Chapter Text
Aziraphale let out a long sigh as he shut the door to his apartment and unbuttoned his coat. His feet hurt and as he leaned down to undo the laces of his shoes, he felt the stretch in his back that reminded him daily he was no longer as young as he used to be.
Leaving his shoes by the entryway sideboard, he shuffled into the kitchen and put on the kettle. A long day but certainly not a bad one. Every day had been feeling longer recently. Since he’d been picking up Michael’s shifts at the beans side of Celestial Books and Beans for their parental leave, he’d been exhausted. He knew everyone needed to pitch in, but he really was better suited to working in the bookshop portion of the store, not the cafe, no matter what Anathema said about how good he was with people and how much she liked working with him. He liked working with her too, but it wasn’t as if the cafe was on the moon, and it was quite easy to cross the store to visit her when things were slow. Which he did. And often.
He rubbed the sore spot in his neck just as the kettle clicked and he mindlessly began going through the motions of making his evening tea. He had some leftover Chinese takeaway he’d heat up and then…and then…
By the time he was finished with dinner, it would be time for his favorite portion of the evening. What he’d been looking forward to from the moment he stepped through the door.
If anyone knew what Aziraphale did when he booted up his laptop and set it on the coffee table every other night, they’d surely think him some sort of pervert. A sex addict.
But everyone needed hobbies. At least that was what he told himself when he paid his monthly subscription fee to famousanus.com.
He put his dishes in the sink and when the clock ticked to 6:50, he took off his waistcoat and grabbed his laptop. It was time.
He loaded Tony J.’s page like he did every other night. He’d been a longstanding fan. Since Tony had been only doing partnered work, before he was popular enough to do cams. The minute Tony had announced a scheduled stream, Aziraphale had subscribed immediately. It had been worth the five-dollar monthly fee. More than really given the fact that he attended every stream. And watched all of Tony's bonus content.
There were dozens of people already in the chat. Aziraphale never participated. People said the most awful things. Degrading Tony for his work like perhaps that got them off. Asking for Tony to do things even though they weren’t paying extra.
Tony J.’s webcam flashed white and then Tony came into focus. He was already shirtless – just in his gray briefs – sitting on a bed with black satin sheets. It was a look that showed off exactly how slim he was, made the cam light set up glint off his golden red chest hair. He smiled at the camera and Aziraphale’s heart gave a lurch.
The thing that had drawn Aziraphale to Tony J. when he'd first discovered his work, besides the fact that he had the sort of long-limbed, wiry body Aziraphale had always been attracted to, was that Tony was older than so many of the gay porn stars out there. They were so often plucked and waxed and shined and terribly, terribly young. When Tony smiled, it carved dimples in his cheeks. It showed off crow’s feet. He had the lines in his throat of a man in his forties and despite how thin he was, a softness at his hips and belly because he had lived a life. He wasn’t some sleek twenty-year-old.
It was unbearably sexy.
Tony ran a hand through his short red hair, smile going crooked and showing off the slant of his teeth. “A lot of you here tonight. Rough Monday?”
And he was English too. Londoner by the sound of it. That had always spurred Aziraphale’s fantasies. They were probably in the same city. What if they ran into each other at a random pub and by some miracle went home together? He could finally trace the snake tattoos that ran across Tony’s biceps and wound over his chest. Feel the texture of his chest hair, learn the exact length of that gorgeous torso. Taste his mouth, lick over the enchanting, uneven curve of his teeth, that one crooked canine that made his smile so attractive.
Tony brushed his hand over his stomach, just a play of fingers over his belly button, a tease. Then he slid his hand down and palmed himself through the fabric of his underwear.
Aziraphale couldn’t lie. This was the other reason he liked Tony J.
His entire life he’d been a bit of a size queen. He liked a cock that made him choke. That hurt a bit in the taking of it.
Tony’s cock was huge. Looking at it, even half-hard and hidden by the thin fabric of his briefs made Aziraphale’s mouth water.
