(no subject)
Another little "just-for-the-hell-of-it" ficlet that I used to distract myself from a longer story I'm writing. Complete Fluff, with smut woven in.
Title: Cumulus
Warnings: Light Slash
Disclaimers: You know the Drill, characters aren't mine- Alas.
“Look! Its a bunny!” Aziraphale's face and hair glowed in the afternoon sun.
“What are you babbling about now, angel?” Crowley poured himself another glass of port and leaned awkwardly against an oak tree. He shot Aziraphale a cutting glance from behind dark shades. It had been his idea, after all. There never was a good way to get comfortable on a picnic, especially in the deserted English countryside, where there wasn‘t even the benefit of a park bench.
Aziraphale rolled onto his side, crumpling his tartan blanket, and pointing to the heavens. “There.”
Crowley looked. “No, angel. That’s not a bunny. That’s a cloud. But I can see how you would be confused. Rabbits *are* always flying around in the stratosphere.” He sipped his port. “Usually attacking people by going for the jugulars, too, if memory serves. I think it happened to some of King Arthur’s knights even.”
Aziraphale rolled onto his back again, folding his plump hands under his head. “Oh, Crowley. I meant it looks like a bunny.” Fluffy clouds reflected in clear blue eyes. Crowley felt short of unnecessary breath. “Of course, now it looks more like an upside down chef’s hat.” The angel finished.
Crowley looked up again. “No it doesn‘t. If anything it looks like a witch burning at the stake.”
Aziraphale‘s eyes flashed back at the demon. “Crowley, that’s terrible. It doesn’t look like anything of the sort. You‘re just being contrary.”
Crowley slid down onto the blanket, resting the wine glass on his flat stomach. “See those little stratus clouds there?” He pointed up, ‘accidentally” brushing against the angel’s elbow. “Those are the flames. And that one there is the witch’s face. See how it looks like she’s screaming in agony?”
“Crowley, that's gruesome. Clouds aren’t allowed to be gruesome.”
“Says who?”
Aziraphale‘s mouth quirked up as he looked at the demon out to the corner of his eye. “Says me. So try to be pleasant.”
Crowley lapsed into silence as he watched the movement of the angel’s chest rising and falling. He noticed how the pulse beat faintly in the angel’s pale neck. He wondered how the skin would feel against his lips. Wondered how…
He shook his head. *I have got to get a hold on myself.* His mind yelled. *Course that’s part of the problem, isn’t it demon, you’re the only one interested in getting a ‘hold’ on yourself.* Another part of his mind reminded him.
“That cloud looks like the Whore of Babylon,” said Crowley angrily.
Aziraphale shook his head. “No it doesn’t. I remember the red light district in Babylon, and that cloud definitely has a much more conservative haircut than those girls did.” The cloud shifted shape. “There, now it looks like Mother Theresa.” Rose-pink lips turned up into a smile.
Crowley finished his port.
“What about that one? You can’t tell me that doesn’t looks like the Beast.”
Aziraphale scooted closer and peered nearsightedly to where Crowley was indicating. “Hmm, I don’t see the similarity.” A gust of wind blew through the cloud. “In fact, I think it looks more like a lamb.”
Crowley could feel heat radiating off of the angel’s body- he was so close. It really showed how far they had come, though. In the Beginning, the angel would have kept at least one cubit away from him. Now… so close…
But so far.
“What about that one, angel? Looksss like a ssserpent to me.” Crowley mentally kicked himself for hissing. He was as bad as a hormone crazed teenager. He wiped his palms against his pants, letting the empty glass roll off of his stomach.
“Oh, well that one I can see. If I squint, that is.” Which he did, chin almost touching Crowley’s chest as the angel‘s reached over him and rolled the glass off of the blanket and into the grass. The demon stopped breathing. “What do you think that one next to it looks like, dear boy?”
Crowley cast his eyes upwards, partially to see which cloud the angel was talking about, and partially so that he couldn’t see how achingly close the angel was to actually touching him. When he spoke, his voice was four-packs-a-day scratchy. “I’m not sure.” He glanced back at Aziraphale, who, to Crowley’s surprise, was gazing at the demon’s face. Aziraphale wiggled even closer, rolling onto his side again, almost snug against the demon’s designer clothes. Blue eyes attempted to burn through dark lenses.
“I rather fancy that it looks like an angel. Don‘t you?” A soft hand caressed a fantastically sculpted cheekbone, finally pulling Crowley’s sunglasses off and tossing them aside. “In fact. Now that I look at it again, the other one doesn’t look like a snake at all. I think it looks like an angel, too.” A hand flitted over Crowley’s face and pushed his chin up so that the demon was staring into the sky. Sky the color of angelic eyes.
“Aziraphale.” Damn the uncertainty in his voice.
