TITLE: The Involuntary Liberation of Aziraphale of Hellas

SUMMARY: The last thing Aziraphale expected to find on a deserted island was the life he'd always dreamed of. Or that the island wasn't so deserted after all.

AO3 TAGS: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Omega Verse, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Omega Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Creature Crowley (Good Omens), Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha/Omega, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anal, Tail Sex, Hemipenes, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Knotting, Mating, Mating Bites, Implied/Referenced Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Oviposition, Gift Fic

AN: The original inspiration for this came from the 'Hercules: The Legendary Journeys' s4e8 episode 'Web of Desire' (which I suspect to be one of those childhood reverse-trauma sources of my current monsterfucker status). The original posting date was also supposed to be like a month ago but my word count started doing what my word count always ends up doing and, well… orz Anway, bone apple tea.

For RyvenDream on AO3 / busybiscute on tumblr.

"Aziraphale? Is that you?"

Aziraphale turned, already smiling. "Adam! Warlock! Hello, boys!" he greeted cheerfully. "By the gods you've gotten tall!"

The two boys stopped in front of him, pink-cheeked and wind-tousled from their sprint, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's because you only see us once a year," Warlock groused, crossing his arms and looking away.

Aziraphale hid a smile at the boy's prickly affection. Neither of his parents were particularly kind or caring, especially not to Warlock, and Aziraphale knew it was only because of Adam and Adam's friends that Warlock wasn't turning out the same way. Still, it did lend his personality amusing quirks.

"Are you saying that you would prefer me living in town year round?" Aziraphale asked slyly. "Because if did, I wouldn't have the resources to do things like this," he said, and reached forward to 'pull a coin out' from behind one of each of their ears.

Warlock looked horrified and glanced hurriedly around, as if he were embarrassed (which he was, which is why Aziraphale always did it), but Adam with his more even temperament only rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Aziraphale," he said, holding out his hand for Aziraphale to drop the drachma.

Together, they turned towards a glowering Warlock, who was mostly refusing to look at them. "I'm not doing it," he said petulantly.

"Oh, you don't want a drachma?" Aziraphale asked innocently. "I suppose I could keep this one. Or maybe give it to Adam, or- oh! I passed a beggar on the way here, I'm sure he needs it more than you do."

Warlock stuck out his hand so quickly that it blurred.

"What do you say?" Adam prodded, just as innocent.

"Thank you," Warlock seemed to grind out.

Adam smiled at Aziraphale who smiled back and dropped the coin in Warlock's palm.

"How long are you staying in town?" Adam asked, turning his back on his friend to face Aziraphale.

"I'm sorry to say that we're not actually staying this year," Aziraphale said. He grimaced at the surprise on Adam's face and the annoyance on Warlock's. "I know. I wanted to stay longer in Paralia too-" and he did; Aziraphale hated all the travelling and the fighting, he just wanted a place to settle, but that wasn't allowed in their clan "-but on our way back from seeing the oracle, we were met with a messenger on the mountain who came with word that we were wanted for hire in Korinthos."

Adam's surprise slowly became a frown. "Wait, so you're embarking now?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Aziraphale said. "We're needed immediately."

"No, I mean should you be leaving now?" Adam enunciated.

Aziraphale frown back at him. "We have to. We're needed immediately."

Adam let out an unusually explosive sigh for someone with his relaxed demeanour. "No, should you be leaving now?"

"I… have to," Aziraphale said slowly, starting to get confused. "I've told you before, I have to go when my clan goes."

Adam made a sound of frustration and turned to Warlock. Warlock looked back at him, back at Aziraphale, and then leaned forward and sniffed the air delicately, his nose wrinkling. "Yeah Aziraphale. I don't think you should be going," Warlock agreed, leveling a pointed look at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stared at them for a long, long moment, trying to puzzle out what they weren't saying. It was the shift of the wind that made him realize, the way the cool sea air lent him a small reprieve from the fever that had been building all day, the way both boy's noses wrinkled in twin displays of childish distaste.

Ah. He wasn't getting sick after all.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale muttered. "Is it that time of the season already?"

Both boys nodded though the question was rhetorical.

"See? You have to stay in town," Warlock said emphatically, finally dropping his petulant act in favour of one of smugness.

"I'm sorry, boys, I can't." And he was sorry. He would much rather settle down somewhere quaint and quiet, where he could grow soft with good food and the lack of constant fighting. But he couldn't leave his family. He couldn't. "Heat is no excuse not to travel with the others. But don't worry," he said hurriedly at their looks of dismay, "I'm not the only omega in my clan by far. Nothing will happen to me, I'll be safe."

The both of them stared at him for a long moment.

"Swear it," Warlock demanded.

"Swear by the gods that you'll be back next year," Adam elaborated, less demanding but no less commanding.

Amused, Aziraphale nodded and placed his hand over his heart. "I swear by the gods that you will see me next year."

Adam and Warlock looked at each other and nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Now, accompany me to the docks and enough of this worrying," Aziraphale commanded so imperiously that the boys laughed. He stuck out both of his hands and each boy grabbed one, cheered enough that they didn't complain that they were too old to do such a thing. "I promise you, everything will be fine."

Hands at his ankles had Aziraphale lashing out from a restless heat nap, snarling with fangs bared at his attacker, the alpha who dared try to take advantage of his heat-weakness.

"Fuck!" someone shouted as Aziraphale struck flesh. "Get his ankles."

"Shit!" someone else shouted as Aziraphale's claws tore into skin - from a different direction. Two attackers. "Bind his wrists!"

Half-blind from sleep and the darkness that filled the rocking ship, Aziraphale flailed almost wildly, trying to avoid capture and to injure as much as possible. He fell from his hammock onto the floor, the cold, hard, damp wood almost painful against his naked skin, but it didn't stop him from trying to gain his feet before his attackers recovered from his defense. But between the heat-weakness in his knees and the storm rocking the ship, he couldn't even find his sea legs before something hard struck him in the head, knocking him and his senses back to the ground. Dazed, Aziraphale's hands searched blindly in the spinning darkness for something that he could use to defend himself, but even as he did so, he doubted his hands would have the strength to grip it.

"Gag him," a third voice ordered coldly.

Sturdy, thick, harsh rope caught and bound Aziraphale's ankles, and more rope tore at his wrists, the two anchor points tugging him until he felt stretched between them. "Stop," he protested, but his voice was a weak groan, with no more power than his body or his mind. His temple throbbed where it had been struck, and there was something damp and sticky on the side of his face. "Stop-"

Rough fabric pulled taut caught Aziraphale's mouth while it was open, pulling at the corners of his mouth like a horse's bit as it was tied roughly behind his head. He tried to speak but his words were muffled by the gag. Even still, something knocked him on the head again, and the universe spun.

"Get him top-side," came the third voice? out of the dark - Aziraphale couldn't even figure out which direction it came from, much less what was up and what was down.

Hands were at his ankles and wrists again, holding tight enough to bruise as he was lifted. At least, he thought that he was lifted, it was hard to tell when the world wouldn't hold still. His captures were careless with him as they obeyed the third voice's command, letting his sore body knock into the narrow walls of the stairwell. He couldn't keep the sounds of his pain to himself, not when the midst of his heat made him too sensitive for any and every negative sensation, but no one paid him any mind.

The storm that had been ravaging the skies and seas when Aziraphale had fallen asleep after his last round of heat was still raging, and the freezing droplets hit his skin like tiny blades before they'd even reached the deck. Still, the cold air was a relief after the last day of heat-fever, Aziraphale only wished he was experiencing it in better conditions.

Someone shouted over the storm and Aziraphale's feet were dropped harshly to the ground. Two hands encircled each bicep, hauling him upright with a harsh yank and rough, calloused palms, a painful sensation for his heat-sensitive skin. He tried to turn his head, to see who was holding him, but he was still woozy from the strikes to his temple and it was all he could do to keep his head upright. There was someone standing in front of him too, but the tall, broad figure was nearly faceless in the dark. Worse, the torrential downpour was washing over Aziraphale's face, blinding him and forcing the curls of his hair straight and into his eyes. But then lightning flashed right above them, trails like the fingers of titans rushing across the sky and lighting up the sea, throwing the furious lines of Gabriel's expression into stark relief.

"Gabriel?" Aziraphale said, confused. Or at least, he tried to say, forgetting for a moment the cloth gagging him.

If the leader of their clan had heard him even through the fabric, he gave no indication. He was as still as a statue on the deck, fully dressed for battle despite the storm. Even with the wind blowing away the alpha's pheromones, Aziraphale could read anger in every line of his distant cousin's body, but he hadn't the faintest idea what he could have done to have earned Gabriel's ire.

"This is your fault!" Gabriel barked, his commander's voice easily carrying through the wind and rain.

Though his head was slowly clearing, both from time and the freezing torrents, Aziraphale still couldn't properly turn his head, but he looked from side to side, searching for whatever he could have done. He couldn't have broken anything on the ship, he'd been in his hammock dealing with his heat since they'd boarded. All omegas were taught how to fight through the pain of their heat, and the alphas through their rut, but when it came to ship safety, it affected all of them and was safer to let someone out of their season handle the sailing.

Aziraphale frowned, his confusion mounting, and he held out his bound hands, pleading with his voice to be released for whatever reckoning this was.

