Archive of Our Own

Really, Crowley was so fucking done. 

Except, was he?

Crowley sighed over his drink, and panned his tired gaze over the crowd of humans. Sweating, smelly, and all way-too-crowded together, (especially considering the state of the world,) Crowley could not be fucking bothered.

But he was starving, and though he was not really one for eating, he knew he needed nourishment. 

Life as a succubus was not easy, and for someone with little to no interest in proper food for his current corporation, he knew he had to find a way. So, sex. 

Sometimes though, in the secret, wish-filled part of his brain, he dreamed of something beautiful, something… Satan, he was going to have to admit it– romantic. 

There was this neat little thing he noticed when he watched humans try to court each other, try to woo, and swoon over one another: it was that stupid longing gaze. When someone would say the right thing, or pull them in close when someone more knackered came tumbling past– a spark. The literal magnetizing desire and hope for something more. 

And, for the encounters he cared to peer at, maybe siphon a little lust off, there almost always was something more. 

Crowley wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but he definitely wanted it. 

Although he wasn’t sure if it was actually possible for him, he wasn’t going to deny it to himself anyway that he wanted it. Even though he absolutely would deny it to anyone who asked. 

“Any luck tonight, my dear?” A voice came close to his cheek before slipping into the seat next to him. 

Crowley’s ears burned red and he felt himself flush from head to toe. 

Aziraphale. 

Otherwise known as Crowley’s white whale. 

The Moby-not-getting-his-Dick. 

“A sherry please, for my friend here,” Crowley slurred to the bartender as he swiveled his stool to look at the man. 

Aziraphale smiled gently at the corner of his lip before eyeing Crowley up and down. The exasperation immediately poured over his face. “Good lord, Crowley.” 

“What?” Crowley asked. “Do you not like what I’m wearing?” 

“It’s just a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the ridiculous leather pants full of cut-outs along the sides of his legs all the way up to waist coat with an open red shirt underneath. 

Yeah, okay, it was a bit much. 

“I’m just trying to give sex on legs,” Crowley stated. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and as his sherry was passed to him, he took down a huge gulp, and sighed. 

“I don’t know what to do with you, my dear.” 

A sneer pulled over the succubus’ face. “I can think of plenty of things you could do to me,” Crowley said, brazenly. 

“I’m telling you, darling, it isn’t going to work on me.”

And Crowley sighed and nodded. He knew it was true. 

For some reason, after all the years of knowing this beautiful, bookseller human, Crowley could not use his powers on him. 

Now, at first, Crowley was just hoping for a quick romp with the pretty man. Something about his eyes had pulled him in, and Crowley was excited by the prospect of having this very particular man take him apart. 

He knew it would be good, he could tell by the way he carried himself with unabashed confidence. To anyone else, he would come across as fussy, or nit-picky. 

Crowley knew from many thousands of years of experience that the ones who demanded and wanted things in the way they did were always the best for him in bed. 

But, Crowley couldn’t get his powers to work on him. He hadn’t really wanted to try to throw out his pheromones like that, throw himself so openly at the man. But, here he was, still trying three years later. 

Now, Aziraphale did not know Crowley’s true nature, not in the slightest. Obviously, you couldn’t have humans walking around with the knowledge of the accursed or the blessed– so Crowley took on his flirtatious slutty human persona in stride. Although he wasn’t having much success with Aziraphale, he wasn’t inept at bringing men home, powers or none. 

Just, of course, not the one he really wanted.

“Are you seeking any fun tonight, Lady Bracknell?” Crowley asked as he turned to his friend. And only friend. 

“Mm, not tonight, thank you.” Aziraphale smiled, and patted Crowley’s hand. “But don’t bother to keep me company, feel free to roam and find what you need.” 

Crowley huffed. He absolutely did not appreciate the condescension in that hand-pat. Though, he noticed Aziraphale’s hand did not move away from his, resting softly against his own. “Maybe I like keeping you company. D’ya ever consider that?” Crowley knew he was being too open, too honest, but…

If Crowley was ever going to try to love someone, or see if he could–well, he already knew who it would be. 

