Veneration

5. Walking in My Shoes

Aziraphale may have been thinking about it since their time at the monastery, but Crowley had been yearning for millennia. Ever since he had first talked to him in the Garden, before he knew what sex or desire was, he had been fascinated. The angel was so...so genuine in his love for everything, but not in the smug, sanctimonious way of so many other angels.   From then on, whenever their paths crossed, Crowley always found a reason to chat -- any reason at all to be near the angel.  When it came up, he had gladly accepted assignment to this cold, sunless island just because Aziraphale was here.

Crowley had only been at the Medeshamstede monastery a week before Aziraphale arrived. He had slipped in with the delegation visiting from a daughter house. The whole place made him itchy and uncomfortable, but as long as he stayed in the living quarters and grounds and other non-consecrated parts he was fine.  A monastery was a great place to bring mayhem and mischief.  And Temptation.

When the angel did arrive Crowley felt his heart leap, he's here because of me! But Aziraphale didn't notice him at all, instead spending his time discussing philosophy and healing with the elder monks. Well, fine then!  The angel wasn't the only one with a job to do. Not the only one with quotas. There were rivalries to inflame, doubts to sow, important items to misplace...and that infirmary boy had been buzzing around him non-stop since his arrival. The devil's work is never done.

Crowley had known that Aziraphale was somewhere nearby at the time, he always did. But he was surprised to see the angel was actually in the herbarium when they crashed through the door.  Aziraphale's presence shone out with a soft, golden light in any form he might take. This close up the angel certainly recognized him, and Crowley wasn't making a secret of his intentions.  What was the Aziraphale doing there?  Why didn't he leave?  Or do something?

As the minutes passed, Crowley's bewilderment was replaced by anger and resentment. Aziraphale hadn't deigned to notice him for days, but now he was paying attention? Now, when Crowley was in the middle of a Temptation? Well, if the angel wanted a show, he would get one!  He could have sent the rustic off happily with a gropey hand-job or an Ephebia Rub*, but since he had an audience, Crowley might as well make a man out of him!  He could just picture Arizaphale's face: eyes wide...pupils dilated...skin flushed...sweet, soft mouth agape....heart pounding....

Afterwards, Crowley regretted his behavior.  Aziraphale probably had something he needed to do in that room.  The demon could have dragged the boy off elsewhere, or just made plans for the following night.  By acknowledging his presence, he'd probably offended Aziraphale and scared him away for ever. When their paths finally did cross again, Crowley quickly made up conversation, hoping the angel would simply let things slide under the rug.  And it had worked. They built up their Arrangement and a friendship over the ensuing centuries.  Neither one mentioned the monastery - until tonight.

Growing close to Aziraphale and working beside him soothed Crowley's yearning and he was mostly content.  But in recent decades, the angel's obvious, growing infatuation with him made things....uncomfortable.  It brought out the longings and desires that Crowley had tried for millennia to fuck away with fair-haired, buxom shepherdesses and mild-mannered, towheaded clerks.

Not that he had even been doing that regularly for quite a while.  It was just too much trouble now for too little reward.  Crowley hadn't even looked at a human since he and Aziraphale had begun their project of trying to raise a morally neutral Anti-Christ.  Meanwhile the angel kept at it - gazing at Crowley as if everything he did or said was amazingly interesting, or else shyly glancing at him through his long lashes.  And earlier that evening, Aziraphale just had to drop his eyes to Crowley's mouth while absentmindedly sucking on his dessert spoon and making a little moaning noise!  Infuriating!  The demon certainly knew why he was on edge and ready to drink the night away.

Crowley told himself that only meant to rattle the Aziraphale by bringing up the monastery.  Seriously, it had just been a joke!  He knew the angel didn't fancy humans!  Why did Aziraphale have to become so priggish?  That wasn't like him.  Yes, the demon was agitated, randy as Hell and more than a little drunk....so maybe he had shared too many details but the angel had i sister he share.  Besides, it had felt...good...to finally talk to someone about that murky part of his life.  At least it did until Aziraphale became preachy and judgmental. Well, some angels, fallen or otherwise, had actual work to do. They didn't simply "guide, protect and inspire" humanity, wielding their fancy crowns and scepters!

So he'd decided to tease Aziraphale a bit.  Make the angel aware that he knew.  Aziraphale probably thought he was being subtle with his...his schoolgirl crush.  The angel might have naughty thoughts in secret, but he wouldn't admit to them and certainly wouldn't act on them.  Aziraphale said it himself - angels didn't do that type of thing. Crowley would give the angel a bit of a shock, leave him alone for a few weeks to get over his embarrassment, and then everything would be back to normal.  In the mean time, he would go home and try to sleep this off.  Alone.  The demon was done with sexual Temptation.   He wasn't answering to Hell anymore - they could find themselves a new whore.

However the demon's plans had all gone pear-shaped. As soon as his face was close to Aziraphale's, when he'd felt the sweet breath cool against his skin and saw the eager, kiss-me-now look in the angel's eyes, he was consumed by burning, tortured need. And then hearing the angel's words, so free and sure: I want you. I want this.  How much could one demon take? Crowley was damned already.  Why should he hold back if Aziraphale didn't want him to?  Why should he deny himself, deny both of them? He was a demon, for fuck's sake!  He didn't do Temperance or Prudence or Caution!  It certainly wasn't his job to protect people from themselves.

Certainly being thrown up against one's sitting room wall and orally serviced by a frenzied demon wasn't anyone's ideal first sexual experience.  Well...not for most anyway.  Crowley could taste the angel on his tongue - salty, slightly metallic, a hint sweet.  He wanted more of him, now! As much as he could get!  But at least the edge was off and he could think more clearly.  He'd do the rest of this right.

Crowley drank in the emotions shining from Aziraphale: exultation, desire, wonder. Everything he had dreamed of for so long.  And hunger!  The angel's desire hadn't been quenched yet. He wanted more as well. Thank Hell!  Crowley knew he needed to keep up momentum before the moment slipped away. A bed, he had to find a bed.

"Take me upstairs, angel?"

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* Like an Oxford Rub but in ancient Athens.