"Every spring we pass through these waters after your heat, and every spring we are plagued with the gods's anger," he said, igniting a growing horror in Aziraphale.

'It's the spring storms!' he thought desperately. 'They're just spring storms!' But Gabriel could not hear his thoughts, and Aziraphale doubted that the man would listen to him even if he could speak - in the sparse flashes of light, Gabriel's eyes were turning red with an alpha's rage.

"We've continuously ignored their warnings, and we even brought you aboard during your heat, and now the gods are punishing us! If we do not rid ourselves of your curse, we will all be sacrificed to the gods and the sea!"

Gabriel sounded more sure than any temple priest, more sure than even the oracle, but Aziraphale had never been so terrified of their declarations.

"Please! It's just the seasons! Please!" he shouted into his gag, but he might as well have not had a tongue for all the sense he made. He may as well have not had a mouth for all that Gabriel listened to him.

Fine. If Gabriel wouldn't listen, then Aziraphale would just have to use his training. The daze was lingering but workable, his ankles and his wrists were bound and he was naked on a wet, slippery deck, but most importantly, he could feel the fire of betrayal filling him, incentivizing him. He just had to get free.

Aziraphale dropped to his knees so hard it sent pain rippling up legs into his spine, but he didn't wait for it to fade. He twisted his body and spun, his ankles ramming into those of one of his captors. As he felt a body trip over his legs behind him, Aziraphale shoved blindly forwards, catching the other captor at the knees. There was a scream as his claws caught skin when the person's legs buckled, and Aziraphale had to use his elbows to shove the falling body away from him.

Between the darkness and the dizziness he'd been suffering when he'd been pulled up onto deck, it was near impossible to orient himself, but Aziraphale started crawling away from the falling bodies regardless. There were always daggers tucked around the ship for emergencies, and if he could just find one, he could cut his bindings and barricade himself in Gabriel's quarters, until the alpha regained his senses.

His shoulder hit a wall as his fingers closed on something solid and for a brief moment, Aziraphale thought he'd actually found one of the blades. But he realized only a moment later it was only the handle for a mop or a broom. It couldn't release him... but it could help defend him.

Claws closed around his ankle and he swung with both hands, the wood connecting with something hard enough to send reverberations into his hands. There was a roar and the claws dug into his ankle, dragging him backwards. A shadowed figure tore his improvised weapon from his hand and grabbed him by the throat, hauling him to his feet. Gabriel's red eyes and bared teeth flashed in the lightning.

"We will be rid of you and the gods will reward us!" he roared, pushing and dragging Aziraphale backwards.

Aziraphale's feet slipped on the wet wood, unable to catch his footing, and his claws scrambled over Gabriel's forearm, trying to pull the fingers free from his neck.

"Gabriel, please!" Aziraphale tried to plead, but Gabriel didn't even seem to look at him. Something hit Aziraphale's back, and he realized with a flash of horror that it was the deck railing. "Gabriel!"

"I will finally be rid of you and your curse," Gabriel said coldly, and shoved.

There was a sick moment of freefalling, where Aziraphale was flying through the sky, and then he hit the cold water.

Harsh waves dragged him down into the dark water and he immediately lost all sense of up and down. He tried to swim but he could do no more than wriggle with his limbs bound, and he was starting to lose air. His claws reached for the surface, but there was nothing solid to pull him up with. His lungs were starting to burn and the darkness was creeping into his vision.

'Poseidon,' Aziraphale prayed, the wooziness starting to return. 'Poseidon, please. Plea…'

Aziraphale slipped into darkness.

Elysium was soft and dreamlike, warm and bright under the midday sun. Aziraphale's limbs felt leaden so he didn't try to shift them, just relaxed into the soft, warm sand. Fingers combed through his hair, claws scraping gently over his scalp.

"Poseidon?" Aziraphale rasped, his voice week and his throat unbelievably sore.

"No, little nymph," a soft voice half-laughed.

The sun shifted, burning red flame reaching down for Aizraphale's face and he tilted his chin to meet it's touch.

"Not nymph," he managed to say.

"If you say so," the voice said again, still amused.

The rays of the sun wrapped around Aziraphale, lifting him from the sand. He drifted in and out of consciousness in his cradle until he was laid down again, this time on soft, warm grass. Aziraphale hummed and rubbed his face in the field of green, and the sun's fire grinned at him with sharp fangs.

"Rest, little nymph," the sun told him. "You'll feel better when you wake again."

"Yes, Helios," Aziraphale slurred, already feeling Morpheus stealing him into his realm of dreams.

"Nor am I Helios," the sun said, falling dark as it lay clouds over Aziraphale's leaden limbs.

"Alright," Aziraphale said, and then he knew only Morpheus.

"I will finally be rid of you and your curse."

"Gabriel! No!" Aziraphale shouted, jerking awake, his heart pounding so hard that it felt like it would beat right out of his chest.

It took a disorienting moment to realize that he wasn't, in fact, in the middle of the ocean, but on a solid surface, and he wasn't drowning, merely suffocating in his blankets. His claws were already retracting as his heart slowly quieted, and he groaned as he dropped his hands over his face.

"Oh gods," Aziraphale muttered. He felt sore from his heat, and exhausted, and it never lead to good dreams, but it had never lead to nightmares.

He stayed that way until he was calmed, and until the heat of his own body started making the air under his blankets humid, and then he pushed them off. The sun immediately, and alarmingly, blinded him from where it shouldn't have reached his hammock under the deck. Aziraphale covered his eyes until his eyesight started adjusting and then he uncovered them a little at a time, until he could see, although he wished he couldn't.

There was nothing ahead of him but sea. Not sea under his clan's ship, sea leading away from the beach he was laying on. And his legs weren't covered by his blankets, but by large leaves, almost as large as he was. Aziraphale stared down at them for a long moment, and then scrambled to his feet.

"No," he gasped, the sick realization that his nightmare might not have been just a dream washed over him.

He took a shaky step towards the water and then whirled, praying to the gods that this was just some joke, that he had been asleep when they docked at Korinthos and he'd been left outside to the amusement of his clan. But there was no city behind him, only an unfamiliar island, ripe with trees and vegetation around a cavernous outcropping of rock that seemed to rise into the sky like a mountain, a mouth yawning black as night not far from where he stood.

"No," he said again, louder but weaker, starting to feel cold even as he took off towards the rocks.

They were coarse beneath his hands and his feet, scraping against his chest and his belly and his thighs as he started to climb. His body was still weak from his heat, and from being tos- from the exertion of heat, but he couldn't give up. He had to see. He had to know.

Sweat started building at his temples as he climbed closer to the sun, and soon it was dripping down his face. His arms and his legs were shaking, and every breath hurt in his throat and in his chest, but Aziraphale couldn't stop climbing. He felt like his own fears were pursuing him, the terror of abandonment, of imminent death alone on an unknown island, with no way to get home, and he couldn't let them catch him. Not yet.

When he finally reached the top, Aziraphale nearly fell face-first into a natural basin filled with rainwater. He scooped it up with hands that shook to rinse the sweat from his body, trying to cool it down as he waited for his breath to stop rattling in his chest so that he could drink. Only after he slaked his thirst did he pull his eyes from the bumpy terrain of the tops of the caves to the horizon, and he immediately wished he hadn't.

All concerns about his health evaporated in the wake of despair that washed over him at the sight of the unbroken sea. No matter where he turned his head, or how hard he squinted, there was nothing but water beyond the island. There were no ships, no distant mountains… there was nothing. He was well and truly… alone.

He didn't know how long he sat there before the wind shifted, bringing a new scent on the sea breeze. It took an embarrassingly long time to recognize the scent of his own distress, but as soon as he did, Aziraphale tried to stamp it down out of habit before remembering that there was no one to reprimand him for having an emotion other than bloodlust. There was no one there to tell him to stop doing anything at all.

In that moment, with that thought, something occurred to Aziraphale that made his heart skip. Not in fear, for once, but in painful hope: if he could survive on this little island, he would be free. For the first time in his life, he would be free of the expectations of his clan, of the demands to fight, of the requirements of sacrificing his own enjoyments. He was alone, without the comforts he had gotten used to in his well-paid life, the books and the bards and the food. But even those losses… might be worth it.

It was a novel sensation, a daydream he'd never dared linger on. Freedom. Just thinking of it made the sea air taste sweeter, the sun feel warmer. He was alone, and he was free.

Aziraphale threw his head back, and screamed.

The sun was not yet below the horizon but it was behind the caves when Aziraphale finally climbed down, his body and his throat sore, but his spirit refreshed. Everything felt new, as if he'd been born again. He didn't know how long the elation would last before realism set in, but he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. And if he wanted any chance of it lasting, he owed thanks.

Aziraphale walked on shaky legs through the still-warm sand into the already-cooling water and knelt in the gentle waves.

"I do not know if it was you who saved me, Poseidon, but if you did, I am grateful," Aziraphale told the waves, setting his hands on their surface. "I don't know what I could possibly sacrifice to you when I have nothing, but I hope I will be able to find something on the island that will suffice."

He used sand to scrub the sweat from his climb from his body, ducked his head under the waves for another scrub, and then stood with one last murmured thanks.

