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anxiousgaypanicking · 4 months

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I noticed that you're accepting requests for good omens 👀 aziraphale coming back from heaven after leaving Crowley and things escalating up to apology sex/giving Crowley the opportunity to let out his pent-up frustrations? Whoever's the top or bottom is up to you

Apology

Warnings: pretty standard sex

Aziraphale stands idly on the steps outside what was formerly his bookshop. Despite having entered and exited these doors plenty of times, he now feels unsure of whether or not he was welcomed inside.

He had seen Muriel pass by the doors, holding an unsteady stack of books in her arms. Seeing her reminded him of his first days on Earth, and even of the first books he got to hold in his hands. He hoped she hadn't given any away, but he wouldn't blame her if she didn't understand their value. Those books were important to him, and he'd abandoned them anyway.

It wasn't the only important thing he'd left behind.

Just barely visible through the window of the door is Crowley. He's laying back on one of the comfortable couches Aziraphale's ex-bookshop houses. Normally, when he'd stretch out on the piece of furniture it was when he and Aziraphale were engrossed in witty conversation. Now he looked as though he was miserable, if not rotting away on the cushions.

Aziraphale didn't blame him in the slightest.

Fear of rejection is the only thing that keeps him hesitant outside the doors. He doesn't deserve Crowley's forgiveness, but he's prepared to beg for it anyway.

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Aziraphale heads inside.

As he pushes the door open, the bell above it jingles, and though Crowley doesn't stir, Muriel's feet can be heard excitedly pattering towards the doorway.

"Hi!" she exclaims, before she's even before the door, "welcome to A. Z. Fell & Co..." Muriel trails off before she can even finish her sentence. She gasps when she fully processes who is standing before her.

"Aziraphale!" she exclaims, though Aziraphale has a hard time interpreting whether it's out of surprise or excitement.

The proclamation of his name has Crowley whipping around in his seat though, staring at Aziraphale with his eyes obscured by his familiar black glasses. Aziraphale swears it was just yesterday when Crowley felt comfortable enough to slide his glasses off every time he walked into the bookshop. Now here he was wearing them just to lay around.

"Hi, Muriel," Aziraphale says, though his voice is unsteady, as though he's trying to keep a shuddering sob suppressed. "Hi, Crowley."

"I've kept everything tidy for you!" Muriel states, smiling, though her eyes reflect a certain disbelief. "And Mr. Crowley told me you didn't want any books actually sold."

"How sweet of him." Aziraphale smiles at Crowley. Crowley scowls in response, turning away from him in such a way that drew attention to the cold air wafting between them. There's thick tension that settles along with the silence, which has Muriel bouncing on the heels of her feet awkwardly.

"Why don't you go... tidy something up in the back," Aziraphale then urges Muriel, as soft as he can. She seems relieved at having something to do, and nods at the request, before walking off and leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone.

For a few seconds, Aziraphale waits, wondering if Crowley will say something. He doesn't. And so, Aziraphale clears his throat and breaks the silence, stating "I came back."

Crowley doesn't stir.

Taking a few small steps toward the sofa Crowley was spread out on, Aziraphale adds "I suppose this warrants a lot more than the apology dance?"

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

Aziraphale's chest aches at the words, but still he presses onwards. "Crowley..."

"I don't even want to see you."

That has Aziraphale's eyes feeling wet. He blinks away the tears before they even have the chance to fall, and sets his hand gently on the back of the cushions, standing behind Crowley's head. So close, Aziraphale could reach forward and cup his face.

"I'm sorry."

That has Crowley drawing in a sharp breath. He doesn't answer Aziraphale, inviting him to say more. Apologize again, or plead his case maybe?

Whatever the reason, Aziraphale knows this is potentially his one chance to make things right.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, believing it to be a good place to start from. "I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have left Earth. I was... I was hoping that, as the Supreme Archangel, I could make a difference. I could allow Heaven to see just how special Earth was, and... that I could have you with him. But I couldn't have either." Aziraphale's voice shakes. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't know what the right thing is anymore. Everything is so skewed."

He has to take in a breath to keep himself from slurring his words.

