The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 71: A Gesture of Love

Chapter 71: A Gesture of Love

Crowley paused, in the middle of slicing a limequat. "Are you all right?"

"Yes! But—" the angel was panting. Crowley leaned his wrists on the counter, the paring knife in one hand and the fruit in the other. Aziraphale tasted the heavy scent on the air he inhaled. He was shaking.

"Enough?"

"A moment, Crowley! Mercy!"

The angel heard a soft clatter as the knife was placed on the table. Crowley regarded him, inspected him, had enough sense to put down the fruit and wipe his hands before he leaned into the poor angel's trembling face. He hovered there, letting the blind creature whimper as he felt him but a few inches away. "Too intense? Too fast?"

"Can't go any further!" Oh, the demon's smelled drenched in the citrus melody! Crowley pulled away, but the angel's aching hand finally released from the table leg, flashed up and grabbed his sleeve. "No, I mean...oh God in Heaven, Crowley! You were right!"

The demon froze where he was, his eyes casting between his sleeve and Aziraphale's twisting expression. Listening to the angel heave for breath, he ventured, "Oh, I see. You're just....ready."

"Yes! Please!"

"Primed. Now, didn't I tell you this was better?"

"Please, Crowley! I'm so close—"

The demon launched at him, and slammed his mouth into his. Then he came around, drew him up, and worked the kiss longer. He pulled away, leaving the angel hanging, whimpering. "Don't get me wrong," he laughed low, pressing his warm palm into Aziraphale's groin, "I'm taking full advantage of this." He undid the angel's pants, and slowly drew him out.

"I can't hold on!"

"You will hold on. But you'll come. I won't let you get away with not doing that."

He gently encompassed the head of Aziraphale's erection with his fist, and pressed his thumb into the eye. A muffled holler escaped the angel's lips.

"In fact, I'm going to work you long and slow. Might even walk away for a few minutes and come back."

"Oh, please, Crowley, please!"

"So, you tell me now, or you tell me when you're ready: Agape?"

The shivering angel closed his eyes, scrunched his face so tight. But after that, he shook his head. "No. No Agape. Not yet!"

Crowley slid his hand down the shaft, and squeezed slightly. "Keep the lines open."

"Yes!"

Crowley yanked off his own pants. He flicked at the angel's vest, listening to him yelp with each flicker of his piercings. "God, you are so beautiful like this."

"Help me!"

"Agape?"

"No, no, no! Work me, if you must," the angel pled. "But not that! Not yet!"

"Lines stay open."

"Lines stay open!"

"Good."

Aziraphale heard a snap, and was suddenly a little chilly. His eyes popped open, and he wildly took in the scene, with him in it.

All the, um, "game pieces" disappeared, supposedly to their original hiding places and in their original states. On one of the counters his complete attire rested neatly folded next to Crowley's frumpled pile of clothing. That made him look down, and right back to Crowley. The mark on his chest blazed.

The demon returned the look unwaveringly, then kissed him, and pushed him down and onto the table.

Crowley's slight weight bore down as he ravaged the angel's face, then he pulled his legs up over his thighs, and ever so slowly, entered him raw. As he did, he manipulated his penis and scrotum, painfully slow, purposefully slow, rattling him to his core.

Then their bodies rocked with the languid rhythm. Aziraphale wanted to scream.

But Crowley continued the slow pace, kissing and caressing him all over. And he did as he promised. He pulled out and walked away, and came back, each time pushing the angel into sheer torment. But each time he inquired if it was too far, and Aziraphale shook his head.

On the fourth time, Crowley leaned against the wall, and smiled.

"Nearing the final edge, my love?"

His poor angel nodded his head, his body drenched in sweat, his erection oozing.

"Agape?"

"If you try this a fifth time!" Aziraphale panted. "Yes!" He was practically stammering, touching himself and near weeping.

And with that he suddenly felt the demon embrace him. "Finally!" he heard hissed in his ear, his legs hiked up once more. Crowley smothered him with his wet wide mouth, sucking on his piercings, lingering along his neck and chest as he started to writhe. And then Crowley pushed into him for a final time, and slowly pumped him. It wasn't long before at last he climaxed, so hard and so loud Crowley snarled, and covered his hollering mouth with his own as he came along with him.

When they were done they collapsed, their mouths gapping until they had to swallow for moisture. Crowley pulled up and smoothed his fingers along the angel's slick brow, and repeatedly kissed him as his chest rose and fell beneath him.

"So beautiful, my angel," he heaved. Aziraphale's smile stretched ear to ear, his eyes brimming.

"I should think I resemble a butter glazed chicken."

"Oh, no. Not one bit." Another deep kiss. "Just...shining."

"Your cheap flattery," the angel laughed lightly.

"Not so, precious creature." He touched his cheek, ran his fingers over his nose. Just kept landing little pecks over his face. "The more you sweat, the more you glow. But maybe," he looked around, "a bath would be nice. For both of us."

The angel smiled again, and laughed. "I never want to lose you, sweet boy."

Crowley shrugged, landing the last kiss on the angel's eyelids. "I never want to forget the color of your eyes."

"Why would you forget such a thing?"

Crowley didn't answer. He just gathered his wiry arms underneath the angel, and hugged him in a near death grip.