Disclaimer: I don't own Good Omens or the plot of this, rly...

Summary: Aziraphale finds a box full of unsent love letters. There are no names about who they are from or who they are for, but Aziraphale cannot stop reading them...

*I got this prompt from an Instagram post someone showed me and it was just begging to be brought to life in a story.*

Enjoy...

Aziraphale hummed an old tune as he dusted a high bookshelf in his store. A record player sang the correct tune that the Angel was humming, but it was drowned out by Aziraphale's own voice. It was a mid-Saturday morning and the sun was shining. It was essentially the perfect day.

After stopping the end of the world last week, Aziraphale and Crowley have been extra careful to not disturb the balance of both of their head offices. Yes, they did outsmart both Heaven and Hell and gave each respective side a good scare, but that didn't mean they were completely free. Crowley believed neither side was stupid enough to mess with them anymore, but Aziraphale wasn't too sure. Adam recommended being alert and to keep their magic to a minimum because both sides could sense when a lot of magic was being used. Crowley drank nearly three bottles of pure whiskey after being told to no longer use magic. Aziraphale only drank one and a half out of support for his friend. He really didn't mind taking things slow and human for a little while.

Nearly two hours into Aziraphale's monthly cleaning, he accidentally bumped the dull end of his broom into a tall bookshelf that was tucked away in the back of the store and a few books and boxes came tumbling down. It was a minor accident, really, but it didn't stop the light curse and heavy sigh as it escaped his lips. Bending down, Aziraphale picked up some old textbooks he'd collected over the years about the first world war and some ancient Egyptian stories written in hieroglyphics. He placed them all back where they belonged, but the boxes that fell left more of a mess than two dusty books.

The first box was full of small trinkets he and Crowley have collected over their years and years of life. There were some weapons, some toys, some jewelry, and even some sand from the garden of Eden itself. Aziraphale took his time picking up the things as each one brought forth a small memory from when/where they were from.

The second box, however, was one Aziraphale has never seen before. It was round and black and made of cushioned fabric. The box was no bigger than a square foot, but it didn't look familiar to the Angel in the least.

"That's odd," Aziraphale muttered to himself. He knew of everything in his store. To an outsider, it was cluttered and claustrophobic, but to him, it was organized as pristinely as his collection was valuable. He lifted the box's lid slowly, not sure what would greet him, and was somewhat underwhelmed when worn pages littered the interior of the box.

Nearly full, the box contained stained and worn letters that dated really anytime over the seventeenth century. A hundred years worth of letters laid in the box.

Aziraphale spent the day reading the letters. After scanning a few, he realized that they weren't just letters, but in fact, love letters. They weren't signed by anyone, but every single paper and thought and was addressed to 'My Angel'. He had given up cleaning the moment he found the box of letters and decided to make himself some tea once Aziraphale realized what he truly discovered. It took him about an hour to get them in order of dates (why someone who write such poetic words and mark the date but not sign the document themselves was lost on Aziraphale).

That was five hours ago.

The sun was just about getting ready to set when Aziraphale finished the letters. There were over a hundred letters, but they were all short blips of thoughts and Aziraphale was a skilled reader so it didn't take him that long to go through all of them.

Normally, if this was any other occasion, Aziraphale would smile to himself at such a productive day and go for some celebratory sushi since he discovered a new literary piece of work (being on Earth since the very beginning left it hard for Aziraphale to find anything new in the literary world, so when he does find something, he celebrates), but this wasn't such a normal occasion. After reading all of the letters from an unknown person to another unknown person, Aziraphale has fallen head over heels, completely in love with the author of the letters.

Obviously not in love, considering the person was probably dead and has been for the better part of two hundred years, but Aziraphale feels the raw emotion in every single letter and can't help but tear up at the realization that the letter was collected and unsent, meaning that neither the sender nor recipient has reached their happy ending. Life was cruel to people who often didn't deserve it.

Aziraphale's favorite letter (because yes, he already has a favorite letter) was one written in the winter of 1647 at the end of the Thirty Year War. It was a short and simple letter that was so honest and heartbreaking and Aziraphale couldn't help the ball in his throat as he reads it.

