Happiest of Holidays, htebazytook!
Title: Standing Appointment
gift for: htebazytook
gift from: meredydd
rating: Adult
A/N This is written for the GOE 2009 and is a work of fan fiction. It contains adult themes so if you are not allowed to read or don’t like to read slash, go check out something else. This is rated hard R/NC-17.
Crowley blinked at the vision before him. “You’re not serious…”
“Perfectly so,” Aziraphale corrected him. “We can’t stop it this time, old man.” Outside, the world shook and rattled like an old woman coughing. “Nothing we can do, no mistakes to fix. They’ve decided and when They decide, we must stand back.” He shrugged out of his plaid coat with the elbow patches, shucked his sensible shoes, and stood still for a moment. “I don’t know what will happen next, Crowley.”
The demon hesitated. “Outside or in here?”
“Both. Either. Neither.” The angel laughed mirthlessly and ran shaking fingers through his thick hair. “I can’t lie, not well, and I’m surprised I managed to hold this in at all.” His shirt came next, falling to the floor in a crumpled linen heap.
Crowley gingerly removed his dark glasses, setting them on the shaking piecrust table in Aziraphale’s study. “Has anyone ever told you about timing, angel?”
“Yes,” he said shakily, “mainly that I lack it in most things.” He took a step forward, his wings unfurling in the darkening light. “Crowley…this is it. We may never see one another again, when this all falls down.”
“I know,” Crowley admitted. He did not bother with the mundane trappings as Aziraphale did, simply willing his human garb away, dark wings snapping wide and cool as Aziraphale closed the distance between them. “How long have you known?” He wasn’t sure if he referred to the end of the world creeping ever closer around them, or the fact that Aziraphale seemed keen on finally addressing what lay, silently for eons, between them.
The angel sighed, closing his pale eyes. “Ages. I did not want to think on it, hoped it would go away but it never did. It only…grew more certain.” He was not sure to which he referred either-the words were true either way. “Crowley, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I do,” Crowley murmured, but made no move to touch his angelic counterpart. The earth shivered and it seemed as if it were just for them. Maybe, Crowley thought in a fevered flash of desire and confusion, this is all we need to do. The world will go on once we touch, acknowledge… It had been centuries upon centuries of jibes and wit and friendship and animosity, eternities of knowing all in demonic and angelic ways, but this simple, very human, act had eluded them both. He stared at the faint luminescence of Aziraphale’s skin and remembered with keen pain what it meant to be an angel, what it felt like to be in the light. Raising his own dark arms, Crowley gazed upon the silvered writing visible to demonic and angelic eyes, the scrolls of names with which he had been called over time, all in languages unknown to Man, hard on the tongue and bitter to taste. Aziraphale’s shining hand closed over his fingers and Crowley shivered, feeling a jolt of something…ineffable. “You will Fall.”
“No,” Aziraphale breathed. “I think I already have. I care for nothing else right now, nothing other than to be here with you and if that isn’t a Fall from my lofty perch…” he trailed off ruefully. “Crowley…” Without another word or false breath, wings folded forward, closing around them both in a tangle of dark and light, pulsing with a firey glow that seemed to emanate from within them both. Aziraphale shivered hard as he tasted Scotch and smoke on Crowley’s tongue, pushing against the demon and refusing to relinquish control over the embrace. The angel could feel the hard vibration of existence within the body of his friend, and, even though he knew that their forms were impermanent, sobbed with the knowledge of loss forthcoming.
Crowley did not fight the angel’s kiss, simply withstood it, parting his lips for Aziraphale’s first tentative, then assertive, probing. The angel’s tongue mimicked more earthy acts, the shudder of a pulse from deep within the earth itself rocketing through them both. No more, the demon thought wildly, were they creatures of light and darkness. They were of the earth beneath their feet, cast from the heavens and cast from below. He could not restrain himself any longer, curling his fingers into Aziraphale’s pale hair and deepening the kiss even as the angel’s hands began to wander. Hissing as his old friend’s hands skimmed down his bare back, Crowley closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards, wings shielding them both from the sights without.