Hell, he was halfway convinced already that he could. 

Aziraphale tucked his chin into his neck for a small smile. Crowley kept it in his heart like a secret. 

“Crowley!” A sharp brassy voice blasted over the crowd, causing Crowley to jump in his seat.

Oh no. 

Crowley turned to see, and oh god, there he was. 

Furfur– not again.

This old hookup was like a bad penny, turning up wherever he went– yeah, he knew he had accidentally gone overboard with the lust, but now he was in trouble. 

He threw himself back to Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Oh god, Aziraphale, I may need your help.” 

“What seems to be the matter this time?” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “Need help with getting out of your trousers?”

Crowley groaned in frustration, but because of his own bad plays. 

God, was he really so desperate that Aziraphale would think he would stoop so low?

Yes, but now was not the time to think about it. 

“No, no, I swear to God, this isn’t a ploy,” Crowley said, and flipped their positions, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand. “Look, see the guy over there, the one with the deer-in-headlights eyes. I can’t…” He sighed, taking a nervous breath, “I can’t get him to leave me alone. I hooked up with him a few months ago, but he hasn’t been able to get off my case, or find someone else, or something– I don’t know. I do not want to see him again.” 

Crowley knew he had overdone it the moment after having pulled Furfur into him. He had been a little depressed after another attempt to flirt with Aziraphale, and he was so frustrated about the way that he hadn’t even seemed to care. So, Crowley saw Furfur eyeing him up and down from across the bar, and in his haste, maybe emitted a tailored pheromone to pull him in. 

And well, at least Crowley had confirmation his pheromones weren’t broken. 

Maybe he was, but his powers weren’t.

In usual circumstances, Crowley would be able to slip away, disappear into a different place and raid places for meals as he so liked. But, he loved his little home here in London, and the fake life he had built for himself. 

Anthony J. Crowley was an art seller by trade and a plant enthusiast. He had a beautiful flat and a gorgeous 1930’s Bentley. He loved the town, he loved the scene, he loved Az–

Nope, not going there. 

Aziraphale looked over at the supposed-man, and Crowley could tell he was sizing him up, “Was he that bad?” Aziraphale whispered in a bastardly way and a crooked grin.

Crowley shook his head. “It wasn’t about that,” No, Crowley wouldn’t admit that the guy was, actually, kind of decent in the bedroom. But some people mistake lust for love, and in Crowley’s line of business, that was bad news. 

The blond man looked Crowley over. “This isn’t a scheme is it?” 

“No, fuck, Aziraphale–” 

“Crowley!! Wait, sorry, excuse me!” Furfur kept getting caught up in the crowd, trying to dodge around the traffic. 

He was now thankful for the sardine-tin-packed bar, but he didn’t have much time, and making an escape wouldn’t be so simple. 

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, and pulled down his sunglasses to look him in the eyes. “I’m begging, I will never, ever flirt or even bother you again if you just help cover my arse here.”

Aziraphale seemed a little shocked by the straight eye contact, but quickly recollected himself. “I think your arse is covered enough.” He said in a way that made it clear it wasn’t. 

Crowley whined, “Aziraphale, this is not time for your cute-but-snarky quips, please.” 

He was about to get on his knees and plead, but as Furfur finally broke through the crowd, Aziraphale had twisted his hand under Crowley’s and laced their fingers together. 

Crowley was not blushing, and no, his heart was not racing. 

Did he have a heart? A real one?

It sure felt like it, in the moment. The tips of his ears were burning, and he was immediately calculating every ridge of texture in his palm. This wasn’t fair, why did his hands have to be so soft? Crowley could almost imagine them petting down his chest, or up his thighs— 

Oh god, he wasn’t prepared for how he was going to feel when he was under Aziraphale’s hand. 

Miscalculated again.

Something about this human just had him completely inept at making the good decision, and he felt himself saunter vaguely downwards into his own personal pit of hell. Maybe this was the divine punishment he deserved, afterall.