"Jim... or, Gabriel, told me when he'd lost his memories that being around one particular person would make things okay. That if you had nothing else, and you were lost, that one particular person could make things feel better. You are my person."

Crowley is still. Aziraphale continues.

"You don't have to forgive me. I... I don't even know if I'm asking for your forgiveness. But let me at least be with you; I beg of you." Aziraphale's hand slides from the back of the sofa down to the armrest Crowley's head was leaning against. His fingers slowly crawl up Crowley's cheek, caressing his tattoo oh so gently, before cupping his angled jaw and just holding his face.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make things right," Aziraphale promises, and he means it. Once more, his shining eyes are welled up with tears. He's gotten so good at reading Crowley throughout the years, but as Aziraphale looks at him now, he hasn't the faintest clue what he could be thinking. Truthfully, as much as Aziraphale wanted Crowley to accept him, he knew he just as rightfully deserved to be turned away.

Finally, Crowley sits up. He just stays sitting, facing away from Aziraphale for a few moments, before turning back to him and scooting himself to the arm of the settee so that they're face to face.

"I'm still angry with you," Crowley states. Aziraphale smiles sadly, and nods his head.

"I figured you would be. And- it's justified, of course."

"What made you leave?"

The question surprises Aziraphale a bit, but he supposes it makes sense that Crowley would want to know, especially after Aziraphale had begged him to come with.

"I missed you." Aziraphale stares into Crowley's glasses, finding only his sad reflection within them. "I missed the world. I missed my world."

Aziraphale's fingers travel upwards, dancing against the side of Crowley's glasses. Upon being met with no resistance, he slowly slides them off of Crowley's face, and sets them aside. Crowley's eyes are wet, but otherwise hard to read.

"I'd like to be on our side, if that's okay," Aziraphale quietly says, speaking those words to Crowley and Crowley alone. A side that would consist of just the two of them. A group of the two of them.

Crowley's hand sets itself atop Aziraphale's, holding it against his face, before it slithers upwards, sliding over the length of Aziraphale's arm until he's holding Aziraphale's own soft cheek, studying his countenance.

"I shouldn't forgive you," Crowley utters, voice raspy and low. "But after six-thousand years of being around you, it was devastating not feeling your presence on Earth."

Aziraphale exhales, shaky and apologetic, sighing as his eyelids flutter shut momentarily. When his eyes reopen, Crowley is still staring at him, but his gaze has softened in such a way that Aziraphale can sense forgiveness, though both of them know things are different now. For once, they both seem to agree on where they stand in relation to Heaven and Hell, and in relation to one another.

For a few moments, they just stand in each other's presence, Aziraphale leaning against Crowley's hand while his own thumb rubs over Crowley's cheekbone. Then Crowley's pulling him closer. Slow, at first, as though testing the waters, urging him to bend down so that they're face to face.

"Am I moving too fast?" Crowley whispers.

"I should be asking you that question," Aziraphale responds, feeling relief wash over him at the way Crowley's looking at him. He's still angry - he probably will be for a while - but at least temporarily Aziraphale is forgiven.

He can feel Crowley's warm breath on his lips, but there's a pause. Perhaps Crowley is waiting to see if Aziraphale will pull away, or if he'll truly make up for his departure by connecting their mouths in a much softer fashion than Crowley initially had. Regardless of the reason, Aziraphale can't take the lingering much longer, and so slowly tilts his head to the side and presses their lips together.

It's gentle, as most things with Aziraphale are, and just as apologetic as he is. Though he hesitates, his hands eventually find Crowley's shoulders, no longer afraid of embracing him. Crowley lets him move at his pace, and his hands slowly grasp Aziraphale's coat, keeping him close but not pulling him in as he had before. They're close enough as is. Close enough for their foreheads to rest against each other when Aziraphale pulls away slightly, leaving an air of fluster between them.

"So..." Aziraphale speaks, voice low and unsure. "What now? No apology dance?"

Crowley finally snorts, a smile creasing the corner of his lips just barely visible as he turns his head to the side. It helps soothe Aziraphale further, and finally allows him the ability to smile as he straightens back up.

"No, I suppose not," Crowley answers, as he smooths out his pants and leans back against the couch. "Though, if you're still insistent on making things up to me somehow, I have a few ideas."

