Chapter Text
He hadn’t known what being happy felt like until now.
He had known what it felt like to be content with what he had. To relax with a cup of cocoa in the dead of winter, to feel comforted by the presence of his books all around him. But never what it felt like to be truly happy.
It’s a wonderful feeling.
In the morning, Aziraphale doesn’t watch the sun rise wondering whether he’ll get a strongly worded note from Heaven. He doesn’t turn around at the tinkling of a miracle wondering whether it’ll be Gabriel or another angel come to check on his behaviour. He’s not afraid of being taken away from this world he loves so dearly anymore.
He wakes up in the morning - yes, he sleeps now - puts on his fluffy house shoes, and walks around the bed to kiss his sleeping demon’s hair. Crowley always makes a grumbling noise, which Aziraphale has learned means both good morning and five more minutes.
He walks down the stairs, makes himself a cup of tea, and sits by the window, looking out into the garden Crowley is growing outside their cottage.
In a way, this is their own little Eden, except no apple is forbidden here.
He rinses his cup when he’s done, because he likes doing it. It’s nice, living like humans, not drawing any attention to themselves. It’s peaceful.
He passes a mirror hanging in the hallway and spots the purple love bite Crowley left on his neck last night. Another thing he could have miracled away but that he’ll keep instead, because he enjoys the way it looks.
It took a moment to convince Crowley he wasn’t made of glass, at first. When they first reached for one another Crowley was careful, reverent even, scared of hurting him. Aziraphale, though, oh - he wanted him so much he was weak it, wanted nothing more than to feel Crowley’s nails digging into his skin, his hands pulling his hair, his teeth sinking into his neck. He was ravenous, he wanted to feel everything there was to feel.
They found a happy medium, and things have been going swimmingly since then.
In the afternoons, Aziraphale tends to his library while Crowley sees to the garden. Needless to say, it’s the most luscious garden in the entire village, and the angel has had to smile threateningly at a few old ladies who wouldn’t mind their own business more than once.
Sometimes, the angel misses this or that restaurant in London, so he orders takeout. The delivery people are always very confused when they get there, convinced their restaurant didn’t do deliveries this far out of the city - or didn’t do deliveries at all - but Aziraphale always tips them handsomely and sends them on their merry way with a little blessing for good luck.
He’s just finished setting the table for dinner when he realises Crowley hasn’t come back yet from the garden. Not a problem - their food will keep perfectly for as long as Aziraphale wants it to, but maybe it’s a good idea to go out and remind him it’s dinnertime.
He spots a shock of red hair behind the greenhouse - realises Crowley must have fallen asleep again by the bright pink and blue hydrangeas, basking in the sun.
“Darling, it’s late already, would you—”
All words abandon him when he takes in the sight of his demon. Crowley is indeed fast asleep in the sun, the gentle waves of his shoulder-length hair a fiery halo around his head, soft snores escaping his parted lips with every breath. He’s so lovely.
But he’s, also, a snake.
Well, part snake. Where his legs should be there’s a beautiful long tail instead, matte black scales climbing all the way up to his hipbones. There, they begin to scatter, forming a v on either side of Crowley’s navel. His shirt has hiked up to show off his midriff, his chest rising and falling slowly as he sleeps peacefully.
His nails have turned into long, dark claws, and Aziraphale is willing to bet if the demon were awake his eyes would be yellow from corner to corner.
It’s, well. It’s a terribly attractive look on him, if Aziraphale has to be perfectly honest. The angel spends more than a few moments just staring, taking in the sight of Crowley’s magnificent snake tail - it looks so smooth and strong, like it could just coil around someone until they could hardly breathe, and—
“Mphngh?” Crowley wakes up with a start, eyes entirely molten gold. He tries to prop himself up on his hands, accidentally squashes part of his tail with his palm, jerks back - doesn’t fall only because he’s already on the ground. “Shitfuckfuckfuck.”
The next moment, he has legs again. And he’s wearing the same dungarees Aziraphale saw him miracle on in the morning, the bib folded down over his front.
“Crowley, are you—”
“Sorry you had to see that.” The demon gets his dark glasses from somewhere in the grass, pushes them up on his nose until his eyes are completely hidden. As if Aziraphale hasn’t been able to see right through him for centuries. “Fell asleep. Won’t happen again.”
“My dear, I…” Aziraphale shakes his head, drops to one knee to take one of Crowley’s hands in his. “What are you apologising for? You are splendid in any form. I, well—actually, I liked seeing you like that.”
“Really?” Crowley pulls back in surprise and stares at him. He has half a smirk on his face and his eyebrows raised, as if waiting for the moment Aziraphale will laugh and tell him he’s just kidding. “Doesn’t it remind you I’m a vile demon, a hellish beast, a foul fiend?”
