The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 72: Gripping a Slippery Angel

Chapter 72: Gripping a Slippery Angel

It was 7 AM. The ancient night was now a proper ancient morning. And Crowley emersed himself and his shuttering angel in water that was not near scalding.

Well, come on. Such sensitive skin has his angel. Crowley would put up with what he considered a tepid temperature.

He was still glowing, his angel. Not from sweat, or suds, but with an inner light.

No comment was made. Crowley drew him further in. Cradled him, in fact.

Ten minutes past. He thought perhaps his friend had fallen into blissful slumber. He slid a bit over his thin chest, and the demon hauled him higher so he didn't fall into the water. Then he snapped and the tepid water reheated.

He slid again. Crowley readjusted and pulled up once more.

"Dear boy," the angel murmured sleepily. "Did it occur to you I'm doing this on purpose?"

The demon blinked. Looking down he saw the angel grinning up at him, his blue eyes hooded. "Were you faining sleep?"

The downy head shook, the eyebrows rose. "Was trying to go down on you."

"Already?" He hugged his thick torso, and felt him shake with silent laughter. "What?"

"You did work my mouth over."

"And everything else."

"I must have been starving."

"That's your default state, angel." Again, silent laughter. "No, really. I'd think you have enough now."

Aziraphale sighed and cuddled into him. "A brief reprieve, and I can go again."

"Unbelievable."

The angel remained quiet for a time. Crowley listened to the drip of the faucet. Not thinking, blissful at not having to think. And then, Aziraphale suddenly piped up. "Dear boy."

"Uh, yeah?"

"You revile binding my mouth, don't you?"

It was out of nowhere. The demon was stunned, and muttered, thinking quickly," Well, absolutely."

"Why?"

"All your freedom is there."

"What an odd thing to say."

"Naw, I 'mean, fuck, angel. You caught me off guard."

Aziraphale snickered. "Well, I am changing, if I can do that."

"Shuttit," Crowley grumbled, kissing his forehead. Then," You....your...ah...voice....your words....fuck angel! I can't explain it! I might put things in there: food...my cock of course." He shrugged. "My tongue. But—"

Aziraphale looked up at him. "Yes?"

He shook his head. "Not a gag, not a bit, not a rag. I CANNOT stand the thought of anything like that. I....never want you silenced."

The glow increased, made reflections shimmer beneath the water.

"I don't deserve you, Crowley."

"Blimey, you soppy little shit." The tears welled, normal tears. He refused them.

"Love you too, my demon."

"Fuck," Crowley grumbled, tugging him closer.