sauntered_downward | for salutosinedelectat

for salutosinedelectat

Follows this.

They couldn't just teleport themselves there. Any miracles, demonic or otherwise, would attract too much attention. No, Crowley was actually going to have to sit there, plugging their information into an online search engine, and do it all manually. Fluctuating airline prices were demonic work, and right now a trip to Japan was over six thousand pounds more expensive than if he had bought it three days earlier, which was totally outrageous. Crowley didn't know a lot about money except what it made men do to each other, he'd never had to. But now, making money appear out of nothing could turn the wrong eye on them if he wasn't careful.

Luckily, he had quite a few credit cards that never needed paying or had a limit on them. They would work in a pinch for a moment like this. He didn't know if that sort of perk-of-being-a-demon could ever be taken away from him, but he hoped not.

The flight itself was a long one, and Crowley settled himself in for it by making sure they were flying at least first class. That way they could see everyone coming at them and have a few glasses of wine on the journey.

"I don't think they know about these passports," Crowley says. "They might, but I doubt it. I had them made back during the last World War, just kept them in good condition."

The second World War was something that Crowley took responsibility for, but he hated every moment of it, and what his side did to make it worse made him sick. He was more than prepared to hide away if he needed to when things went wrong back then. And, at the time, he had also created a passport for Aziraphale, in case he wanted to come along. No other reason for that, he told himself.

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Crowley gasps against Aziraphale's neck at the feeling of him, at the feeling of them together. He gets the sensation of waves again, reaching up and cresting towards a beach, threatening to break. He can feel waves of pleasure, waves of bliss hit him with every sensation, every movement, threatening to spill over into something else entirely.

Not that Crowley is naive, of course. He knows how sex works, he knows how pleasure works, but it's never been like this. He's never been with anyone who has made his wings come out in pure ecstasy before. Never had anyone made him think about how he's beaten Hell.

There's never been music before.

No, Aziraphale is something entirely new. This is far too unique, far too special, to ever let go.

What they have right now is, in several ways, and always will be, only theirs. In the more technical manner, it's quite obvious, as they are only themselves and with only each other, and not even God herself could change that - probably. But there's also something to say about two celestial creatures, formerly from opposite sides, rejected and having denounced their former peoples, after orbiting around each other for thousands of years, finally joined together in an honest sharing of feelings, and an intimate embrace, quite in the fashion of the mortal's they've been watching over, but with the added gifts of their own brand of non-humanity.

The feeling of Crowley's breath against his neck is one of the many details that Aziraphale will remember for a very long time. The feeling of his body against the angel's, and, well, other ways in which they are making use of their vessels in this moment, are something he'd love to feel again and again and again.

"Crowley--" The name escapes him, strained, with no control of his own. Those waves are getting stronger, getting closer. His wings twitch and unwrap from around him, but stay curled upwards.

Crowley can swear the music is getting louder, the melody more distinct. Every movement his hips make, every thrust of pleasure makes everything seem sharper, clearer. His body is moving closer to the pinnacle, he can feel every movement push him closer to it, while his soul is still wrapped up in bliss with Aziraphale's.

He hears Aziraphale say his name and that causes him to let out an involuntary moan. Hearing his name spoken like this, feeling the angel in his arms like this---it's all he's ever fantasized about. It's all he's longed for. And now they have it, and they'll have it forever, for as long as they want.

He would certainly love to hold the angel like this every night if he'd have him.

"Aziraphale, I'm----"

He should ask the angel. He might might like the answer.

His wings flex and softly hit against the bed as he arches his back. He holds on tight, the music their share growing louder and louder and clearer. There's somewhere to go, of course, and he wants to reach it with him, but there are some things he don't want to end, such as the brand new connection they're sharing.

But there's no need to get ahead of themselves. His breathing gets more ragged and eager - of all the times he's bound to forget he doesn't need it, clearly this is one the thought is miles away -, and every time Crowley moves, every movement they make together is another note on this crescendo, growing louder and closer to the climax, and Aziraphale hears him, hears his voice, hears his soul, and he could swear they could become one right then.