The wind felt a great deal cooler over his wet skin as he tracked back up the shore. It wasn't until he saw the cave's opening that he realized he was near where he woke. Only the large leaves he'd found himself under when he woke were not tossed asunder, but stacked neatly. And set in the center of them was an old, chipped vase filled with water and ringed with what appeared to be fresh fruit. He stopped.

"Hello?" he called out, looking around. There were no tracks on the ground, not besides his own. He turned in a cautious circle before approaching the offering. "Hello?" he called again, missing the feeling of a sword in his hand and immediately hating that he missed that feeling. But this island was an unknown place, with unknown occupants. There could be animals, there could be humans, there could be half-humans, spirits, gods.

Whoever it was, they had left him a gift. "Thank you," he said, looking around. Still no one came forth, and Aizraphale nodded decisively.

He picked up a fig, jogged back to the waterline, and set it on the waves to be carried out to sea. "I hope you like figs," he said, watching the fig float away.

Aziraphale ate and drank slowly to sate his hunger, leaving just enough so that he would still have something when he woke in the morning - just because he'd received one gift did not mean he would receive another. He dug a small hole for his rations, so they wouldn't be knocked over in the night, and a larger, more shallow hole for himself before covering himself with the large leaves his mysterious benefactor had covered him with the first time.

Though he was tired, Aziraphale couldn't find sleep for a long time. He found himself staring up at the stars, not for the first time in his life, but for the first time without expectation. There would be no drills in the morning, no fighting, no marching. That night, Aziraphale fell asleep not just as a free man in name, but a free man in spirit, admiring the constellations in the sky.

The days passed sedately, and Aziraphale felt peacefully without rush to explore at any other pace than his own. His secret watcher continued to gift him water and fruits every morning before he woke, without leaving footprints, but sometimes leaving an impression that they had stayed with him for a long time, watching over Aziraphale as he slept. It left him feeling an odd friendliness with the stranger, and a lovely sense of not-alone as he mapped out the long but narrow island.

On the north half of the island, Aziraphale discovered the forest was more of a giant garden, the most likely source of his morning meals. One day he was delighted to find a hot spring somewhere near the center of the garden, and another day, decidedly less excited about the cold spring he mistakenly jumped into while already feeling chilled from the sea's cold evening air. There was even a cove to the northwest, where he discovered fish felt safe to swim and to nest - he hadn't realized how much he would miss meat until he realized he hadn't seen hide or feather of any kind of mammal or bird since he'd washed ashore.

On the south half of the island, there was nothing but caves, safe to explore only when the morning sun shone through the only human-sized and ground-height entrance. Until Aziraphale stumbled, quite literally on the trove of supplies and treasure, tucked away in nooks and crannies not far from the entrance. Though he worried that the pirates who'd likely placed the chests there might return and find their goods missing, it didn't stop him from utilizing the torches or flint he found. Nor did it stop him from donning the spare trousers and tunics, or bundling up in the blankets. His only regret was that their treasure didn't seem to include books or scrolls of any kind.

It wasn't until he woke one day, too hot and too wet between the legs, that he realized how much time must have passed. The seasons were less clear on the island, but it must have been summer, and it was time for his heat. An aspect of his life that he'd somehow managed to completely forget about until then. He searched through every chest, looking for a phallus, but either they were all alphas or it had been too short of a trip to need one.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale muttered. Even after several months on the island, he hadn't gotten over his penchant for talking to himself, or to his silent and invisible benefactor. "Well, I'll just have to make do," he said, determined that his fingers would be sufficient.

But less than halfway through his day, he was already starting to desperately eye the narrow end of his torch and hesitating only for fear of the splinters. He'd forgotten how difficult it was to try to handle his heats with fingers alone, though it had been almost as long since he'd tried it with an alpha, and he could not say he was enjoying it. After he managed to get through that round of his heat, he stumbled his way back to the chests, half in hope that he'd missed something his first look through, and half desperate that he did. He was on his knees, contents of chests strewn all around him, when the sound of voices made him freeze.

"I swear those seas are cursed!" one voice, a man's, growled out, bringing the scent of aggravated alpha into the caves with his words.

"Every year, every season, storms that nearly destroy our ships!" another voice snapped, their scent wafting in alongside the first.

"Gods-cursed," a third agreed, more tired than angry.

There were more voices, and more scents, behind those three, all alphas, and all coming Aziraphale's way. Aziraphale, who was crouched naked in front of an open chest, pouring slick onto the sand. Cursing his fortune, Aziraphale used one of the many rags that had been wrapped around the trinkets in the box to keep himself from leaking, and crept further into the caves.

Though he had grown soft with ripe eating and relaxed living the last few months, his daily walks around the island and nearly-daily climbs both inside the caves and on top of them had kept him in good shape. There were spots of the caves he knew well enough by now that he could navigate them in the dark, all filled with little nests of sand to sleep on and blankets to sleep under. Aziraphale moved silently in the dark towards one of his higher nests, set atop of a small cliff of rocks for when he was feeling paranoid about potential intruders, the exact situation he'd been dreading for months finally come to light at the worst time. Along the way, he made several little detours, smearing slick as he went, false trails for when the pirates inevitably smelled him and went looking.

When he was finally satisfied, Aziraphale stuffed the cloth into his hole with a wrinkle of distaste at the rough and unpleasant sensation, but it was necessary to keep from leaking slick on his climb.

"Hoo!" The shout echoed through the caves and nearly made Aziraphale lose his grip on the rocky wall he was climbing. "Smell that boys? There's a little omega nearby and it smells like they need our help!"

Aziraphale fought against the rising apprehension, knowing that he needed to keep his scent pure, that he needed prevent any signs pointing to his nest. He took a deep, calming breath and forced himself to remember his warrior training - tranquility, strength. It ended up being easier to do than he thought it would, falling into old habits, the mindset that had ruled his life for the last four decades. It made it easy to ignore the shouting that continued to come from the front of the caves as he resumed his climb and finally settled into his nest.

The first night after Aziraphale had found the hidden chests, and the weapons some of them held, Aziraphale had slept with a sword in his hand again for the first time since his clan had left the oracle. When he'd woken up the next morning, he started doing his exercises on muscle memory alone, getting halfway through them before realizing he didn't need to. It had lead to the decision not to sleep with a weapon any longer, and so Aziraphale had, stupidly, neglected to stash any weapons near any of his nests. Something he planned to rectify if he could get through the pirates's stay without attracting attention.

Aziraphale sat with his back to the far wall with a sharp rock clutched in his hand, legs uncovered in case he had to escape, the need to be filled a painful cramp that sent him into fitful dreams.

"Found ya."

Claws closed around Aziraphale's ankle, yanking him onto his back and dragging him across the sand of his nest. He was awake in a split second, his stomach swooping with sick deja vu at the too-near memory of being woken from a heat-stricken sleep to be tossed overboard. But the face sticking up over the edge of the ledge was unfamiliar, red eyes glittering in the firelight and fangs bared in a dark, almost manic grin.

"Hiya, sweetheart."

Aziraphale kicked him in the face.

The strange alpha screamed as he fell away from the ledge, but it wasn't far to the floor and Aziraphale could hear him cursing up a storm from his perch. Predictably, the alpha's noisiness brought more alphas, men shouting like hounds in a hunt, but Aziraphale didn't dare look to see how many there were. The caves's ability to amplify and echo threw off his attempts to count the voices, and as usual, his heat only amplified their scents, none of which he found to his liking, almost to the extreme, so counting them by smell was out too. No matter, he didn't need to count them, only stay out of their reach.

Before the alpha that had found him could tell his comrades that Aziraphale was there, Aziraphale made for the little tunnel that lead away from his nest. They were all over the caves, some leading where he could only assume was underground by cool, dampness of the air and the distant sound of dripping water, and some so high up that they were right against the roof, sunlight shining through the occasional hole to the outside. Aziraphale didn't think he'd found all of them, and it was impossible to tell without some kind of marker, or more rope than he currently had, but he just knew he hadn't solved all of the caverns's mysteries.

Silently, carefully, invisibly, Aziraphale crept through tunnel after tunnel, but no matter where he turned, the sounds of the alphas pursued him. He started to cross over his own path, trying to lead them astray, but it was when he crossed through an intersection of two tunnels he'd already been through and nearly slipped in a pool of something warm and wet that he realized the cloth he'd used to stopper his slick had come loose and he'd been leaking it along every tunnel he'd been down.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice quiet but full of feeling regardless.

He had to get outside. He had to get into the ocean water, and make for the north side of the island. The cove would be safe, secluded from the island's interior if you weren't willing to climb like he'd been, the water calm but cool, a perfect way to manage the heat under his skin, and the perfect place to let his slick drift away, undetected until the pirates gave up and left.

Now with an actual destination in mind, Aziraphale moved more quickly towards the entrance to the cave, slowing down only when he got near the clearing of sand and found the wide space strewn with new and unfamiliar chests, full to bursting with treasure and weapons and supplies. Aziraphale forced himself to calm, to wait, listening so intently to the far away sounds to measure their distance that his ears started to ring. It was all he could do to breathe softly and carefully as he carefully crawled down from his hiding place.

Which was why it was just his luck that he would hear someone walking towards him as soon as he touched the ground - maybe he really was cursed. Still, there was a sword in sight, and Aziraphale dove for it, rolling and coming up on both feet, turning to face his opponent.

