Gift For: Vic
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley, random/Crowley
Incentives Warnings: D/s themes, bit of BDSM, bit of het, lots of slash
Notes: I tried to include as many of your prompts as I could, so there’s a bit of hurt/comfort, D/s with Aziraphale on top (I loved doing that so much, you just have no idea), and a bit of crying!Crowley. Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy!
Also, thank you to my roleplay friends who have nothing to do with the fandom, but who put up with me going on about this year’s fic, N and H for their feedback, and for our lovely mods who pointed out some editing I needed to do and gave me the chance to do it before it got posted. You guys rock!
Summary: “This strange want, need, whatever it was, went a little deeper than just sex. Crowley almost didn’t want to know how deep.”
“I was wonderin’ when you’d show up. Come on in.”
Aziraphale stepped across the threshold into the manor, and couldn’t help but wonder how much Adam knew about the current situation.
“A fair bit,” he answered as he offered Aziraphale a steaming mug of what appeared to be cocoa. “Not from nosin’ around, mind,” Adam assured him. “He popped by last week. Dunno how much help I was – probably not too much since you’re here now – but I tried.”
“Ah.” Aziraphale took the cocoa and let the warmth seep into his hands for a moment before taking a sip. It was a bit sweeter than he would have liked, due in part to the addition of some peppermint schnapps, but still warming and relaxing on the whole. “What did he tell you?”
Adam waved a hand. “We’ll get to that. What do you have to say?”
“You don’t know?” Aziraphale was honestly curious. He’d never been too sure how much of his powers Adam had retained or how he made use of them. There were hints, but nothing had ever been firmly determined. He suspected Adam rather liked it that way.
Adam settled on the lumpy sofa with his own mug. “I might. But I could still be wrong. I try not to know things I don’t need to. I might want to help without being asked, and that can cause problems. For me and other people.” Like when he’d thought it would be a good idea to tell a classmate that Pepper liked him.1
“Mm. Well.” Aziraphale drummed his manicured fingers against the side of his mug. “Crowley’s been a bit, well, off, lately. Manic, almost, and not in a good way.” The demon did have the occasional odd mood, but moods passed. This wasn’t showing any sign of doing so.
“Seems to me that he’s more than just a bit off if you’re talkin’ to me and not him,” Adam said. He tilted his head at Aziraphale. “Have you talked to him at all?”
Aziraphale frowned into his cocoa. “Er, no. Not for lack of trying. He won’t stay put long enough. He gets around more than I do, always has, but this is more than just fast living. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to live it up before Below came for him. But if he were still worried about them planning something, he would have told me.” He trailed off into silence. Aside from Crowley’s erratic behaviour of late, the thought that there was something wrong that Crowley wasn’t telling him was worrying.
“So, how’s he been ‘living it up?’” Adam pressed.
“Maybe that was a poor choice of words.”
“Because…?” Adam raised his brows and gave Aziraphale his best “patient” look.
For a brief moment, Aziraphale felt the urge to just rattle off everything, down to the tiniest detail. Then Adam frowned and gave his head a small shake, and the feeling passed. “What…?”
“’Living it up’ is a poor choice of words because….”
“Oh, right,” Aziraphale murmured, rubbing his forehead. “Apologies. I think my mind wandered off for a moment there.”
“No worries,” Adam replied, though his expression was just slightly guilty. “Take your time.”
“Well, you’ve seen him. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself much.” Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought. “Something’s…missing.”
Adam was nodding at that, and slouched forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Same thing you’re missing, I reckon. You’re just taking it better.”
“The folks Up There haven’t been bothering you any more than the ones from Below have been messing with him, right?”
“Crowley doesn’t miss that, surely.”
“Not miss, exactly. And not that specifically. It’s…bugger.” Adam ran a hand back through his messy curls.
“What did Crowley tell you?” A thought occurred to Aziraphale, and he blurted, “He doesn’t want to join the Host again…?” His expression was incredulous, bordering on horrified.
Adam laughed. “Nah. He did want to know if either side’s been messing with him somehow. They’re not,” he went on, before the angel could ask.
