Contractual Obligation (Good Omens/Supernatural, Aziraphale/Supernatural!Crowley, PG13)
Title: Contractual Obligation
Fandom: Good Omens/Supernatural
Pairing: Aziraphale/Supernatural!Crowley
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1077
Summary: Crowley showed an angel how to dance, and Aziraphale showed a demon how to deal.
Author's Notes: Written for Porn Battle XIII.
Crowley had his professional life, and his home life. Keeping them separate was by no means easy but he managed well enough, helped by the territorial nature of his kind. Other demons saw "demon currently living in America" and assumed that meant "demon forever living in America", regardless of his accent. It didn't seem to matter that if anyone looked into the name Crowley they would find homes throughout America, Europe, Africa, and Asia.
Not Australia, though. He had some limits, and the country's wildlife appeared to be causing more than enough havok by itself.
He wasn't entirely sure when the angel had slipped out of his professional life as The Enemy and into his home life as The Friend With Dodgy Relatives, but it had happened. Sometime in the last two decades, in fact.
It was a friendship that soon developed into something more when one night, over several excellent bottles of wine and an excellent choice of music, Crowley made the completely bizarre but also excellent decision to invite the angel to dance.
Inviting the angel to dance could have been a disaster given that Aziraphale was a slow learner despite being highly intelligent, but all the stumbling and bumping around had led to stumbling and bumping around in Crowley's bedroom. Aziraphale had loudly appreciated Crowley's dancing, loudly appreciated Crowley's bed, and loudly appreciated Crowley's cock. Even if Crowley was too drunk to perform to his own high standards, Aziraphale had given him the moaned equivalent of a standing ovation afterwards.
He didn't quite think of the angel as someone safe to know at first; Aziraphale was more of a secret and dangerous hobby, someone he was casually corrupting in between extracting information about the enemy's plans. However, when Lucifer's apocalypse went to shit and Crowley decided he didn't want anything to do with either side anymore, things with Aziraphale had taken a rather more serious turn.
Aziraphale had offered him somewhere to hide - a small guest bedroom above a run-down bookstore - and Crowley had found himself knocking rather sheepishly at Aziraphale's bedroom door in the middle of the night and asking to be let in.
Aziraphale was no fool; in fact, he seemed to have his head screwed on rather more tightly than Crowley did, and would not break the salt seal around his door without establishing some firm rules. First, Crowley would keep their relationship secret with the same seriousness he demonstrated in managing his contracts. Second, Crowley could stay anytime he liked, but in keeping with the first rule, he was not allowed to bring companions over - or pets. Third, he was not allowed to comment on Aziraphale's fondness for tartan any more unless he wanted to remain in the spare room.
Crowley had agreed, watched Aziraphale pick up a brush to sweep the salt barrier aside, and didn't bother closing the door behind himself before grabbing the angel's face and kissing him hard on the lips.
Their first time had been much like the attempts to dance, clumsy and fun and very, very much in line with their intoxicated states, and Crowley had expected something similar for their second time. Indeed, he'd made the rather serious mistake of assuming that angels were virgins by default - Castiel certainly was, without a doubt - and that he'd be the one leading by experience.
Aziraphale had put paid to that notion immediately, pushing Crowley down onto the bed with easy confidence and starting to undress.
"Can't you just miracle those away?" Crowley asked, watching the angel strip in a manner that wasn't meant to tease but had much the same effect.
"I don't think drawing Heaven's attention would be wise right now," Aziraphale replied, and Crowley tucked that little detail away for later. Castiel and the Winchesters often struggled to lay low; perhaps they weren't aware of how Heaven's eyes worked. "Lie down, dear."
Crowley obeyed, happy to be led as Aziraphale climbed on top of him, naked and warm and heavy. "What do you want, then?" Crowley asked, knowing full well the rules of any deal - even charities couldn't get something for nothing.
"I could say it's none of your business," Aziraphale said, his fingers quick and clever on the buttons of Crowley's shirt and in the loop of his tie, "But that would rather defeat the point. Every angel has to believe in God somehow."
"And this helps."
"More than you know," Aziraphale said before starting to kiss a path down the skin he had exposed, smiling all too knowingly when Crowley slid a hand into his hair.
If Crowley had been concerned about choking the angel, he pretty quickly realised he had no need to worry. Aziraphale had two things going for him; no gag reflex, and strength enough to hold Crowley's hips down even when they attempted to buck upwards.
Afterwards, when Aziraphale returned from brushing his teeth and gargling mouthwash in the bathroom, Crowley found himself wanting to reciprocate the favour but without means to do so. Aziraphale had most definitely possessed genitals the first time they slept together, so it was strange to find him without.
"This body was made for me," Aziraphale explained as Crowley ran his fingers over the smooth skin between Aziraphale's thighs, fascinated by the lack of any hint of humanity. He hadn't noticed Aziraphale's lack of a navel last time, but it wasn't something he would have paid much attention to. "It isn't a vessel. I would have to make an effort."
"So - this is lazy sex for you?"
"Something like that." Aziraphale closed a hand over Crowley's, encouraging it to lie still.
Crowley wondered what sort of pillow talk was normal between angels - if, indeed, they had pillow talk. His knowledge of their kind was limited, but he also guessed that Aziraphale's behaviour was far from the norm.
When Aziraphale dozed off before Crowley could think of anything further to ask, he decided that his guess was an accurate one.
It was hard to resist falling asleep next to the angel, but he did at least make one effort towards feeling like a corrupting force; manhandling Aziraphale into being the little spoon was no real difficulty, and the warmth of the angel's back against his chest only helped send him off to sleep.