He doesn't want to end this, either, he doesn't want to stop. This feels too good, this connection feels too pure. At the same time, he can feel his body pulling him towards climax and it's like an avalanche of sensation sweeping through him---he knows he can't stop it as it starts to pour over him. His own wings move towards Aziraphale's, creating a cocoon of darkness around them.

He could easily fall into Aziraphale and never want to come out.

He cries out Aziraphale's name into his neck as he feels himself push over that edge. All of the muscles in his body tighten, and pleasure shoots through him, as every cell in his body lights up with the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm. All he can feel is the angel in his arms, all he can see is him. Everything is his love for Aziraphale in that moment.

He feels like he has been holding a coil tight for six thousand years and has finally let it go.

When that one note hits and the song reaches its apex, when he feels himself peak, when Crowley calls out his name so warm against his neck, everything else stops existing for all the angel can tell.

He digs his fingers into Crowley's back and cranes his head back against the bed, gasping deeply as pleasure runs through his body like a shot of electricity and seizes up every part of his body. His toes curl and his wings stretch out to each side as wide as they go, merely lucky to not hit anything in the way, but he wouldn't have minded, he wouldn't have cared, because nothing else would have mattered but this.

The song is loud and booming. The waves finally crash into shore. Something around them changes, but it'll have to wait. For now, he's forgotten, and for now, Heaven be told, he's feeling the best he's ever felt in who knows how long.

Crowley sinks down, leaning his body against Aziraphale, feeling both electrified and spent all at the same time. Crowley is hardly a blushing virgin, but that was unlike anything he's ever experienced and he feels vulnerable, and all too new to it.

He releases one of Aziraphale's hands to reach up and cup the angel's cheek, to touch him softly, carefully. All of this touching, all of this contact. He loves it. He loves Aziraphale, and Aziraphale loves him. And here they are, together.

What the hell do they do next?

Wherever they go, it'll have to wait too. Which isn't so bad, all things considered.

As his senses come trickling back down into wherever they had floated off from, he's slowly catching his breath, lying comfortably as his muscles relax, wings draped lazily over the bed.

Aziraphale leans his face against Crowley's touch, turning his head to kiss his palm. He brings his hand up to hold the back of Crowley's gently, opening his eyes just a little, looking down at him.

Crowley smiles a slow, lazy smile at the angel. It's impossible to think how, not that long ago, Crowley had every intention of leaving him for his own good. Of vanishing from this place and never seeing him again. What they would have missed if he'd been so stupid as to go. What he might never have known if he'd just gone.

Now, he would never be anywhere but by Aziraphale's side. He'd figure out a way to fight Hastur, of course he would. They'd make it away from Heaven and Hell no problem. What is it Aziraphale always says? Tickety-boo. It'd be fine.

"That was---" Hard to explain it in simple words. "---amazing." Well, maybe not so hard. Sometimes simple is better.

Some things have changed. Others have not, such as time and time again deciding that they'll be together. Aziraphale, much to his regret, has not always been on that same page. But that's where one of the changes lies.

He keeps his hand over the back of Crowley's, gently keeping it against his face, giving the demon a soft, fond smile, with perhaps a bit more of gentle giddiness to his eyes. His other hand is still intertwined with Crowley's.

"Yes." Quiet and light. Loving all the same, as the connection they shared doesn't seem to have quite faded.

Crowley leans in to press a kiss to the angel's mouth, gentle and loving.

Six thousand years. Six thousand years they've orbited each other. Followed each other, cared for each other. And it's come down to this. Love and passion and connection. This is the first night on this path, Crowley thinks. There will be others. More connections, more kisses, more stolen 'I love you's whispered as they hold each other.

It's all Crowley has ever dreamed of.

Now, more than ever, he has to work out a plan. Something to keep them safe, something to keep Aziraphale out of trouble and himself from Hastur's view. But that's something to think about later.

Six thousand years... And he couldn't even dream of a night like this.

Maybe angels are just bad at dreaming. They're certainly bad at seeing things for what they really are, whatever that could mean. Good at denial. Good at stubbornness. Good at rejecting what's not in the plan. Aziraphale had been good at those things, and not many others, but he's happy to be mostly letting them go. Well, at least those relating to his former side.

