Work Text:
Crowley knew how to admit when he had a problem, sure.
His fifth visit to this particular library in two weeks? Certainly not a problem. Anything but a problem, honestly. People went to the library all the time! Perfectly people-y thing to do, show up to the same library, even.
Probably not entirely normal though was going to the same library and sitting in the same chair with the same book on a repeat checkout that he had never actually made any progress on after the first day he had come to this particular part of town. Not since he had first met Ezra, sorta. The librarian here with the very nice hands . Fuck. Was he a creep?
Probably not. Right? He just. The book was good, probably. It had been recommended by someone he'd like to think had good taste in literature. Ezra worked at a library, for someone's sake, they had to at least know the content.
It had looked great, at least, held in the wonderfully shaped hands of the librarian. Those thick fingers that held a subtle elegance, gentle with the paperback they'd suggested despite obvious strength and calluses from what had to be years of hard work with them. They'd slipped a finger into the space between pages to show Crowley a specific passage that they'd thought particularly interesting and any desire to actually read anything had dropped out of him entirely, making room for a desperate need to see those hands in action more often.
Fuck. He was a creep. That was nearly a month ago now. He'd used the excuse of just being a slow reader so far, and the librarian hadn't commented even once on the snail-pace of his marked progress, but somehow that made him feel more awful about the whole thing. Not commenting made him angelic, if Crowley were being honest. Which he was trying to be. At least in some semblance of balance to the amount of utter bullshit he was spewing to keep coming here. He wasn't even sure if they cared that he kept coming back, or noticed, but his reason for it made the whole thing seem just... dirty .
There was something in the way he felt when those hands glided over the neat stack of books at the desk, fingers delving between sheets, removing forgotten bookmarks and checking for dog-eared pages, gently unfolding when they found one and caressing the entire book once processed with such tender care. Crowley could feel a dropping in his gut each time he caught himself staring during those moments. He'd give anything to have those hands on him, he decided, he'd make a plan. He'd....figure something out. He'd have some reason to catch the librarian's interest. He'd get them home and -
Oh. No no no. He would not survive that actually. Fuck. Was this just how he'd spend his days then? Obsessing over a stranger - a rather beautiful stranger yes, but specifically that stranger's hands?
Last he'd checked he didn't even have anything for hands in particular. These, though. Fuck. Again. Did he need therapy? Probably. Definitely.
Yea. He had a problem.
He had a lot of problems, actually, so just toss it on the list. He could handle this. What's one more problem? This one's not even that bad, surely.
It wouldn't have been that bad, yea. Wouldn't have been much of anything, if Ezra wasn't currently walking directly to him with that absolutely angelic smile on their face and beautiful hands clasped together on that delightful stomach of theirs. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Had he said fuck?
Fuck.
Another for good measure, couldn’t hurt.
Now the hands he’d been close to drooling over for weeks were giving the smallest of waves, and the mouth attached to the person wielding them was speaking, but Crowley’s mind was too focused on the tiny lines and freckles, scarring and wrinkles, that decorated them. Things he was entirely unable to see from such a distance, despite his table being the closest to the desk itself. Fuck. He wondered what the jagged ridge of a scar along the index finger would feel like in his mouth.
He licked his lips at the thought, still watching the crooked line as it made way for the next finger and thumb to come together just near enough to -
Snap .
Indignation rushed through him, first, but then a tight desire to see that again, but then again his very pathetic excuse for dignity was destroyed long before this, and he was left blushing deep red as he made eye contact with the librarian above him.
“Did you not hear a word I’ve said?” Was it fair to give someone so beautiful such a beautiful voice? Fuck if he knew in the grander scheme of things, but it certainly was not healthy for his already all-consuming obsession.
“Ngk, ‘sat?” Eloquent. So much for convincing them to take interest in his disastrous self.
The angel sighed, and those wonderfully parted pink lips brought an image of them against his skin and slow down Crowley for fuck’s sake, they’re here to actually speak to you.