“Then what is it? Adam, I can guess there’s something he needs, but if you’re going to wait for me to figure it out, I’m afraid we’ll be here all night.”
Adam smiled at the admission. “Best I can understand, it’s like this,” he began.
1. He hadn’t, at the time, fully grasped what he had done wrong. Pepper had been more than happy to explain, punctuating each statement with a punch or kick to some sensitive area. Adam had just been glad she couldn’t bite while yelling at him.
Crowley stepped out of the club’s alley entrance, swaying for a moment before putting a hand to the rough brick wall to steady himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the demon was aware that he could just sober up and be on his way, but it was easier to think when one was sober. He didn’t want to think. He wanted…. Well, in his current state, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. He was, however, aware enough that it wasn’t readily available, and if he stayed drunk, he could at least pretend.
Thirty minutes later, he was in yet another club, of a very different sort. He was more sober than he had been, but not completely. They didn’t let you in if they could tell you were drunk or on something. He pulled against the restraints holding his arms above his head and let out a satisfied hiss as something struck him across the chest, leaving a burning welt.
Aziraphale frowned deeply, turning the empty mug in his hands. “So you’re saying,” he murmured, “that Crowley doesn’t want to be a free-willed demon?” After having operated under the belief for thousands of years that nobody of angel stock got to have free will, he’d had to admit the past few years were challenging that belief. Ineffability again, he’d figured.
Adam shook his head quickly. “He wants that, all right. It just seems to me that he doesn’t much like total freedom. Y’know, at least without having someone on top to tell him he can’t do somethin’.”
Aziraphale coughed into his fist, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Adam, dear lad, do you think you might like to rephrase that?”
“Did I say you could talk, you little snake?” The crop came down again, making Crowley hiss and arch. Its wielder felt she was starting to understand why her client wanted to be called a snake. She couldn’t recall anyone who could bend his spine like that, strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, no less. And it was a refreshing change from “dog.”
“So you think he needs a…supervisor?” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “Do you think I should offer him a job?”
Adam chuckled and refilled their mugs. “You’d really want him working in your shop?”
“Er. Well, no,” he admitted. “But if he needed something that badly, I think I could manage. For a time. So long as he didn’t touch anything.” Crowley could dust.2 Maybe.
“Anything but you?” Adam suggested, all innocence.
Aziraphale choked on his cocoa.
2. Adding to the dust, that is. Aziraphale had no intention of making his shop look inviting. A person could end up with customers that way.
Crowley writhed. Go-- Sa-- Fuck, it was good. And judging from the leather-clad hand on his cock, it was about to get even better.
“You want this?” The hand moved, giving him a few quick, firm strokes before picking up a soft feather. “You may answer.”
Crowley shuddered and let out a quiet moan, arching as the feather teased the head of his cock. “Yesss,” he hissed.
“You want me to take this,” she purred as she stroked him again, “and milk you? Touch you until you can’t stand it anymore?”
She’d be doing that for a while, some detached part of Crowley’s mind observed. He smirked. “If you—ah! If you think you can.”
The grip on his aching cock tightened. “Ask nicely, and I’ll consider it.”
“Ngh. Please…,” he whispered, then groaned when he felt a ring being fitted snugly at the base of his cock.
“That’s better, but I think you can do more.”
“Didn’t mean it quite like that,” Adam said. “But y’know….” He trailed off thoughtfully.
“What?” Aziraphale looked up again, still blushing.
“Well, it might be important. I dunno. Do you know what he’s been up to?”
“Not precisely,” he admitted. “I know he’s been going out more than usual. Every night, recently. Sometimes, I don’t think he even goes back to his flat. I can hardly catch him for lunch anymore.” And Crowley hadn’t given him an invitation in ages. “Do you know?”
Adam chewed at his lip, considering. “Well…you’ve both paid a visit now, and Crowley doesn’t seem to be gettin’ anywhere on his own. Here’s what I can tell you….”
Crowley trudged into his flat, leaving a trail of clothing on the floor as he headed to his bedroom. He just couldn’t get what he needed from a human. He liked them in general, but after being on Earth for a few thousand years, it was hard to be intimidated by them, even if he wanted to be. They had imagination, to be sure, but when you’d paid a professional in a controlled setting, despite the dungeon trappings, you were still in control.