My Angel,

You told me today you were sick of the violence. Is it wrong I agree?

I really shouldn't, but I do.

There's a lot of things I'm sick of, too.

I'm sick of your eyes. I'm sick of your smile. I'm sick of your entire personality.

I'm sick of being so in love with you, I don't know what to do with myself.

Damn you for being perfect. Damn me for being damned

The letters were never signed and were constantly being written to 'My Angel'. If this was a silly movie, Aziraphale would think the receiver was him, but he knew better. Blame it on Crowley for that silly little nickname he'd given him centuries ago, but 'Angel' has kind of become another name for him and regardless of who says it, he responds. Aziraphale has had to remind himself repeatedly as he read the letters that 'Angel' was a term of endearment most humans use with their significant others; or as a descriptive term, really. Aziraphale didn't own the word. Not in the slightest.

It was well into the night when Crowley stopped by the bookshop. He had a bottle of whiskey tucked under his arm as he pulled on the door. It was locked. Crowley cursed and pulled out his cellphone. It rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Angel, open up. I'm right outside and since I can't bloody snap my fingers anymore, you're gonna have to let me in." Crowley sounded annoyed. Aziraphale was busy reading and rereading the letters and had to rip his eyes from the papers to go to the doors and unlock them manually. A grouchy demon was waiting on the other side.

"About time," he sighed, pushing his way through. Aziraphale smiled warily and let the demon in before locking the doors behind him.

"Not that your company isn't appreciated, my dear, but what are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked. It was kind of pathetic, but he was so happy being absorbed in the romance of the mystery person and their 'Angel'. He just wanted to get back to that.

"I brought booze," Crowley said, sitting on the couch just to the right of where Aziraphale was sitting and where the letters were currently sprawled around.

"Well, do share," Aziraphale grabbed two tumblers from a cabinet under his desk and laid them on the table. Crowley grabbed one and poured some whiskey in both of them. Both men downed two shots before beginning to savor the third and fourth. By the time the bottle was empty and Aziraphale had gone to grab another one from his collection, Crowley was beginning to feel the happy bliss of the alcohol. He leaned his head back and it wasn't until he noticed the sprawl of letter that he spoke out.

"Angel, what on Earth is this mess you've got here?" There was some banging noise before Aziraphale came back out with a fresh bottle. He placed it down and started picking up the letters.

"Be careful, you'll crinkle them." He said. Crowley rolled his eyes and picked up two letters. Even in his tipsy mind, however, he couldn't help the gasp that left his lips.

"Aziraphale, where the bloody hell did you find these?" Aziraphale nearly jumped at the sudden change in Crowley's tone. It went from uncaring calm to cold and accusing in seconds.

"T-They were in the back of my shop. Tucked away. I didn't even know I had them until today. I spent the better part of the day reading them, and let me tell you-"

"You read them?!" Crowley's outburst cut Aziraphale off. The Angel looked at Crowley with confusion and a bit of hurt in his eyes. Normally the Demon refrained from raising his voice at the Angel unless it was truly necessary, and this didn't seem necessary.

"Well," Aziraphale paused, "yes. I didn't see the harm. Whoever wrote the letter is long past dead and if you read them in order, it does tell quite a compelling love story-"

"Dead?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale looked at the other man. He wished the Demon would take off his glasses. With them on, he couldn't read an ounce of his expression.

"Well," Aziraphale paused again as if he was thinking about his answer, "yes? Honestly, dear, you know just as well as I that human lives only last a few decades, a century, at most. Both this person and their lover are probably long dead by now. Shame, really." Crowley crumpled the letter in his hand and watched as it turned to ash in his palm. Ignoring Aziraphale's cries, he grabbed the full bottle of scotch Aziraphale had just brought and stormed out of the doors in a huff.

Aziraphale tried calling after the red-haired demon, but his voice seemed to go unheard as Crowley jumped into his Bentley and took off into the streets of London, ignoring the horns and screams that surrounded his driving. The Angel stood on his doorstep for a few moments, watching the car's lights blur away and recalling the events of the past five minutes. None of it made sense.