“We’re closed, dear, and while I appreciate your interest in literature, I’m not a young man, I must be on my way soon,” he gestured at the clock with a tight smile. Crowley followed the movement of his hands, of course he did, mesmerized as he was with them, to the analog device on the wall above the desk, currently reading half nine.
Oh. It was later than he'd thought. He was the only person here, other than the librarian. An opportunity, surely? He'd see it as one if that's what it was, no time like the present and all. “I'd love to take you - Would you want a bite - Could we maybe... fuck !” Crowley didn't really think this far ahead, and now he'd gone and confused himself and the - hold on.
The librarian was blushing and those gorgeous hands were fidgeting and pulling against each other like Crowley desperately wanted them to pull at him - his hair, his clothes, his co- “I...would be amenable to that, yes. Would you wait for me here? I've got to close up.”
As if Crowley were capable of any answer but a slightly pitchy, ”Yea, yea. Go ahead, I'll be here, waiting, yep,“ fuck he was awkward, ”Good at waiting, me.“
Ezra nodded, and was suddenly gone among the stacks, appearing for seconds at a time with various books and forgotten items on his way through. He made a rushed line toward the desk and began tucking files away in a rush that left everything neatly organised and ready for the next librarian's shift. Crowley thought that was nice of him, but what was much nicer was the deft movement of his hands during the flurry.
Then suddenly, with a breath huffed like he'd been holding it then entire time, Ezra was stopped in front of him. “Ready?”
Crowley gulped. He hadn't expected this to happen, not in three - four? Six. Six millennia. This surely wasn't possible. Of course he wasn't fucking ready. How could he be ready for this ? He nodded anyway.
Ezra offered a hand, and Crowley took it, allowing himself to be pulled along by the other man without much thought other than: Holy Fuck he was Touching them, the Hands, they were holding Hands! “Right, let's be on our way, then, certainly don't want to be left without nibbles later. Do you mind?” He gestured to the door with his free hand and a key.
Crowley let go of his hand, “Oh, sorry, er, yea.” His palm was still hot where it had been pressed against the other, a lingering feeling of every ridge and line that he had tried so hard to memorise and holy fuck the strength in them but they were so soft and could he handle this?
He'd better figure out soon, because Ezra was looking at him expectantly, having finished locking up the library. ”Where to?“
He knew places, sure. He knew so many places. Home, the library, er...somewhere else. He knew other places, surely? Nope. Not a single other place came to mind. Where had he eaten lunch that day? What coffee shop had he spent his workday in? Not a clue.
Fuck he was hopeless. “Maybe you could pick, angel?”
Oh that had been the right choice. A smile with that wattage shouldn't be humanly possible. “I like that. Very….sweet. Angel . Right, off we go, been craving something fresh today. Sushi sound good to you, dear?”
Crowley hums an agreement and lets the other man lead him along, mind so far in a haze that he hadn’t realised Ezra had ordered take-away until they were standing in front of a flat with likely some significant historical value. He glanced around, and yea, definitely not a sushi restaurant, this. Where the fu- he heard the jingle of keys.
“Is…this…Is this your home?” he asked, like it wasnt obvious as the man had pushed the door open with an arm swaying heavy with various entrees.
Ezra gave him a look that made him feel like he had missed some Very Important Context at some point, and gestured for him to enter, “Yes? Did you want to go to yours? I certainly wouldn’t mind but we’ve already made it here, or did you have somewhere else in mind? I cant say I’m the biggest fan of the idea of a hotel for the night, but we could make do if you’re truly uncomfortable with this?”
“A hotel? Why would we need a hotel?” Crowley was missing context somewhere.
The look somehow increased in intensity. “For the sex?”
Crowley might self-destruct. He was pretty sure he already had.
“The WHAT?”
“The sex, dear boy. You did proposition me for that, yes? Oh dear. Has there been a misunderstanding? I thought with the visiting so often, and the staring…you also did directly ask if we could, er, ‘fuck.’”
