Good Omens: The Bachelor Party (Aziraphale x Crowley)

Chapter Seven: Freedom

***Notes: Hey all! I wasn't sure where this was going, but now here we are. Please note, this is a smut chapter. If you wish to skip it there will be more chapters after this one. I had originally intended this as a small funny fic, but yeah, I think I've created a monster! XD Enjoy!!

***Also, yes, this is probably my longest chapter yet, and yes it is pretty much entirely smut! 

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Crowley pressed against him, rolling his hips, and pried a shuddering gasp from the angel's mouth. Aziraphale had dreamed of it. He'd dreamed of the demon doing that exact thing more times than he cared to admit, and no matter how much he'd lost himself in the fantasy before, it couldn't compare. It electrified his senses, sparking across his skin, and swirled in his belly, awaking a leviathan inside him. He leaned forward, released from the shock, and darted for the demon's lips again. Aziraphale bit, nibbled, and sucked at his lower lip, all the while tasting Crowley's eager skin. Every heated breath from his demon shot quivers down his body. Aziraphale's hands found their way into Crowley's hair. He tugged at the auburn strands, freeing little gasps from Crowley in return.

Aziraphale didn't register that Crowley was leading them anywhere until he stumbled back against the couch. The demon pushed him down, winding his way onto his lap. His hands glided over Aziraphale, exploring skin and ripping away a few buttons in the process.

A very small part of the angel's mind noted that he would need to miracle them back on later.

Crowley's lips found their way to his neck, caressing Aziraphale's skin as though it were soft rose petals brushing over his body. It worked on him like a spell, summoning out secrets he had buried so deep inside until that moment.

Aziraphale shuddered, letting his hands lower and grip onto Crowley's hips with the force of his desire. "I have wanted you for so long, my dear," he panted. "I always wanted you near me: Rome, Pompeii, Tokyo, even...even Cairo, wishing you would do this to me. I wanted you back then, too. For so long." He vaguely felt his shirt open, and Crowley worked the sleeves off of him. Aziraphale leaned forward and rubbed his face against Crowley's shirt. He inhaled the ever-pursuing scent of woodsmoke that mingled with a bittersweetness that reminded him of cinnamon, like the kind he enjoyed on biscuits.

Aziraphale breathed in as his own shirt was tossed away, landing somewhere haphazardly in his backroom. The release from the forgotten garment poured into him a daring freedom, and his fingers surged forward, tugging away Crowley's coat, then they fell onto the buttons of his shirt. Aziraphale's mouth seemed to be working again, spilling more truths that had hidden away in his beating heart. "Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou are more lovely and more temperate–"

Crowley's fingers brushed over his chest, pulling a soft moan from Aziraphale's lips. His fingertips circled the sensitive skin of the angel's nipples. The nubs hardening under his gentle touch. Crowley's words teased out between heated gasps with his eyes locked onto Aziraphale's shuddering body. "My angel, surely, if we are reciting poetry to one another, then you could pick something not so easy." He leaned forward, forcing Aziraphale to pause in his act of removing the demon's shirt. His mouth pressed against the angel, drawing out another gasping beg for more.

Aziraphale shivered as his lips were spread apart by a languid tongue deft at caressing the most responsive places in his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Crowley once more, then hoisted him up, causing him to yelp in surprise as he dropped him onto the sofa. Crowley blinked, glancing around and tried to compose himself from his legs being splayed every which way.

Aziraphale pounced, kneeling over him, and grasped for the confounded buttons once more. "Should I have quoted something from Marcus Valerius Martial instead?" He had always suspected Crowley of influencing that man to create such explicit and vulgar poetry, yet a secret part of him had hoped he'd done just that all while thinking of doing such provocative things with the angel. His half-lidded gaze poured over the demon's exposed body. Crowley still hadn't caught his breath from the fervor of kisses. It made his chest rise and fall in a most delectable way.