Aziraphale bit back the torrent of words threatening to spill forth. Words unused forever, feelings he had no name for. All he knew was the hot silk of Crowley’s skin under his fingers, the sinewy slide of muscle, making him think of serpents and gardens. Centuries flashed in his thoughts, eons of longing and confusion. Their chosen forms would do for now, the last gasping attempt at themselves. Shrieking metal and stone sounded outside but neither angel nor demon really cared. Crowley pressed closer, fingers closing around the upper edge of Aziraphale’s wings, as the angel’s mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over exposed throat and sending frissons of pleasure through them both. It took the end of the world, he mused silently, his demonic body struggling to be free from the human form, answering some ancient call that would halt all the angel was doing, to bring them to this point. He had tried for years to seduce Aziraphale, off and on. Usually out of boredom but, for the past eon or so, some of it had been serious. What would he taste like, Crowley had wondered. What sounds would he make? A long and guttural groan in angelic tongue made Crowley pause for just a fraction of a second before he realize that it came from his own throat, his own voice. “Angel,” he hissed, “we haven’t much time.”
“We have eternity, demon,” Aziraphale replied in similar tones, his body now flush with Crowley’s; he could feel the demon’s arousal against his belly and the hot, hard length of it was like a spear through his awareness. I will Fall for this but I will be with him. Now the world ends and all that is left is Heaven and Hell. He grasped Crowley’s length and sank to his knees, wings fluttering back to make room as he came to eye level with the member Crowley had manifested. The thickness of it was heavy in his hand and Aziraphale, for a moment, could only stare. Gently, he leaned forward and let his tongue dart out to taste the seeping fluid at the tip. Crowley growled and arched his back. “Ah,” Aziraphale sighed. He was doing it right…
Crowley was no stranger to physical pleasure (he was, after all, a demon) but to have it be Aziraphale who touched him so, his friend’s hands on his length, the angel’s mouth on his shaft… His eyes rolled back and he abandoned himself to it, no longer caring about control and balance. Twining his fingers into the angel’s hair once more, Crowley thrust deeply and shuddered at the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm, wet mouth around him, drawing on him, laving him with his tongue until the only thing the demon could see were sparks of color against the darkness in his thoughts, behind his eyelids. The earth heaved once more and the angel fell back, taking the demon with him. Wings fluttered loudly as mouths sought purchase and hands grasped greedily. Muttered imprecations fought for space with gasps and groans as slick flesh and supernatural light warred with prominence. A low, soft cry of pleasure underscored the sound of falling masonry as Crowley arched into Aziraphale’s invasion of his body. He did not feel pain as a human might at such an act but rather the hot, seeking vibration of angelic life, the perfect union of light and dark. It stole his breath, made his form threaten to fall apart and leave only his true self in it’s wake. Braced on his hands and knees, wings outstretched, Crowley pushed back into Aziraphale, who cried out and grasped the demon’s hips.
Form throbbing painfully, Aziraphale attempted to move as a human might, as his form dictated, but it was not enough. He opened himself to his angelic nature, let the light of it pour forth, and was rewarded by a pure burst of pleasure that made him shout to the heavens, should any of them be listening. Crowley cried out as well, begging (Aziraphale barely suppressed a crow of delight at that-Crowley, begging him!) for more, harder, now, faster. Aziraphale tried to do as requested but it was nearly impossible to hold the remnants of human form now. “Give over, demon,” he snarled, body throbbing and quaking with the need for release. “Give over to me!” There was a nanosecond of hesitation, and Crowley shed his human form.