That has one of Aziraphale's eyebrows quirking up, as he replies "oh? I'd love to hear them, if you'd be so..." he stops before saying 'kind,' and uses "willing" instead, smiling after. Crowley smiles briefly at him in turn, before his face falls to a more neutral expression, and then a more contemplative one.

"I have one that I'm particularly inclined to suggest, but I'd like to know before I suggest it that you'll be completely honest with me," Crowley states, as he finally works his glasses off his face, allowing Aziraphale to see his gleaming yellow irises. He looks serious, though.

"I will be," Aziraphale affirms.

Crowley stares at him for just a few seconds, before pushing himself off the sofa and taking Aziraphale's hand, lightly enough for Aziraphale to pull away if he so desires but still firm enough to lead him forward. He takes them upstairs to the now-vacant bedroom Gabriel-turned-Jim previously used during his temporary stay. Aziraphale's eyes him curiously, having not yet caught on to Crowley's implications, up until Crowley's fingers are sliding beneath his coat and pulling it off of him, slowly slipping the coat down Aziraphale's arms and running his fingers down them all the same.

"Oh..." Aziraphale breathes, eyes darting from Crowley's hands to his face.

"Is this okay?"

Aziraphale lets his coat fall to the floor, and despite his urge to pick it up and hang it over a chair or something, he stays planted where he stands, Crowley's fingertips lingering over his knuckles.

"I suppose," Aziraphale answers, shying away from Crowley's gaze. "Though, it's a bit unfair."

Aziraphale reaches for Crowley's jacket, and Crowley lets Aziraphale pull it off of him, though he does comment "I thought this was all about making it up to me. This was my idea after all."

"I'm just making a few suggestions of my own, Crowley," Aziraphale replies, pulling Crowley's grey, skinny-scarf off of him as well. "If you disagree with them, you can say such."

"No, no," Crowley is quick to say, face warming at Aziraphale's casual nature. Despite this quite literally being Crowley's choice, Aziraphale had adapted rather quickly, and with a lot more relaxation than Crowley truthfully expected. "I have no complaints with this."

"Good." Aziraphale's hands still pertain a little bit of hesitancy, as doubt fills any silent moment they have, but he pushes himself to continue anyway. Who's going to stop him from touching Crowley now that he's finally allowed? No one is.

He's had Crowley's body, but he's never felt Crowley's body, and there's a clear difference between the two. And Crowley just stands there and lets him run his hands along his sides, fingers pushing against his ribcage and hip bones before ever so slightly sliding beneath the waistband of Crowley's tight pants, and it's only there that Crowley stops him.

"You'll probably need some help with that bit," he states, though Aziraphale's eyes shine at the joking manner in which Crowley speaks. While he would much prefer to go the more humanly route of properly stripping Crowley down, he knows that logically Crowley's pants probably can't slide down further than a couple millimeters without coming to an impasse.

Pulling his fingers up, Crowley makes a quick flicking motion, and in a matter of seconds his clothes are miracled off. If he has any shame about standing nude in front of Aziraphale, he's doing a great job of hiding it, and instead just takes to unbuttoning Aziraphale's vest.

He's careful with the angel's clothes, sliding them off his body slowly and making sure they land on an area of the floor where they won't be accidentally trampled. Aziraphale has little shame in being naked either; he's been alive for six thousand years, he's been indecent once or twice, but the way Crowley looks at him once his pants are dropped makes him burn internally, as though Crowley is igniting hellfire inside of him.

"Look at you," Crowley murmurs, so soft Aziraphale takes a step forward to hear him better. "You're gorgeous."

His hands linger above Aziraphale's chubby stomach, wanting to touch but hesitating despite their mutual vulnerability. Hovering upwards, Crowley instead holds Aziraphale's face, pulling him forward and leaning down to kiss him again.

It reminds Aziraphale of his time spent in heaven, longing for the taste of Crowley's lips. They'd been the last thing he tasted before departing, and he hadn't realized just how much he'd craved them until they were unattainable.

A moan slips past his lips, which has Crowley pulling away immediately.

Startled, Aziraphale almost goes to apologize, but is quickly rendered speechless by Crowley tilting his head upwards and thumbing over his lips.

