AN ~ It’s storming outside and i’m deep in my feelings. Just like the best fic-writing days of yore. Enjoy some sweet, smutty goodness on me. Rated M/E. Established relationship pretty much PWP. ft. food, body worship, and loving on sub!crowley vibes **minor S2 spoilers** Read on AO3 (~1350wd)
Strawberries
Crowley had never cared so much for strawberries in his life as he did when they were pinched between Aziraphale’s fingers.
Then - then he became obsessed with them; or rather, with the way the Angel’s eyes lit up over them, drinking in every perfect ruby red imperfection. Crowley almost wanted to lick his own lips as Aziraphale dragged the little gems one by one through the richest, darkest chocolate sauce, pressed them to his lips and bit down. And then, once, when a stray dollop of chocolate had tried to escape his ravishment and he curled that tongue around his finger to drink it…
A shiver ran through Crowley’s body, and Aziraphale glanced toward him with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
“I’m sorry, dear,” he scolded himself playfully, “how terribly rude of me not to share.”
Crowley narrowed his eyes. Aziraphale knew he didn’t care much for human food, and hadn’t had an iota of interest in sharing over their millenia together. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel the Angel knew exactly what he was doing when he held up a strawberry in offering to Crowley. Like he was deeply aware of the heat in Crowley’s cheeks, and that he very much liked being the cause of it.
“Care for a bite?”
Slowly this time, Aziraphale drew the strawberry through the sauce, but he pressed it to Crowley’s lips instead of his own. (Crowley, whose limbs were offline, because he wasn’t used to his Angel being so forward and he loved it).
Crowley bit down. The strawberry juice danced with the champagne on his lips and the sauce, even he had to admit it added a certain luxury to the experience to which he’d not often dared - or bothered - to treat himself before. Then Aziraphale just as slowly, dragged a finger across Crowley’s chin, where some of it had spilled, and offered that up too. A smile crept onto Crowley’s lips. “Delicious,” he remarked, and Aziraphale preened a little. At this Crowley finally found his fingers and reached out to join their hands - not to feed himself, but to guide Aziraphale’s out of the way so that he could stretch his whole body across the bed and take advantage of the real delicacy of the evening. Aziraphale’s tray toppled, but his hands were already busy catching up, keeping Crowley steady atop him as the kiss overtook them both.
Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s hips and back as Crowley writhed to grasp his favourite parts, desperate to tangle with his Angel’s golden hair and taste his alabaster skin and tussle his shirt beyond recognition all at once. But Aziraphale had other plans, and they’d not paused but a moment to catch both their breaths when he flipped the pair of them over together.
Crowley laughed, a deep, hungry laugh.
“What are you doing, Angel?”
For a moment, dare he say it, Aziraphale almost forgot. Crowley looked so different for a moment; his hair spread out in a shock of red around his face, his cheeks blushing, smiling a free and toothy smile up at his lover. A finger was still crooked in Aziraphale’s bowtie, and he gave it a cheeky tug.
“If I didn’t know better,” Crowley teased, “I’d have to say it does feel an awful lot like you’re trying to tempt me.”
“Never,” Aziraphale protested. “Don’t you know I’m an angel, after all?”
He pressed another kiss to Crowley’s lips, then to his neck, and to his collarbone. Here, he let himself breathe deep. He pressed his nose to Crowley’s skin and let his teeth scrape lightly where he very much intended to leave a mark and Crowley - to his most glorious pleasure, Crowley drew a deep breath too and knotted fingers through his hair and rutted his hips up into Aziraphale.
“That’s new,” he rasped out. Don’t stop.
Aziraphale did not. He pressed back, feeding Crowley with a friction that was growling in his throat. He tugged the blood-red shirt from beneath Crowley’s waistband, and Crowley writhed anew as hidden flesh became electrified with sensation. Blindly, Crowley’s fingers now attempted to help Aziraphale undo the zipper and get a little closer…
“There you are,” Aziraphale whispered as he took Crowley’s cock in his hand, and if Crowley had not been too busy with the stars creeping into his vision he might have seen the way his Angel’s eyes lit up at the sight of him; drinking in every perfect imperfection he held in his ravenous hands. Not just the funny-looking organ itself which was, one might have thought, far too small and odd to wield this much power. Nor just in the demonic parts of him, like the faint scaled texture that snaked around his hips and the way his eyes gleamed golden in the throes of his desire. But perfect imperfection in his whole quivering frame, in the way his belly rose with little gasped breaths even though it didn’t technically need to, and the way he sweated and his skin had started to redden from Aziraphale’s teasing. It was very human, in a way. It was very Crowley.
Aziraphale kissed once more the bruise that he had made.(it was coming along nicely), and then kissed inch by inch a trail as far as he could get down the collar of Crowley’s shirt.
“Angel, Angel,” Crowley softly repeated, struggling to articulate himself with so many nerve endings bursting alight. He tugged at Aziraphale’s curls like a lifeline, and at his own shirt, until the buttons sprang off - or sprang open - he was so far beyond caring - “Oh God, Angel...”
Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “None of that. This is just between you and I, love.” “Ng.” Crowley grunted. He wasn’t really in the mood to be teased, but devil take him he loved it when his Angel flashed some attitude. He was hardly in any position to argue anyway, it had been so long the room was all but spinning and Aziraphale’s hands on him were a welcome anchor. It was a powerful and lusty thing, to be completely at the mercy of his Angel. It was only even more so when this sensory bombardment was suddenly contrasted by the kiss of soft, warm lips on the end of his member. Crowley purred.
“I thought I might…” Aziraphale proposed, and he described what he wanted by taking his lips a little further down the shaft, a little more forcefully, and more exploratory of the tongue, like there was some delicious nuance he was seeking. Crowley moaned and pressed into him, blood quickening at the thought of that teasing smile; that ravenous appetite. He should have known - he had known, he had wondered, he had desperately hoped - that one day his Angel would want to taste every inch of him too.
Aziraphale for his part, took having his face thrust into as a positive sign. He smiled as he made himself drunk on Crowley, kissing and sucking and gorging himself on cock. He wondered, was this what the cheeky little demon had perhaps had in mind, all those years ago, dangling a little piece of richly marinated ox before his virgin lips… It could not possibly have been, but that didn’t mean he ought not take his revenge, and so he ravished his Crowley until his needful hips became uncontrollable and wordless cries began to slip out with every thrust.
“I- I-” Crowley gasped; a warning, a plea. His hands were losing grip on Aziraphale, so the Angel reached up and weaved their fingers together. Impassioned, golden eyes locked on his for a moment.
“Whenever you’re ready, love,” Aziraphale promised. “Let me have you.”
The swell Crowley had been battling finally crashed over him at that. His eyes flickered away to the ceiling and he cried out in the sweet, almighty overwhelm. But he was not alone in the vastness of space, he had his Angel to drink down the taste of him and hold him and kiss him all over every inch until he was spent. When that time came he curled into Aziraphale’s embrace, and they shared another, slower, exhausted and exhilarated kiss.
It tasted like sweat, and joy, and strawberries.