Happy Holidays, the_bentley!
Dec. 13th, 2023 08:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeRecipient: the_bentley
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Warnings: None apply
Summary: In 1518, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves in Germany for work, desperate for a break.
December, 1518
Crowley was in Germany on business. No matter where he was, he was technically there on business. But since Hell didn’t necessarily understand the concept of time and how much of it there was in a day, Crowley was able to fit in a fair amount of pleasure when he was meant to be working. This job was a simple one -- some encouragement, the right words whispered in the right ear -- so he had even more time than usual to take in the local sights.
The Striezelmarkt in Dresden seemed to him a perfect distillation of what made humans great, a coming together to provide warmth and comfort in the face of an unforgiving winter. Crowley’s spirits were already high thanks to the mug of mulled wine warming his hands, but they rose even further when he spotted a familiar shock of white-blond hair through the crowd.
“You’ve given me too much,” said the vendor selling roasted, sugared pecans.
“My mistake,” said Aziraphale, with a cheery smile. “Must be all the mulled wine! Do keep it, it’s no bother.”
“If you insist,” said the vendor, looking confused but happy to accept the extra money.
Crowley grinned to himself as he listened in, sidling up to the angel who was now eagerly plucking pecans from the packet he’d overpaid for. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Aziraphale jumped, nearly spilling his nuts, but he relaxed as soon as he saw it was Crowley. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been overpaying for things since money was invented.”
“I don’t exactly need it, do I?” said Aziraphale, keeping his voice low. “Besides, it helps them. And why else am I here but to help them?”
In spite of himself, Crowley was suffused with a warmth that had nothing to do with his mulled wine. He hoped it didn’t show on his face. “Why are you here? In Germany, I mean.”
“Mmm,” said Aziraphale, nodding as he munched on sugared pecans. “Have you heard of this chap called Martin Luther?”
Crowley threw back his head and let out a whoop of laughter. “I should’ve known! That’s why I’m here.”
Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. Been working on him for ages, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you sooner.”
“Yes, well. Perhaps we keep missing each other.”
“And canceling each other out again, I’m sure.”
Aziraphale looked ruefully at his roasted nuts, as though the news of Crowley’s involvement here had sapped them of their appeal. He sighed and tossed a few more into his mouth. “You don’t know that. Anyway, I’m surprised your side is interested in him.”
“He’s a heretic,” said Crowley. “My side loves a heretic.”
“Ah, but he’s arguing against what he sees as an exploitation of faith,” said Aziraphale, one finger raised as he made his point. “He wants people to strive for a purer form of salvation.”
“He’s criticizing the church, doesn’t your side love the church? What does Gabriel think of indulgences?”
Aziraphale frowned. “He didn’t really understand the concept when I tried to explain. After all, purgatory is a human invention. In theory, yes, Heaven supports the church down here. But they don’t know about the divisions, the sects, the intricacies.”
Crowley grinned. “So you’re operating on your own remit.”
“In a way, yes,” said Aziraphale, sheepish at first but quickly pulling himself into his Righteous Angel stance. “But always in the service of God, of course.”
“Of course. And what happens when they start persecuting this bloke the way they persecuted Jesus? Still all for the greater good?”
“Oh, I hardly think they’ll crucify him. It’s no longer the done thing.”
“Nah, they’re more interested in burning these days, aren’t they? Speaking of, where were you when poor old Joan of Arc was tied to a stake?”
Aziraphale winced. “That was rather a nasty business, yes. I…I felt awful about that.”
“I assume no one upstairs was actually speaking to her?”
“Not to my knowledge, no.”
“But no one thought maybe they should stop the murder of an innocent teenager…?”
“We cannot stop every injustice, we cannot intervene in everything,” said Aziraphale, clearly parroting the line he’d received from the head office.
“Nah, but if She really is omnipresent, you’d think she would know about someone invoking her name that hard, eh? Might be a unique case, a reason to step in.”
“Crowley, enough.”
The blunt dismissal caught Crowley off guard, and Aziraphale delivered it with enough force that he actually recoiled. These sparring matches usually went on for much longer. Aziraphale could always be counted on for a spirited battle between good and evil. But perhaps it had been playing dirty to bring up Joan of Arc; he knew Aziraphale would feel badly about that.