Aziraphale feels a little guilty about that. He never meant for his little jabs to undermine Crowley’s confidence. Although he suspects that what hurt the most were the years Crowley spent waiting around for him to realise that just because he’s a demon, it doesn’t mean he’s necessarily evil.
Aziraphale shakes his head. He’s been such a fool.
“Not at all. It reminds me the demon I love is powerful, and fearsome, and possibly even capable of overpowering me if he’d tried, and—”
“Careful there, angel.” Crowley’s expression has shifted into something sharper, a knowing little grin on his face. “You’re making it sound like you might even be attracted to me in that form.”
“Well, maybe I am.” Aziraphale looks down at Crowley’s legs - Crowley’s beautiful, slender, endless legs, and admits to himself the demon’s long black tail was just as fascinating. “Anyway, I came to tell you our dinner has arrived, if you’d like to come inside.”
“Sure.” Crowley stands up, pats down his clothes as if they would ever dare pick up dust or dirt on them. Aziraphale turns around to walk back into the house, but the demon stops him, hugging him from behind and letting his snake tongue flicker along the nape of his neck. Aziraphale barely manages to stop a most indecent noise before it escapes his lips. “Let’s go have dinner.”
He’s lost track of time, but it must be quite late by the time Aziraphale puts down his book and decides he’ll join Crowley in bed until morning.
He’s climbing up the stairs that lead to their bedroom when he realises there’s a dark hallway to the right that wasn’t there before. Which isn’t completely impossible, in a house whose rooms grow and contract based on their whims, but it is highly unusual. Aziraphale expands his perception to search for Crowley and, sure enough, finds him somewhere along that hallway.
He doesn’t consider turning on the lights as he walks into this new part of their home. If Crowley’s in there, it’s perfectly safe - and, actually, this surprise is more than a little thrilling. His heart is already racing in his chest.
“Crowley?” He calls, feeling his presence close by.
A door creaks open to his left. Very little moonlight filters through the windows, but it’s just enough to see Crowley’s outstretched hand reaching out, two clawed fingers gesturing at him to come closer.
Aziraphale tries to swallow around an exceptionally dry throat.
He turns towards the door, extends his arm, grasps Crowley’s fingers, and can’t help an excited little shriek as he draws him in.
After that, it’s all a blur. He’s pulled inside and stripped quickly, guided to the floor on some kind of soft, plush surface, in the complete darkness. All he knows is that Crowley is with him, around him, everywhere, his hands and mouth and tail touching him all over.
He goes down more than willingly when those firm hands push him on his knees, face down, arse up, naked and exposed. A strong, smooth tail wraps around his chest and holds him still while Crowley’s tongue licks right into him, stretching him open. Saliva starts dripping down his thighs, and Aziraphale can’t do a thing about it. It’s filthy, and it’s perfect, and all he can do is cry out and take it.
Crowley spreads him open with both hands, and in no time at all Aziraphale’s cock is so hard it hurts, bouncing uselessly against his stomach with every thrust of the demon’s tongue inside him.
He tries to speak, tries to ask what’s going on, tries to beg for more - the very end of the demon’s tail curls around the corner of his mouth, pushes inside, stuffs it full until all Aziraphale can do is let out helpless, muffled moans around it.
Crowley’s tongue keeps hitting the most delicious spot inside him over and over, and Aziraphale realises he’s going to come from it. Very, very soon, he’s going to come from being put down on his knees and eaten out like prey, his mouth full and his weeping cock completely untouched, and—
He wakes up with a start.
He sits up in bed, disoriented, realises his cock is tenting the sheets in the most obvious way.
Maybe he should be ashamed, but his first coherent thought is that it’s a terrible shame to wake up now, he was so close…
“‘ngel?” Crowley, beside him, stirs and shifts closer to him. “You okay?”
“Oh, yes dear, just a dream. Go back to sleep, I won’t bother you.”
Crowley cracks open one eye, then the other. Aziraphale shivers at the sight of his beautiful serpent eyes, remembering his dream, how it felt to have Crowley’s tail wrapped around him.
“Ah, you want help with that?” The demon smirks, fingers already kneading the plump flesh of Aziraphale’s thigh.
“I—well, if you insist,” Aziraphale replies, lying down and turning to his lover. Crowley makes an amused sound but doesn’t point out how he wasn’t insisting at all, he just begins unbuttoning his shirt.
“Want to tell me what you were dreaming about to get you in such a state? Was I there?”
“Of course you were. And well…” Aziraphale squirms as he reaches out to tuck a strand of red hair behind Crowley’s ear. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure,” Crowley mutters against his lips, and Aziraphale can’t help but remembering how his wicked tongue felt inside him. “I’m busy right now anyway.”
Aziraphale giggles at that, his chuckle turning into a moan as Crowley’s clever hands work on him.