He sat heavily on the edge of his large, modern, and very much neglected bed and rubbed at his face as he went over the end of his session again.
“Say it. Just two little words.” Her hands were relentless, expertly applying pain and pleasure in turn, until it all blended together so well he didn’t even know what he was feeling.
“Please, M-m-m….” He couldn’t make himself say it. She was good, there was no denying it, but she could hardly be said to have mastered him. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, exhaling one single word.
He grimaced at the memory. He wasn’t ashamed that he’d used his safeword. It was more…disappointing. Frustrating. Crowley frowned and tried to imagine if he hadn’t. Same result, really, just with a climax beforehand. He sighed and lay back on the cool sheets.
He needed to talk to Aziraphale. Should have talked to him months ago. That’s what Adam’d thought, at least. Crowley growled into the darkness and covered his eyes with an arm. Easy for him to say. What was he supposed to do? Go up to the angel and inform him that, yes, he knew he’d been out of sorts and thought it might make him feel better if Aziraphale did more than his usual thwarting? Something closer to smiting, perhaps? And while they were on the subject, mention that a twist of that sort in the bedroom might be nice, too?
Crowley snorted and shifted around to slither under the covers, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as his unsatisfied prick brushed against silk. He gave the tented sheet an accusatory look, as though the entire thing was its fault. He wished it were. He was comfortable with kinks. Had a fair amount of experience with them, in fact. He was always happy to suggest something, if for no other reason than to see the angel’s face go pink, a delightful contrast to the not-quite innocent smile that would follow. But this strange want, need, whatever it was, went a little deeper than just sex. Crowley almost didn’t want to know how deep.
He shook his head and kicked the covers off, one hand snaking down to curl around his cock. Distraction. That’s what he needed. It’d go away eventually, he reasoned, firmly pushing back the thought that he’d been waiting for it to go away for some time now.
Aziraphale stepped into the bedroom, taking care to not wake the sleeping demon. He frowned thoughtfully, not altogether certain of his plan, and stopped that train of thought before it could leave the platform. It wasn’t going to go well if he was showing doubt. And if he were truly honest with himself, the idea was more than just a little appealing. He hadn’t brought it up himself because he thought Crowley might find the idea of him in this position, wanting to be in this position, as unlikely as he had thought Crowley wanting the opposite.
His lips curved into a rather unangelic smile as he moved toward the bed. It was nice to know that even after all these years, they could still surprise one another.
Crowley awoke to the feeling of something tickling slowly down his spine. He grumbled drowsily into a pillow and started to reach back and scratch at whatever it was, but his arm didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Figuring he’d slept on it, he decided to roll over instead, and found he couldn’t do that, either.
Yellow eyes flew open and Crowley, now most definitely awake, began to struggle for all he was worth. At least, that was his intention. A cold terror began to seep into his chest as he realised that he was not simply bound; he couldn’t move. He could clench his fists and curl his toes, but his arms and legs were leaden. Dead weight. Before he could well and truly panic, warm fingers slid under his chin and tipped his face upward.
For a moment, Crowley could only stare. Then he blinked once. Twice. Finally, he choked out, “You!”
Aziraphale smiled down at him and slid his hand into Crowley’s dark hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before making a tight fist and yanking Crowley’s head up higher. “You will address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master.’ Do I make myself clear?”
Crowley swallowed hard. Either Aziraphale somehow knew, had gone insane, or he was in a world of trouble with the angel. Maybe all three. The fist in his hair tightened in warning, making him wince and focus on the question at hand. His cock twitched.
“Good.” Aziraphale released his hair, letting Crowley’s head drop. He walked around the bed as he continued speaking. “You needn’t speak unless I’ve asked you something. You needn’t do anything unless I’ve told you to.” As an afterthought, he added, “You can beg, if you like.”