Crowley didn't care about privacy; especially a stranger's privacy. Why was he getting so angry that Aziraphale had read a box of old, dusty love letters?

Crowley pressed the gas pedal until it reached the floor of his car. He revved the vehicle up to above 100mph and snarled at anyone who got in his way. His heart was racing, his brow was sweating, and his thoughts were all over the place.

"Blasted," he took a swig of scotch, "fucking idiot!" He shouted, swerving around a bus and a bicyclist. When he got back to his apartment, it was a miracle that nobody died with his driving skills and he kicked the door open with a hiss. He walked into the center of the main room and stood in the silence for a moment.

"Utter piece of shit!" He threw the bottle with all his might against the wall and watched as it shattered against the stone. It was an impressive sight, but Crowley was too busy self-destructing to care.

"How did he find the fucking letters?!" He whispered to himself. "I buried those centuries ago!" Crowley snarled; why did he just throw a perfectly good bottle of scotch against a wall before finishing its contents?! He snapped his fingers and poured himself another drink. It took him two more bottles of drinking and three more bottles of shattering before he felt calm enough to go to sleep.

Aziraphale couldn't sleep.

Well, he didn't need to sleep. No celestial being did. No Demon did either, but that didn't mean it wasn't nice to indulge. Crowley introduced Aziraphale to sleeping nearly four centuries ago after sleeping away an entire 100 years without a peep to his angelic friend. Aziraphale remembered that fight well. He was furious because he believed Crowley had either left him for dirt or had gotten caught by his office (the two were still trying to keep their respected offices off the trail of their friendship. Things would have gotten ugly if they found out). When he found out it was just Crowley being lazy, he demanded to know what sleep was to try and understand how someone could spend 100 years doing it.

Like food, Aziraphale adopted the practice of sleeping and indulged in the act roughly four or five times a week.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

Aziraphale laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling above him. His thoughts were consumed with Crowley's outburst earlier that evening. Did Aziraphale do something to upset Crowley without knowing it? The Demon is usually pretty good at either ignoring Aziraphale's unintentional insults or pointing it out to him so it could be avoided in the future. Maybe it had something to do with the scotch? He really only started freaking out when he brought out the scotch...and asked about the letters...

Were the letters the real cause of this issue?

Crowley never reacted when it came to Aziraphale's literature. It was the same thing as Aziraphale getting offended at the quality of certain cars that drive by on the road or the quality of rock music Crowley listens to; it was absurd and unheard of. Unless...

'No!' Aziraphale flushed the thought out of his head before he could even think it. It was preposterous, insane, and terribly unlikely. No matter how much Aziraphale suddenly hoped.

Twenty minutes went by but Aziraphale didn't see a wink of sleep. He was too busy battling unwanted thoughts from entering his mind. He had gone down this very road before. Back when Crowley had rescued his books during the London Blitz Attacks, he had seen a glimmer of hope that Crowley's thoughts of Aziraphale weren't purely platonic and again, he saw it when he visited Crowley in his discorporated state and saw what a mess the Demon was without him, but Aziraphale refused to fully address the thoughts of Crowley in any way sexual because if he did succumb to those thoughts, Aziraphale doubted he'd be able to climb out. And if the Demon didn't, in fact, feel the same way, Aziraphale didn't want to disturb their current relationship of best friends. He'd rather silently suffer than lose his only friend.

"This is getting ridiculous," Aziraphale muttered. He knew how he could put his wandering thoughts to rest and prove to his traitorous mind that Crowley wasn't, in fact, the writer of the letters. Aziraphale rose from the bed, flipped on the main light for his room, and went to his desk. He pulled open the top drawer where a rectangle, wooden box laid. He flipped it open and pulled out a small crumble of paper.

It was worn beyond belief, but the scribbled handwriting was still splattered across the paper. Aziraphale remembered the exact moment when Crowley slipped him this paper in the park. Aziraphale had half a mind he wanted to kill himself and was so appalled with the request, he nearly ripped the paper at that moment, but when he understood, he was glad he kept it. It held a vivid memory for Aziraphale and at this moment, he was beyond glad he kept the paper.