“Crowley, I haven’t heard from you in weeks. I thought I’d never see you again,” Furfur said, his eyes completely swimming as he looked over Crowley’s body. “After that night, I thought maybe…” 

“I’m sorry dear, who are you?” Aziraphale said haughtily. His brow furrowed as his lips pulled purse. “Crowley, darling, do you know who this man is?” 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale a little dumbfounded for a moment, and Aziraphale squeezed his hand. 

God his hand was strong– 

“Oh! Sorry, yeah, um… Aziraphale, this is…uh…” Crowley winced. 

“Furfur.” He said, tensely, as his eyes fell over their hands. 

“Right, uh…” Crowley smiled uncomfortably. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, before looking at Furfur. “Oh, you must be one of… Sorry, I’m probably to blame for his lack of communication.” He laughed in such a way that Crowley felt his stomach rupture in butterflies. 

Furfur was now looking at Aziraphale, and something odd shifted in the air. 

Normally, now, Crowley could taste the lust in the air, and when Furfur walked up, it was nauseatingly powerful. But, there was something about the way the lust had shifted focus. 

Furfur clearly had every thought visible on his face. 

“I stole Crowley from the market, as it were, and we are explicitly exclusive.” Aziraphale said in such a way to try and dissuade the clear imagery Furfur was conjuring in his mind. 

Oh, fuck, Aziraphale was an angel; A metaphorical, angel, of course, though with the light shining behind him, he carried such an aura that if Aziraphale had been one– well, Crowley wouldn’t have been too shocked.

Although Crowley had never met an angel, if he thought about it. But if he were to describe one, strictly on looks alone– well, Aziraphale had it in the bag.

Furfur looked back down at their hands, sighed, and nodded. “Well, congrats to you two. May you make each other infinitely happy.” 

Crowley felt something sink in his stomach. This was the part of the job he hated. 

Seducing people was fine, not his favorite, but he would manage– it was the heartbreak he would witness or even worse, cause, that broke him.

Furfur started to turn around, before stopping. 

His brow furrowed, and he blinked, and Crowley didn’t like that look. 

That wasn’t just doubt– that was a look of confrontation coming about his face.

Aziraphale must have noticed it too, and before Furfur could look up fully and get his next words out, Crowley’s savior had yanked him by the collar of his shirt, and kissed Crowley square on the mouth. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Crowley melted immediately into the kiss, and kissed back with as much force as he could muster. 

But, it was odd. 

Usually, as a succubus, when he was kissed, he would feel the pull of the lust into his body, as his body would naturally feed. But, this was odd.

Instead, he felt lightheaded, and moaned. A swell of lust hit his body before it was yanked out of him like someone was yanking him around by the gut. 

Though heat began to pool in his groin, he melted, becoming slack in Aziraphale’s hands.

Crowley felt Aziraphale lick at his lower lip and there wasn’t even a hesitation to part his lips. It was like his body had been ordered to do so. 

When Aziraphale flooded his mouth, Crowley realized he was feeling the floating spectres of lust bubbling around them. Like an ouroboros of lust, water-wheeling between them.

Aziraphale growled against his lips as Crowley felt the energy wash out of him. 

Crowley whined, pathetically, as he knew he was beyond-hard in his stupid leather trousers. 

They parted, and panted against each other for a moment. 

Crowley felt his gaze grow fuzzy, but he looked to see not hunger in Aziraphale’s eyes, but rather, he looked satisfied, full, and yet, ready for more. 

Aziraphale was the first to break their eye contact, and he sighed in relief. 

“Problem’s gone.” Aziraphale said, before swallowing. He nodded his head in the direction Furfur had scampered off to, tail tucked between his legs. He took another sip of his sherry, and seemed tense.

“Aziraphale… what…” 

Crowley was barely coherent, and he didn’t quite understand fully what was going on. 

This didn’t make sense. 