Beings of light and darkness, they merged together into a bright, shining tangle. Pleasure poured from them as their true selves grasped and stroked, wings wide and shaking as a pure need, pure deliverance of exalted release, built to a crisis point. Voices beyond human hearing, they cried out in ancient words, forms arching and closing on one another, shimmering and vibrating until they faded back into a bearable state. “Crowley,” Aziraphale began, then fell silent. He felt…fulfilled. Powerful. Sore.
“Shhhh.” The demon closed his serpentine eyes and held open his hands, waiting. Surely, Below knew. Surely, punishment would come. He would take it all, refuse to let them near Aziriphale… He waited, quiet, for a long handful of seconds before he noticed something. “Oh, bugger.”
“Um,” the angel began, blushing.
“Do you feel something?”
“That,” he sniffed, “is hardly the best thing to ask me right now!”
“No! The earth stopped shaking, the noise is gone…”
“Perhaps it’s over.” Aziraphale crept to the shop window and peeked out. The street was a shambles but human movement caught his eye. “Maybe it’s just beginning…” As he spoke, a heavy scroll popped into existence before his worried eyes.
Crowley answered the angel's softly spat curse with one of his own. “I received one too, from my side.” He unfurled the slightly sulfurous paper and frowned. “Oh, bugger.”
“What does it say?”
“The Powers that Be apologize for the unscheduled, unexpected and unheard of magnitude seven earthquake in Great Britain… It seems that a game of ten pins raged out of control and…” he paused and looked up at the angel. “Maybe they didn’t notice?”
“Perhaps. Mine says nothing of, ah, a counsel or a trial or anything dire…” He felt the frissons of pleasure still in his blood, the clamoring need, now awakened, still vibrant and demanding more. “Oh, this is bad.”
“Not…necessarily.”
“Crowley! We only did this because we thought it was the end of the world which, if this is true,” he waved the scroll, “was conveniently forgotten to go forth as scheduled due to a raging game of ten pins!”
“It doesn’t have to be the last time,” he promised softly, his own body crying out for more, now please and make it good.
“Right,” Aziraphale sighed, reaching for toppled books. “There’s always the next Apocalypse.”
gift for: htebazytook
gift from: meredydd
rating: Adult
A/N This is written for the GOE 2009 and is a work of fan fiction. It contains adult themes so if you are not allowed to read or don’t like to read slash, go check out something else. This is rated hard R/NC-17.
Crowley blinked at the vision before him. “You’re not serious…”
“Perfectly so,” Aziraphale corrected him. “We can’t stop it this time, old man.” Outside, the world shook and rattled like an old woman coughing. “Nothing we can do, no mistakes to fix. They’ve decided and when They decide, we must stand back.” He shrugged out of his plaid coat with the elbow patches, shucked his sensible shoes, and stood still for a moment. “I don’t know what will happen next, Crowley.”
The demon hesitated. “Outside or in here?”
“Both. Either. Neither.” The angel laughed mirthlessly and ran shaking fingers through his thick hair. “I can’t lie, not well, and I’m surprised I managed to hold this in at all.” His shirt came next, falling to the floor in a crumpled linen heap.
Crowley gingerly removed his dark glasses, setting them on the shaking piecrust table in Aziraphale’s study. “Has anyone ever told you about timing, angel?”
“Yes,” he said shakily, “mainly that I lack it in most things.” He took a step forward, his wings unfurling in the darkening light. “Crowley…this is it. We may never see one another again, when this all falls down.”
“I know,” Crowley admitted. He did not bother with the mundane trappings as Aziraphale did, simply willing his human garb away, dark wings snapping wide and cool as Aziraphale closed the distance between them. “How long have you known?” He wasn’t sure if he referred to the end of the world creeping ever closer around them, or the fact that Aziraphale seemed keen on finally addressing what lay, silently for eons, between them.