Crowley certainly made some noises. None of them remotely resembling anything in a spoken language. He could feel himself blushing so hard he thought he might pop from the amount of blood that was miraculously not in his groin with that sort of thing coming from the mouth of a literal Fucking angel.
Had he asked if they could fuck? He wouldn’t put it past himself in his typical lack of control over what words actually made it through his lips, but he had been pretty on top of not putting it in his mouth today. He desperately went through the one conversation they had actually had, and no, he had not directly asked.
The angel evidently took this as a bad sign, and his entire demeanor changed, hands pulling at each other and oh fuck it.
“I am absolutely ok with, down for, let’s, yes, Ezra, please, er, ngk... We can do the sex. Yep-” carpe fucking diem -” did you want to…are you hungry, first?” He made a pointed look at the takeaway bags, hoping he didn’t entirely ooze desperation right now, because that would certainly be embarrassing.
“Aziraphale.”
“Wha?”
“My name. Ezra’s just for work. You can use my name,” Aziraphale was already in socks in the kitchen, shoes discarded to a neatly packed shelf in the foyer. Were those ceramic ducks? Had he accidentally gone home with someone’s nan?
He started to remove his own shoes in the doorway, “Interesting name. Biblical yea?” By the time hed set his boots in the one free space available, Aziraphale was standing in front of him again. “Is that a saint or -”
He was cut off, warm lips pressed to his and a wonderfully soft body pushing him back against the still-open door. He nearly sobbed at the feeling of hands running up his chest and into his hair. Oh. Ok, yea, fuck, this was actually happening. He was here and they were kissing and those hands he had spent so long admiring were touching him and pulling slightly at his hair to expose his neck for that delicate mouth to trail kisses along his adam’s apple and it took him until Aziraphale nipped at his collar bone for him to realise that he should really be kissing him back.
The whine that left him as the slight pulling of his hair became a solid tug would, if he werent so fucking turned on right now, usually be embarrassing for him. Right now though, with the presence of Aziraphale so close and so warm and unexpectedly aggressive, that was the furthest thing from his mind. A flicker in the vast expanse of light pollution happening inside him right now, lit up as he was from hands now pulling at his clothes.
Right. Kissing back. His own hands moving for only a moment before they’re grabbed and pinned above his head, an honest-to-fuck growl coming from the man at his throat.
Fuck. Was he into that?
The erection currently being ground against one of the librarian’s thighs said yes even louder than the moan he let out at the pull of muscles from the sudden stretch.
Fuck, he was grinding against him like some sort of pubescent teenager, and Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying it.
“You’re a lot more, mmm-” he nipped at the skin of Crowley’s neck -” vocal-” he followed it up by sucking a mark into the skin with absolutely no concern for whether it’d be visible, and fuck this was hotter than anything he’d expected-” than I’d thought you’d be.”
Crowley whimpered into the mouth that covered his, lips parting easily for the tongue probing his own. He realised anyone could walk by on the street outside and see them here, in the open door, snogging like they were several decades younger than they were. He realised at the same time that he didn’t care and honestly hoped someone would see. See him being ravaged and marked and claimed by someone he had only spoken to in passing, someone who was almost a complete stranger.
Someone with their tongue quite thoroughly exploring his mouth, while angelic hands finally pulled his last shirt button through and slipped it to his shoulders to mouth his way down the red-dusted chest he’d unwrapped. He could feel the tug of skin and sting of marks in his wake. He couldn’t remember being this hard, even in the few times he’d allowed himself to imagine the hands currently dragging him off of the door’s surface so Aziraphale could kick it shut, and hooking into his belt loop to tug him toward the other man as he made his way further into the flat.
Aziraphale seemed determined to not break contact, at least not with his mouth, tasting his way along Crowley’s chest and neck as he pushed him back toward what Crowley assumed was the bedroom, or at least the couch, until he felt the press of solid wood on his back, and the edges of books his newly pinned-again hands. Was he going to be fucked against a bookshelf? Did he want that?