He knew his powers hadn’t worked on Aziraphale, but why was he feeling like he overused his pheromones? He knew he hadn’t put anything out, so what the fuck was this?

And he was still stupid hard, and he tried to cross his legs pitifully to try to have some decency. 

Aziraphale’s face flushed red as he eyed Crowley up and down. “Oh, perhaps I overdid it. Oh, goodness, look at the state of you.” 

Crowley’s humiliation was making the arousal in his body play hopscotch. 

Aziraphale grabbed his hand again, and pulled him up. “Come with me, you’re coming to my bookshop so I can fix this.” 

Crowley immediately perked up. It wouldn’t have been the first time they spent time together outside of a bar, nor the first time Crowley had spent an evening with Aziraphale in his bookshop. But, there was something about the way he said it, something about the way that indicated Aziraphale needed to take care of Crowley that was sending his pulse to new skyrocket highs. It was also sending his cock to new heights, too. 

“Surely, you understand… right?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly. 

“Understand what?” His voice slurred, and he sounded drunk, his body felt drunk, hell, he felt drunk, but two glasses of whiskey were not going to do him in so badly.

What was going on?

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he tugged Crowley through the bar, and out onto the street. Crowley pulled out his car keys, and Aziraphale grabbed them from his hand. 

“I have not had that much to drink,” Crowley protested, but he was still ridiculously dizzy.

Aziraphale placed Crowley into the car in the passenger seat, buckling him in. Crowley didn’t like how hot that made him feel, but god, did he. “No, but you don’t know what you’re looking like right now, and I have better faculty of what is going on, darling.”

Darling. 

Oh, there it was. When Crowley looked up into Aziraphale’s eyes, he saw it. 

The pull. The spark. The hope and desperation. 

Looking into those storm-grey eyes, he felt the sizzling of a different affection wash over him. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were full of worry. His fluffy but kept brows were knitted at his forehead, and Crowley wanted to kiss the creases away. As his watchful eyes scanned over Crowley’s body, Crowley could feel a tinge of lust hit his sinuses, but mostly, this ran deeper than that. 

He was used to lust. He knew it better than he knew anything else. This… This was love.

Crowley sank into the seat as the door was shut, and Aziraphale came around the other side. 

“Luckily, we’re not too far.” Aziraphale said as he took the wheel, and started the engine. 

Crowley’s burning body couldn’t contain the words in his head anymore, “Why do you think I chose this bar?” 

Aziraphale shot him a look quickly, and Crowley felt another wave hit him, and it almost felt like the ouroboros of the bar shot him again. Something was dancing between them, ricocheting off like a ping pong ball in a tiny room. 

Crowley felt the wave hit him straight in the groin, and he keened softly. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

Aziraphale reached over, trying to ground him with a touch to the knee, and Crowley felt it pull and push harder. 

“Crowley… You do know I know about you, right?” Aziraphale asked tentatively. 

If Crowley had any higher functioning brain power at that moment, he would have probably been in a tizzy of panic over the possibility of being found out. His mind would’ve been panicking about having to wipe the human’s memory and fleeing to a different country.

But currently, with Aziraphale’s fingers so close to where Crowley has been almost begging for (has been, begging for), Crowley could only whimper out, “I can’t read cryptic bullshit, right now, angel. Need you to be a little more specific. Fuck, why am I on fire?” 

He rolled down the window to let the air hit his face.

“Angel?” Aziraphale asked, his own cheeks flushing red. 

“‘S what you are, yeah? You saved me back there.”

“Oh, darling, I’m far from an angel.” Aziraphale practically choked on a laugh as they pulled in front of the bookshop. 

It was a quick scramble to get Crowley inside, the lights dimmed, his sunglasses off, but once his backside hit the lounge, Aziraphale was crawling on top of him. 

Oh, fuck, was this actually happening?

Crowley put his hands up for a moment against Aziraphale’s chest. Fuck, he had a nice chest, and he was trying not to squeeze. He was made of sterner stuff, despite his very sternly persistent erection making his vision go sideways

Aziraphale froze. 

