The Ashes of Eden
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"Until the ashes of Eden fall"
A statement whose meaning undergoes a drastic change over the centuries Aziraphale and Crowley have known each other.
The Second World War was a rough time for people angels, not for demons, who rather danced on the pen of a hand grenade. Except for one. Crowley. Why? Because his fate was interwoven with the one of a special angel and it was precisely this angel who had to be saved.
The demon is forced to face to the ugliest side of mankind, which swallows him whole, like the purgatory once did.
Every higher power seems to have turned away from them. Captured in his own fight, he tries to save the most important treasure in his life.
However what will happen until the Ashes of Eden fall?
(created by the gothic side of this account ( @grimreaper_r.p). Bring tissues!)
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Their kiss continued, brutal and hot. Aziraphale suddenly remembered how his arms worked circled them around the demon's waist pulling him closer. Crowley broke off the kiss with a sharp inhale and moved his head to rest against the angel's. "Tell me to leave, angel." Raw need vibrated through the demon's voice. He pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's. His hands trembled as they cradled the angel's face. He took another ragged breath. "You don't want to do this! You don't want this from me!" Now it was Aziraphale's turn to take a inhale deeply. Their mouths were so close that their breath mingled. He could feel heat from the demon, from their pressed foreheads, down his chest, to his groin. He drained away the minor alcohol in his system and let cold, hard clarity wash over him. This was...dangerous. This was wild and thoughtless. Hedonistic. This should stop. That would be for the best. Safe. Sane. Responsible. "No" Aziraphale's voice ghosted the word. Then bolder, louder, steadier "Stay, please. I want this." He clasped his hands against the demon's and tipped his head back to meet Crowley's eyes. "I want you."
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