It was the same man who'd discovered his hiding spot, only now there was dried blood coating his mouth and throat, his nose at an unnatural angle. The alpha grinned, fangs sharp and eyes red in the dim firelight.

"Where ya goin'?" he drawled, circling towards Aziraphale, forcing him to back away from the cave's exit.

Aziraphale let the pirate push him deeper into the caves, but he didn't reply, the ingrained training telling him never to speak in battle lest the enemy overcome him with words alone.

"Put the sword down now, sweetheart, and maybe I'll forgive what you did to my nose," the man tried to cajole, holding out his hand as if he actually expected Aziraphale to give over the sword.

Instead, Aziraphale lunged forward and jabbed, piercing the offending hand before retreating, quick and snake-like. He had never been an excellent soldier, but he'd been competent. It was either that or be thrown from the clan, but that had happened anyway.

The man screamed and pulled his hand back. "You bitch!" he roared, lunging forward gracelessly.

Aziraphale raised his sword in preparation for a killing strike, but before the enraged alpha had moved a step, he froze, his face going slack and his eyes going wide.

There was a sudden and uncomfortable awareness of an unnatural stillness, an unnatural quietness, behind him. And a new scent, something old and smoky but sharp, like a bonfire. Aziraphale turned slowly while backing away, refusing to let the stranger out of his sight in case it was a trick, but he wasn't truly prepared for the sight that greeted him.

It was a man, long hair red as flame and eyes yellow as the sun, but at his waist, where his legs should have been, was the body of a snake. The coils of scales were as thick as Aziraphale was, blacker than night with a belly as red as the man's hair. Aziraphale was a warrior, but he was no Heracles; if the snake man attacked him, he would die. When it slithered forward, he froze, afraid of attracting its attention, but it was focused only on the pirate, who was looking pale in the light.

"You are not welcome here," the snake man hissed, and then he twitched.

Aziraphale saw nothing, only felt a strong wind blow past him, and then the man who had been intent on attacking him was gone, flying out the cave and out of sight. In his place was the tip of the snake tail, glittering in the sunlight it sat in… and dripping with blood.

"Oh my," Aziraphale said faintly, awed by the power beneath the scales - as if getting rid of the alpha was no more difficult than swatting a fly.

The snake man didn't look at him, the human half of his body tense as he turned away, sending more of his scales glittering in the sun even as red liquid fell from his snake's body.

His human half had just disappeared around a corner when a thought occurred to Aziraphale and he rushed forward. "Wait!" he called into the caves, and to his surprise, the slithering snake body stopped. "Please," he continued. The man didn't return to Aziraphale's sight, but nor did he try to leave again. "Are you the one who leaves me the water and food?" he asked the darkness, slowly moving forward, hoping to speak to the man face-to-face. "It's very kind of you and I appreciate it very much. May I ask something else of you?"

"What more could you want?" the voice snapped out of the darkness, but Aziraphale didn't feel in danger. He tentatively set his hand to black glittery scales, and though the body underneath twitched, it did not move away.

"I would be very glad of your company," Aziraphale said slowly, carefully. He didn't know who he was dealing with, and he didn't think it was a god, but it was never safe to request something of a stranger - one never knew what might be demanded in turn. "I would be glad of a friend."

There was another woosh of air and then the man was in front of him, their faces almost too close, but Aziraphale didn't mind the view. The man was lovely, more lovely than anyone Aziraphale had seen even before his estrangement. They stared at one another for a long moment, until sudden need cramped in Aziraphale's groin and he flinched.

"Not right now," the man finally said, pulling away.

Aziraphale felt suddenly so desperately lonely that he was being abandoned that he took a step forward, but something around his ankle held him in place. The tip of the snake's tail was curled around his leg and curling high, flicking through the slick coating his thighs, and Aziraphale shuddered, suddenly remembering how appetizing the torch had begun to look, and how appetizing the smooth, blunt snake tail was looking now. Before he could do anything embarrassing, the tail tip pulled away, and Aziraphale saw the man grab it before sucking the tip of his own tail into his mouth. The tip of his tail coated with Aziraphale's slick.

Aziraphale's face went slack and his eyes wide.

"I used to be an alpha too, little nymph," the man said, and then disappeared.

And no matter how loudly Aziraphale called for him over the remainder of his heat, no matter how desperately or how frequently, he only seemed to return after Aziraphale had fallen unconscious, and only then to leave more food and water.

"Aziraphale."

Aziraphale yelped and dropped his fig in the water in surprise as he whirled in the hot spring and nearly lost his footing.

"Crowley!" he scolded, his heart racing from his surprise, steadying himself by burying his hand in the grass.

The snake laughed as he slithered forward into the water, a length of his tail dropping in along with him, heavy enough to send water flying and drenching Aziraphale. Aziraphale stared at him, unamused, and Crowley just grinned back as he settled into place. Finally, Aziraphale looked away and loftily chose another fruit from the pile he'd gathered before he got in the spring to relax.

Crowley's tail slowly sank into the water, one hands-breath at a time, until it was all coiled underneath the surface. Aziraphale found himself staring at it, wishing he could touch it, but the courage that helped him reach out to Crowley the first day they met had never returned to him. He hadn't even had it the second time they met, though 'met' was a strong word when it was more of an ambush.

When Aziraphale's first heat on the island had finally passed, and the strange snake man had continued leaving him food and water but refused to let Aziraphale see him, Aziraphale had taken matters into his own hands. It was actually something he should have thought of sooner, it had been so easy: he simply feigned sleep until his nightly visitor arrived and then demanded a proper introduction.

Crawley- er, Crowley, had been shy for several days (weeks), but something in Aziraphale had known that wasn't his true personality, and he'd been right. When Crowley wasn't defending him against pirates and then avoiding him out of- well, Aziraphale still didn't know why Crowley had been avoiding him. Crowley was confident and funny, though he was also a bit of a trickster, primarily in the way he liked to sneak up on and startle Aziraphale as his tail, frustratingly enough, made no sound over sand, rock, or grass.

"Were you born this way?" Aziraphale asked, curiously, tracing his finger through the water, an invisible outline of Crowley's tail below the surface.

Crowley was quiet for so long that Aziraphale got worried he'd offended him, but when he looked up, Crowley was watching him. "No, I was cursed."

"Ah," Aziraphale acknowledged, but his curiosity still burned within him. "By whom?" he asked, and to his surprise, Crowley grinned. Almost as if he were proud.

"Dionysus," he said proudly, but Aziraphale was too surprised to chastise him.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. In all his years, in all the tales he'd heard from bards and books and scrolls, he'd never heard of Dionysus cursing anyone. "What did-" he started and then stopped, wondering if that was too far.

"What did I do?" Crowley finished for him, still grinning.

Aziraphale nodded.

"I may have drank all the sacrificial wine at the temple I was head priest of. And then slept it off in the garden. For two days."

Aziraphale stared, aghast. "Crowley-" he started, but he didn't actually know how to finish it. "How-" he tried again, but that had nowhere to go either. "Why?" he finally ended with, and Crowley grinned again.

Crowley leaned closer and Aziraphale's eyes went to the soft line of Crowley's lips, so close to him. The lips he'd started to wonder what they felt like over the last few days, what they tasted like. It had been so long since he'd felt that need, that desire, that he didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to know if Crowley might desire him in return, but he hadn't had the need or want to find out such a thing about another person since he was a young man, and he didn't remember how it was done. He wished he had the courage to just kiss Crowley, but he was terrified of scaring off not just the other person on the island, but the first person that it felt like he'd ever become actual friends with.

"Aziraphale."

"Hm?" Aziraphale blinked and realized he'd been staring directly at Crowley's mouth for far too long while his mind wandered. The heat of embarrassment filled his face and he stiffened and averted his eyes. "Yes, sorry my dear, you were saying?" he prompted, turning away to- Well, he didn't have anything in mind to do with his hands when he turned, just the need to turn from temptation, but his eyes fell on his collection of fruit and he nervously started arranging them.

The water shifted around his waist and he became aware of a presence at his back, soft breath ruffling his hair.

"The thing about the wine at the temple of Dionysus," Crowley murmured, his voice so close to Aziraphale's ear, to his neck, that it sent a shudder down Aziraphale's spine and his skin suddenly felt bare, as if it craved the cover of Crowley's body. "Is that it houses Dionysus's wine. Once you've had it, wine made by mere mortals will never again suffice."

There was a strange trembling in Aziraphale's body, an unfamiliar desire. Despite all his training otherwise ("Never give an alpha your throat!"), Aziraphale wanted to tilt his head, wanted to feel Crowley's mouth on his skin. "Crowley," he whispered, though he didn't know what he expected, or even wanted as a response.

"Some things," Crowley continued, his breath on Aziraphale's throat making him hyper-aware, "were never meant to be tasted by humans." And he kissed Aziraphale's neck.

Aziraphale shuddered, something in him loosening, as if he'd just had an entire barrel of wine and the effects were hitting him all at once. His head fell back, a more intense offering, but Crowley stiffened and suddenly moved away, an Aziraphale whimpered.

"Crowley?" His query was only met with the sound of splashing water, and Aziraphale opened his eyes, surprised to find them closed, and was less pleasantly surprised to find Crowley leaving. "Wait!" he called out, something in him screaming at seeing his friend abandoning him. "Crowley, please!" he tried again, but Crowley didn't look back. "I'm sorry!" he cried desperately.