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, knowing if he didn’t, he wouldn’t ask. “Aziraphale, what? What is happening right now?” He blinked his eyes back open, and tried to keep his head from swimming.

Aziraphale tilted his head sympathetically, like an emotional support dog tilting their head to listen to its owner. His mouth formed a line, and his hand came to stroke Crowley’s cheek. 

Oh, his hand was cool to the touch, and the succubus leaned into the feeling, sighing in relief from the burning. 

“Crowley, did you not ever find it strange that your pheromones never worked on me?” Aziraphale asked softly. “Not that you needed to use them, you gorgeous thing,” He whispered even quieter, as if he didn’t want Crowley to hear them. 

Crowley tried to blink himself into better focus, but the touch of Aziraphale’s hand was distracting him. “You…You know about my pheromones?” 

 “Oh good lord, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s face fell, as his head fell forward before he stared at Crowley. “I’m an incubus, darling. Of course I know.” 

Incubus. 

Crowley felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his face. 

Despite his state, he felt sobered for the moment. 

“Oh my fucking god.” Crowley’s hands fell to cover his own face. This was beyond embarrassing, or humiliating. 

How did he not notice? 

“Not quite the emphasis I’d be hoping to hear tonight for that turn of phrase, but I’ll take it.” Aziraphale laughed. 

Crowley groaned as he dragged his hands down his face. 

Now it was all coming together. Crowley’s natural inclination to be drawn to Aziraphale out of looks and personality alone was one thing, but the persisting nature of the attraction even post-multiple rejections was now piecing together a different story. 

But, he knew what incubi pheromones felt like, the desperate pull to be closer to them– it was something they were educated (albeit poorly with no real oversight) in their training. 

Succubus pheromones felt like champagne bubbling in your spine up into your brain, hot, passionate, and titillating. Incubus pheromones were much more like primal urges, animalistic, still hot of course, but desperate, demanding. 

Incubi pushed lust out of their meals, succubi pulled it in. 

The ouroboros. 

But, Crowley was still confused about a few things, but Aziraphale gently brought his fingers up Crowley’s forearms, peeling the offending hands from his face, and pinned them down by his head. 

Crowley whimpered at the strength he felt, the lust forcing into his body and spinning like a fallen, loose coin. 

“I was thinking I’d be your fucking god, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The redhead groaned at the pun more than the filth, but he started to nod before shaking his head. “Yes, but… Aziraphale,”

“You do know how desperately I’ve wanted you, don’t you?” Aziraphale said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The fever felt abated for a moment. “But I didn’t want to be a meal. I couldn’t be a meal to you. I had a feeling after a while I wouldn’t be… But I didn’t want to risk it.” He sighed as he yanked his bowtie undone, unbuttoned his own shirt. “Then, I got so worried tonight by the way that man was looking, and I slipped up. I should have known kissing you would be dangerous for us both, but I had to do something. But then I felt how you swooned, and I knew. I knew I wouldn’t be just another treat. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to feed you, and, darling, you know it wouldn’t work unless…” His cheeks burned red, and he looked away. “But… I have thought about feeding you. To be… the one to feed you, for a very, very long time.”

Crowley felt swept away by the implication. He was out at sea, but he knew the lifehouse of Aziraphale’s gaze was guiding him back to shore.

There was something special about an incubus and succubus coupling.

Incubi wouldn’t respond to Succubi’s mating calls, and wouldn't feel affected by their pheromones. It was the Incubi who initiated the wooing, the breeding for more of their demon-spawn. Succubi were near impossible to resist. Incubi, however, mated to one Succubus. Once mated properly, they were eternally each others’. Succubi would no longer be able to feed on humans after the proper procedure. They would be functionally only able to feed on each other for lustful life force. However, many IncuSuccu couples found they would retire, so-to-speak once they mated. They would breed, and live life more like humans. 

Some Incubi took human spouses, or multiple. Some Succubi took human spouses but would overfeed, and like praying mantises, or parasites, take their human spouses’ lives and begin the process again. 