Grabbing the box of letters from on top of the desk, Aziraphale held the papers next to one another. He dropped them the minute he compared.

No! No!

The handwriting was identical. Identical to the point where they probably were written within the same few centuries. Aziraphale sat on the seat in a huff. If the handwriting was identical, then that meant Crowley wrote the letters, which meant that his Angel was most probably...him.

'But that means...' That meant all the letters, all of the words in the letters, were to Aziraphale. All of the declarations of love, all of the beautiful observations, all of the self-hate...

Aziraphale felt like crying. How dare Crowley look at himself that way. All of the times he had put himself down in the letters and put Aziraphale on a pedestal (where he didn't belong, Aziraphale was sure).

The clock on his wall ticked at just passed nine at night. It was early enough where the Demon was still awake. Aziraphale grabbed his coat and ran out of the door, still in his pajamas, and without any shoes. He needed to talk to Crowley now!

Crowley sat on his couch which was much more for show than actual use because his bottom was hurting and it wasn't comfortable at all and Aziraphale's couch was much more pleasant to sit and drink on. Five bottles lingered around him and when Crowley will be sober the next day, he would remark on how he hasn't drunk so much since the roaring 20s, but at that moment, he didn't care. Aziraphale had read the letters he spent a century writing and didn't feel the same. If he felt the same way, surely Aziraphale wouldn't have mocked his work and blamed it on mortals. It wasn't hard to pick up on Crowley's personality within the pages. He hid them away specifically because it was so obviously him on the pages. He should have burned those damn pages when he had the chance.

A loud banging on his door caught him from his self-loathing thoughts. At first, Crowley ignored it. Most of the time when he didn't answer, people left, but thins banging was persistent.

"Bugger off!" He shouted at the door. The banging didn't cease.

"For fuck's sake-" Crowley stood up and walked to the door. Whoever was on the other side was just begging for a nightmare. He ripped his glasses off and gripped the door open. He didn't expect the white-haired angel to be so disheveled on the other side.

"What the- Aziraphale," Crowley sighed. It almost scared him that Aziraphale was at his door.

"Crowley," the way Aziraphale said Crowley's name made Crowley want to slam the door and hide in his room. He knew exactly what this little visit was about and quite frankly, he didn't want to do it. He swears, it isn't because he's scared, though. Demons don't get scared.

"What're you doin'ere?" So maybe Crowley has had a little more than just a few sips of alcohol. He couldn't even get words out clearly. Aziraphale sighed and gave him a look.

"We need to talk," he said and left no room for an argument from the serpent, "preferably sober." Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically and closed them again, forcing the alcohol out of his system. He opened his eyes and made a face. Expelling alcohol from his body left a putrid taste in his mouth of vomit and rubbing alcohol.

The two men walked into the apartment and to the sitting room which is now full of full alcohol bottles. Aziraphale paced the room while Crowley took a seat.

"I know why you're here, Angel." Aziraphale seemed to flinch at the nickname and Crowley tried not to let the hurt show. It really was over for them, wasn't it? Aziraphale gave a panicked look.

"I really don't know how to begin this conversation," Aziraphale said. "For the first time since meeting you, I don't know how to talk to you." Crowley wished he ignored Aziraphale's request for sobriety and moved to grab more liquor. If he was mortal, he'd probably be dead five times over with the amount of alcohol he consumed alone.

"Then don't," Crowley supplied, "we can easily go our separate ways without a fuss." 'I don't want that.'

"What?" Aziraphale asked, startled by the blunt suggestion. Crowley nodded.

"You are getting your knickers in a twist over nothing, Aziraphale. You found out I wrote the letters and you don't feel the same. It's fine. Take a few decades to cool off. I'm sure this awkwardness will disappear with time." Crowley hated his mouth. It suggested things that were anything but what he really wanted.

"No, Crowley, I-"

"We can just go our separate ways, then. Let the decades turn into centuries, then millennia, and we don't need to talk again. You were never supposed to read those letters, Aziraphale. They were stupid to make and even stupider to keep-"

"Crowley, will you kindly shut up for just a moment?" Crowley had to bite his tongue to stop himself from talking more.