Aziraphale sighed, softening when he saw Crowley’s reaction. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just…I’m not in the mood for the usual arguments, that’s all. This Martin Luther business has been dragging on much longer than I expected, and I came to the market to…well, to take a break. For once.”
“Well,” said Crowley. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you take a break. Are breaks allowed?”
Aziraphale glanced upward and then back down at his packet of nuts. “It’s a religious festival. The humans are celebrating the birth of Jesus, after all. I should think one night off would be all right.”
“You know as well as I do that Jesus wasn’t born anywhere near the winter solstice.”
“Winter is a very hard time for them,” said Aziraphale. “They deserve a bright spot in all this darkness, don’t they?”
It was not lost on Crowley that Aziraphale had just put into words what he’d been thinking earlier. And he couldn’t help but notice that it had been a dark time in general, these past few centuries, and his own personal bright spot was standing right in front of him. Best not to dwell too much on that.
“Of course,” he said, with a nod to Aziraphale. “Can I tempt you to indulge in some mulled wine?”
“Oh, stop it,” said Aziraphale, swatting his arm playfully. “I was going to get some anyway. But if it helps with your paperwork, you can tempt me.”
“No, no,” said Crowley. “If you’re taking a break, so am I. You’re right, this Martin Luther stuff has overstayed its welcome. To be honest with you, I’m walking a bloody tightrope selling him as a heretic when he keeps banging on about salvation.”
“It certainly sounds like a challenge. Why have you stayed with it for so long? Surely you could find something more hellish to spend your time on.”
“Ahh, well, Hell’s got a bee in their bonnet about him. I guess they want to get one up on you guys, claim him for our side instead. They’re convinced I can do it, so, y’know.”
“That’ll be all the boasting you did about the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Right. Yeah. Probably.”
Crowley turned and started leading the way to the mulled wine stall. The less he thought about the Spanish Inquisition the better. And if Aziraphale was going to bring it up again, Crowley wanted to have much more wine at his disposal. That whole nasty business had been a purely human creation, no demons necessary, but Crowley had been short on bad deeds for that week’s report. Hell had loved it, of course. When his commendation arrived, he’d spent a week downing whatever alcohol was within reach.
Now he paid to have his own mug refilled and bought one for Aziraphale, who took a hearty gulp and held the warm mug to his chest. Crowley watched him as he looked out on the people talking and laughing, holding each other close. Aziraphale loved them all, it was obvious from the look on his face, and Crowley’s own feelings would’ve been just as apparent to anyone watching him. He forced himself to look away and drank half of his newly filled mug in one swallow.
“It reminds me of Greece,” said Aziraphale. “All these people gathered in the market, all the hustle and bustle.”
“Would’ve been a fair sight warmer in Greece,” said Crowley. “But I see what you mean.”
“That was quite a long time ago.” Aziraphale sipped thoughtfully at his wine. “I haven’t seen you around much. Been keeping busy?”
“You could say that,” Crowley started walking, knowing that Aziraphale would follow. “Nothing but fun, really. Black Death was a barrel of laughs, Spanish Inquisition was a hoot. Fourteenth century? Five out of five, I’d love another one like that.”
“Crowley, are you quite all right?”
Aziraphale stared at him, eyes narrowed as he studied his face, and Crowley felt extra grateful for his dark glasses. Finally Aziraphale dropped the scrutinizing stare and nodded.
“You’re right, no more shop talk. For the rest of the evening, I’m not an angel and you’re not a demon. Now, would you like to join me in sampling every tasty morsel this market has to offer?”
Though Crowley doubted it was that simple, though he didn’t really think they could toss off the mantles of their respective duties so easily, he was just tired enough to be willing to try. After all, he had set out that evening in search of pleasure. “Lead the way.”
Aziraphale steered him toward a stall selling fruitcake coated in icing sugar. He bought them each a slice, and Crowley watched as he took his first bite, closing his eyes as he savored the cake. The icing sugar coated his lips, and his tongue darted out to lick away the sweetness. When Crowley caught his breath, he tried the cake too, pleasantly surprised by the warming spice that complemented the mulled wine nicely. Before he knew it, his slice was gone.