He whined at the loss of contact from that beautiful talented miraculous gorgeous fucking mouth and felt the hand not holding his grab his jaw and force him to look into the other’s eyes.
“Anthony, dearest,” he didn’t remember telling Aziraphale his name, had he told him his name? Whatever, didn’t matter, it sounded wonderful from those lips, even if he didn’t prefer that name,” As much as I love your, frankly, adorable reactions, I’m going to need you to tell me what you want. Is this too rough? Do you have a preference for…later? I am amenable to any position, but I don’t want to make assumptions here.”
The look in the other’s eyes could melt him if he weren’t already putty in his hands. Ferocious desire withheld by a patience and respect and affection that none of his actions since the door had held. Fuck. Okay. Answer the question, Crowley. “Ah, uh. Crowley, please. Anthony was my father.” Wrong question, no one asked that. Get it together. Aziraphale raised a patient brow. “Right. This is good. I like this. Please touch me more? Fucking dreaming about your hands on me for weeks, want you to fuck me. Don’t think I’ll make it if you don’t fuck me, yea?”
Got it out. Didn’t even stutter. Half the words came out questioning but they came out and that’s the important part.
“Good boy. I appreciate communication, dear, so do keep that in mind going forward.” Fuck, did he have a praise kink? Did he have a lot of kinks, actually? He’d never considered himself kinky before but tonight had been one metaphorical slap to the face after another. Was it just Azirphale? It certainly could be. The man was currently staring at him like he was something served at a restaurant Crowley definitely didn’t have the money for, and that was very new for him in the uh…maybe not the bedroom, since they hadn’t quite made it there, but in intimacy?
Aziraphale’s eyes were traveling down, now, to the marks he’d already left, “Oh, dear.” The words themselves carried a very different tone than the starving gaze they were accompanied by, “Did you ask me to touch you more? Do you mean with my hands?”
Crowley nodded, but Aziraphale’s face remained still, with that patient brow up. Fuck. Yea he was a lot kinkier than he had previously thought, ok. Yep. “Please, touch me more -with your hands, Aziraphale.”
He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, his head tilting thoughtfully while a finger came to rest on his chin, the very picture of innocence despite his other hand’s locked hold on Crowley’s wrists. “How?”
Crowley let out a keening whine at the feeling of friction he was suddenly able to get from the thigh spreading his legs. Aziraphale watched him for a moment, then pushed against him so that he was still. “Ah, none of that now, spread them more, yes, thank you. Now, how did I touch you, in your dreams?”
Crowley thought of hands on his neck, his back, his cock, in his mouth and hair and arse, grabbing his skin and clothing, moving him however Aziraphale pleased, fuck, how? How did he put the concept of all of that into an answer? Could he admit to that?
Aziraphale cleared his throat, clearly expecting another spoken answer.
“You…everywhere. Everything. My- hrnnnnnnn,” the thigh shifted against him before pulling away so that a hand could pull at his belt, “My hair, my- fuck, everywhere. Anywhere. However you like, please just, your hands, please touch me with them. Use me how you want just fucking touch me Aziraphale! ”
The absolute bastard had the nerve to chuckle. The fucking audacity. Crowley felt he should be upset, would be, if it weren’t for the granting of his desperate pleas.
“Don’t move these,” Aziraphale whispered against his neck, squeezing his wrists and slipping the hand there down to join the other in removing his jeans. Alright. Yea. He could do that.
It was his turn to chuckle at the rapid change in expression on the other’s face as he realised he wouldn’t be getting into them so easily. The resulting pout directed at him by the end of it was so fucking cute he had to pause his thoughts to remind himself that this was a Casual Encounter and he really shouldn’t be feeling things like the bubbling warmth that came along with that sort of affectionate thinking.