"I cannot apologize enough for the way I treated you this evening," Aziraphale started, "I honestly did not know the letters were from you. If I did, I certainly wouldn't have talked of the matter so lightly." Crowley made an attempt to talk, but Aziraphale held up a hand and stopped him with his magic.

"With that being said, I would very much like to sit and talk about the letters without you trying to run away every second." Crowley let out a large sigh and nodded. There wasn't much else he could do at this point. Aziraphale was silent for a moment.

"Did you mean it?" He asked quietly, not at all like his tone mere seconds ago. Crowley looked at him and nodded.

"Every word," he said. Aziraphale sighed. It was clear a million thoughts were going through his head.

"Do you still feel that way?" Crowley nodded eagerly.

"Haven't changed a bit," he said. Aziraphale looked at him. He felt like an idiot. For all the years he's banished thoughts of his friend because he didn't think the demon felt the same, Crowley has had just as much of an inner struggle about the same thing!?

"May I ask when it started?" Aziraphale knew the questions were ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He was curious.

"When you told me you gave away a flaming sword," and damn, did Crowley sound wrecked for saying it. Aziraphale gasped.

"Since the Garden?"

"You gave away something the Heavens trusted you with. You were the first Angel I met who purposefully went against Her wishes; knew they were doing something bad but just enough of a bastard to not give a damn and keep acting innocent. If I could, I would've flipped everything off and ravished you there," Crowley admitted. "It was down-hill since then." Aziraphale felt a faint blush color his cheeks. Crowley looked confident to admit his feelings for Aziraphale but utterly lost when it came to the knowledge of him reciprocating those feelings.

Aziraphale walked over to Crowley and rested his head on the Demon's chest. He let it fall forward so it bumped ungracefully.

"Angel, are you okay?" It was clear that Crowley was worried about Aziraphale's response and this didn't really show what Aziraphale was feeling. Aziraphale's body started shaking and Crowley panicked. He didn't mean to make Aziraphale cry!

"Aziraphale, come on, you can't be crying. I can leave if you want," Demons didn't do 'panic' and Aziraphale could tell why. Crowley kind of sucked at consoling.

"I'm not crying, you silly boy," Aziraphale raised his head to show he was, actually, laughing. "Do you know how long I've been pushing away thoughts of you because I didn't think you felt the same? For centuries, I've been stopping myself from thinking of you in any way besides a platonic friend because I was so sure you didn't feel the same and I'd be setting myself up for rejection and I didn't want to ruin what we had because our friendship means absolutely-"

Crowley kissed him.

It wasn't a hard or fast kiss. It was slow and sensual and absolutely, positively, the hottest thing Aziraphale has ever witnessed. The way Crowley worked at Aziraphale's lips as if it were an instrument and snaked his way deeper into Aziraphale's mouth so that their tongues could dance together was positively divine. Aziraphale didn't even try to hide the satisfied moan that left his throat. That just seemed to spur Crowley on more because Aziraphale felt a hand wrap around his waist while the other grabbed his jaw. Aziraphale was completely encompassed by Crowley and he couldn't have been more satisfied.

"Do you know," Crowley muttered after they broke apart, "how long I've wanted to do that?" Aziraphale smiled brighter than he had in a long time slammed their lips back together. Crowley didn't waste a second to become refocused on the Angel in front of him. After kissing for a few minutes, Crowley moved down Aziraphale's neck to his shoulder where he nipped and sucked. Aziraphale made sounds even he didn't think he could make and it all just seemed to spur Crowley on more.

"I read those letters hoping they were from you before I even figured it out," Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley's hair as he continued his ministrations. "I was so jealous of how much the writer absolutely adored the 'Angel' he was writing to and my mind starting wondering what life would be like if you loved me like that and-ah" Crowley bit and sucked on a particularly sensitive part of Aziraphale's shoulder. He smirked happily when it caused Aziraphale to stop talking and lose his train of thought.

"Wait, Crowley," Aziraphale tried to make his voice not waver, but it took a great deal of effort to do so. Crowley pulled away from his ministrations and looked at the Angel.