"Beautiful," Crowley breathes, so delicately Aziraphale could have believed the word emerged from the wind itself. "I wish it hadn't been muffled."

"I'm sure the others won't be," comes Aziraphale's assurance, though both of them go pink in the face at his implications.

"Well," Aziraphale then begins, clasping his hands together in a flustered bid to move things along, "shall we mount the bed? I assume that's why you brought us up here in the first place." Aziraphale nods at the mattress, and Crowley looks between it and Aziraphale as though his initial plan hadn't just involved wanting to move away from the downstairs windows.

"Right, yes, of course," Crowley exclaims, nodding and pressing his lips together into a thin line. "After you."

Aziraphale smiles softly, though pulls Crowley slowly to the bed, urging him onto it first. "No, please. I insist."

Surprised, but interested, Crowley lays himself back on the bed, scooting partially up the mattress until a pillow hits the back of his shoulders. Aziraphale crawls onto the bed after him, sliding between Crowley's thin legs until their bodies are pressed together, guiding Crowley's calves around his waist.

"I never would have expected - in all of six thousand years - to be doing this with you," Crowley admits, as Aziraphale's soft hands glide over his bony figure. Unlike Crowley, who displayed more reservations about touching, Aziraphale has no trouble getting right to it. They've never properly embraced, he's realizing, and now at their most vulnerable they're going to get to.

"Have you thought about it?" Aziraphale asks, as his fingers dance down Crowley's pronounced hip bones, and then over his thighs.

"Yes."

Aziraphale nods, not saying anything in response, though his cheeks flush at the confession.

His hands slide back to Crowley's hips, rubbing over his prominent ilia, before he sheepishly asks "who... who do you want to be in control?"

He would take the reins himself if Crowley so desired, but felt it necessary to ask. This had been Crowley's idea after all; he might have had a specific way he wanted this all to go down. Besides, after no doubt feeling out of control during Aziraphale's leave, he may want to be the one to guide things.

But surprisingly, he takes Aziraphale's wrists, and pulls them until Aziraphale is falling forward, hands planted on either side of Crowley's face.

"You can take the lead," Crowley says, slurring his words a bit in an attempt to be smooth. "Might as well, with the position you're in."

Very lightly, Crowley's fingertips brush through Aziraphale's curly hair, as he feels Aziraphale's stomach press against his body. Aziraphale stares into his eyes, before they're both moving to kiss in tandem, soft and slow, appreciating the other for all they're worth. To some extent, every kiss in the near-future will be a somewhat bittersweet reminder of Aziraphale's absence - and even his initial rejection - but it was sweet enough to be worth tasting. Addicting enough to have Aziraphale pulling away to catch a breath, before kissing Crowley again, his own arms shaking in a desperate bid to keep his body from laying flat against Crowley's own while kissing him feebly. Pleasure courses through his body, but he doesn't place why until he's being lightly pushed back.

"Angel," Crowley gasps, turning his head to the side to prevent Aziraphale from kissing him once more. "You mustn't tease me."

Aziraphale goes to ask him what he means, but as he sits up he sees that Crowley's hard, leaky cock was trapped between their fronts, no doubt stimulated by any miniscule movement. Aziraphale's own cock - also hard - was in a similar position, explaining his previous arousal.

Aziraphale sits back on his calves, leaving Crowley to prop himself up on his elbows as he watches Aziraphale curiously wrap his thick fingers around his cock, and give it a few unintentionally teasing strokes.

Crowley's fingers dig into the blankets at the pleasure, and his teeth grit as he muffles an embarrassingly loud moan, tucking his head briefly into his shoulder until he can steady himself. When he sees Aziraphale watching his face with pink cheeks, he's quick to spit "well? Get on with it then!" He can feel the blood rushing to his own cheeks, and he knows Aziraphale's noticed after witnessing the angel's lips form into a soft, embarrassed smile.

Performing a small, quick miracle, Aziraphale summons a small bottle of lube. He pours some onto his fingers, and then makes sure the digits are fully coated before pressing his fingertips against Crowley's hole.

Bitterly, Crowley objects "is this really necessary?"

But Aziraphale's response is firm and sweet, as he states "of course it is. Safety first."