“Need help, angel?” Instant glare. An indignant huff. A very expectant gesture with eyes alone, as the hands were currently busy crossing over a very-much-still clothed chest. Should he be feeling something about that? Other than the intense wave of arousal that was currently flooding through every remaining bit of his mind that had somehow escaped the rising tide. “Can I move these, then?” He wiggled his fingers in a mock wave, still held together against the shelf, rather obediently if you asked him.
Aziraphale nodded. Crowley didn’t move. The other narrowed his eyes, but Crowley just raised an eyebrow in response. Expectant, patient, even. He could have sworn he heard the angle mutter a fuck before he sighed and threw his hands very dramatically above his head. “Fine. Yes. Help me.”
Crowley let his hands fall to his side, but instead of moving to help - which he very desperately wanted to do, mind, he was just having fun now - put his thumbs into his pockets and continued his stare as if to say, yes, and? Use your words. Which he thought was a terribly skillful thing to do without speaking, and the new part of him itching for praise agreed wholeheartedly with the idea of that being recognised.
“Please help me with your trousers, Crowley.” Aziraphale gave in with another pout, and actual fucking puppy eyes.
Fuck. Ok yea. He didn’t expect his heart to beat like that in response, nope. Fuck. Bad idea, don’t feel that. He busied himself with his belt, tossing the snake of a thing to the side for later him to figure out the location of and quickly peeling his legs free of the garment that had dared to make Aziraphale look like that.
“No pants?”
Ah. Underwear. An entirely normal human thing to wear. Nope. None of that for him, got tired of the feeling a few decades before and had just stopped buying them. No regrets now, bc it gave Aziraphale very quick access to everything he wanted him to touch, or at least frustratingly close to it. Not that he had a spare thought to be frustrated, as his mind was currently a maelstrom of hands hands hands fuck hands, and not much else.
Maybe it was the delicious sight of the hand slowly caressing his chest. The flex of it against red hair as it moved to pinch one dusky nipple. Maybe it was the other hand resting at his throat that used his gasp at the pinch to slide two fingers into his mouth.
Either way he was pretty sure every fantasy about those hands was about to be fulfilled and then some. He moaned around the fingers pressed against his tongue and sucked against them with eyes falling closed so he could focus on the feeling of swirling fingerprints and the ridge of scar tissue along one of them. An approving hum came from where Aziraphale was currently using his own tongue to flick against his other nipple, followed by a very sharp nip that had him squirm against the other man.
“Fuck, please, Aziraphale, more? Touch me more.” There was no shame in his begging because that was certainly what it was - begging. Aziraphale didn’t waste a second moving the hand that had been gently caressing his ribcage between scrapes and pinches down, not quite where Crowley was hoping for, but close enough that he felt himself twitch between them.
His eyes shot open as nails danced over his hipbones, and he did his best to catch a glimpse of the pale skin against his soft tan, and oh fuck that was a thousand times better than he had expected and oh, ok, that was a hand on his prick.
His voice didn’t sound like that, did it? Couldn’t, but there wasn’t anyone else in the room as far as he knew and Aziraphale’s mouth was still very busy with his nipples. So was it his voice? Must be. That desperate and loud whine came from him, and he’d never heard that sort of noise from himself before, not even before his voice had dropped in pitch as a much younger man.
The hand he’d been fantasizing about was wrapped around him, fingers dancing in a pulsing wave without moving along the shaft at all, a teasing sort of touch that had him nearly sobbing his next plea for more, even as he did his best to not cum far too early from the contact alone.
“Do you like that? My hand on your cock?” Aziraphale nipped his ear, having left his near worship of Crowley’s nipples to practically growl praise at his whined requests. “Not even stroking you and you’re falling apart, Crowley dear, with such beautiful noises. Will you sing more for me?”
He didn’t give Crowley time to answer, hand shifting down the length and pulling back to the head smoothly with the amount of precome dripping down him. He pushed his thumb to the slit to drag more over the rest of the head and rolled the rest of his palm down the shaft, tightening at the base when Crowley’s hips moved to meet him.