"I just feel like this is all happening so fast," Aziraphale was kind of a mess. He wanted nothing more than to continue with Crowley, but something in the back of his head was holding him back.

"Do you want to stop?" Crowley really wished Aziraphale would say no, but he knew if the Angel asked to stop, Crowley wouldn't hesitate to shut things down.

"I just," Aziraphale paused, "Crowley those letters had so much emotion and love poured into them. Are you okay if we do this?" Crowley let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Angel, are you seriously asking if I'm okay with having my way with you after centuries of pining?" Aziraphale slapped his arm lightly. Both men knew what Aziraphale was asking; it wasn't about speed at all, it was about keeping their relationship intact. They went six thousand years without so much as a kiss and now they were jumping all the way from confessions to sex in one night. To most people, it wouldn't be fast at all, but to the two of them, they needed to be sure.

"I'm just making sure, Love," Aziraphale said.

"Love?"

"Well," the Angel blubbered, "in the letters, you did say you loved me numerous times..." He trailed off as if he was explaining why he had done something wrong. Crowley smiled and pecked the white-haired Angel on the forehead.

"I did and I do." He said. "Love you, I mean." Aziraphale smiled and let out a laugh of delirious joy.

"Say that again, dear?" He asked. Crowley moved his head to the base of Aziraphale's neck and licked a stripe to his ear where he bit the shell of it lightly. Aziraphale shivered.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Aziraphale said and brought Crowley's face to his so he could kiss him senseless.

It didn't take long for both men to end up in Crowley's bedroom. Aziraphale laid on the silk sheets with Crowley hovering over him. They both kissed and let their hands wander the other's body. After a particularly delicious nip at Aziraphale's collarbone, the Angel decided he'd had enough and made a motion to remove Crowley's shirt and jacket.

"Eager, are we?" Crowley asked, but he sounded just as breathless and desperate as the Angel. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley helped remove his top garments and even aided Aziraphale in doing the same until both men were naked from the waist up.

"Color me curious, my dear," Aziraphale started as his hands traveled across Crowley's chest, "but you did, ah, put in an effort down below...right?" Aziraphale clearly was bad when it came to intimate questions such as that one. Crowley smiled and nodded.

"Do you remember right after the Garden when all there was to do was procreate? I put in an effort back then and hadn't really done anything since. I can change it if you'd-"

"Oh no, my dear," Aziraphale said. "I was just making sure. May I ask what you chose?" Crowley wasted no time in stripping off his tight jeans to reveal a large tent in his black boxers. Aziraphale smiled and removed his trousers as well. He, too, had large arousal that poked through his underwear. The two men stared at one another for a few seconds before feeling a pull bring them close. They wasted no time in re-latching themselves to one another and fall onto the bed.

"I am going to leave you breathless, Angel," Crowley promised as he kissed his way down Aziraphale's chest. His tongue flicked his nipples and Aziraphale couldn't hide the whimper that escaped his throat. Crowley continued his little nips until he reached the tented underwear at Aziraphale's waist.

"Crowley," Aziraphale wiggled under the gaze of the Demon and Crowley wasted no time as he grabbed Aziraphale through his underwear and palmed him slowly.

"Ah," Aziraphale's face had never been so flushed and beautiful. It just spurred him on further. He pulled the white underwear down passed Angel's ankles and didn't hesitate to envelop Aziraphale into Crowley's hot mouth.

"God, Crowley," Aziraphale gasped at the pure heat that covered him. It was the most divine thing he ever felt. Crowley somehow managed to still look like a cocky bastard (pardon the pun) as he bobbed his head smoothly over Aziraphale's hard cock.

Aziraphale wished he could retort to Crowley's facial expressions, but the truth was, he was having a hard time even focusing. White pleasure ripped through his stomach and something deep within him started bubbling to the surface. Pleasure built on top of pleasure and without much more beyond a high pitched moan, Aziraphale was shooting milky sperm down Crowley's throat. Aziraphale collapsed onto the bed; panting hard.

"That was..." Aziraphale couldn't find the words.