To his surprise, Crowley actually stopped and turned around.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said again, a little quieter, but no less desperate to keep Crowley from needing him. "I was inappropriate. I won't do it again. Please don't leave me."

Aziraphale realized that every line of Crowley's body, both human and snake, was tense, and his lovely, slender hands with claws that never retracted were curled into fists at his side. And his lovely yellow eyes weren't just yellow, but flashing gold. "Crowley?"

"You're in heat, Aziraphale," Crowley said, voice as tense as the rest of him.

Aziraphale stared at him, and then looked down at his own body in surprise. Between the water and the steam of the hot spring, both the feverish heat and the overproduction of slick were disguised, but when he shifted, he felt familiar need cramping where he needed most.

"You don't have to go," Aziraphale said, surprising himself. But he shouldn't have been surprised - it had been a fleeting thought for some time, what it would be like to spend his next heat with Crowley, but he was so unused to wanting to spend his heat with another person that facing the situation was a bit of a surprise.

"Yes I do," Crowley said, voice somehow even more tense.

"Do you-" Aziraphale started, and then stopped when he had to swallow the lump in his throat. "Do you not want me?"

Crowley blinked at him.

"Can you not scent it on me?" Crowley asked, slowly slithering back towards Aziraphale. "I wanted you since the moment you washed up on my shore like a gift from the sea, little nymph." His movements were slow, but Aziraphale felt trapped in place, like prey before a predator. Only, he didn't think he would mind being devoured. "You still smelled of your heat, like the sweets that adorn Dionysus's table. It was torture to smell you all over my caves but not be able to have you - it's why I hid. And when those intrudersss," he hissed angrily, baring his fangs, "came to shore, I thought at first that you might be pleased to have a human to mate with if you wanted one. Until you began to fight."

"I didn't want any of them," Aziraphale said softly, holding his hand out. After a moment, Crowley took it, claws settled carefully against Aziraphale's wrist, and helped him out of the hot spring. "And I don't want any of them now. Not for a friend, or a companion."

"But they're human," Crowley said, for some reason arguing with Aziraphale despite having just told him that his desires were returned.

"What does that matter?" Aziraphale asked curiously. "You may not have legs but that hasn't seemed to impact our friendship. We still converse as two people with…. with legs would, we still enjoy our company. The only thing your lack of legs changes is how well you're able to sneak up on me."

Crowley grinned mischievously and then cleared his throat, looking away. If Aziraphale wasn't mistaken, Crowley's cheeks were pink. "So… You would like me to stay with you during your heat? In the traditional sense?" Crowley asked, setting his hands on his hips.

Aziraphale looked down at where Crowley seemed to lack the… tradition. "Erm… can you?" he asked as delicately as he could.

Crowley closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's waist. "I don't believe I retained my ability to knot you but… I believe I can come up with something that will sssatisfy you," he said, his voice low and warm, like his scent.

Something touched Aziraphale's leg and he jumped, only to realize it was the tip of Crowley's tail, wrapping around his ankle. Aziraphale looked down at the black coil of scales and suddenly Crowley's words made sense. "Oh!" he gasped.

"Oh," Crowley replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

Aziraphale didn't know how to process that, but Crowley didn't give him much time. He bent and swept Aziraphale into his arms, a display of his supernatural strength that was somehow both arousing and alarming at the same time. Wary of being rebuked, Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley's shoulders as Crowley started towards the caves, but Crowley only smiled back at him

"Why not- um… mate out here?" Aziraphale asked suddenly, the thought occurring to him almost as he said it.

Yellow eyes, no longer glowing gold, flicked over to meet his. "Despite the storms that surround my island, people find their way to my shores regardless. If anyone does show up again, I want our nest to be defensible."

Aziraphale swallowed hard at the words 'our nest', and he felt a fresh wave of slick wash down his thighs. The arm around his waist tightened and the smoky scent around him sharpened into a roaring blaze. When Crowley's eyes flashed gold again, Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder if it meant the same as a human alpha's eyes flashing red.

The sky darkened suddenly and Aziraphale looked up, surprised to find they were already in the cave. Aziraphale had thought that they might be spending his heat in one of his nests, but Crowley kept moving, taking Aziraphale further from the areas most familiar to him.

"Where are we going?" Aziraphale asked curiously, trying to keep track of the path they took as they seemed to travel downward, perhaps even below the surface of the sea itself.

"My nest," Crowley said, almost proudly.

The cave they emerged in was no larger or smaller than those Aziraphale had already explored, about the size of a villa, but this particular cave was filled to the brim with Crowley's scent. The familiar smell of a burning fire filled Aziraphale with every breath he took, made him want to bury his nose in Crowley's neck, to lick him to taste it true. But beneath that was another scent, familiar and yet not: old wood, like an ancient forest. It was so embedded into the room that, if Aziraphale had had his eyes closed when he'd been carried in, he would have thought that there had been an actual forest growing under the ground. The scent was buried in every rock, in every grain of sand, as if Crowley had lived there for decades.

It wasn't until then that Aziraphale remembered Crowley's words, how he had desired Aziraphale since he'd first laid eyes on him. How Crowley's scent had always been one of fire to him, and how he could never discern a difference because that was just how Crowley was around him. But here, in what was clearly Crowley's nest, Aziraphale realized the comforting woody scent must have been Crowley's baseline, from where the smoky scent of his desire sprung.

"I wonder what we'll smell like after," Aziraphale wondered, half to himself.

Crowley looked at him again and he smiled. "We'll smell irresistible," he replied, setting Aziraphale on his feet. "Welcome to my nest, little nymph," he said, turning Aziraphale around. "Our nest."

As a nest, it wasn't something that would be traditionally considered respectable, but it looked delightfully comfortable, which had always been more important to Aziraphale. It looked to be made up entirely of black cloth, what Aziraphale could only assume had been scavenged from everything that had ever drifted ashore. But perhaps more impressively, the rocks around the nest, and indeed most of the cavern, were covered in unfamiliar plants. Blue-green moss covered nearly every rock, a bed for plants that looked more like seaweed than anything he'd ever seen on land and brightly coloured flowers the likes of which he'd never seen. And through it all, small spots of light, like fireflies in the sky.

Aziraphale loved it.

"Oh," he said softly, reaching out to gently pat the springy moss. "Oh Crowley, it's wonderful." He turned and found Crowley watching him carefully, almost disbelievingly, as if he'd full well expected Aziraphale to be displeased.

"Really?" he asked, voice cautious.

Aziraphale smiled. "Of course, dear. How could I not?"

"Well," Crowley drawled, slithering closer, "I haven't been around humans for a long time but I don't remember this being a fashionable style of nest."

"Oh, it's not fashionable at all," Aziraphale agreed, trying to keep the grimace from a spasm of pain from his face. Which he must have failed at because there was suddenly a hand on his cheek that he hadn't seen coming.

"It hurts already?" Crowley asked softly.

Aziraphale paused and then nodded. And after another pause: "Have you cared for an omega during their heat before?"

"Since I was cursed?" The end of Crowley's tail dragged through the sand towards Aziraphale before curling up around one leg to his waist and around his middle. "No. But before, yes. Although, as I understood it, no two omega has the same heat." He went quiet for a moment, looking down at Aziraphale's lips as his tail seemed to finish its wrap over one of Aziraphale's shoulders. His eyes returned to Aziraphale's, and the yellow seemed on the verge of glowing. "Have you?"

"Had an omega during their heat?" Aziraphale returned cheekily. "Not had, but I've helped cousins manage theirs growing up, we all did."

The corner of Crowley's mouth quirked, exposing one long fang, and Aziraphale couldn't quite determine if it was in agreeing amusement or a complete lack of it.

"But if you mean have I had an alpha? Then yes. I… tried a few in my youth but it never worked out the way I'd hoped." He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice but he couldn't be sure he succeeded. He'd just wanted a proper heat, since he learned of them, but he'd never been… allowed. He had wondered for a long time if the gods had cursed him for something he'd done until he finally accepted that the fault was his alone, that he simply didn't deserve an alpha.

Aziraphale was terrified that Crowley's assistance with his heat would turn out the same way. They were friends now, but so had been all the alphas in his past, until his heat had passed. If Crowley spurned him after, like the others, Aziraphale didn't know what he would do.

Suddenly, and to his great surprise, Crowley kissed him. Not the harsh and aggressive kiss of an over-amorous alpha, but a soft, gentle kiss, as if between lovers. It surprised him enough that, for a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to do with it, about it. He froze in that moment too long, and Crowley pulled back, frowning down at him, thumb sweeping gently back and forth over his cheek.

"Was that not alright?" Crowley asked, tone as such that Aziraphale did not fear reprimand for not enjoying it.

"Um, no- er, I mean, yes, it was alright, I just… wasn't expecting it," Aziraphale trailed off, unable to meet Crowley's eyes. "I haven't experienced much - of that - in my life."

It felt almost embarrassing to admit, somehow almost more embarrassing than to admit how many alphas he hadn't taken. Even children dared kisses frequently, and young adults more so, dancing in to steal the lips of their interest before dancing away before they could get cuffed, but no one had wanted to dance near Aziraphale. Even the few alphas he'd spent his heats with hadn't been interested. Sometimes, the loneliness felt like it might crush him.

