The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 7: Draw Me a Map, Angel, with Sign Posts

Chapter Seven: Draw Me a Map, Angel, with Sign Posts

Crowley was stunned. What was this? What did he want?

The angel remained in his kneeling position, waiting and shivering in the cool dusty air of the room, his lovely head bowed, his body just on the brink of climax.

He had pulled away. Very purposefully he had withdrawn and denied himself Crowley's attentions, trembling on the verge but holding his place until the demon directed him further. His blatant display of vulnerability shook Crowley to his core.

To what end was this going? Crowley scrutinized the angel's little ticks, and considered.

He observed the angel smacking his lips, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. The demon edged closer to him to the foot of the bed, and grabbed a water bottle.

Spreading his legs wider and laying the bottle beside him, Crowley reached out thru the distance between them. He was just able to touch Aziraphale's unresisting chin with his thumb and closed palm. The angel received his gaze again.

"Parched, are you?"

Aziraphale's eyes flickered and he let a tiny smile tweak his face before it fluttered away. And without releasing that stare, Crowley proceeded to twist off the cap and speak to him.

"You know, angel, if you're gonna do this sort of thing then we're headed into more verbal territory."

With a pop he flung off the cap and dangled the bottle between them. Then he pushed his thumb into the angel's pillowy mouth and made him form an O with his lips. He placed the tip of the bottle in and fed him, and his angel drank silently, finally letting his eyelids close. Crowley continued to playfully chide him.

"I mean, I know that's going to be difficult, if I have any inkling of where this is heading."

The angel drunk deeper, and Crowley took the opportunity to draw him closer, supporting the back of his head and pulling him further into his lap. Aziraphale rose one hand and cupped it around the throat of the bottle, and he took deeper drafts sucking it out into gurgling non-existence. In all of it he was silent as death. Crowley was turning rock hard just watching his antics. How the hell could he be so vigorous and yet so soundless?

"Listen, stop ninjaing already, and listen to me." Crowley pulled the bottle away and wiped the angel's mouth with the edge of a towel. "There we go. Now, look, just a little chat first, alright? It won't spoil your scene, I promise."

"Alright," Aziraphale said, resting back on his haunches.

Geez, that was hard core. "Um, angel. Tell me where this is going: draw me a map. M' simple one."

The angel's mouth opened, and worked, but nothing came out. Crowley leaned out further and cupped his hand.

Aziraphale's eyes shut tight, his lips puckered together with the attempt to stutter out the rebelling syllables. At last, he spoke, haltingly, "Not sure I can."

"Try me, or I can't try you."

"You.... know how hard it is to...speak about these things. In this way. With you. While they happen."

"I know." Crowley leaned back. His growing smile was edged with dark delight. "You're worshipping me." It was a purr of triumph.

The angel relaxed. He opened his beautiful eyes and twitched his head to his shoulder. "It's what I know," he said almost in apology.

"Can't say I've haven't been the object of worship before," Crowley murmured. "But this is the first time I've witnessed such...adulation."

The angel remained silent.

"You're wide-open, angel."

Aziraphale jerked a nod.

"I'm going to be very careful with you, then."

"Alright."

"At first I thought you wanted me to take you from behind. Good of you to move so slowly with purpose, let me catch up. But," he smoothed his fingers through the angel's hair, and he leaned into it like a kitten," I don't want there to be any misinterpretations."

"Alright."

"Above all else, you are my friend. I don't want to hurt you. So, tell me what you anticipated."

There was such tenderness in the demon's voice that Aziraphale focused. He straightened, and looked off to the side, considering, planning.

"I...suppose," he whispered, then turning back to Crowley," That you would pace around me."

"Stalk you?"

"Inspect?"

"Damn, angel."

"And...help me up...and let me, um..."

"Say it."

"Suck on you?"

"It's alright to say it, angel."

"And after all that, you were going to..." he halted. His tongue betrayed him. He couldn't say it. Plaintively, he looked at Crowley, shrugging helplessly.

"Say it. You can say it."

"Enter me." Spoken so fast, as if the words would evaporate if they weren't expressed in a rush.

There.

The demon folded his arms and sniffed the air. "That wasn't so bad was it. But you've never been penetrated."

"Not really."

"Some ass-play, but nothing hard. Do you trust me?"

"Do I trust my demon?"

"Yeah."

Aziraphale gave him a loaded look: Would I be doing this if I didn't?

"Well, don't."

The angel balked.

"Don't trust me to be a mind reader. If anything doesn't feel right, at any time, you stop me. Guide me like you were before. Maybe you like things a certain way, maybe you don't know, cause it's me."

"Cause it's you."

"New and scary and no, angel, this is your game, for now. So, forget my giant eyes. Got it? Or no deal."

"Not a bad consequence..."

"Or no deal!"

A pause, a curt nod.

Crowley studied him, then grunted, "Alright. Next, we need a safe word. Agape, ok?"

"Agape? Has a certain ring to it."

"Thought you might like that. And when you can't speak," he took the angel's hand and bent his finger into his palm," You press your knuckle in like this, right? Now show me."

Crowley made him repeat the gesture of few times. The he let it go. "Ok, I think that just about covers everything. And now..."

Crowley explained in precise detail what he was going to do to his angel next. Aziraphale's mouth became a thin drawn line, his eyes grew wide, and then shimmered, became a bit unfocused. One side of his mouth ticked.

"So, it agrees with you, then." Crowley kissed his wrinkling forehead, causing him to make a little," Hmilph!" sound deep in the back of his throat. The demon raked his fingers through the downy hair.

"Alright, lover boy," he said so sweetly," All set." Then abruptly, he seized a fistful of that downy hair and wrenched his dear friend's head back, slamming his viperous mouth into Aziraphale's as if he would consume his soul.

The angel just melted...