"Don't tell me you're done already," Crowley said, although his tone showed Aziraphale he was teasing more than complaining.

"Oh, hardly, dear." Aziraphale pulled Crowley to him to kiss him hard. Their tongues wrestled and Crowley ground his throbbing cock against Aziraphale's quickly hardening one and both men couldn't hide their moans. Without backing out of his idea, Aziraphale grabbed onto Crowley's shoulders and pulled him so that it was Crowley underneath Aziraphale.

"Looking to take control, Angel?" Aziraphale shut him up with a kiss because really, nobody should be so coherent and cocky while having sex (at least, having good sex). Similarly to Crowley, Aziraphale kissed his way down the Demon's stomach and stopped when he came face-to-face with Crowley's erection.

"Angel, you don't need to-ohh," Crowley's protest was cut off by Aziraphale taking Crowley entirely into his mouth and sucking. Hard.

Aziraphale took a somewhat sick pleasure in watching Crowley lose his arrogant face and quickly turn into a whimpering, begging mess.

"Aziraphale," Crowley moaned wantonly. Aziraphale smiled around Crowley's cock and just as Crowley looked like he was on the edge of coming, released the Demon's cock with a sweet pop.

"You, you," Crowley barely had any sense to form a sentence, "bastard." Aziraphale couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled in his stomach. Without so much as a word, he moved his head from Crowley's throbbing erection down to the puckered hole just below. Without a warning to the Demon above, Aziraphale licked a long stripe over the hole that had Crowley cursing anything that came to mind. After his saliva was thoroughly coated over the puckered hole, Aziraphale stuck one of his fingers deep inside and watched in utter fascination as Crowley bucked against the digit and lost his speech entirely. Pushing the limits of his experiment, Aziraphale pressed his lips against Crowley's cock and sucked him back into his mouth while moving his single finger inside Crowley's ass. It took three pumps for Crowley to see fucking stars and come shooting down Aziraphale's throat.

Panting filled the room for two minutes straight. Crowley caught his breath from the most intense orgasm he'd ever had and Aziraphale marveled at what such little ministrations could do to the Demon.

"Where," Crowley puffed out, "did you learn how to do that?" Aziraphale laughed and snuggled closer to him.

"Some books are rather informative when it comes to...making love." He said. Crowley barked a laugh, because really, of course, Aziraphale read erotica. He pulled the Angel back on top of him and kissed him roughly. Crowley just had the best orgasm of his life and he was still fucking horny.

"How do you want to do this, Angel?" Crowley asked between kissed. When it came to sex, Crowley didn't have a preference on who stuck what where, but it was clear Aziraphale did.

"Can you," Aziraphale paused, somewhat embarrassed of his request, "can you do me tonight? Normally, I don't have a preference, but tonight I want you to be inside of me while I'm on your lap."

"Power bottom, eh?" Crowley joked, kissing Aziraphale again. Aziraphale blushed, not entirely familiar with that term, but familiar enough where he knew he and Crowley were on the same page of what they wanted.

"First thing's first, though," Crowley paused, flipping them over again so Aziraphale was underneath, "we need to stretch you out." Aziraphale moaned at the mention of it alone.

Next to the bed, a bottle of lube magically appeared and Crowley grabbed it quickly, putting some on Aziraphale's hole and on his fingers before pressing a single digit against the puckered hole. Aziraphale let out a high pitch squeak as Crowley inserted one finger. It didn't burn as much as he thought but the finger felt huge in his tiny asshole.

"Crowley," Aziraphale moaned when a second finger pressed its way inside. Crowley stopped for a moment to let the angel get used to the feeling of being stretched before slowly moving his fingers in and out. Aziraphale moaned loudly at the sensation.

"Fuck!" He said as Crowley's fingers hit perfectly inside of him. Crowley blinked up at the Angel. He'd known Aziraphale for six thousand years and never once heard him curse. It was hot as hell.

"Do that again," Crowley demanded, quickly pressing his fingers into Aziraphale and hitting his spot again. Aziraphale withered.