Then he tutted and Crowley nearly fainted from the feeling of nails scraping his scalp as fingers wrapped in his hair to drag him up from where he’d come to rest in his desire to watch. “No no, can’t have that. Stay still or I’ll not touch you again.”
The threat was enough to pull another whimper from him along with his nod. He made it clear to his entire body that if this was going to continue then nobody was going to be doing any moving, thank you, now stay against the shelf like we were told.
Aziraphale seemed pleased with that, fingers loosening from hair and sliding back around to his throat, while the other hand began slow strokes down below, with just enough pressure for him to want to squirm against the movement. A slight push up against his jaw to move his gaze from where it had fallen yet again to the movement of hands-on skin had him making eye contact with a very pleased angel. Had to be an angel, if the way the short-lived glow of headlights reflected through windows lit him up from behind was anything to go by. He glowed, he was stunning, he was absolutely disastrous to Crowley’s health if he kept doing shit like that.
“Crowley, look at me?” Aziraphale let him focus his eyes before nodding and pausing his hand’s movements. “Yes. Thank you. Are you still ok continuing? I’m going to prepare you, I need you to tell me that you still want this, okay?”
Fucking hell that was…such an unexpected but welcome question, and while he didn’t have any doubts the asking of it would have cleared any he would have had, and fuck Crowley focus and answer the damn question. “Yes. Please. Fuck me. Here? Bed? Anywhere I just want you inside me.”
He didn’t think he could ever get tired of that brightening in Aziraphale’s eyes, and the hunger that flooded and darkened them to mostly the black of his pupils wasn’t even up for consideration. Here he was, thinking about it like he’d even see the other man after this. Like that was even an option.
Those hands started moving again and all thoughts of what could be were gone again, replaced by a noise that was definitely vibrating through his thoughts and the air around them, a desperate, needy, “ Yes,” as the fingers previously against his tongue finished trailing down to rub a circle against his entrance.
It took every bit of his willpower to keep his hips still. To keep himself from thrusting into the grip, and then back against the finger that was slowly pushing past his rim. Aziraphale seemed to see it in him and braced his forearm against Crowley’s hip to keep him still, making the feeling all that much worse when Crowley felt the muscles flex against his skin.
“Shh, be good for me, yes, very good Crowley, just like that,” the finger in him rubbed gently against his entrance, not too far just yet, teasing and probing and waiting patiently for him to adjust to the intrusion before slipping out for just a moment after Crowley heard the click of something opening, and had he been carrying lube this entire time?
The answer was solidly a Yes because now the finger was returning slick and easily gliding back into him, caressing along the way and exploring in search of- Crowley was very glad for the fingers now tightly holding the base of him, because the brush of a fingertip against his prostate had him collapsing against the other man, all thoughts of keeping still completely gone from his mind.
He whined at the push of another finger at his entrance, thrusting back against them both as they began moving within him in tandem with the gentle pressure at his front. Strong arms kept him supported throughout while he fell apart in Aziraphale’s arms, bones turning to jelly while the angel held him close, whispering praises in his ear but never quite letting him finish.
And then they were still. Pulling away, the angel leaning him back against the bookshelf and pulling his face so their eyes could meet once more, “Crowley,” he probed, his usual patient stare meeting golden eyes when they finally regained focus, “I’m going to eat you out now, I’m going to need you to turn around. Can you do that? Do you need help?”
Bones as they were, very much in a state of matter far from the desired form, left him nearly collapsing as soon as those hands moved from their places bracing his shoulders.
“Oh, dear. Perhaps we should get you to the bed?”
Crowley whined in protest and somehow found the strength to fall back to the shelf and begin turning himself. Another breathy whine broke free when he felt hands helping at his hips, turning him to face the shelf and moving his own hands to brace himself as he was bent lower with kisses pressed against his spine. Aziraphale followed that path all the way back to his ear to nip at it, “So good for me, wonderful, Crowley, thank you dearest.”