He hums quietly into the kiss, just a simple expression of the happy calmness of his mind. Opens his eyes slightly when it his broken, feeling warm and cozy and fuzzy, and all those little words associated to when one is happy and content.

He pulls his hand away from Crowley's and touches his cheek in turn, admiring the demon's face for a moment. Just letting the thoughts and the now gently float through his mind. There is a lot to think about, many new things to process. But he'll take a little while longer of looking at his demon, thank you.

Crowley turns his head to press his lips against Aziraphale's hand.

He could happily stay like this forever, entwined with the angel. Go to sleep for a good dozen years or so in this blissful afterglow. Of course, until now he didn't think much of Lust a sin, but now he's completely rethinking that overall. Take in a long decade of Lust and Sloth with them, intersperse it with some Gluttony and wine...

"Who'd have thought it would take us six thousand years to get here?" he murmurs, looking down at the angel. "Probably didn't think that back when we first met."

The angel chuckles softly, brushing his thumb on Crowley’s cheek. Despite the horrifying evening they had before this, everything feels so distant now. Barely a dream, a nightmare to just forget. In fact, it might take him a bit to remembered just all that happened and how close both of them had gotten to total destruction.

He tilts his head slightly, still resting against the bed, just looking up at him with soft, adoring eyes.

“Couldn’t have dreamed of it.” Really couldn’t, if he had to be honest. He could never imagine life would be so full of surprises.

He moves his hand from Crowley’s to the back of his neck, idly brushing against his hair.

If only they could stay like this forever. Just wrapped up in each other, in love, without any interference from the outside world. Crowley would like that. They might've had it, too, if Heaven and Hell hadn't gotten in the way. They might've found their way here eventually, and lived out their lives in London in each others' arms.

But at least they have this, now.

"Still have that sushi," he says, with a little smile. "And the sake. Saved up for whenever you want it."

He would have liked that. He would have liked if everything had a pace that only they and their minds had a hand on. He would have liked if everything had been a lot more gentle and careful.

But he's happy to be here right now. He's happe in this. He's glad that, despite everything thing, they have-- they made this.

The angel blinks when Crowley mentions the food and drink. A second to remember what he's talking about, another second before he's chuckling quietly before he can help it, so he brings a hand up to hold the back of it to his mouth.

He doesnt mean to laugh. There's just something about it that is so... Endearing. And there's some of the ridiculousness that life may have, in its extremes and conflicting moments of blandness.

And, maybe, he's just happy.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at the laughter. It's not what he expected, but it's certainly not unwelcome. And, perhaps, the moment is a bit much, isn't it? The whole day, which started with them on a plane and has ended up with them here in bed together, has been a bit much, too.

But he's not afraid anymore. Not so long as they're together.

Crowley has never been happier than he is in this moment, lying with the angel. He's been in love with him for a long, long time. But now, right now, they're both openly in love with each other. No fear, no one to stop them. The outside world is a thing for later. They have each other now.

"I don't really know what else we do in a moment like this," he says. "Smoke a cigarette, maybe?"

It's all been too much. Too much of too many things, but look, they've made it through, and with a rather good rating of success, too. And the conclusion wasn't too shabby, either. Yes, it's been a rather long day, and he's more than happy to take this moment to breathe, as it were.

"Seems fitting, I believe." Not that he's much for smoking, but it feels like part of the whole image. But he makes a bit of a face. "It wouldn't be too nice to smoke in such a rather pleasant place though, would it?"

Give him a moment to be his gently fussy self. It still all sounds more like idle teasing than anything serious.

"Did you know, Hell is actually non-smoking. Have to go outside the gates if you want one," he says. Not that Crowley really smokes, either. It's more Hastur's deal to smoke when he's trying to be intimidating.

He looks around the room a bit. "It's not bad here. We could stay here as long as you want. Get our bearings, see if they start looking elsewhere for us."

He has no idea what Heaven and Hell will do next. All he knows is he intends to stay with Aziraphale. Maybe order a takeaway, open another bottle or two of wine, and take advantage of what they've started.