If he was more than a little grumpy the next time the Winchesters summoned him away from England, he could be excused.
Fandom: Good Omens/Supernatural
Pairing: Aziraphale/Supernatural!Crowley
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1077
Summary: Crowley showed an angel how to dance, and Aziraphale showed a demon how to deal.
Author's Notes: Written for Porn Battle XIII.
Crowley had his professional life, and his home life. Keeping them separate was by no means easy but he managed well enough, helped by the territorial nature of his kind. Other demons saw "demon currently living in America" and assumed that meant "demon forever living in America", regardless of his accent. It didn't seem to matter that if anyone looked into the name Crowley they would find homes throughout America, Europe, Africa, and Asia.
Not Australia, though. He had some limits, and the country's wildlife appeared to be causing more than enough havok by itself.
He wasn't entirely sure when the angel had slipped out of his professional life as The Enemy and into his home life as The Friend With Dodgy Relatives, but it had happened. Sometime in the last two decades, in fact.
It was a friendship that soon developed into something more when one night, over several excellent bottles of wine and an excellent choice of music, Crowley made the completely bizarre but also excellent decision to invite the angel to dance.
Inviting the angel to dance could have been a disaster given that Aziraphale was a slow learner despite being highly intelligent, but all the stumbling and bumping around had led to stumbling and bumping around in Crowley's bedroom. Aziraphale had loudly appreciated Crowley's dancing, loudly appreciated Crowley's bed, and loudly appreciated Crowley's cock. Even if Crowley was too drunk to perform to his own high standards, Aziraphale had given him the moaned equivalent of a standing ovation afterwards.
He didn't quite think of the angel as someone safe to know at first; Aziraphale was more of a secret and dangerous hobby, someone he was casually corrupting in between extracting information about the enemy's plans. However, when Lucifer's apocalypse went to shit and Crowley decided he didn't want anything to do with either side anymore, things with Aziraphale had taken a rather more serious turn.
Aziraphale had offered him somewhere to hide - a small guest bedroom above a run-down bookstore - and Crowley had found himself knocking rather sheepishly at Aziraphale's bedroom door in the middle of the night and asking to be let in.
Aziraphale was no fool; in fact, he seemed to have his head screwed on rather more tightly than Crowley did, and would not break the salt seal around his door without establishing some firm rules. First, Crowley would keep their relationship secret with the same seriousness he demonstrated in managing his contracts. Second, Crowley could stay anytime he liked, but in keeping with the first rule, he was not allowed to bring companions over - or pets. Third, he was not allowed to comment on Aziraphale's fondness for tartan any more unless he wanted to remain in the spare room.
Crowley had agreed, watched Aziraphale pick up a brush to sweep the salt barrier aside, and didn't bother closing the door behind himself before grabbing the angel's face and kissing him hard on the lips.
Their first time had been much like the attempts to dance, clumsy and fun and very, very much in line with their intoxicated states, and Crowley had expected something similar for their second time. Indeed, he'd made the rather serious mistake of assuming that angels were virgins by default - Castiel certainly was, without a doubt - and that he'd be the one leading by experience.
Aziraphale had put paid to that notion immediately, pushing Crowley down onto the bed with easy confidence and starting to undress.
"Can't you just miracle those away?" Crowley asked, watching the angel strip in a manner that wasn't meant to tease but had much the same effect.
"I don't think drawing Heaven's attention would be wise right now," Aziraphale replied, and Crowley tucked that little detail away for later. Castiel and the Winchesters often struggled to lay low; perhaps they weren't aware of how Heaven's eyes worked. "Lie down, dear."
Crowley obeyed, happy to be led as Aziraphale climbed on top of him, naked and warm and heavy. "What do you want, then?" Crowley asked, knowing full well the rules of any deal - even charities couldn't get something for nothing.
"I could say it's none of your business," Aziraphale said, his fingers quick and clever on the buttons of Crowley's shirt and in the loop of his tie, "But that would rather defeat the point. Every angel has to believe in God somehow."
"And this helps."
"More than you know," Aziraphale said before starting to kiss a path down the skin he had exposed, smiling all too knowingly when Crowley slid a hand into his hair.
If Crowley had been concerned about choking the angel, he pretty quickly realised he had no need to worry. Aziraphale had two things going for him; no gag reflex, and strength enough to hold Crowley's hips down even when they attempted to buck upwards.
Afterwards, when Aziraphale returned from brushing his teeth and gargling mouthwash in the bathroom, Crowley found himself wanting to reciprocate the favour but without means to do so. Aziraphale had most definitely possessed genitals the first time they slept together, so it was strange to find him without.
"This body was made for me," Aziraphale explained as Crowley ran his fingers over the smooth skin between Aziraphale's thighs, fascinated by the lack of any hint of humanity. He hadn't noticed Aziraphale's lack of a navel last time, but it wasn't something he would have paid much attention to. "It isn't a vessel. I would have to make an effort."
"So - this is lazy sex for you?"
"Something like that." Aziraphale closed a hand over Crowley's, encouraging it to lie still.
Crowley wondered what sort of pillow talk was normal between angels - if, indeed, they had pillow talk. His knowledge of their kind was limited, but he also guessed that Aziraphale's behaviour was far from the norm.
When Aziraphale dozed off before Crowley could think of anything further to ask, he decided that his guess was an accurate one.
It was hard to resist falling asleep next to the angel, but he did at least make one effort towards feeling like a corrupting force; manhandling Aziraphale into being the little spoon was no real difficulty, and the warmth of the angel's back against his chest only helped send him off to sleep.
If he was more than a little grumpy the next time the Winchesters summoned him away from England, he could be excused.