Tony hooked his thumb into his briefs to drag them down, exposing the tip of his cock and Aziraphale’s breath began to come fast. He shifted in his seat as Tony slipped his briefs down his hips and then reached for the lube beside him with his free hand, toying with his balls with the other.
Aziraphale loved the flash of ginger hair at the base of Tony’s cock. He kept it well-groomed, but it wasn’t shaved. Aziraphale could only imagine what it would feel like to touch.
His cock was exquisite. At least ten inches and uncut. As he stroked himself to full hardness, his lubed hand made filthy noises around the shaft, noises that pulled at the arousal in Aziraphale’s gut, almost driving him to touch himself too, but he wanted to wait and savor it. It was always a game of patience with cam nights. The excruciating pressure building inside him, desperate for release, even as he knew that the longer he waited, the better it would be.
Comments flooded the chat. Aziraphale ignored them as he always did, eyes fixed on Tony, the twist of his wrist, the flex of the muscle in his arm. He was left-handed. Or at least that was the hand he used to pleasure himself.
Tony pressed his right hand against the flat of his chest and his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, fuck. Do you like that? Are you touching yourself too?”
He brushed his thumb over his nipple, his hand moving in lazy pulls over his shaft. It was fully hard now, the head exposed over the foreskin and leaking precome.
Aziraphale shifted in his seat, his own cock pressing against his zipper. “Make yourself feel good for me.”
Aziraphale bit his lip. Did he want to start now? It was getting hard to resist. He pressed his hand against his inner thigh to stymie the urge.
“I like it nice and wet,” Tony said, hand slipping over his cock. He thumbed over the head before sliding back down. “Do you? Makes it so easy to make myself feel good.”
Aziraphale unzipped his trousers and pressed the heel of his hand against his aching erection. A little jolt of pleasure raced through him. Sliding his hand into his boxers, he finally wrapped it around himself. He wasn’t going to last. At this point, watching these videos had him trained.
Tony arched off the bed and up into his own hand. The tendons in his neck stood out as his mouth dropped open and he gasped. “Oh, fuck yeah.”
His hand sped up on his prick and Aziraphale matched the pace, his own orgasm steadily approaching.
“I’m going to come, fuck.” Tony groaned, reaching down with his other hand to tug on his balls.
The lewd sight, the stretch of Tony’s arms, the slick sounds, sent Aziraphale into a spiral and he came over his hand with a stifled moan, soiling his boxers. He sucked in huge breaths, heart beating fast, as Tony came too in messy streaks all over his belly.
Tony laid there for a second before sitting up and reaching for the camera, signature grin in place. His cheeks were a little pink, heated with pleasure. “Thanks for watching. As always, whatever you do for the rest of the night, do it with style.”
The camera shut off and Aziraphale was left with the chat room as it pinged off. He sighed and got up from the couch. He needed to clean up and go to bed. He had another shift at the cafe tomorrow and he needed his rest.
**
Aziraphale was looking forward to Michael coming back from leave. He hated working cafe shifts. He wasn’t meant for this sort of thing. He much preferred helping customers find books. Pulling shots and frothing milk and smiling at cranky people demanding caffeine was extremely draining. And he always went home reeking of coffee.
He didn’t even like coffee.
“Double mocha with whip.”
Aziraphale didn’t even look at the newest customer as he scrawled that on a cup to hand off to Anathema. “Name?” he asked.
“Crowley. Er. Anthony. Whichever,” the man said. Why someone would sound so nervous ordering a coffee, Aziraphale had no idea.
Then Aziraphale looked up.
He counted himself lucky he didn’t drop the cup then and there. “I’ll just jot down Crowley,” he said with his best customer service smile.
Except Crowley. Or Anthony. Was not another faceless customer in a long line of faceless customers. The man before him was one that Aziraphale knew so well he could tell you the exact shade of his nipple hair. He was Tony J. And Aziraphale had just come so hard he’d seen into the cosmos while watching him jerk off the night before. Which he’d done for approximately a year and a half. He’d seen the man’s arsehole. He’d enjoyed seeing the man’s arsehole.