Two of his fat fingers then push into Crowley's hole, spreading him open leisurely as Aziraphale focuses on stretching him out. Crowley groans at the feeling, sliding his forearm over his mouth to muffle his sounds as he leans his head back against a pillow. Aziraphale watches the way his Adam's apple bobs each time his fingers slowly thrust inside.

Crowley says something, and though Aziraphale can't understand it due to his arm in the way, he can assume it's something along the lines of "hurry up." It has Aziraphale huffing, but he wants to please Crowley, and so scissors him open just a tad longer before retracting his hand, musing at the whine that slips from Crowley's throat in the process.

The bottle of lube is reopened once more and spread over Aziraphale's thick cock, before it's shut and set aside with Aziraphale's hands taking hold of Crowley's hips once more.

The tip of Aziraphale's cock presses against Crowley's hole, before slowly sliding into him, with Aziraphale leaning over Crowley as he moans. That has Crowley gasping, as he slides one of his arms around Aziraphale's body so that his hand is pressed against his back. His nails just barely sink into Aziraphale's soft flesh, but he's careful not to hurt him.

"This is quite the apology," Aziraphale murmurs, voice light and breathy as he his cock pushes fully into Crowley. "Much better than the dance, I think."

"I quite like the dance," Crowley utters in response "Perhaps I'll have you do it for me when we're done here."

Aziraphale snorts out a laugh, before he's kissing Crowley's throat. This was truly a great deal of exertion, but it was worth it to see Crowley's cheeks glow red with each bit of affection Aziraphale gave him, despite having been the one to initiate this level of intimacy.

"Tell me when you want me to move," Aziraphale then says, voice gentle. "I want to go at your pace."

"You can move now," Crowley states, almost immediately. "Don't make me wait any longer." His arm falls from his face in order to cup Aziraphale's in turn, before Crowley whispers the softest "please" Aziraphale has ever heard.

Aziraphale is filled with the upmost desire to please, and so pulls his cock halfway out, before pushing it back into Crowley, shivering at the gasp the latter lets out at the action.

Here Crowley was telling Aziraphale he sounded beautiful when his own noises were just as addicting in their own right.

Aziraphale is slow and precise with his movements, and though his eyes watch Crowley's face contort with curiosity and pleasure, his mind is dually focused on making sure Crowley feels as best as he possibly can. And maybe - rather selfishly - Aziraphale is focused on the way his cock feels buried in Crowley's ass.

He tucks his face into the crook of Crowley's neck, trying to adjust to the rather sensitive sensation of having sex for the first time. As generally sexless beings, Aziraphale would never have guessed they'd do something so human. But humanity, to some extent, was what brought them together, so really it only made sense this would happen eventually.

Eventually. Aziraphale flushes as he thinks of that word.

It's rather intense though. Sex is. His nether regions are sensitive and his body is warm, especially as it presses against Crowley's.

His lips rest against Crowley's skin as he thrusts slowly into him, and despite his urge to keep his face tucked beneath Crowley's jaw, he pulls away after a few seconds, pressing a parting kiss to Crowley's sharp collarbone.

He brings one of his hands to Crowley's cheeks, running his thumb along his cheek, before he goes "your eyes truly are gorgeous. I missed you, of course, but I missed your eyes especially."

Crowley groans at the attention, and immediately slots an arm over his eyes to obscure them. Immediately, Aziraphale is tutting and quickly grabs his hand, peeling it away from his face and pinning it to the bed beside his head. He entangles their fingers, and scolds him softly for trying to hide any bit of himself.

Under his breath, Crowley grumbles about Aziraphale being a tease, but Aziraphale just kisses him into silence, grinding their bodies together as he attempts to speed up his thrusts. With hard thrusts, he pulls himself most of the way out, and then snaps his hips all the way in, stretching Crowley open with each movement.

Crowley's own cock slides against Aziraphale's squishy stomach, stimulated relentlessly while Aziraphale moves atop him obliviously.

Suddenly, Aziraphale's hand is being squeezed by Crowley's own as he breaks away from the kiss with a loud cry, head falling back as his back arches off the bed.