The angel sighed, closing his pale eyes. “Ages. I did not want to think on it, hoped it would go away but it never did. It only…grew more certain.” He was not sure to which he referred either-the words were true either way. “Crowley, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I do,” Crowley murmured, but made no move to touch his angelic counterpart. The earth shivered and it seemed as if it were just for them. Maybe, Crowley thought in a fevered flash of desire and confusion, this is all we need to do. The world will go on once we touch, acknowledge… It had been centuries upon centuries of jibes and wit and friendship and animosity, eternities of knowing all in demonic and angelic ways, but this simple, very human, act had eluded them both. He stared at the faint luminescence of Aziraphale’s skin and remembered with keen pain what it meant to be an angel, what it felt like to be in the light. Raising his own dark arms, Crowley gazed upon the silvered writing visible to demonic and angelic eyes, the scrolls of names with which he had been called over time, all in languages unknown to Man, hard on the tongue and bitter to taste. Aziraphale’s shining hand closed over his fingers and Crowley shivered, feeling a jolt of something…ineffable. “You will Fall.”
“No,” Aziraphale breathed. “I think I already have. I care for nothing else right now, nothing other than to be here with you and if that isn’t a Fall from my lofty perch…” he trailed off ruefully. “Crowley…” Without another word or false breath, wings folded forward, closing around them both in a tangle of dark and light, pulsing with a firey glow that seemed to emanate from within them both. Aziraphale shivered hard as he tasted Scotch and smoke on Crowley’s tongue, pushing against the demon and refusing to relinquish control over the embrace. The angel could feel the hard vibration of existence within the body of his friend, and, even though he knew that their forms were impermanent, sobbed with the knowledge of loss forthcoming.
Crowley did not fight the angel’s kiss, simply withstood it, parting his lips for Aziraphale’s first tentative, then assertive, probing. The angel’s tongue mimicked more earthy acts, the shudder of a pulse from deep within the earth itself rocketing through them both. No more, the demon thought wildly, were they creatures of light and darkness. They were of the earth beneath their feet, cast from the heavens and cast from below. He could not restrain himself any longer, curling his fingers into Aziraphale’s pale hair and deepening the kiss even as the angel’s hands began to wander. Hissing as his old friend’s hands skimmed down his bare back, Crowley closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards, wings shielding them both from the sights without.
Aziraphale bit back the torrent of words threatening to spill forth. Words unused forever, feelings he had no name for. All he knew was the hot silk of Crowley’s skin under his fingers, the sinewy slide of muscle, making him think of serpents and gardens. Centuries flashed in his thoughts, eons of longing and confusion. Their chosen forms would do for now, the last gasping attempt at themselves. Shrieking metal and stone sounded outside but neither angel nor demon really cared. Crowley pressed closer, fingers closing around the upper edge of Aziraphale’s wings, as the angel’s mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over exposed throat and sending frissons of pleasure through them both. It took the end of the world, he mused silently, his demonic body struggling to be free from the human form, answering some ancient call that would halt all the angel was doing, to bring them to this point. He had tried for years to seduce Aziraphale, off and on. Usually out of boredom but, for the past eon or so, some of it had been serious. What would he taste like, Crowley had wondered. What sounds would he make? A long and guttural groan in angelic tongue made Crowley pause for just a fraction of a second before he realize that it came from his own throat, his own voice. “Angel,” he hissed, “we haven’t much time.”