It was one of the things Crowley feared most when he thought Aziraphale was human. He had vowed if there had been a moment where Aziraphale had given him a shot, that Crowley would force himself to eat real food, sustain himself on anything else so he wouldn’t lose him.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed, melting into the seat. “How…how long have you felt this way about me?” 

Aziraphale laughed a little, “Do you remember when you stumbled upon me while I was alone at the Ritz?” 

It was early, in their acquaintanceship. Crowley knew he had only seen Aziraphale a couple times by that point, but they had shared a bottle of wine that night back in this very bookshop after spending hours in each other's company. It was when Crowley first thought love was a possibility for himself. They sat together, side by side talking about the world. Crowley had thought he seemed too wise to be human, but… He hadn’t noticed. 

Now that he was looking, and unable to stop, how had he missed it? 

Aziraphale’s storm grey eyes were nearly black in the dim room, and despite what was clearly a snack in the bar earlier, he seemed very ready for a seven-course meal. 

Meal, thy name was Crowley.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss down Crowley’s neck, and the embers of heat were scoring him, each touch like a brand. 

“Fuck, Aziraphale.” Crowley leaned his head to allow Aziraphale more space.

“I’d like to, if you’re amenable. I know you’re a little easy to persuade right now, but… I don’t think you need persuading. But if you’d like to be persuaded I’d be happy to do so.” Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth before flicking his tongue out to brush the shell. 

Crowley’s hips arched up. “You’re going to plug me? Keep me as yours?” He gasped as Aziraphale bit under his jaw at his pulse. Oh, the burning was coming in so strong, and his body felt soaked with desire, dripping with need.

“Yes,” he groaned. Aziraphale wasn’t holding back his pheromones now, and like the perfect little succubus he was, he was sucking them in like he was parched in a desert. 

In such, they were both emitting and taking with all of themselves, and clothes were pulled off before Crowley could blink. 

“These absolutely ridiculous excuses for clothes you’ve taunted me with, I can’t wait to never see them again.” Aziraphale whispered before taking one of the holes of his cutouts and ripping them clean off. 

Crowley’s cock now completely exposed twitched violently. Crowley could barely see through the mists of desire, but he felt his eyes roll back in his head from the strength of Aziraphale’s hands spreading open his thighs. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That is on the agenda, my love.” Aziraphale said before stealing another filthy kiss. 

Crowley moaned as Aziraphale’s tongue flicked at the roof of his mouth, and Aziraphale laughed into his mouth. 

Crowley felt too dizzy to ask what he was laughing at, but the smile on his face was enough to settle any discomfort. Then, it finally hit him. 

Crowley began to laugh at himself. “You eat real food. You don’t feed on humans very much, do you?” 

 Incubi tended to do fine on human nourishment but some still preferred the power they gained from lust, but succubi weren’t always so lucky. Crowley was one who really did not enjoy the taste of most food– but alcohol was a delight. 

“Not since I met you.” Aziraphale stated. “Your pheromones may not work on me, but you did.” He kissed him chastely, before taking his lower lip between his teeth. “Tempting little thing, you are. I’m so surprised you didn’t catch on sooner.” 

Crowley struggled against Aziraphale’s hands, he wanted to grab and touch. 

Aziraphale clicked his teeth disapprovingly. “No, I think I’ll keep you right here.” 

Crowley used a leg to slip out and pull Aziraphale’s hips down against him, and he rutted up against the fabric of Aziraphale’s tartan boxers. 

Of course it was tartan. 

Oh, Crowley was beyond in love. 

“Plug me, mate me properly.” Crowley begged. “Please, fuck, Aziraphale I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so much.” 

“Mmm, I think you can ask nicer than that, love.” 

Crowley threw his head back in frustration. 

With strain and gruff rasp in his voice, he ground out the words, “Aziraphale, I’ve been hard for almost an hour, I’ve been wanting you since I met you, in love with you for who knows how long, and now I have the fucking blessing of the universe for you to keep me forever and you’re telling me you want to? And you’re still keeping me from it. Fuck you, you are no angel. You’re the cruelest incubus I’ve ever met.” 