Crowley craned his neck to follow the angel, almost wanting to laugh. ‘You can beg, if you like.’ True, Aziraphale knew better than anyone (besides Crowley himself, of course) how best to reduce him to a quivering mess of need, but to date, the begging he’d forced from Crowley had consisted mainly of gratuitous swearing and the occasional ‘please.’
Aziraphale met his eyes coolly, a faint smirk playing about his lips. “Do you understand?”
It occurred to Crowley that maybe, just maybe, he ought not press his luck this time. “Yes. Sir.”
“Eyes forward, then.”
Crowley lowered his head back to the pillow, his mind spinning. At least he knew what direction things were heading. He relaxed slightly. Aziraphale had probably got another misplaced delivery from the shop next to his, and he’d read a bit for ideas before sending the books over. Nothing to worry about. That was a disappoi—er, relief.
Crowley sighed and turned his head to see what he’d been tied with and to figure out why he hadn’t woken during. His eyes fairly bugged out as he noted the runes glowing on the wide silk ribbon bound to his wrist. A quick glance to the other side revealed the same. Holy script, not meant to harm or inflict pain, but more than capable of keeping a lesser demon immobile. He didn’t need to look to guess that his ankles had been bound with the same. Crowley blessed silently and pressed his face into the pillow. He hoped there wasn’t a matching ribbon wrapped around his cock.
“I think you understand your position now, dear boy,” Aziraphale said. “You won’t be going anywhere until I decide to take those off. Oh, and one more thing,” he added, tracing a sigil in the middle of Crowley’s back.
Crowley gasped as he felt something like lightning zip through his wings and wrap around them, keeping the hidden appendages bound within the shell of humanlike flesh. He pushed against this new restraint experimentally, trying to unfurl his wings. The electric sensation spread outward to tingle over his entire body, making him acutely aware of every inch of sensitive skin, from the soles of his feet to the tips of his ears to his now very interested prick. He squirmed against the bed as best he could and wished he’d opted for coarser bedding.
Aziraphale smiled, pleased, and moved to kiss Crowley’s ear. “Your safeword?” he whispered.
Crowley hesitated, and then shook his head. He wondered how far the angel would take this. What other toys he’d brought. He shuddered suddenly. Holy water?
Aziraphale bit down on the cartilage, dragging Crowley’s attention back to the present. “Safeword. Or this ends now.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “I am going to do so much to you, and you’ll want it. You’ll beg for it. But there is a line, somewhere, and you’re the only one of us that knows where it’s drawn. I am not going to risk crossing it simply because you want to see whether you can handle it.”
Crowley wanted to protest, but what little sense he had left prevailed. Or he’d just lost the last of it, whichever. He whispered a word and suddenly Aziraphale’s lips were pressed roughly to his, his chin held still in a tight grip as a hot tongue slipped into his mouth. He let out a helpless moan, a shiver running down his spine at the angel’s answering chuckle.
Aziraphale pulled away and gave Crowley a beatific smile as wings the creamy colour of aged parchment spread from his back. Without thinking, Crowley attempted the same and let out a sharp cry as the binding on his own wings reminded him of its presence. He stared up at the angel as he caught his breath. Was it just him, or had it been stronger that time? It had definitely lasted longer.
Aziraphale just kept smiling and walked back toward the foot of the bed, the feathers of one wing dragging along the length of Crowley’s helpless form. The demon twitched and sighed. It was almost soothing, the way those soft feathers glided over his skin: cool velvet over heated flesh. The wing withdrew before he could get much more than a taste, and Aziraphale whispered some unintelligible word.
Crowley found himself up on his knees, arms stretched above him. He couldn’t struggle any more in this position than he could the last, though he was able to manage a kind of serpentine undulation that would put a belly dancer to shame. It was, on the whole, markedly unsatisfying.
“Now there’s a sight,” he heard as the mattress dipped behind him. Fingers traced around the ribbons on his wrists and slid down his arms as Aziraphale pressed against his back. If Crowley had any doubts as to whether the angel was enjoying this, they were rather firmly put to rest. “Maybe I should have a more permanent set made. Then I could have you however I like, whenever I like.”
The very thought made Crowley moan and push his hips back.
