Chapter Text
Mist raised off the waters as Aziraphale padded, barefoot, into the baths. He was completely bare from head to toe, the heat of the water and bodies making even his thin gauze fabric too stuffy for his human body. The sound of bubbles rolling out along the lead-lined pools bounced off the enclosed space. Steam wafted up along the finely decorated walls, adorned with graphic images of shared bliss and statues of encouraging gods. The bright light streaming in from the oculus danced along with the glistening bodies of roman patrons.
Naked bodies dotted the space, all of them intoxicated by the warmth and drink. Men and women laid out investing all their energy into a leisurely conversation, the serious getting down to brass tacks while the bold teased their companions. Women traded tips and tricks to control their husbands and homes while getting their hair curled and crimped into elaborate hairdos. Men wrestled, working up a light sweat while exercising, before scraping the sweat and oils away. All, excited to then get the tension in their muscles massaged away by smooth, skilled hands.
The process was totally enjoyable, as was to be expected, but by far the best moment was that rush of sinking into the hot waters of the caldarium. The heat did wonders to Aziraphale’s senses, the waters wrapping around him like a dear friend. It helped dull a corporeal form that was still a little too sensitive to every stimulus that surrounded it. Helped him to weed out all the useless information from the host and brethren to truly enjoy the sensations humans had to offer. The food was as free-flowing as the wine and bath waters. People milled around him, stopping to chat amicably with the angel. Many knew him as a regular customer, if not a rather odd man. Always welcome but never invited to the more illicit acts that could take place in empty locker rooms and tucked away alcoves.
He seemed to just glow with purity, even while paying patronage to a place that offered a bit more than the innocent wash up. His white-blonde hair was striking against the brightly colored frescos on the walls. His plump body was becoming rosy in the warm waters. Looking like the finest grained bread dough just begging to be kneaded. He was never in a rush while at the baths, coming before most others arrived and leaving long after they had to abandon the tranquillity for their work and families. Many whispered that he must be a god to truly have such decadent free time. Nonetheless, he did not smite those who did come near him, simply engulfing them in exuberant conversations on the latest philosophical studies.
Currently, he was holding a light debate with the son of a local general, a bright boy with a charismatic disposition and the adorable nickname ‘little boots’.
There was a suspicious lull in conversations as attentions were swept up to a new guest walking into the baths. Turning around himself, Aziraphale instantly recognized the figure who walked in as the demon Crowley. Like some epic Babylonian demi-god, standing in all his glory, preposterously wide-legged, framed by the caldarium’s arched doorway.
Slowly, he continued entering the caldarium. His hips had this unnaturally smooth sway, harkening back to his earliest days in the garden of Eden. Many eyes turned, with no attempts to veil the heated lustful looks as they watched the man walkthrough. All bold steps and fluid long-limbed confidence. His fiery red hair, an exotic look that set many loins aflame, was loosely piled atop his head in a messy bun. A few unruly curls, refusing to be contained, fell to frame the high cheekbones and strong jaw of Crowley’s face.
No one seemed to attempt to comment on his petite black glasses that were surely fogging up past the point of use. It should look ridiculous, but he wore them with such comfort and confidence that you couldn’t find anything on him worthy of ridicule. He was eye-catching, attention-grabbing, and content to bask in the warmth of the dozens of eyes watching him.
Humming softly to himself, he slunk right into the warm waters, stretching himself out on display. Directly across from Aziraphale. All he gave him was a small wave in acknowledgment of his presence, before lolling his head back. The column of his neck was stretched out, a lovely line of suntanned flesh. Jewel-like beads of sweat rolled down his long neck, catching slightly in the deep dip of his collarbone, before carrying on its path down his chest into the waters.
Aziraphale felt his throat become parched. No amount of wine was helping the matter.
Everyone seemed slightly hesitant to approach the man, though many seemed like that would make them happier than anything else. Those that took steps in his direction would almost miraculously turn and head in other directions, to more willing partners.
Soon the time passed and people went back to their conversations, only sparing a few glances here and there. Aziraphale went back to his wine and fruits, pretending to pay much less attention to the demon than he really was.