“Lovely,” said Aziraphale, licking sugar from his fingers. “We’ll have two more.”
Crowley tried to protest, but Aziraphale shoved another slice into his hands. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you eat something so quickly. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you eat much at all.”
“I eat now and again,” said Crowley. “I just don’t relish it the way you do. I have other vices.”
Aziraphale gave him a look that Crowley couldn’t parse and then tucked into his second slice of cake, making even more of a show of his enjoyment. Crowley concentrated on eating his own cake, chasing it with the rest of his mulled wine.
After the cake they refilled their mugs and continued browsing. Aziraphale admired a stall of carved wooden ornaments and nearly bought a blanket someone had made. There were stalls selling candles, wool, winter vegetables, woven baskets, and even some live animals. They made the rounds and saw every single stall, passing by the mulled wine man several more times.
As the night wore on, they ended up on the outskirts of the market, sitting side by side on a bench. Aziraphale sipped his wine and watched the humans bustling about, but his gaze kept sliding to Crowley, as though he wanted to say something. But each time he stopped himself and went back to watching the market. Crowley did what he always did -- he waited for Aziraphale to voice whatever he was turning over in his head.
“You know, the ninety-five theses have been distributed widely throughout Germany now.”
Crowley groaned. “C’mon, we were doing so well not talking about work.”
“This isn’t about work, not really,” Aziraphale insisted. “Anyway, they keep printing them, and they’re going to translate them into other languages. It’s almost as exciting as Gutenberg’s Bible.”
“You’ve got a weird definition of exciting.”
“I find it fascinating, the printed word.”
“The Chinese have been printing things for ages.”
“Yes, but I haven’t been there, now have I?”
“‘M just saying.”
“I’ve started a bit of a collection,” said Aziraphale. “I have one of the Bibles, of course, and now the theses, and there’s this sort of encyclopedia called the Catholicon.”
“Sounds like a real page-turner.”
Aziraphale shot him a withering look. “That’s not the point. I like having them. There’s something sort of comforting about being able to return to them whenever I like.”
“You’re sloshed, angel.”
“Not an angel,” said Aziraphale. “Not for the rest of the night.”
“I notice you’re not disputing ‘sloshed.’”
“Oh, I’m a bit tipsy, that’s all. Say, where are you staying?”
Crowley hesitated because he thought he knew where this was headed. “Er, other side of town.”
“That’s much too far to walk,” said Aziraphale. “I’m just on the other side of the square, why don’t you come back to mine? I can show you my collection.”
While the market had reminded Aziraphale of Greece, Crowley suddenly felt like he was back in Rome. That was the last time Aziraphale had initiated their time together, when he’d invited him along to try oysters. Then, too, Crowley had been feeling a bit gloomy and Aziraphale had come bounding along with his cheery attitude and sunny smile. He’d tried the oysters (they were a bit weird, if he was honest), and they’d both quaffed an awful lot of wine. As they left the tavern, Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley. It was everything Crowley had ever wanted, and they hadn’t spoken of it since.
Crowley wondered what made Rome and Germany different from all the other places they’d run into each other. Was it that Crowley was feeling gloomy, or did it have more to do with Aziraphale’s mood? He couldn’t quite connect the dots because the analytical side of his brain was being beaten down by the side telling him not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Aziraphale was looking at him expectantly, eyes bright with wine. The candlelight of the market was making his hair glow, giving him the appearance of a halo despite the night’s sabbatical from ethereal duties. It was a shame that society was currently against men-shaped beings kissing each other, otherwise Crowley would have leaned in right then and there.
“Yeah, all right,” he said, finally. It was inevitable, there was no other answer he could give.
Aziraphale led him back through the market to a small inn where he seemed to know the owner quite well. The owner didn’t bat an eye at Aziraphale bringing a ‘friend’ back to his room, and Crowley wondered if a small miracle might be at work. But it was more likely Aziraphale’s charm and natural endearing qualities. The room he kept was simple -- a bed, a washbasin, a chair in the corner. And at the window was a small bureau where he’d stacked his precious books.
