The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 5: The Sex Talk

Chapter 5: The Sex Talk

Crowley had meant the act to be gentle.

He had anticipated with growing pleasure the feel of the angel's soft lips, kissing him gently on the edges of his mouth, by his ears, the creases near his FUCKING GORGEOUS NOSE, feeling the urgent but controlled response as Aziraphale pressed back, parted his lips, and relinquished to the demon's touch.

That had been the plan, anyway.

Instead, he had careened into him with the full slamming impact of a feral bulldozer hopped up on pheromones. This was not what he intended.

But it's what they got. And it had stopped them both.

And then, the angel tumbled back in his chair, boggle-eyed, and Crowley descended with him, sliding down to the floor and right back at his friend's knee as the angel was blessedly released.

So began the torrent.

Crowley splayed his fingers and pressed the tips firmly against the angel's chest as Aziraphale leaned forward and went from clenched teeth to hollering then wailing.

The poor creature was nearly doubled over but for the bracing of Crowley's hand. He buried his forehead into the angel's shoulder and his friend took the support desperately and laid all his weight into him, still crying out.

The pitch of his voice rose, nearly screeching now, a broken dam of tears slicking his contorted face and washing Crowley in a torrent of stinging angel waterworks. The demon's hands released him, turned to fists, and he wrapped his arms above Aziraphale's shoulders while his body was racked by the besiegement of stimulation.

Aziraphale gave one last choked bark, and then he collapsed, sobbing.

Crowley held him, his growing yellow eyes nearly popping out of his head. Weirdly he found himself smoothing his fingers over the angel's hair and making shushing sounds. After a few moments the tremors stopped and the angel started to breathe slowly, but raggedly.

Crowley pushed away and gently studied him. "Mmmm...Feel better?"

The angel's eyes were closed once more. His lips became a thin line and he nodded his head several quick times.

"Better isn't the best word," his angel struggled.

"Lay some metaphors on me then, bookkeeper."

He waited while Aziraphale gathered his bearings to speak. "I am laid bare. I am like a book slammed open till the spine cracks," this was hissed thoroughly clenched teeth," and all the pages ripped away!"

"Good then?"

"Can I do this again?"

"As many times as you like. As many ways as you like."

"Oh, I am doomed!" The angel was utterly spent. His head rested against Crowley's now, and very soon they both became aware of an emerging situation.

"Um, Crowley?" he heard the angel venture quite tenitively.

"Yes, angel."

"I suspect...I may have sullied the temple of my celestial body."

"You came, angel, that's what it's called. And you're right. On your clothes, and the chair, and me. Quite possibly the rug. Let me help you upstairs. I've got this."