He felt movement behind him and found himself gripping hard the woody grain of the shelf, fingers digging into the tiny ridges and leaving their own as the fingers returned to his hole and spread him so that Aziraphale could lick into him and Fuck. When he said he’d eat him out he’d thought a little rimming or something not the absolute attempt to devour him that Aziraphale was currently achieving extremely well.
His tongue seemed to be everywhere, and where it couldn’t reach deft fingers pushed forward to massage against him and keep him spread wide for the effort that was happening with every bit of Aziraphale’s mouth.
He felt a hum all the way through him at the same time that he realised he hadn’t stopped begging and praising and were these even words coming from him? He felt a hand moving between his thighs to gently massage his balls before wrapping once more around his cock when the fingers helping the tongue inside him decided to grind into his prostate. He didn’t know he could be edged like this but fuck he was definitely into it, and please don’t ever fucking stop.
He felt an actual sob leave him when the fingers stilled, and the tongue slipped out of him, leaving him clenching around the space it had filled with a whimpered, “Please, ‘ziraphale…need you.”
He could hear the other breathing, but not touching any longer, though the sounds of hands over cloth hinted at what he was up to. He could feel the instant Aziraphale stopped to appreciate his work, though, and suddenly Azirphale’s hand was pressed against his lower back, fingers dipping into dimples while his other hand uncapped the lube, “ Look at you. So needy, so desperate for me. What do you need, dear? What can I do for you?”
Crowley pushed his arse toward the hand resting on him, “Please, more, please touch me, fuck, I need…”
The fingers slid down, pulling softly at his cheeks to examine their work before dipping back into him to curve deliciously. “Is this what you need?” Azirphale asked. Crowley could hear him tugging at himself, the slick of lube against what he was debatably craving causing him to clench around the fingers within him and remind himself that he still had those hands in and on him and holy fuck it took everything he had not to cum right there. Maybe the edging was doing something to him, because he had the strong desire to wait for it.
The argument for hands eventually fell off though when he felt the heat of Aziraphale’s cock near his thigh and fuck he was thick and fuck he wanted that inside him, yesterday.
“No, no not fingers please I need you,” he pushed himself toward it instinctively and felt the angel pull away.
The fucking tease. “No, tell me what you need, Crowley,” he moved his hand from inside him to hold his hips still, cock kept far from where Crowley wanted it.
Fine. He’d tell him, exactly what he wanted, every bit of it. “I want your cock, Aziraphale, I want you to fuck me and use me until I can’t think so I never forget the feeling of you inside me, I want you to grab me and tease me and make me cum and I think you could do anything you wanted after that and I’d be perfectly fine with it, give me something to remember you. Please. Just fuck me, angel.”
Silence. Was it too much?
“Crowley…I. Hmm,” Aziraphale seemed less…bright, after that. Shit. He’d fucked it up, of course he had, him and his stupid mouth that he couldn’t ever learn to- “You do know I adore you, yes?”
He what?
“You what? ”
He heard a sigh, “I adore you, Crowley. I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I saw you, honestly, and more. Your hair is such a beautiful color? Your eyes…I didn’t know that shade of gold was possible but you’ve got them and I’ve never seen such a gorgeous color, I think it may be my favorite since meeting you? Your neck…I’ve wanted to decorate for some time. Not to mention how frustratingly adorable you are when you think I can’t see you watching, and. It’s…nice. Feeling you watch me,” Aziraphale had leaned back over him, cock resting against his arse and face pressed into the back of his neck, “I don’t think I’d be comfortable with this being something to remember me, not when I’d like to be more than a memory for you.”
Was that a confession? Crowley moved his face to the side so he could look at the other man, and oh, fuck, it was.