Soft lips kissed down the side of his neck as wandering fingers found his nipples, stroking lightly at first, then pinching and tugging hard. “Something stylish, of course,” Aziraphale went on, as though oblivious to the noise Crowley was making. He paused to bite at one shoulder. “Tartan, perhaps?”
Crowley’s answering groan let Aziraphale know just what he thought of that idea. The angel laughed softly against his skin and ran teasing fingers across his chest, down his flat belly, and up and down the creases of his thighs, just barely brushing his balls.
The unexpected pain made Crowley freeze, open-mouthed. He could scarcely believe what had happened. He wouldn’t believe it except his prick was still tingling from the slap Aziraphale had delivered. “A-Aziraphale?”
He cried out that time, struggling futilely as Aziraphale roughly massaged his stinging cock.
“Next time, it’ll be your head.” The statement was punctuated by a firm squeeze that dissolved any mistaken notion that Aziraphale was referring to the one on his shoulders.
Crowley nodded, taking a few deep breaths before answering. “Yessssir.”
He licked his lips and cast his gaze downward, watching the cruel hand that was still kneading his prick. Despite the pain, he hadn’t gone soft at all – in fact, he thought it might be harder, if that were possible - and he could feel every horrible, wonderful touch that much more keenly. “Please….”
“Patience, dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured as he moved around his captive to bite at his throat.
Crowley tipped his head back and whimpered, writhing in his bonds as the angel kissed and licked and scratched and stroked every bit of skin he could reach. His voice grew higher, needier, cracking as Aziraphale put to good use years of acquired knowledge of sensitive spots and how to best exploit them.
“Please, Az—Sir!” he corrected himself quickly. “At least let me move. Fuck, please. Dispel something.” It wouldn’t be quite so bad if he could grab something, touch something.
“You can move these, if you really try,” Aziraphale told him, pressing close as he raked his nails down the demon’s back.
Crowley hissed and pushed his wings once more against the invisible chains, and felt a bit of give, but the resulting shock made him fold them back. It was stronger, and the pulse of energy ran over his body in waves. He couldn’t tell whether it was pleasure or pain; it was just sheer, overwhelming intensity. He howled and struggled, tossing his head and clawing at the empty air.
“What the fuck is that, angel?” he demanded, once he’d gotten his breath back.
Aziraphale silently withdrew.
He heard a soft scraping sound, then a ruddy, flickering light filled the room, casting shadows that writhed on the walls. Crowley was wondering which shadow was his when a sharp sting and burst of heat washed over his shoulders, wrenching a startled cry from his throat. He was struck again, the force of the impact making his skin tingle. The heat did little, physically, but offer a contrasting sensation that made him want to both relax and arch into the warmth at once. But the soul-deep pain that rushed in on its heels made either impossible, and he knew just what Aziraphale had brought.
It was a bit more than just “very impressive” from his current point of view.
There was no pattern as the flat of the sword hit him again and again. Or if there were, it was so damned complicated, he couldn’t find the end of it. Crowley tried to brace himself for a strike that wouldn’t come, or it would be somewhere he wasn’t expecting. He tensed his shoulders and his thigh was struck. He held his breath, awaiting the next, his eyes clenched shut and his nails digging into his palms, and instead a hand caressed his skin, a soft mouth kissed and lapped at the still-stinging welt, and he was made to sigh and moan despite himself. It was those moments of cruel mercy that made the following blow all the more devastating, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming.
A second later, he screamed anyway.
“I did say it would be your head, my dear,” Aziraphale told him, and set the sword aside to bend and lap at Crowley’s throbbing cock.
He was gasping for breath now, forcing air past an odd tightness in his chest. This was Aziraphale. The only person he felt he could really trust, and he was doing…. Well, exactly what Crowley had wanted. He was completely at the other being’s mercy, and he was close, in more than one way. Crowley made a helpless sound and hid his face against his arm, his eyes stinging.
“Please.” His voice was hoarse now, with a pleading, desperate edge, as his body danced to Aziraphale’s unpredictable rhythm. “I can’t-- I need-- It’s too much.” Crowley’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. “Master, please.” The angel had bloody well earned that one.