"Well, I'll have to make up for that, won't I?" Crowley said, his eyes burning and his smile sharp.

There was a tug at his leg, the length of tail wrapped around it lifting it, pulling Aziraphale's sensitive inner thigh around the smooth scales of Crowley's 'hip', and his cock against the warm skin of Crowley's belly.

"Oh," Aziraphale gasped, trying to rock up against the sensation but with a great deal of difficulty with only one foot of leverage on the ground.

"Oh," Crowley echoed, only his voice was warmer, almost a purr, and it sparked a different kind of warmth in Aziraphale's belly as Crowley and his tail slowly and carefully laid Aziraphale upon the nest of clothes.

Aziraphale hummed as he wriggled in place, enjoying the feel of the surprisingly soft fabric against his sensitive skin, and the malleable sand underneath. The coil of smooth scales wrapped around him began to unwind, the tip dragging a light path along Aziraphale's skin as it went. It moved down his spine like a finger and Aziraphale arched up, both delighting in and trying to escape the sensation. But then it dragged between his buttocks, pushing against where he was already loose and wet, but it barely dipped in before continuing its path, leaving a trail of slick in a curl around Aziraphale's leg.

"Crowley," he groaned, writhing from the tease, the way it made his heart and his arousal pound.

"Yes, my little nymph?" Crowley replied, lowering himself on top of Aziraphale and settling himself between Aziraphale's thighs.

The motion trapped Aziraphale's cock between the slight concave of Crowley's belly and the slight pudge of his. He almost felt ashamed of it, a sign of his loss of strength during his stay on the island, but he kept having to remind himself that it was the result of his own desire for relaxation and comfort. The softness of his belly was not an unintentional weakness, but the sign of his new life well lived.

And it helped that Crowley didn't seem to mind.

"I do so enjoy your body," Crowley murmured, carefully smoothing claw-tipped hands down the new softness of Aziraphale's ribs. "It's always soft and warm."

To Aziraphale's surprise, Crowley began to kiss down his sternum and over his belly and-

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, fingers curling in the nest.

Crowley hummed around Aziraphale's cock, looking up Aziraphale's body from where he it felt like he was trying to swallow Aziraphale to the root. He delicately tucked a lock of long flame-red hair behind his ear and hummed again, so deeply it felt like Aziraphale would vibrate right out of his skin.

"Please!" he gasped, struggling to find his words. "Dear, d-d-d-ON't t-tease!"

Clawed hands carefully lifted Aziraphale's legs, draping them over Crowley's shoulders, but it only gave Aziraphale more leverage to arch when something pressed unexpectedly against his hole.

"Wha-"

The familiar tip of a red-bellied black tail waved at him from near his hip before disappearing again, and there was another nudge of pressure at his loose rim.

"Oh," he sighed as Crowley's tail finally penetrated him. "Oh Crowley..."

Crowley hummed again and stroked Aziraphale's hip as he began to work his mouth over Aziraphale's cock, sucking gently in time with the gentle pulsations of his tail pushing into Aziraphale. Careful to keep his fingers tangled only in the clothes he was laying on, rather than risk reaching for Crowley's hair, Aziraphale fell into his own rhythm, rolling into the motions, using the leverage of Crowley's shoulders to lift his hips into Crowley's mouth, and releasing the tension to fall back onto the penetration of the tail.

The fire Crowley's ministrations were building in his belly was warm but small, not enough to send frissons up his spine, not even this early in his heat. Perhaps they might at the end, when he was drained and oversensitive from all the coupling, but right now, he needed more. He just wished he knew how to ask.

Just as he was beginning to relax, simply enjoying Crowley's touch despite the rising heat under his skin, Crowley's tail pushed into him and didn't stop pushing. The breath in Aziraphale's lungs fell as still as his body as he was filled with coil after coil. It was strange, to feel it curling inside of him, like a fist, but he couldn't find the air to speak. The knob of tail began to pulse and Aziraphale's vision washed over with white, an unfamiliar but most welcome sensation sparking along his spine.

"Good?"

Crowley sounded almost too smug, but Aziraphale hadn't the energy to scold him. Not that he was sure he should - he'd been hearing from his omega cousins for years how amazing their heats had been but Aziraphale had never been able to figure out what exactly they found so amazing about them. In a deep, dark corner of his mind, he'd begun to suspect that he was just broken. But being on this island, being with Crowley, was starting to make him suspect that he'd never been broken at all, just cursed.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley sounded less smug and more… concerned.

"Yes?" Aziraphale breathed, his body feeling pleasantly strange.

"Was that alright?" Crowley asked again, letting Aziraphale's legs back down and moving up Aziraphale's body, holding himself aloft with his arms. There was a dip between his eyes and the corners of his mouth were downturned almost imperceptibly, and Aziraphale couldn't stop thinking about kissing them upright again.

"Very much so," he managed to say, now that Crowley was no longer fellating him and now that the tail in him had fallen still again. "I would very much like if you continue, I think."

Instead of continuing, Crowley's frown deepened. "Have you never experienced that before?"

"Ah…" Aziraphale started and then trailed off, unsure if he should answer truthfully or not.

Crowley's tail in him shifted, expanded, and Aziraphale saw white again, arching off the ground and into Crowley's body. He fell back down when it faded, breathing heavily and feeling so terribly unsatisfied that it almost hurt.

"Have you?" Crowley prodded, lowering himself onto Aziraphale's chest, pinning him in place.

"Um…" Aziraphale trailed off again, trying not to cringe. "No?"

Crowley tsked, a false sadness made all the more obvious by the wicked smile, and the sudden bloom of the scent of smoke in the air around them.

"Then I will happily provide it for you until you've forgotten that you never knew it," Crowley said, arching down and kissing Aziraphale hungrily until Aziraphale lost his breath.

To his great dismay, he could feel Crowley's tail uncoiling, pulling out of him, and he tried to clench down on it, keep it inside, but it was too smooth and he was too wet. Instead, the tip, once free, curled around Aziraphale's cock, making him shudder.

"Crowley," he protested, undulating. "Crowley dear, please."

"What's wrong?" Crowley asked, though his grin said he knew exactly what was wrong.

"I thought-" Aziraphale started and then cut himself off, feeling a little embarrassed.

"You thought what, little nymph?" Crowley whispered, eyes almost glowing as he began a rocking motion between Aziraphale's legs, almost as if he were f-

"I thought- your tail- you-" The words were too difficult to get out and Aziraphale found himself looking away, unable to bring himself to say any more.

Hair tickled his face as Crowley leaned closer, his lips so soft against Aziraphale's ear that it was almost ticklish. "You thought I was going to fuck you with my tail?"

It was difficult to say whether embarrassment or arousal caused the sudden rush of heat through Aziraphale, but he nodded regardless, eyes fixed a dark dip in the rocky ceiling.

"Oh, I most certainly can if you'd like me to, but I had something else in mind," Crowley said, pulling away from Aziraphale, and sitting up on his tail.

Curious, Aziraphale turned his head to see what Crowley meant, and he found the man pushing the heel of his palm from his belly button down past where skin turned to scale. For a moment, Aziraphale thought he saw something move and he blinked and squinted. Had that slit always been there? Right where, if Crowley had still had a fully human form, where his-

"By the gods," Aziraphale whispered, eyes going wide as not one, but two slim, sleek, pink cocks emerged from the slit that had opened in Crowley's scales. "Crowley-" Aziraphale realized he was reaching for Crowley as he spoke and hastily dropped his hand, but Crowley caught it before it hit the sand, cradling it carefully in his claws.

"Never hesitate to touch me, Aziraphale," Crowley said, his voice warm and soft, and unexpectedly serious. He turned his hand under Aziraphale's and laced their fingers together as he began to lower himself back down over Aziraphale. "For as long as you want me, you have the freedom and encouragement to touch me. I am yours."

Aziraphale stared at him for a long, blind moment, eyes wide at the unexpected declaration that made his heart hammer away at his ribs from inside his chest. "Crowley…" he whispered, tugging at Crowley's hand and tilting his chin up.

Crowley fell upon him like the waves, stealing his breath and undulating against him like the roll of the tide. With every shift, his cocks brushed Aziraphale's hole until he was rolling up into Crowley in turn, the need to be filled yawning like a chasm. He'd never needed as much as he did in that moment, not with any alpha in the past, and not even when he had no alpha, only smooth, carved stone and a frustrated desperation.

"Please," he gasped between kisses, even though he refused to unwind his arm from around Crowley's neck, refused to unwind his fingers for the long red strands. "Please, Crowley, I need you."

"I know, little nymph," Crowley murmured back, kissing along Aziraphale's cheek down to his neck and back up. "Hold still."

Crowley slowly pulled away from Aziraphale's mouth and his body. He gently disentangled their fingers and smoothed his newly-freed hand down Aziraphale's rib to his hip, holding it down. It wasn't often that he used his superior strength on or near Aziraphale, but no matter how hard Aziraphale tried to buck up towards Crowley, the hand at his hip refused to budge.

When Aziraphale finally managed to reign in his own need and force himself into stillness, he found himself panting where he lay in their nest, his heat screaming through him in need and his skin burning. In contrast, Crowley looked calm and composed, or he would have if his eyes weren't glowing and wide enough to look manic, if his fangs weren't bared. Or if his cocks weren't standing straight out from their slit. Aziraphale watched with hungry eyes as Crowley carefully wrapped his long, clawed fingers around them, stroking them only once before he leaned back in, guiding the tips to Aziraphale's hole.

