely platonic”.
Seeing the fierce red of Aziraphale’s cheeks ebb into timid pink, Crowley just rolled his eyes and coughed to cover up a groan of ‘That guy again’, then turned his attention fully to the very promising cupcake. (8)
(1) All of which actually were (for once) purely accidental
(2) Or extremely right, depending on the side
(3) He read somewhere things like that help. He also assumed the generous addition of alcohol had been omitted in the description since it had been perfectly obvious.
(4) Not that he'd prefer it any other than begging; still, it'd be a fine enough excuse to torture the convict just a little longer.
(5) Rumour has it Gabriel never got over the fact the one usually depicted that way was Michael
(6) Far too soft and short to be any of Crowley’s
(7) But other than that, he remained unscathed - probably thanks to his long-term stay in the vicinity of another celestial
(8) ‘That guy’, or Raziel, the Angel of Secret Realms, Lord over the Highest Secrets, also the author and keeper of the only copy of Sefer Raziel - the book containing all Knowledge of the Universe, was at that moment suffering from a nasty sneezing fit and wondering whether to be glad of the fact he was being remembered by certain human-shaped beings.
"Why, isn't that Aziraphale and..." "Yes,his slithery 'friend' - now, can we please move on?" A/N: Couldn't help myself - I just had to add a 'a few days later'picture. ;) All character designs are my own... Well, I based Raziel (dark-haired) and Gabriel veery loosely on the descriptions from my favourite angel fantasy book.