“Mmm,” Aziraphale ground his hips against Crowley a few times before giggling like a fool in his ear. “Not quite what I was asking for, but… I’m feeling generous.” 

Aziraphale’s hand slid between their bodies to stroke at Crowley’s cock, and he laughed as Crowley’s hips began fucking up into his fist with dire urgency. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, your hands.” Crowley groaned, before Aziraphale’s other hand slipped to put two fingers into his mouth. 

Crowley happily took the gag before he swallowed around his fingers, and the grip on his cock tightened. 

“Your sinful mouth,” Aziraphale growled before popping them from his mouth and sliding his hand into Crowley’s hair to pull his head back. 

“Oh fuck, yes!” Crowley whined. 

The neverending infinity of reciprocity in their pheromones was making Crowley crazy. 

“Fuck, Aziraphale, I need you in me.” His hips were still pistoning into Aziraphale’s fist. 

Aziraphale laughed in his ear. “Patience, dear. Three years of build up, let me savor it a little longer.” 

Crowley shook his head, and using the grip he had on his waist from his leg, swung himself over to throw Aziraphale onto his back. “If you mess with the bull, you will get the horns.” 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with tears welling in his eyes, and a smile so wide Crowley felt the earth split under them. 

“You really want this?” his angel asked, taking a hand to brush over his chest, pinch at a nipple which made Crowley squirm in his lap. His other hand weaseled between Crowley’s spread thighs to brush a knuckle at his perineum before taunting him with the idea of spreading him open. “You want me to make you mine? Be mine forever? Are we not moving too fast?” 

Crowley slammed his lips into Aziraphale’s, growling against his mouth to tell him what he thought of that idea. “Put some fucking demon-pups in me this minute, Aziraphale. Feed me your lust, your cum, your everything. I’m yours. And I will be for eternity.” 

Aziraphale’s gaze grew hungry again, and he yanked him down harder to kiss him, spreading him open to tease at his hole. “I want to get my tongue in you, taste you, feel you twitch under every touch.” 

Crowley bit back the whimper as arousal flooded his body again, “After, after the plug, please.” 

Aziraphale froze, before a full body shudder ripped through him. “Ohh, my love, that is not fair.” 

“I love you, Aziraphale, please.” Crowley whispered. His hands were running up and down his arms, his chest, his plush stomach. 

God, the amount of hookups he took home to just wind up fantasizing about rutting against Aziraphale’s plush body–

Unfair. 

Aziraphale grabbed the lubricant from behind the couch cushions, and before Crowley could even question it, his angel yanked him back down into a kiss. They were both desperate now, and Aziraphale, between choppy pants whispered, “I love you too.”

One finger, then two, three, as Crowley kept pushing his hips back into Aziraphale’s hand, Aziraphale worked his boxers down enough to spring free. 

“Fuck, if I hadn’t known before I would now,” Crowley said, finally getting a glimpse of his cock. 

Crowley never really cared that much about a hung-cock or not. But, Aziraphale was fucking packing, hung like a horse, or whatever other shitty euphemism he could think of didn’t hold a candle to the thick, glistening pink cock standing at full attention. 

Precum beaded at the slit, and Crowley considered for a moment if he wanted to choke on that thing right at this moment or not–

But Aziraphale curled his fingers just right to hit his prostate, and Crowley knew he had to put that on the back burner while he cried out in a delightful spot between delight and anguish. Crowley quickly stole the lube to stroke it over Aziraphale’s cock, relishing the thick ridge and defined head in his hand while Aziraphale panted and grunted under him.

“In me, in me, in me.” Crowley said, shuffling to settle himself over Aziraphale’s cock. 

Aziraphale laughed, as he guided Crowley’s hips over himself, while the succubi’s hand guided the incubi’s cock into his hole. 