“That’s…uh…fine,” Tony–Crowley said awkwardly.
He was wearing sunglasses–designer things that matched his overall aesthetic. Tight black jeans, tight charcoal gray shirt, black blazer. His short red hair was even redder in person and up close the hawkish quality of his nose could actually be a strange bend in the bridge that was strangely charming.
God. Charming.
Aziraphale was not meant to find a porn star charming.
“You can pick that up at the end of the bar,” Aziraphale said politely.
The man stared at him for a beat too long before bobbing his head and turning away. He hoped he hadn’t been obvious. Blushing or something like that.
Letting out a long breath, he turned to the next customer. “How can I help you today?”
**
The barista was adorable. Which was an absolutely asinine thing to think. And hardly encapsulated the truth of the matter which was that his eyes lit up when he smiled, and his nose turned up just so and something about it made Crowley’s stomach flutter. Flutter!
He took his mocha and stammered out a thanks, grateful he was wearing his sunglasses because that meant the man probably couldn’t tell how flustered he was. He was being foolish. His thoughts were tending towards asking the barista to coffee. Like they weren’t already in a damned cafe. As if that weren’t a terrible breach of etiquette to ask someone out when they were working. And not to mention the final nail in the coffin: Crowley knew better than to try to date anyone outside of his line of work. It never ended well. The minute they found out he made porn for a living, it all went downhill.
Some people tried to be supportive but inevitably, jealousy always won out. People would try to stop him from doing it. But Crowley was good at it. In front of the camera was the only place in the world where he felt confident, and he wasn’t about to give that up. Some people were given the ability to solve complex problems or make beautiful music or talk to people, Crowley was given a large dick and an ability to move his hips in ways some called downright sinful.
Crowley had fallen into porn the same way some people fell into modeling. Years of failing at being a lawyer and then it had just happened. He'd been at a pool of all places, rinsing off after a swim, trying to erase a particularly bad day in court from his brain through the art of exercise and a man came up to him and offered him a job. He'd been lucky really. And he loved it. Porn was his calling, and he was fine being alone. No awkward conversations and reminders of why he'd been a bad lawyer in the first place. Being alone didn't mean he was lonely. He had plants. And a cat.
He sat at a table by the window at Celestial Books and Beans and glanced back at the barista who was deep in conversation with his coworker.
He was so cute. Might be an asinine description but it was apt. Pretty too. Fluffy blond curls and a waistcoat over a button down which was all covered by a black apron. He wasn’t wearing a name tag which was a shame. Crowley wished he could know his name so he could think of something else besides Hot Barista.
Crowley tried to put it out of his mind. It was hopeless to have a crush on anyone. It was just a random barista at a random cafe. He’d forget about it tomorrow.
**
Crowley, he’d said. Aziraphale thought helplessly as he rushed through the door to his flat and took off his coat. His hands shook as he undid his shoes. Crowley. Was Crowley a name he used at coffee shops? Certainly not, Aziraphale thought as he put together his tea. He’d said a whole name. Anthony Crowley. Tony.
Unless it was just that he didn’t want to be recognized. Was that why he wore sunglasses?
Those were very nice indeed. They emphasized his dimples.
Aziraphale skipped dinner so he could log on to Tony J.’s page. It wasn’t a cam night, but he was desperate to confirm what he already knew so he scrolled to previously posted videos. It had been a few months since Tony had posted anything with a partner on his page, but Aziraphale had seen most of the videos a handful of times.
He chose one of the ones in a bedroom and watched with bated breath as Tony J. bore his partner back onto the bed, kissing him deeply. There was that flop of russet hair. Long nose. Sharp jaw. It was him.