“Shhhh.” Crowley felt soft, moist lips pressed to his neck. A hand ran through his hair. Aziraphale was practically on top of him, slowly licking a long line down the side of his throat.
He couldn’t move… No, that wasn’t entirely true. A part of him could, and did. It just wasn’t by any will of his own.
The angel slinked up his body, and whispered against the corner of the demon‘s mouth. “Do you want this, Crowley?” Crowley scrunched lids over amber eyes. He couldn’t believe what the angel was asking. Sure, everyone throughout history had pegged him for a Poof, but a poof in that not-really-doing anything-about-it sort of way. Crowley lightly banged his head against the ground. Of course Aziraphale misinterpreted.
Aziraphale pulled himself up off of Crowley. “Oh, dear. I thought for sure you had wanted it as much as I,… but you don’t want this, do you? ” The sudden feeling of cold air on his chest from where the angel had been heating him snapped Crowley out of his disbelief.
“Do I want this?” Crowley nearly yelled it as he pressed his hips against Aziraphale, who let out a little squeak. “Does Michael wear women’s underwear?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened and Crowley felt like a complete and total idiot. That was one of those little tidbits that he only ever shared with other demons. “I, uh, caught him once at Victoria’s Secret.” Crowley said sheepishly. Aziraphale’s face was returning to seductive, and he shifted back onto Crowley, a leg working its way between the demon’s legs, hands gently slipping his leather jacket from his shoulders.
“Well, I’m glad that you don’t mind… though I must admit to being curious as to what *you* were doing there, dear boy.” A hand worked at the button on Crowley’s pants, then slid in. “Perhaps I should perform an investigation.”
“Perhapsss…” Crowley arched into the angel, then smoothly flipped Aziraphale onto his back and straddled him. He was, after all, as slithery as a snake. “If you can manage, that isss.” Crowley marveled at the expression on Aziraphale’s face; wonderfully surprised- innocent and yearning at the same time. There was something else in his glance, too. It was the same look the angel got when he was doing a particularly difficult crossword puzzle, or when he was going out of his way to thwart. The demon knew the angel couldn’t resist a challenge. The thought made Crowley’s blood go speeding through his body, waking up various organs and making him feel as though he were on fire. Training his eyes to the angel’s, he pulled the sweater-vest off and threw it over his shoulder. Long fingers began to unbutton the angel’s shirt, and he marveled at the little moan that escaped his mouth when Crowley finally leaned down to kiss him. Crowley could taste lemon tart and fine port on angelic lips, he felt the velvety glide of the angel’s tongue on his own. Then, as his own tongue darted into the angel’s mouth, he felt something else entirely.
To be honest, it burned just a little, like the time he had accidentally sipped some communion wine. But instead of making him cough and sputter as the wine had, this burn was infinitely compelling. He supposed that it was akin to what Icarus must have felt as his wings first began to get soft in the warmth of the sun. It was a dangerous feeling, being on a precipice, but one that couldn’t be resisted, no matter what the cost.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale said warningly. He had been the one to break contact, though it was with obvious reluctance. The demon had difficulty focusing, and was confused why the kiss had stopped. He also was having difficulty figuring out how his shirt had suddenly come open, and how his buttons seemed to have gained the power of flight, and then how Aziraphale knocked him over and again locked their lips.
But it was a pleasant confusion.
As they writhed over the crumpled blanket and bent grass, some part of Crowley’s mind that was still basically functioning, thought back to the Beginning, before the Arrangement. There had been no end of challenges then, both of them strutting like peacock to provoke the other. He regretted that they had never used these means as a challenge before.
Of course, that was an extremely small part of his brain. A larger part was trying desperately to remind his hands how to take pants and socks off. Another was trying to memories the contours of the angel’s body while using only his tongue.
The rest of him was just floating on a sea of sensation.
Finally they were naked. Warm sweaty skin rubbing delightfully over all the right places. Crowley’s teeth bit into Aziraphale’s shoulder, while Aziraphale’s immaculate nails made half-moons on the Crowley’s back. They both did their best tempting and thwarting, until finally they reached the ineffable draw, clinging to each other tightly, finally allowing their long association reach its ultimate destination.
Crowley snaked his arm around the angel’s shoulders, holding him gently as their breathing returned to normal. Another blanket materialized over them, and Aziraphale snuggled his head into the warmth of Crowley’s neck.
“I must admit, I’m a little disappointed.” Aziraphale finally admitted. Crowley froze.
“You are?”
Aziraphale lifted his head and nodded sadly. “Yes.” His arm sneaked out from under the blanket, holding a piece of black silk. “I was hoping for something a little more exotic.” His smile was divinely wicked. “I mean, I thought there would at least be a little lace.” Crowley yanked his boxer out of the angels had.
“Give me those,” he growled as he pulled the angel into another searing kiss.
***
The bright rays of the sun turned the clouds golden yellow in a bright blue sky over the deserted English Countryside.