Aziraphale didn’t wait for Crowley to adjust to the size before yanking his hips all the way down. 

The head of his angel’s cock brushed over his prostate, and Crowley immediately began to rock in earnest. Aziraphale’s feet braced themselves, and he began to fuck up into Crowley hard, pulling him down with every push upwards. 

Crowley could barely move of his own accord now, whimpering and crying out broken keening, pleas, desperate praise and a chorus of “Yes, yes, yes!”

Aziraphale brought his hand up to Crowley’s neck, holding him there steady. 

Waves of passion flowed through the room, and Aziraphale groaned softly through a strained voice. “You know, once I mate you, and the plug takes hold, you’re going to have an even worse hold on me.” 

Crowley barely had the strength to try to ask for clarification, his body floating in a chamber of pleasure he had never experienced. His eyes felt crossed as Aziraphale’s pheromones flooded in harder. 

“I’ll finally feel the impact of you at your fullest. You’ll have total control over me like I do of you right now. But now, you’re going to come for me, and I’m going to see you the way countless others have, and know you will always be mine. Forever.” 

Crowley felt the tears pour down his face as Aziraphale aimed for that spot over and over again, his mouth slack and moans fell free. 

“Yours, Aziraphale, I’ve always been yours.” 

“Come,” Aziraphale demanded as his hips doubled in pace, the echoing sounds of wet skin slapping was only sparking more lust pushing and pulling from Crowley’s body. 

And Crowley after one, two, three more thrusts, did. 

He felt it hit his chest, dripping down to pool on Aziraphale’s stomach. Had Aziraphale been done fucking up into him, he would’ve licked it off, see if he could’ve inspired more of that lustful stare–

But no, Aziraphale had other plans. He flipped them over, and although Crowley was oversensitive, he floated in his sea of post-orgasm ecstasy (another delightful incubus power), and felt Aziraphale’s cock twitch, and come. 

Oh god, there was so much. He was fucking himself through it, and Crowley was whimpering now, and then, he felt it. The firm barrier of Aziraphale’s mating plug expanded within him, keeping him full. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Crowley was sobbing as the pleasure unraveled him from the inside out. “Oh god, keep me like this forever.” Crowley’s hips were twitching as his hole fluttered and clenched around the barrier.

“I plan to, my love,” Aziraphale said as he kissed Crowley's face. “I’ll plug you every night, every morning. You’ll never need to feed again.” 

Crowley laughed softly, and shuddered at the thought. Oh, he loved the idea of always being full, being bred… Even maybe having demon-spawn of their own. 

The sparkling of Crowley’s pheromones started to seep out in full force, desire overwhelming him, and Aziraphale gasped. 

Aziraphale tucked his face into Crowley’s neck. “Ohh, maybe we’ll start sooner rather than later.”

“Oops. ‘Wasn’t trying that time. That was an accident.” Crowley grinned sheepishly. “Old habits.” 

Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s hair out of his face, bringing his hand down the side of his cheek before stealing a gentle kiss. He pulled out, leaving only the plug behind. “Well, now I have about three years of pheromones that were being wasted while you threw them my way, I think I have a right to those now.” 

“Right now?” Crowley’s devilish grin grew like a sneaking serpent. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “I would say maybe we should go for dinner, but I am feeling quite full. You?” 

Crowley knew the plug had a few hours before it would disappear. But, there were other ways to be fed. Crowley slid down under Aziraphale, and kissed his chest over his heart, before his hand trailed down his happy trail, “I think I’d rather have dessert. I’ve only just had a taste of what I’ll be having forever.” 

Aziraphale groaned, and sat up. “Bed, then. I think we owe ourselves a little bit of decadence, since I have a feeling I won’t need to go to the Ritz any time soon.” 

They were both scurrying up off the couch, heading towards the stairs to Aziraphale’s bedroom.

“Need?” Crowley asked, “No. But what can I say? I enjoy watching you eat.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before pulling him into another kiss. 

They smiled into each other’s mouths, and knew eternity would be beautiful.