The angel raises his brows, vaguely surprised by that tidbit about Hell's company rules. "Really? Hum." Although, from what he saw down there, most of the place is a fire hazard. Hard not to wonder what would happen if you added the presence of lit cigarettes. Also, the smell. Ghastly, that.

"But we could, yes." He glances around as well, actually taking a proper look around this time. Simple. Minimalist. The coziness of it perhaps enhanced by the demon sharing the bed and an embrace with him. "It has its charm, I think. Not that--well, not that our choices are that extensive." If they want to remain safe, anyway.

His mind wants to get going on all future possibilities again, the risks, the dangers, but he much rather take in the comfort for now.

"I'm sure we can find other places all over the world," Crowley says. "Buddhist temples in China. India. All over. And I'm sure with the right nudging they'd let us stay, even if they aren't airBNBs."

What Crowley is trying to say is that they aren't trapped here. It might feel a little like it, because they're pursued on all sides without a real escape route right now. But that's a problem for later.

He reaches out and brushes his fingertips across Aziraphale's cheek.

"You could still let me go march into Heaven and demand they leave you alone."

The angel looks at him, close as they are, with a thoughtful look on his face, albeit a gentle one. It’s funny, really, how things feel a little bit less...well, not less pressing, as they do very much need to ensure their own survival, but, in the very least, time seems tp have slowed down, even if just for a few hours. Lying here, like this, with him, after what they just shared, makes everything else not feel as overwhelming. And the irony of that detail, considering what had always kept them from true honesty, kept him from facing what was there, is not lost on Aziraphale.

But he soon smiles. Bringing up a hand to hold onto Crowley’s, he reaches the other to the back of the demon’s neck, brushing his thumb on the small hairs on his nape.

“That would be too dangerous.” And he’d make more of a fuss about it, but the moment calls for softness. He’s happy to deliver. “Much rather have you safe. Here.” A beat, and a coy, quiet tone. “With me.”

Not that the angel believes he can guarantee safety. But he can try. And having Crowley rush into Heaven making demands seems to maybe go directly against that.

Crowley leans down, pressing a kiss to the angel's chest right above the black mark left there by Hastur. This is really the first real battle scar they'll have to endure in this struggle, he knows. There will be others, on both sides. There will be more fights, more problems, more times they'll have to run.

But right now, they have this.

"Nowhere in the universe I'd rather be," he says, pressing another kiss to the angel's chest. "Than with you."

It's the truth. The whole world can shove it for all Crowley cares. He'd walk right into Heaven without a second thought if it could ensure they'd have every night like this together. But he can wait. They can figure something out together.

They'll have to figure it out. They'll have to. And they've had other times in the past where they did, too. At least this time there won't be time wasted in running around pretending to still be playing for opposite sides.

The demon presses his lips on his chest and the touch, the feeling is still something so new, but so right. Warm and comforting in ways Aziraphale never considered he could have.

But it brings to attention the mark that's right there. Looking at it again, even just what he can see, what little Crowley isn't in the way or, is still rather...

Had the Duke actually damaged his vessel in a way he couldn't change? The idea, feasible enough, still bothers him. He's happy to still be alive to feel anything at all about it, or course, specially without knowing what would happen if he got discorporated, or whether his essence could ever survive such an attack, but he really could do without such a... Mark.

"Then I can count myself lucky, my dear." Pulling up the same sort of soft hopeful tone, after a pause.

Lucky. Crowley thinks they're both lucky to be alive after this evening, really. Lucky to have found a moment of reprieve to just be together. Things could have gone so much worse.

If Aziraphale had been discorporated, Heaven should've expected Crowley to come knocking at their door for his angel. He wouldn't just leave him there, hoping they'd let him out. That's for damn sure. If Aziraphale were gone forever----that's something Crowley can't bear to think about.

"Do you want to sleep?" he offers. "Get more rest for you?"

for salutosinedelectat

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congratulations, snek man, u did it

strong work boys

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Tmw getting laid broke their depression

Well something had to! They certainly couldn't go on like that forever

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