Aziraphale's thrusts slow immediately, unable to read the reaction as pleasured or pained.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tightening his fingers against Crowley's hand, only to flush when Crowley doesn't even try to repress a trembling moan.

His eyes are squeezed shut as he answers "prostate..." followed by a panting "sensitive area," which has Aziraphale going red in the face as he nods wordlessly.

His body presses further into Crowley's as his cock speeds up again, this time with Aziraphale looking considerably more focused as he attempts to aim solely for that spot over and over in order to make Crowley feel the best. And he does a considerably good job, with the tip of his cock repeatedly jutting against Crowley's prostate, making the demon moan with each thrust.

Crowley's legs squeeze around his angel's chubby waist, helpless to do anything but squeeze his eyes shut and suck in shaky gasps for air. He's only able to focus on the intense onslaught of pleasure that he's facing.

He expected this to be a learning experience for both of them, but Aziraphale is surprisingly good at this. He wonders briefly if Aziraphale has ever done this before, and then thinks about how they definitely need to do this again in a non-apologetic context, before he's being quickly distracted by another thrust to the sensitive bundle of nerves within him.

Choking out a moan, Crowley grabs Aziraphale's upper arm and clings to it, nails ever so slightly digging into his skin as he forces his eyes open to watch the way his angel's stomach looks rubbing pleasurably against his slick cock.

Aziraphale's stomach engulfs it, sliding over it, before lifting up slightly and letting Crowley see the strings of sticky pre connecting his cock to Aziraphale's pudge, before he leans back down and once again squishes Crowley's shaft beneath him. Aziraphale himself feels hot, and pants as he works to please them both.

"Angel," Crowley pleads, as warmth overtakes his body. He can feel sweat building on his brow, trickling down the sides of his face.

"What do you need, Crowley?" Aziraphale asks, knuckles white with how firmly he's holding Crowley's hand. "Anything, and I'll do it." And he means it.

Yet, he doesn't expect Crowley to suddenly grit out "come in me."

Clearly, he's embarrassed as he asks for it, but Aziraphale is equally as flustered to hear it, and can't help gasping at the request as he presses his forehead to Crowley's. Against Crowley's lips he breathes out "okay, okay," while Crowley moans between his affirmations. He's straining to hold back his orgasm, waiting for Aziraphale. Always waiting for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's own eyelids stay lightly shut as he lets out a moan of his own, soft and barely audible, driving his cock into Crowley with increasingly sloppy thrusts before his breathing picks up, face red as he presses his body fully against Crowley's. Chest to chest, as close as they could possibly be, Aziraphale thrusts his shaft deep into Crowley a final time, before coming hard inside of him. He moans as semen spills from his cock, thrusting through his orgasm, before he feels Crowley jolt beneath him.

Breathing heavily, Aziraphale pulls back in order to watch Crowley bite his bottom lip, muffling a guttural groan as his back arches into Aziraphale's chest, scratching Aziraphale's arm as he comes, before falling back against the bed with a dramatic huff as he struggles to catch his breath. Aziraphale stays above him momentarily, before pulling back and sliding out, sitting on his knees between Crowley's legs - that remain loosely wrapped around him - as he sees the mess Crowley made of their stomachs, and his own mess spilling out of Crowley's hole.

Aziraphale rubs Crowley's thigh until they've both calmed down, before he asks "would you rather miracle away this mess, or clean it up the traditional way?" which is promptly answered by Crowley waving his fingers and miracling himself a clean pair of boxers, and their mess to be wiped clean.

"Ah. I suppose that answers that."

Aziraphale slides off the bed with shaky legs, and grabs his own boxers off the ground. He slides them on carefully, before turning back to Crowley, who is staring at him as though he's holding back a question.

Smiling, Aziraphale wordlessly gets back into bed, and watches the way Crowley lets out a quiet sigh of relief, lightly wrapping his arms around Aziraphale as Aziraphale slides his arms around Crowley's back, tucking Crowley's face into his chest.

"I'm not much for sleeping, but I know you enjoy it," Aziraphale says softly. "How about you get some rest, and when you wake up we can talk about things over tea."

"And a bit of gin?"

Aziraphale laughs, gently rubbing his hand over Crowley's back. "Whatever you'd like, Crowley. Whatever you'd like."

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