Crowley forced his eyes open and met Aziraphale’s, holding his gaze despite how everything in the room had gone blurry. He drew in a shuddering breath, ready to plead for mercy, and Aziraphale swiftly took his cock to the back of his throat, one hand fondling his balls. Crowley arched as far as he could, writhing and making inhuman cries and moans. It didn’t take much; he came with a sharp yell that cut off as his wings burst through their bonds, overwhelming his senses with the last of the sigil’s pent-up energy. For a small eternity, he was perfectly still, not even breathing. It sizzled across over-stimulated nerves and multiplied the sensation of the angel’s hot mouth to an unbearable peak.
He’d thought it’d been too much before. That was nothing. Time started again, and he sucked in a lungful of air, intending to shout so Aziraphale would be damn sure to hear him, but all that came out was a hoarse, stuttering whisper.
Aziraphale heard him anyway, and swiftly dispelled the runes holding him. He caught the demon in his arms and intended to lower him to the bed, but Crowley’s shaking arms wrapped tightly around him and wouldn’t let go.
“Crowley? Crowley, are you all right?”
Crowley nodded against his shoulder, though he couldn’t seem to stop trembling.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale tried again, and cupped his cheek so he could turn Crowley’s head toward his. He stared at the demon for a moment, and kissed him softly. “Oh, Crowley….”
“Not in the mood to talk right now, angel,” Crowley said in a rough whisper. He closed his eyes and gave a little shudder as Aziraphale wiped his cheek. He knew he had to be a mess.
“Did I--?” Aziraphale bit his lip to cut himself off.
Crowley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could practically hear Aziraphale dithering. “Didn’t hurt me,” he murmured. After a pause, he added, “Needed it.”
“You could have just told me,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a little unexpected, but really, my dear.”
“Told you what?” he asked, getting drawn into conversation despite himself. “That I’d like to be thwarted a bit more roughly than in the past?”
Aziraphale smiled and ran his fingers through Crowley’s damp hair. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Crowley gave a sobbing sort of laugh and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Idiot.”
“Is that any way to talk to your master, dear boy?” he teased, then sobered a bit. “Adam said freedom isn’t agreeing with you as well as you’d like.”
Crowley made an expression akin to someone who’d just been served wine from a box. It was still an idea that he didn’t like to think about. “Thought my people might be ‘messing me about,’ as he puts it. But they’re not, and yours aren’t, so it’s me.”
“Is that really a bad thing?”
“I guess not,” he admitted. “Do you reckon—I mean, can we come up with some sort of extra arrangement? Not a full-time thing, but maybe…something?”
“We’ll figure things out, I’m sure,” Aziraphale said. “I think…you don’t want a short leash, more…you just want to know someone you can trust is on the other end.”
Crowley blinked as he thought about that. It wasn’t a bad metaphor. “That’s…yeah.”
“Adam’s idea,” he explained. “That hell-hound of his, er, former hell-hound now, I suppose, came in while we were having a chat. He tried to do something rather indecent to my leg.”
Crowley snorted. If that was indecent, he wondered what they just did counted as. Blasphemous, probably, and that wasn’t even counting the kink. “Sounds like we owe him.”
“Yes, well. I’d really rather not have to discuss this with him again.”
Crowley smirked and rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “We can have him join in sometime, then.”
“Do I need to get my sword?”
Aziraphale just pulled Crowley to lie down with him on the mattress, a gentle smile spreading over his face as the demon pressed closer to him. Crowley raised a brow at Aziraphale’s poorly muffled gasp, and pushed his leg between the angel’s, snickering softly at how he squirmed.
“Isn’t that rather indecent?”
Aziraphale blushed. “Crowley….”
Crowley shook his head. “You should’ve mentioned that.”
“I can wait,” Aziraphale said, intercepting Crowley’s wandering hand. “Later, when we’re both rested.”
He thought about arguing, but he was tired and, though he hated to admit it, feeling a bit…fragile. Crowley suspected Aziraphale knew it, too, what with the way he kept cuddling him and stroking his hair and (oh, that felt nice) his wings. Later, he promised silently, and allowed his angel to lull him to sleep.