The man beneath Tony – Crowley, his name was Crowley. Would it be a terrible transgression to think of him as such? – moaned into his mouth and arched into him as Crowley slid his hands into his shirt to pull it off. He made quick work of the man’s clothes, barely pausing to take off his own shirt until his partner was nude beneath him. He was just so…good. Aziraphale loved these videos. They weren’t all grunting and shaved balls. Of course he knew there was still an element of unreality, but it looked like it felt wonderful, like Crowley was making his partner feel good, kissing them, sucking them off instead of just plowing inside and getting his rocks off. He always ate them out too.
Aziraphale’s breath came fast. It was extraordinary to watch. Arousing beyond belief. The way Crowley’s cheeks hollowed so he could suckle the man’s taint. The sight of it sent sensations of intense want all through Aziraphale’s body, a weakness sliding through his legs as he watched. Crowley bent the man’s legs back and licked over his hole in wide open licks, almost sloppy. His eyes were heavy lidded and dark and his mouth red and wet as he began to fuck the other man open with his tongue, his hands heavy on the back of the other man’s thighs. Aziraphale couldn’t help it, he began to imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that mouth, to have it focused entirely on his pleasure. His cock ached with the intensity of his want, arse clenching on nothing.
The camera moved, panning over Crowley’s back and giving Aziraphale a fabulous view of his shoulder blades, the scaled snake tattoos that curved over them, and the long line of his spine. His jeans were still on, belted at the waist, and as he released the man’s legs, he rose up on his knees and reached for his belt buckle and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat.
He’d seen this man in person. Been in the same room with him.
It made the prospect of seeing his cock unbearably real.
The snap of the metal coming undone sent a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. Crowley shoved his jeans and briefs down his hips and down his thighs, pulling them over his knees and, in a strangely alluring tangle of limbs, yanked them off his feet before tossing them to the side.
His cock bobbed in front of him, huge and intimidating and the man he was shooting the scene with rose up and wrapped his hand around it before sucking it into his mouth. Crowley sank his hand into his hair and thrust his hips, not enough to truly fuck his mouth, but it was so hot to watch the way his muscles moved like he had total control. His head tipped back, and he groaned as the man on his knees did something with his mouth, a lewd suck.
Aziraphale’s dick was tenting his trousers, soaking a wet spot into the fabric. Everything was ten times as arousing now that he’d met Crowley. He’d heard that voice in person, the one telling the man in front of him to take him deeper, sweetly saying how good he was for choking on his cock.
He watched as Crowley wrapped a hand around his partner’s throat to pulled him up into a deep kiss.
Aziraphale scrambled to undo his trousers and finally start touching himself while Crowley pushed his partner back against the pillows, one hand on his shaft, stroking it to hardness. He pushed the head of his cock against the tight rim of his partner's hole, smearing lube over it before slapping his dick against it with an obscene wet noise. The man's hole clenched on thin air as if chasing the sensation and Aziraphale felt it acutely, his stomach heating and his own arsehole aching for stimulation. Then Crowley slowed, sinking inside him, and the man grasped his thighs, tilting his hips back for better access so Crowley could control how deep he fucked him.
The muscles of Crowley’s hips and arse tensed as he began to fuck the other man with shallow thrusts, one inch at a time, that huge cock spearing him open. The man moaned, saying all sorts of lewd things about how big Crowley’s cock was, how it felt, and Aziraphale imagined it too, stretched on that truly mammoth prick. How it would leave him aching, rim gaping and slightly sore.
He gasped and began to move his hand faster as Crowley took the man’s thighs and hooked them over his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. It was magnificent to watch. Crowley was magnificent. His hair dropped over his forehead as he began to breath hard and he came down on his hands, folding the man beneath him nearly in half. His cock plunged inside him all the way, skin hitting skin, his balls slapping against the other man’s arse. That was what sent Aziraphale over the edge, one quick tug and his orgasm rolled through him with a heavy groan.
Crowley was still fucking on the screen. It was still beautiful.
Aziraphale, on the other hand, was a mess.