The first nudge had Aziraphale's breath sticking in his chest, not because he wasn't wet enough (he was), or because Crowley was too big (he wasn't; his cocks together were only a little larger than the standard alpha cock), but because it was the first time he'd been penetrated in decades, and the first time he'd been penetrated by someone who liked him as he liked them in his life. He hadn't thought it would make a difference, but there was something so strikingly intimate about the way Crowley's glowing gaze caught his, the way there was only the sound of his slick and their breaths and the distant dripping of water, the fall of red hair around him, the blue-green glow of the cave. It was a moment he never would have been able to find in the city, and not just because there were no caves or half-snake people in the city - at least, none that he'd ever seen.

"Crowley," he whispered into the warm air between them, and Crowley's eyes fluttered as he sunk fully into Aziraphale, filling him in a way he'd never thought he'd feel again. He groaned and pushed up into Crowley's body at the sensation, at how full he felt, at how it was Crowley filling him. "Crowley."

"You're so warm, little nymph," Crowley whispered back, lowering himself back over Aziraphale. "Warm and soft."

"You're hot," Aziraphale replied, wrapping both arms around Crowley's neck and using them to pull Crowley down for more kisses. "You're so hot inside me." And he was. His cocks were a burning heat inside Aziraphale, hot in a way he didn't remember cocks being, his tongue was so warm and slick around and against Aziraphale's tongue, and Crowley himself, his affection, sat like a glowing ember in Aziraphale's chest.

Distantly, Aziraphale could hear the sound of scales shifting over stone, and then Crowley slowly started pulling out. His lips kept Aziraphale from pleading, and his mouth swallowed Aziraphale's whimpers and groans of protest. But right when only the tips of Crowley's cocks remained in him, Crowley suddenly pushed forward again, filling Aziraphale in a rush of air and movement.

Aziraphale groaned and clawed at Crowley's back, trying to keep that feeling, but Crowley pulled away again, only to drive himself back into Aziraphale, over and over and over. With each retreat, Aziraphale feared that he would never return, and with every return, Aziraphale felt he wasn't full enough. Crowley's name was a song on his tongue between kisses, Crowley's taste and scent an ambrosia on the air, growing smokier every time Aziraphale tried to pull him back. He could hear his name like an echo between them, heighted by the scent of his slick squelching.

Not once did Crowley pull away from him, not once did he lift the weight of his body from Aziraphale's chest, the strong coils of his tail helping him fuck Aziraphale and keeping them from having to seperate. Every thrust made them jostle, made their bellies rub over Aziraphale's cock trapped between them, which sent constant sensation rolling up Aziraphale's spine, warmth pooling in his groin.

But oh gods it wasn't enough. Aziraphale needed more, he needed- "Want your knot," he panted, even though he knew he couldn't have it. And then a need he'd never meant to speak spilled out of him like the breaking of a dam. "I want your fangs."

"Fuck, little nymph," Crowley growled, somehow getting faster. He wormed a hand under Aziraphale's rear and lifted it slightly, but just enough to send stars flashing in Aziraphale's vision. "Do you really? Do you want me?"

Aziraphale tried to answer, he did, but the new pace and the new angle made him forget how to breathe, much less speak, and it was all he could do to tilt his head to expose his neck. His claws tangled in Crowley's hair and he pulled, straining his neck to expose his throat. The first touch of a hot, wet mouth to the sensitive skin where a mating bite belonged made him moan and writhe and claw and pull.

"More!" he gasped, overwhelmed with need as he never had been before. "More, Crowley!"

Sharp fangs scraped over his shoulder, nowhere near his neck, and Aziraphale blindly bit down, in irritation, in provokation. His fangs caught meat, the curve of a shoulder maybe, and there was a sharp hiss, one that echoed through the caves like the cry of an unearthly thing.

"Fuck!" Crowley snarled, but there was no scent of anger about him, only arousal so thick that Aziraphale felt like he couldn't breathe through it. The caves may as well have been filled with actual smoke, for all that Aziraphale could see and scent.

"Take care of what you're asking me, little omega," Crowley growled, jerking forward, his rhythm disrupted.

"I know exactly what I'm asking, alpha," Aziraphale snarked back. He hadn't had a lot of choices in his life, and being stranded on an island with one other person who also happened to be an alpha wasn't so much 'choices' as 'choice' but it was his choice to make and it was a choice he was making gladly. If only Crowley would just listen. "I don't want your insecurity, I want your mark."

Oh, dear, that was mean, but Aziraphale was burning and desperate and he wanted.

Crowley stopped, so suddenly that Aziraphale nearly wailed in complaint, but he forced his eyes open forced himself to look at Crowley, suddenly wary that he had offended his desired mate. Above him, Crowley's expression was blank, his eyes still aglow and his fangs, as always, extended.

"Crow-?"

"I want you to look me in the eye and say that again."

Aziraphale blinked, feeling a bit like he'd been doused with water, all of his need and heat held in suspension. "Erm… all of it or-?"

Crowley suddenly looked unamused. "You know the bit I mean."

Pursing his lips to hide his grin, Aziraphale looked Crowley dead in the eye, and spoke as clearly as he ever had. "Crowley, my dear, my lover, my alpha, I want you to make me your mate."

For a long moment, it was as if Crowley hadn't heard him. And then Crowley groaned and melted upon Aziraphale, his mouth hot and wet and all-consuming, like he was kissing Aziraphale for the first time. Or the last. It made Aziraphale hold on tighter, like he never wanted to let go, but it still wasn't enough. He wrapped his legs around the renewed roll of Crowley's lower back and hooked his ankles around one another, trying to pull Crowley further into him. The new angle made him see stars against the backdrop of the cave, Crowley's cocks seeming to reach deeper, seeming to fill him even more.

Then there was a small hitch in Crowley's rhythm, the steady penetration interrupted, and hope bloomed in Aziraphale's chest. "Crowley?" he gasped, half a question. "I thought you couldn't knot?" He'd begged for it but he hadn't known it might have been possible, and now that he could feel the slow swell of them forcing their way into his body, hunger sprung to life alongside his hope.

"I didn't know I could," Crowley rasped back, his face mirroring Aziraphale's hunger and putting his wonder on full display. "I haven't had a rut since I've been in this form, nor have I had an omega. But I also never tried having you."

Aziraphale moaned, at Crowley's words, at the way Crowley began fucking him harder and faster as if spurned on by the gods themselves, at the way the scent of Crowley's arousal filled the air, filled his lungs, coated his tongue. He felt hot everywhere, all over his skin, even where the coolness of Crowley's body was holding him close, and his spine felt like the liquid metal of a forging sword, all that heat and power building in his groin, building, waiting for release.

He arched his neck, a temptation, an offer, his claws tangled in Crowley's hair, a demand, a plea. Crowley fell upon it immediately, scraping it with his fangs, each tease making Aziraphale's heart trip and his trapped cock pulse. There were murmurs in the air, his name, Crowley's name, litanies a song to their love-making.

Aziraphale was so, so wet, he could hear it with every thrust, but as Crowley's knots swelled, the harder Crowley fucked, had to fuck, to force them into Aziraphale's body. It almost hurt, but what hurt more were the moments where they weren't in him at all. It felt like the fire in his blood was burning him alive, Crowley both keeping it at bay and stoking it with every thrust, with every brush of his fangs, with every whisper of Aziraphale's name against the sensitive skin of his throat.

"Aziraphale," Crowley gasped suddenly, urgently. "Aziraphale look at me."

It was a strange amount of effort, to do as Crowley's asked, when the pleasure was so great that it felt like Aziraphale was drowning in it, but he forced himself to do just that, to open his eyes and meet the glow of Crowley's.

For a moment, it seemed as if Cronus stopped time. For just a moment, when their eyes met, it seemed as if the entire universe held its breath.

"Crowley…"

The moment broke as Crowley knotted him, the base of both of Crowley's cocks swelling inside of Aziraphale, locking their bodies together. And as Aziraphale arched in a silent scream of ecstasy at being filled more fully than he ever had in his life, Crowley struck, his fangs piercing Aziraphale's neck, locking their souls together and making the world explode in light and colour and pleasure that Aziraphale had never known. At the core of it all was the mating bite springing to life between them, connecting them through death and Hades beyond.

Aziraphale floated in pleasure for an age, coming back to his body slowly, which felt luxurious in a way no orgasm had ever made him feel. He felt warm and… satisfied, more comfortable in his own skin than he had ever felt in his life. A gentle, repetitive stroking was sending pale echoes of arousal through him, like ripples on a pond, calling to him, calling him back to his body.

"My little omega, my little mate."

The awe in Crowley's voice made Aziraphale smile. "My alpha," he croaked, his voice hoarse and his throat sore. "My mate."

The sound of purring accompanied the return of Aziraphale's vision, and he was already smiling when he looked up into the same awe that had filled Crowley's voice. His new mate hovered above him, propped up on an ebow, his free hand cupping Aziraphale's throat and the tips of his fingers tracing the line of Aziraphale's new mating scar. Each brush sent shudders through Aziraphale, made him come a little more, made him squeeze down on the knots inside him, made Crowley come a little more. Aziraphale could feel it dripping out of where his hole felt too stretched, too open, unable to contain the girth of two knots, and though he could feel it gathering in unpleasant places, the mere fact that it was an issue at all was a delight that made him sigh in happiness.