How did he feel about Aziraphale? Did he feel the same? He thought about the time he’d spent watching and oh. Yea. He had grown extremely fond of the little things he had observed aside from the man’s hands: the joyful expressions while he read, the odd dance he did when he would sneak snacks at his desk, the carefully chosen suggestions for every visitor, the care for everything within the walls of the library. Fuck.
“I…me too.” He could barely hear himself, but the angel seemed to understand and pushed through the last remaining inches between them to claim his mouth again, lovingly pressing against him with both his tongue and the head of his cock as he lined himself up and began to push painfully slowly into him.
Was this another form of edging? The incredibly slow grind of Aziraphale inside him, spreading him so softly like he feared breaking him? By the time he had fully seated himself within Crowley had a vice grip around his own cock to keep himself from coming untouched. He felt the delicate play of fingers around his rim once the agonising push had come to a stop, a flutter of movement over his balls as the hand moved his own out of the way to clamp in its place.
“You…are so fucking good for me, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s tone was a caress against his spine where he had come to rest his head, “So tight, so wonderful, just like I imagined.”
Crowley moaned at the thought, though he had been moaning throughout. Aziraphale had imagined this? “What…did you…what did you imagine?” he asked the question around gasped whimpers while Aziraphale’s hand returned to playing around his rim, rubbing himself through Crowley’s puckered flesh.
“I thought about this. Sometimes I’d think about how much I’d like to fuck you against the shelves or have your pretty cock in my mouth in that chair of yours.” He was pulling out just as slowly as he had pushed in now, drawing more noises from Crowley while he softly stroked his cock with his other hand, “Sometimes I’d think about having you there beneath my desk, lips around me while I worked, doing our best to keep ourselves out of trouble but fuck if we were caught? Could you imagine the trouble you’d be in?”
Crowley whined into the bookshelf, only for it to be cut off by fingers pulling his mouth toward Aziraphale’s waiting mouth when he had fully pulled himself to leave just the tip within Crowley. “I’m going to fuck you now, Crowley, okay? Hold on for me, dear.”
He couldn’t get his hands braced fast enough, it seemed, for the slam that accompanied Aziraphale’s kiss. He felt teeth at his lip, his jaw, his neck, biting and scraping along his skin while Aziraphale picked up his pace to punishingly strong thrusts, and oh fuck he was crying but it was so good and he could die like this, yea, he’d be happy to go.
Aziraphale kept a hand around his cock, the other moving back along his sides with fluttering movements until it found its way back into his mouth, wasting no time in moving them both with a particularly harsh thrust against Crowley’s prostate and-
It was all too much for him, and he was coming against Aziraphale’s hand, placed ever so perfectly at his tip to keep it off of the shelf and the books. The pace did not let up in the slightest, and Aziraphale’s “I’m not through with you yet, darling,” as he was left clenching around air while the angel turned him around and picked him up to hold him against his chest while he lined up again.
Crowley knew he was an absolute mess, could feel the tears and cum mixing where they met on his stomach, but Aziraphale was looking at him with such affection that he couldn’t bring himself to care, and then they were kissing again as he felt the other push in. The same pace returned with Crowley bouncing against the angel’s chest, and maybe he should consider cardio bc fuck Aziraphale was still going and it all felt so wonderful that he’d have probably been hard again had he been younger. For now, though, he was nothing but liquid bones against the other man, doing his very best to not slip-slide free to the floor through the gaps in his fingers.
The kissing turned to nips again, turned to panting into the space between his neck and shoulder, turned to another bite, teeth digging in and no doubt drawing blood while he felt his back hit the shelf and the hands supporting him grip him so wonderfully tight and holy fuck Aziraphale was moaning into his flesh while he spilled inside him and it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever experienced.
He felt teeth leave his shoulder after a moment, and Aziraphale’s forehead pressed against his, their breaths mingling in the space between while they both desperately tried to kiss the other but only ended up with an awkward bumping of noses and a shared giggle.
“That…holy fuck,” Crowley would absolutely be back, yea.