GOAD Writer's Guild presents: A Bathhouse Pretense
CW/TW: Explicit, sex in public, orgy scenes and descriptions of other men having sex, the exhibitionism/voyeurism that goes with that , wet and messy comeplay things, edging, cockwarming.
Summary: Written for the @goodomensafterdark Valentine's Gift Exchange (yes, it's May, I'm so sorry!! Chapter 1 was posted back then but it has been a journey to finish this one up!) For Zaay-zaay who requested top Crowley in a bathhouse with kissing and maybe cockwarming. To wit:
Aziraphale seeks Crowley out in 38 BC Rome, and finds him in a bathhouse which just so happens to be hosting an orgy. Aziraphale is there to discuss upcoming celestial business, Crowley is there for a good time, but when Hastur happens to drop by, it gives them an (admittedly flimsy) excuse to get close, and then closer still.
First time sex in the back corner bath, canon compliant, much edging, feelings and filth.
Word count: 18k, complete!
Thanks: Good lord! Everyone!! Thanks to Fuzzygoblinoid for the beautiful header art!
Thanks enormously to my three betas on the second chapter: Likeafuckingninja, Gingercat and Natyu0815. Ninja who held my hand for weeks after falling off the writing horse and trying to clamber back on, Natyu for the cheerleading, and Ginger for the very last minute swoop in with some cracker ideas! Thanks also to Fishey_me and FuzzyGoblin for their insanely quick beta on the first chapter!
Thanks also to all the people in the GOAD Writer's Guild chat who have listened to my whining about trying to write part two for literal months! And thanks again to Zaay-zaay for a fantastic prompt that took me a little outside my comfort zone and then being insanely chill about overly long porn and a very long delay!
Excerpt: In the end, he recognises Crowley by his laugh: low and gravelly, but genuine. His hair’s much darker when it’s wet. He’s close to the back edge of the second bath, the hotter one, Aziraphale guesses, judging by the slick of steam shimmering over the liquid. He’s slid down on a low submerged bench so that the water’s lapping at his shoulders.
It suddenly occurs to Aziraphale that he could have found Crowley here in flagrante delicto – plenty of others are. The thought crosses his mind like it’s been scratching to get out of a sealed box, and he only has a moment to unpack it, turn it over, and then push it back somewhere locked away.
Thankfully, Crowley’s being entertained more simply, by a man lying flat on his belly across the floor behind him, a towel covering his buttocks, as he leans close to Crowley’s ear and speaks in hushed whispers. He’s got his fingertips buried in Crowley’s dark hair, half of it amassed in a bun and the rest hanging loose to his shoulders, as he massages Crowley’s scalp. The interloper has white blonde hair drawn back in long curls tied off at the nape of his neck, he looks middle-aged, stocky, the slopes of his back and arse broad and supple.
The blonde says something else that makes Crowley tip his head back and laugh, and the man tightens his fingers in Crowley’s hair, tipping his face back further so he can lean forward and over him, bite at the angle of his jaw from above and then draw back to dangle a bunch of green grapes over his lips.
Crowley plucks one with his teeth and slides back into the water, so that it laps at his chin as he chews. He sees Aziraphale suddenly, surprise making his bright yellow eyes go wide and then his lips smile around the last of the grape juice and he arches an eyebrow.
“Aziraphale!” he says, voice warm and drawled as though the baths and whatever else he’s been up to here have him relaxed, perhaps even sated.
To continue reading head on over to AO3!
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