Good Omens: An Angel in the Brothel (Crowley x Aziraphale)

Chapter Three: A Four-Letter Word

Aziraphale flicked his gaze back down to his cup and straightened his back. "If you're going to act that way while you are drunk, then I will not talk to you for the rest of the evening."

"Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean it."

However, the look he gave the demon seemed to say that he knew exactly what he'd meant. Crowley smiled, then laid back against the rug. His gaze slid across the ceiling as he contemplated how much trouble he would be in before the night had ended. At least he could spend it with Aziraphale. Whatever seething unrest that had burrowed in his chest from earlier seemed to have vanished from the angelic company beside him.

The door slid open, and Crowley rose up on his arms.

The young woman from earlier peered into the room and narrowed her eyes. Her words came out in short quips, "If he's not doing his job, tell me, and I'll have him whipped. He's here to work despite what he thinks."

Crowley tensed but gave her a relaxed smile. "Not to worry. He's fine. Don't worry about us."

She flicked her gaze to Aziraphale. "If you have even one complaint on you, the madam said she'll double your debt. This man's paid well for you, so earn your keep." She stepped into the room, and Aziraphale lunged forward.

Many things happened at once before Crowley had a chance to process them all. His body tightened as Aziraphale scurried over and sat on Crowley's lap, resting his hips against him. The woman paused as he did so.

Aziraphale forced a weak smile at her. "No need to worry, like he said. I'm working, really. Really well. No need to raise my debt, or, um, call for any whippings. See." He leaned forward and planted his mouth on Crowley's lips.

The demon's body reacted immediately. Pleasure rippled down Crowley's back, and he leaned forward into the kiss. One hand reached up, snaking up the angel's back into his soft curls. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the door closing after the woman left, but that was far from his current thoughts.

Agony released deep from somewhere inside his hollow heart. Crowley rocked his hips, bringing a small gasp from the angel and sending his senses into overdrive. He rolled their bodies over. And pinned Aziraphale against the rug.

He released the kiss, inhaling the angel's voluptuous scent. His ravenous stare washed over the wide-eyed angel. Every curve. Every gleaming bead of sweat drove him insane. Crowley pressed himself against Aziraphale and returned his mouth to the deliciously soft lips of the angel.

Aziraphale pried his mouth away. "Crowley," he gasped.

It drove the demon wild. He found the angel's mouth once more, and his tongue parted Aziraphale's lips. Yet, deep in the back of his mind, he registered that the angel's voice had been urgent, almost pleading with him. He loosened his grip but didn't stop. His demonic nature roared for more, more pleasure, more of the beautiful body before him.

But, his mind buzzed with uneasiness. He had dreamed of that exact moment. Crowley yearned to be with him. Yearned to hear him say his name in the breathless way of a lover.

A lover? The word seemed odd to him, but that didn't make it any less true. Again, his mind registered the angel resisting, pressing against him. An image flashed through his mind of those pristine, stunning white wings dissolving into blackened ash.

Crowley shuttered and yanked his mouth away. He opened his eyes, realizing the angel had started berating him. He gasped and rested his head against Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Go," he breathed. He clamped his body still as though it had been shackled to the floor.

Aziraphale ceased his shouts and stilled beneath him. "Crowley. Crowley, can you hear me?"