Chap 11: The Best Performance of the Angel's Life Part Two

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Chap 11: The Best Performance of the Angel's Life Part Two

Aziraphale came closer and grabbed his chin.  His tone lowered to a whisper, his face yielded for a brief second back to its default tenderness. "Agape, sweet boy?"

Crowley remained perfectly unchanged. Silent. Readying himself.

The angel nodded understanding, and returned to his performance. He shoved Crowley's head away in the other direction. It didn't hurt him, but it didn't have to. Words were doing the trick.

"Turn away from me, Crawley!"

Crowley drew up his knees and turned his back to the angel. Squatting until he lowered down on his rump, he leaned away, his legs now folding on either side of him like broken wings. The full weight of his body rested on his arms as he placed his palms on the sheets. 

Quietly, he waited to hear the sound of the angel undoing his pants, and then the feel of his weight lowering onto the bed. The springs creaked with his angel edging closer.  Crowley's breathing quickened, his head began to pound, along with his heart. Blood rushed through his veins in a near deafening roar.

And then the press of the angel's good coat was against his back, and Crowley seized.

Leaning hard into his flesh was the sharp coolness of the angel's buttons, the smell of him, and then the feel of his hard shaft placed between the demon's shivering glut muscles.  Crowley fought for control of his own body, trying to stay perfectly still. With Aziraphale reclining into him it became a losing battle. 

Aziraphale's hand came from behind and grasped Crowley's neck in the front.  Now his nose was pressed against Crowley's gaunt cheek. The demon stifled a shuttering little noise, staying silent, but with the angel's hot whisper in his ear he did whimper.

"I mean, look at this neck, for example," the angel hissed.  "So long, elegant, and the face...the eyes." The angel's fingers rose to his chin and he turned Crowley's face enough so he could see a bit of his profile in the broken light. "You can't hide what you are, serpent.  The only thing remotely un-snaky is your skin."

Now the hand smoothed over his shoulders, his wiry limbs. Crowley's mouth fell open.  "So smooth. Not at all what you'd expect." The hand moved around to the demon's lap, and Crowley glared straight ahead, his eyes bulging. Aziraphale petted him, gripped him at the base and rose his hand up and down the shaft.  The demon swallowed hard.

The angel applied more pressure. "I wonder if your flesh is the same throughout," Aziraphale removed his explorations and raising his hand to Crowley's face, splayed his fingers and held them before his steady gaze.

All the moisture left Crowley's mouth as he watched a leather glove materialize on the angel's outstretched fingers.  White calfskin, and slowly, little pointed stiff rubber studs popped up and spread throughout the surface.  "How soft is your flesh, snake?  How bendy and malleable are you? Answer me."

Crowley swallowed hard and tried to form words.  His voice came out in a whisper.  "I can bend as much as you require. My flesh...yields with as much force as you p-put to it."

"Hmmm, good answer, Crawley, but why don't we put it to the test?"  Crowley began to shake violently.

Again, there was a sudden shift, a gentle pause. While the hand remained in the air, it lowered from Crowley's face.  The hissing in his ear was replaced with a gentle query.

"Agape yet, my dear, dear friend?"

Crowley shook his head.

"Ol-right then." The hand slammed down on Crowley's shaft, and pulled.  He screamed.

Aziraphale slowly raked the glove over and over again. He squeezed the head and manipulated it. "How deceitful you are, you little cobra," he chided as the demon was sent into a series of bodily spasms, crimson tears at last releasing from his enormous eyes. "This is hard as a rock. It doesn't give."

He gripped harder and Crowley let out a shout that lingered into a whimper as the angel lessened the pressure and playfully stroked him from base to tip.  He began rocking him a little as he did. 

Clear liquid began to bubble out from the top, and Crowley emitted a helpless kind of growl. "Oh, would you look at that, it does in fact give.  But we're not done yet.  You can't do that yet.  I know you want to, you lust-crazed thing. But we're not finished."  

He released the demon and Crowley inhaled a huge breath of air, his mouth agog at the lingering sensations.  But the angel didn't give him time to linger in his ecstatic delirium before he clutched the demon's glut muscle with the glove, making him cry out louder. "Raise up!"

Crowley rose up to his knees, the tears flowing now, his eyes at last diminishing but steaming from the expelling of tears.  "Let's try something else.  Let's see how soft you really are, inside."

But before he was made to do anything else, he felt a gentle touch on his hip. He slightly turned, and in the muted light caught Aziraphale's inquiring gaze, felt the naked skin of the angel's fingers where once the glove had been. He was trembling on the verge and still the angel asked "Agape?"

The word was so fucking loaded with meaning.  Crowley merely shook his head and turned away, readying for the next stage.

The glove reappeared and he was guided over the angel's lap, hovering while his friend pressed the head of his penis near his anus.  The angel pulled him down further until he could feel the slow and steady penetration filling him up.  He grew rigid as the angel drew him all the way down his shaft and left him to the fullness of the invading obstruction.

Aziraphale was very quiet, very still, losing himself in the feel of Crowley's entire rectum tightening around him.  It awakened something inside him, something new and strange. "You feel so indescribable.  So beautiful...hungry. Are you hungry? Answer me."

Crowley swallowed hard," So hungry." He contracted. Without lube he was on fire, but he didn't care.  He was completely staked thru, his muscles responding and complying to the shaft's residence inside him. 

Aziraphale's voice rose," Then let's feed the hungry snake!"

Suddenly he put his arms under Crowley's and wrenched all the way back at the shoulders, spreading Crowley out into a tormented stretch.  "My, you are bendable.  Look at that. Your chest looks so taut it could very well burst."

In his agony Crowley made a strangled whimper. The angel dropped an arm to free the gloved hand and strummed slowly over Crowley's now sweat-soaked chest.  It sent waves through his stretched muscles and tendons, and he became a quivering instrument the angel plucked at. Aziraphale pulled away his hand and yanked the arm back once more.

"I'm going to pump you like a water cannon, my dear little tart," Aziraphale promised, rising and slamming down Crowley and forcing a terrible holler out of him," and you will sing for me." Again. Then again.  Crowley's cries shook straight thru his core. "We will find out if a snake sings as sweetly as a nightingale, when I'm through with you, they will be nothing left."

                The demon emitted a little strangled sound, but there was no "Agape" in the utterance.  Pressed up against his cheek Crowley could feel the angel's skin draw back.  He was beaming.

                "Good boy," he praised, "Now, here we go!"

                Again, now a rhythm was starting, with Crowley following the angel's locomotion as if hypnotized. And wrenched down over and over, speared through as if his very brain was being penetrated, Crowley obeyed with every fiber of his being:

                "AAAUUUUGGHHHHH!!!"

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