"Are you doing that for you or for me," he murmured, feeling tired from the first round of his heat. Soon, he'd be hungry and desperate all over, but in the moment, he was loathe to move, to separate himself from his alpha in any way.

"Can't it be both?" Crowley replied just as quietly, his expression as soft and relaxed as Aziraphale felt. He leaned over Aziraphale and kissed him, slow and gentle, free of any expectation. "Is it not enough that your pleasure brings your mate pleasure?"

Aziraphale moaned at hearing Crowley calling himself his mate, at the way the gold flash of Crowley's eyes made his new mark flash with a bone-melting heat.

"Is it?" Crowley asked again, trailing the sharp tips of his claws down Aziraphale's chest, through the come smeared on his belly, and tracing ever-so-lightly over his soft cock. The touch made Aziraphale shiver with the shadow of an orgasm, the muscles in his stomach contracting reflexively.

"Yes," Aziraphale sighed, relaxing as Crowley resettled his hand back on Aziraphale's throat, the pads of his fingers resuming their tracing of Aziraphale's new scar. Each brush continued to cause the strange but delicious tingles that rippled all the way down Aziraphale's body to his toes, and they made him simultaneously feel both wide awake and ready for sleep.

His eyes fell on Crowley's bare neck and realized he hadn't bitten Crowley back when he'd come, too overcome by the first satisfying orgasm of his life. He hoped he would have the presence of mind during his next round to mark Crowley back, but even if he didn't manage it then, well, there were still many rounds yet to come.

"Yes, it's more than enough, my dear."

EPILOGUE

"Where are they?" Warlock snapped, a growl trailing the edges of his words.

Ever since he'd presented as an alpha shortly after the winter solstice, Warlock had been even more short-tempered than usual. Adam had spent the rainy months wondering if his own presentation as an omega a month earlier has sparked it.

He looked away from the curve of his friend's neck down to watch the street below. "Maybe his clan was hired on for longer than planned," he guessed. "But you know they visit the oracle every year. He'll be here."

"They always visit around the spring solstice," Warlock growled, turning away from the window and flopping to the floor, his arms crossed petulantly over his chest. "It's practically the summer solstice."

"Aziraphale swore to the gods," Adam reminded him. "He'll be here." He tried to exude calm and patience, in his voice, in his attitude, in his scent, but it only seemed to make Warlock more annoyed. He half-suspected Warlock got angry on purpose, just to be contrary.

"I'm going out to the garden," Warlock said, jumping to his feet just as suddenly as he'd sat down.

"Alright," Adam said, turning away from the window and following his friend downstairs and into the walled garden at the back of Warlock's house.

The garden was Adam's favourite part of Warlock's house. It was more than three times larger than his own, just like the house itself, but it was the garden that was full of fruit trees and vegetables. He plucked a low-hanging fig as he followed Warlock's angry stomps at a more sedate pace towards the back wall. There was a hole there, hidden by a bush, large enough when they'd been children, a tighter fit now that they were growing up, and even though they had free reign to come in and out of the house at will, sometimes there was a bit of fun to be had with sneaking out.

"Do you smell that?" Warlock asked ahead of him, head tilted as he scented the air. But Adam's eyes were fixed on the enormous black snake tail hanging over the back wall instead.

"Warlock."

"Yeah?"

"Warlock."

"What?" Warlock snapped as he turned to face Adam. Adam nodded at the tail and he could scent the moment Warlock spotted it.

"By the gods," Warlock whispered, reaching for his knife.

"Hello boys!"

Warlock screamed in surprise at the sudden sight of none other than Aziraphale's head popping up on the other side of the wall. Adam managed not to scream, but only because the surprise had made his heart skip a beat.

"It's perfectly safe, dear, come on," Aziraphale said, to someone on the other side of the wall, and then he was rising higher and the black tail was getting longer.

Adam, and surprisingly Warlock, could only watch in silence as a flame-haired man's head appeared next to Aziraphale's. A man who appeared to be holding Aziraphale in his arms and… a man who appeared to be a snake from the waist down. Satyrs and centaurs were common sights around town, all sorts of half-human creatures who came out of the woods and the mountains and the sea, but a half-snake was… was rather new.

When they finally settled fully in the garden, the snake man's tail was so long that it disappeared into the greenery along the wall, and Aziraphale was-

"You're huge!" Warlock exclaimed.

Adam leveled an unamused look at his friend and the snake man glared. Aziraphale just smiled though, and the scent of his happiness bloomed in the garden.

"That does tend to happen when you're pregnant," he said with a bright smile.

Adam stared. At Aziraphale and then at the snake man. And then at where the snake man did not have a man's lower body.

"I'm sorry but how?" Adam found himself asking. He'd seen a snake nest and they had eggs, not… babies.

The scent of Aziraphale's happiness threaded with a scent Adam couldn't quite place, and the smell of a burning fire accompanied it.

"Er… unconventionally," Aziraphale finally said, looking anywhere but at Adam, Warlock, or the snake man, who was grinning at Aziraphale with bared fangs and glowing eyes.

It was only because they were both looking sideways that Adam spotted the scarred bite marks on both of their necks. "You're mated," he blurted out, surprised.

"You're what?!" Warlock shouted, unnecessarily surprised.

"Ah, yes. Oh! Yes, this is my mate, Crowley," he finally introduced, gesturing at the snake man. "He um… he saved me from, well, a shipwreck of sorts."

"Is that what happened to your clan?" Adam asked, ignoring the way Warlock was still staring, mouth agape. He wondered for a moment if Warlock had hoped to court Aziraphale this year, not that Adam thought that that would have gone well.

Aziraphale frowned. "What do you mean?"

Adam frowned back at him. "Your clan hasn't been to see the oracle yet. We'd thought that you might have just been hired to stay in Korinthos longer."

Aziraphale looked down at the ground and his mate slithered up behind him, wrapping in him long, pale arms, clawed fingers settling carefully on the girth of Aziraphale's belly. Adam could barely make out silent whispers made into Aziraphale's neck, but the scent of Aziraphale's grief was loud enough.

"I'm sorry I asked," Adam apologized softly, feeling Aziraphale's grief pull at his heart.

"No, it's- It's alright," Aziraphale said, shaking his head like he was trying to shake away his grief. "It wasn't actually a shipwreck. My… my clan leader blamed my heats for the bad weather we have during our crossing every spring and… and tossed me overboard."

Adam stared, stunned by the thought of an omega's family abandoning them, trying to kill them, at their weakest time. He'd never heard of such a thing before, never could have
fathomed it.

"I hope everyone one of them is dragged into the sea by Poseidon and left to rot," Warlock growled.

"Warlock!" Aziraphale gasped, scandalized, but his mate was looking at Warlock with approval.

Warlock shrugged and then spat angrily on the ground.

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence that only got more awkward for Adam when he realized he was watching Crowley nuzzling Aziraphale's neck. Even though Aziraphale was his friend and he'd never really viewed him like a parent, watching the two adults felt just like catching his parents getting lovey-dovey in the front room.

"Does that mean you'll be staying?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Aziraphale blinked, as if startled, and then looked at him and Warlock, his smile turning a bit sad.

"I'm sorry boys, but I won't be," he said. "I found a home with Crowley on his island and that's where our nest is. I'll come to visit if you wish, but I won't be able to until the children are old enough," he said, rubbing at his belly.

"You're not coming back?!" Warlock exclaimed, missing the point entirely. Adam sighed and finally stepped up next to his friend, shooting Aziraphale an apologetic look.

"I'm coming back," Aziraphale reassured, apparently unbothered by Warlock's outbursts. But then again, that's why they were friends in the first place, because he was able to weather Warlock's short temper and never got mad at him for it. "I will be back, it just won't be for several years. We can't leave the children alone until they're old enough to take care of themselves and we can't take them with us. But you boys will be fine without me. And who knows, maybe by the time I see you again, you'll have mates of your own."

Warlock made a sound of disgust and shook his head but Aziraphale winked at Adam who felt an unfamiliar heat in his face.

"Swear by the gods that you'll be back," Warlock demand, and Adam felt like the past had come over them.

Aziraphale stared at them for a moment and then smiled, as if he felt the past too. He settled his hand over his heart. "I swear by the gods that I will return."

Adam watched Aziraphale and Warlock, and after a moment, Warlock nodded, apparently satisfied. "Okay fine. But you have to come over for dinner."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and then back at Warlock and smiled. "Of course, Warlock." He gestured towards the house. "Lead the way."

Warlock stomped away, trailing pheromones, and after a moment, Adam followed. A moment later, Aziraphale fell into step alongside him, his usual marching walk become a bit of a waddle, but he seemed even more confident than he had in the past.

"So. An alpha and an omega, hm?" Aziraphale asked, almost conversationally if it weren't for the hint of interest in his voice.

"No," Adam said emphatically, and walked faster. It kept Aziraphale from catching up to him, but it didn't stop Aziraphale's laughter from following him into the house.

τέλος

Aziraphale totally got [snake . emoji][peach . emoji][sweatdrops . emoji][egg . emoji]. :3

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