It felt like the first time ever that he got a really good look at the demon. At how those lean powerful muscles shifted or the nearly insistent habit of fidgeting he had. How even as a demon of Hell, he didn’t so much radiate dangerous intention as a subtle mischievousness. The kind of mischievousness that made you want to be a repeat offender over and over and over, which would ultimately be Crowley’s greatest power.
He radiated some strong magnetic attraction that called out to humans, or so Aziraphale assumed. It could be the only explanation for his own response to the serpent. How his eyes and full attention always seemed to key in on Crowley. How all his senses could trace the fallen angel as he walked circles around him like a predator. It made Aziraphale feel watched, almost protected, like the center of Crowley’s world.
It was in the way that his eyes used to twinkle at him, long before the glasses were invented and he incorporated them into his everyday fashion. Those golden slit snake eyes that made his celestial essence twinkle in exciting interest like a thousand supernovas.
Finished with his soak, Crowley lifted himself out of the bath, contented to simply lie exposed at the edges of the pool. He spread out like a decadent Hellenistic sculpture, all curves, twists, and teasing peaks of pleasurable places. He released a great contented sigh, it surely had to be sinful to sound so pleasured. Submerging an arm into the waters, creating soft ripples as he rolled his hand in small circles. His black glasses prevented Aziraphale from knowing if Crowley was staring at him or not, that infernal smirk on his plush lips.
The tightness in Aziraphale’s throat traveled with a rapid pace to his groin. Aziraphale shifted, trying to become comfortable with the sudden attention to his lower half. He hadn’t ever had to pay attention to that part of him before. He knew it was important to humans, Adam and Eve made it quite clear with their almost-twice-daily affairs.
He felt tense and on edge. Why did humans like this state?
Others were not so shy in their appreciation, many letting their hands wander over their own exposed skin as their eyes wandered over his.
The heat, of either the waters or the atmosphere, suddenly took effect on Aziraphale’s poor head. His head became light-feeling, almost airy and floating. For a moment he was scared that he had lost hold of his corporeal form and reverted back into the hydrogen cosmos of a million eyes and dozen wings. His reflection in the milky water was barely distorted in the rippling hot waters.
“You okay Aziraphale?” Crowley suddenly addressed him, lifting his head off his folded arms. So he had been watching. That made the knots in his stomach solidify all over again. “Too much to drink? You look very red.” With serpentine ease, he pushed his chest up off the floor, swung his legs back into the pool, and got in. His long body kept everything above his stomach out of the water as his relentlessly swaying hips helped glide him towards the angel.
“I didn’t know you enjoyed the baths,” Crowley asked, peering down at him through his sunglasses. Things, horribly devilish things, were on display. It was all the same bits of biology, everything was created in the right place, but the way that they swaggered and swayed made them seem like a brand-new creation by God. A creation that demanded love and adoration.
“Yes… well…. Uh, it is good for the body,” he choked out, side-eyeing the demon as he settled down on the ledge next to him. Crowley never sat so much as sprawled like a Greek god without a care in the world. Which would not be far off. He started to wonder if Crowley had been lurking in artist workshops.
“Absolutely Heavenly,” he sighed with all the sins of Hell in his voice.
“You here to cause trouble?” he asked because that could be the only reason why he was here. All the attention on him and all the confidence of a man… demon… with a plan.
“Not at all,” Crowley responded, one eyebrow quirked high in curiosity, still pinning Aziraphale with his stare. “It’s just been a long month. Figured an afternoon at the baths would be nice,” he concluded, creating ripples with his hands as he fidgeted. “I’m considering it off the clock if you will.”
“You’re…. You’re not tempting these people?” Aziraphale sounded dubious, scanning the room for all the people who still sent fleeting looks toward Crowley.
“No. What are you talking about Aziraphale?” He sounded genuinely confused, not ever taking his eyes away from his companion. When the angel didn’t answer, Crowley just shrugged and leaned back once more. ‘Laying his head back with a soft smile on his lips, he seemed to actually fall asleep – at least judging by the soft sounds of light snoring coming from him.’
His skin, normally stretched over lean muscle and bone, was becoming soft, red, and glistening with oils and water. He didn’t look seductive, he looked comfortable. Totally at home within the skin of his corporeal form in a way that all other occult, or celestial, couldn’t even dream of achieving.
Unable to handle it anymore, he quickly rose, ignoring the water puddling around his feet and made a hasty retreat for the door.