“We have eternity, demon,” Aziraphale replied in similar tones, his body now flush with Crowley’s; he could feel the demon’s arousal against his belly and the hot, hard length of it was like a spear through his awareness. I will Fall for this but I will be with him. Now the world ends and all that is left is Heaven and Hell. He grasped Crowley’s length and sank to his knees, wings fluttering back to make room as he came to eye level with the member Crowley had manifested. The thickness of it was heavy in his hand and Aziraphale, for a moment, could only stare. Gently, he leaned forward and let his tongue dart out to taste the seeping fluid at the tip. Crowley growled and arched his back. “Ah,” Aziraphale sighed. He was doing it right…
Crowley was no stranger to physical pleasure (he was, after all, a demon) but to have it be Aziraphale who touched him so, his friend’s hands on his length, the angel’s mouth on his shaft… His eyes rolled back and he abandoned himself to it, no longer caring about control and balance. Twining his fingers into the angel’s hair once more, Crowley thrust deeply and shuddered at the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm, wet mouth around him, drawing on him, laving him with his tongue until the only thing the demon could see were sparks of color against the darkness in his thoughts, behind his eyelids. The earth heaved once more and the angel fell back, taking the demon with him. Wings fluttered loudly as mouths sought purchase and hands grasped greedily. Muttered imprecations fought for space with gasps and groans as slick flesh and supernatural light warred with prominence. A low, soft cry of pleasure underscored the sound of falling masonry as Crowley arched into Aziraphale’s invasion of his body. He did not feel pain as a human might at such an act but rather the hot, seeking vibration of angelic life, the perfect union of light and dark. It stole his breath, made his form threaten to fall apart and leave only his true self in it’s wake. Braced on his hands and knees, wings outstretched, Crowley pushed back into Aziraphale, who cried out and grasped the demon’s hips.
Form throbbing painfully, Aziraphale attempted to move as a human might, as his form dictated, but it was not enough. He opened himself to his angelic nature, let the light of it pour forth, and was rewarded by a pure burst of pleasure that made him shout to the heavens, should any of them be listening. Crowley cried out as well, begging (Aziraphale barely suppressed a crow of delight at that-Crowley, begging him!) for more, harder, now, faster. Aziraphale tried to do as requested but it was nearly impossible to hold the remnants of human form now. “Give over, demon,” he snarled, body throbbing and quaking with the need for release. “Give over to me!” There was a nanosecond of hesitation, and Crowley shed his human form.
Beings of light and darkness, they merged together into a bright, shining tangle. Pleasure poured from them as their true selves grasped and stroked, wings wide and shaking as a pure need, pure deliverance of exalted release, built to a crisis point. Voices beyond human hearing, they cried out in ancient words, forms arching and closing on one another, shimmering and vibrating until they faded back into a bearable state. “Crowley,” Aziraphale began, then fell silent. He felt…fulfilled. Powerful. Sore.
“Shhhh.” The demon closed his serpentine eyes and held open his hands, waiting. Surely, Below knew. Surely, punishment would come. He would take it all, refuse to let them near Aziriphale… He waited, quiet, for a long handful of seconds before he noticed something. “Oh, bugger.”
“Um,” the angel began, blushing.
“Do you feel something?”
“That,” he sniffed, “is hardly the best thing to ask me right now!”
“No! The earth stopped shaking, the noise is gone…”
“Perhaps it’s over.” Aziraphale crept to the shop window and peeked out. The street was a shambles but human movement caught his eye. “Maybe it’s just beginning…” As he spoke, a heavy scroll popped into existence before his worried eyes.
Crowley answered the angel's softly spat curse with one of his own. “I received one too, from my side.” He unfurled the slightly sulfurous paper and frowned. “Oh, bugger.”
“What does it say?”
“The Powers that Be apologize for the unscheduled, unexpected and unheard of magnitude seven earthquake in Great Britain… It seems that a game of ten pins raged out of control and…” he paused and looked up at the angel. “Maybe they didn’t notice?”
“Perhaps. Mine says nothing of, ah, a counsel or a trial or anything dire…” He felt the frissons of pleasure still in his blood, the clamoring need, now awakened, still vibrant and demanding more. “Oh, this is bad.”
“Not…necessarily.”
“Crowley! We only did this because we thought it was the end of the world which, if this is true,” he waved the scroll, “was conveniently forgotten to go forth as scheduled due to a raging game of ten pins!”
“It doesn’t have to be the last time,” he promised softly, his own body crying out for more, now please and make it good.
“Right,” Aziraphale sighed, reaching for toppled books. “There’s always the next Apocalypse.”