"Fuck, Crowley." He moaned out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Crowley could tell Aziraphale was close and did two more pumps into him before pulling his fingers out and lining up his cock to Aziraphale's entrance.

"Ready?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded and Crowley pushed in slowly. He let Aziraphale adjust to the size for a moment and when Aziraphale opened his eyes again, Crowley started moving his hip. The first snap made them both moan in unison.

"Oh Angel," Crowley muttered. Aziraphale was leaking pre-cum on his cock and his face was flushed and red and sweat made his chest glisten, even in the dark night. He was damn perfect.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, slamming his cock deep into the Angel. Aziraphale moaned and moved his hips to meet Crowley's.

"Crowley, I'm-" Aziraphale couldn't get the words out but the Demon understood. He grabbed Aziraphale's dick and pumped it in rhythm with his thrusts. Aziraphale screamed and spasmed as white paste shot out of his penis, landing on himself and Crowley. Crowley thrust three more times before coming deep inside Aziraphale. Even after coming twice, Aziraphale felt his dick twitch at the feeling of being so full of Crowley.

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed. Crowley breathed hard and nodded too. Both of them were semi-hard and clearly still horny. Aziraphale flipped them over so he straddled the Demon and leaned down to kiss him hungrily. He pumped Crowley's dick a few times with his hand to get it back to fully hard and lined it up with his still sensitive hole. Slowly, Aziraphale lowered himself onto Crowley and gasped at the new angle.

"This is," he sighed. He could feel Crowley inside him and he was deep. Crowley bucked his hips to meet Aziraphale, but the Angel placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Just," Aziraphale panted, moving his hips faster, "enjoy." Crowley groaned and let his head fall back. Aziraphale worked his ass against Crowley's dick at an array of different paces. He'd go fast and egg Crowley on, but the minute he felt Crowley approach the edge, he'd slow down to a more sensual pace.

"You are," Crowley panted in desperation, "the biggest fucking tease." Aziraphale smiled and continued his slow pace.

"I'm your biggest tease." He said. Crowley growled as Aziraphale pulled him to the edge quickly and just when he thought Aziraphale would show mercy, the damn Angel just stopped moving altogether. When Crowley opened his eyes, Aziraphale was watching him in awe.

"You're fucking gorgeous when you are so close to coming," Aziraphale said calmly as if he wasn't torturing Crowley with pleasure.

"You fucking-" Crowley had enough. He grabbed the Angel and flipped them over and didn't waste any time to drill into Aziraphale. Setting a relentless pace and not slowing down.

Skin hitting skin was the only sound in the room besides throaty moans. Aziraphale felt his insides pulse.

"C-Crowley," he sounded desperate. 'Cute,' Crowley thought sarcastically. He increased his pace as Aziraphale started to blubber in pleasure.

"Please," he chanted, "please, please, Crowley, fuck. I love you. I'm, I'm, oh-" Aziraphale's orgasm was literally ripped from him as his mind went numb and fuzzy. The pulsing of Aziraphale's orgasm forced Crowley to come as well and the Demon couldn't help but collapse next to his Angel. His entire being was tingling and satisfied and warm.

The two laid together in silence for a few moments, catching their breaths.

"That was..." Aziraphale trailed off. Incredible, amazing, divine.

"...Yeah." Crowley agreed.

"We made a bit of a mess," Aziraphale commented as he shifted in the bed. He wanted to snuggle up next to Crowley, but the drips of semen and lube made him pause. Crowley surveyed the mess and nodded but with a snap of his fingers, the mess was gone. Aziraphale smiled and moved toward the Demon.

"We should do that again," he said. Crowley laughed tiredly and nodded in agreement. Both men knew they needed to talk about everything that just happened, but they were so exhausted, they silently agreed to hold off until the morning after a long night's sleep. Aziraphale placed a kiss on Crowley's cheek as the Demon drifted off into mind space.

"I love you, Crowley," he whispered. Crowley smiled, even in his hazy state.

"I love you more, Angel." He muttered and let his eyes flicker shut.

I discovered Good Omens and now I'm hooked. Let me know what you thought! As I said, this plot wasn't my idea!

Enjoy,

Lizzy