“You see?” said Aziraphale, holding them up proudly. “There’s just something…pleasant about them. Especially the Bible, look at the craftsmanship on this binding.”
“It’s lovely,” said Crowley, though he wasn’t paying much attention to the Bible.
Aziraphale touched the spine of the book with such tenderness, and when he looked up at Crowley it was with the same tenderness. He set the book down and stepped toward Crowley, giving him time to back away. But Crowley stayed put, waiting for him, as he always did. Aziraphale inched his way over until they were practically standing toe to toe, and then he reached out, hand hovering beside Crowley’s face before landing on his shoulder instead. That gave him enough leverage to close the gap and press his lips to Crowley’s.
It was brief and fairly chaste, but the kiss still sent a shiver up Crowley’s spine. They parted for a moment but Aziraphale leaned in again, a bit more forward this time. When Crowley tasted the mulled wine on the angel’s tongue, he gently pushed him away.
“If I’m not a demon right now,” he said. “I can’t tempt you into anything.”
“I don’t really need to be tempted.”
“Sober up.”
“What?”
“You’ll still be a…a non-angel if you sober up.”
Aziraphale gave him a look but then shut his eyes and screwed up his face. The expelled alcohol sloshed into his washbasin, and Aziraphale winced at the slightly disgusting sound that doubled when Crowley sobered up as well. Once they’d shaken off the daze that always accompanied sobering up the miraculous way, Crowley fixed him with a much steadier gaze.
“Still all right without any temptation?”
In response, Aziraphale slid his hand up to the back of Crowley’s neck and pulled him into a kiss that put the others to shame. Crowley’s knees, which he’d never given much thought to before, suddenly felt like jelly. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, holding him close and trying to give as good as he was getting, but it was a little hard to keep up. For a moment he felt like that slice of cake back in the market, and he found that he didn’t mind.
When Aziraphale pulled back, Crowley gaped at him. “Whaaa…why now?”
“We’re taking a break, my dear,” said Aziraphale, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. But then he must have clocked the flabbergasted look Crowley was giving him and he snapped to attention. “You…this is all right, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’s very all right.”
“Was I too subtle? I thought you knew what I meant when I asked you back to the inn. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Angel,” said Crowley, cupping Aziraphale’s face with one hand. “I said it’s all right. I knew what you meant.”
“Oh,” said Aziraphale, chuckling nervously. “Oh, good.”
“Now, where’d we leave off…”
Crowley had never done this, but he had a head full of fantasies and more imagination than any other demon in Hell. All he had to do was put those fantasies into action and get the rest of his brain to shut up while he did so. He concentrated on kissing Aziraphale the way Aziraphale had kissed him, all the while cordoning off his disbelief that this was happening, his insistence that he didn’t deserve this, and his worry that he couldn’t make it good enough for Aziraphale. His head was noisy, but it quieted down when Aziraphale swiped his tongue along his teeth and slid his thigh between Crowley’s legs.
“We should take a break more often,” said Crowley, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
“I’ve had a taste for you since Rome,” said Aziraphale. “If things hadn’t been so busy these past few centuries…well, we’re here now.”
Crowley nodded, feeling rather stupid. “What do we do?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” said Aziraphale, but he couldn’t stop touching Crowley, hands spreading across his ribcage and sliding down to his hips. “The humans seem to fumble their way through, I’m sure we can give it a go.”
“Right,” said Crowley. He felt like a coiled spring that didn’t know where or how to release its pent-up energy. Sure, he’d seen Adam and Eve in the garden, but he hadn’t exactly been taking notes. “Tell me what to do.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened at that. “Oh, well, I…touch me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
In all the time they’d known each other, they hadn’t touched each other much, if at all. Hands may have brushed accidentally, perhaps their shoulders had bumped together as they walked, but there certainly hadn’t been much purposeful touch. And this felt very purposeful, indeed. Crowley reached out cautiously to hold Aziraphale by the shoulders. He slid his hands down the angel’s broad back, fingers trailing either side of his spine, where his wings would be. Aziraphale shivered and Crowley pulled him in reflexively, wanting to hold him closer. Aziraphale tugged their hips together and they fell into a kiss.
From there nature seemed to take its course, though Crowley knew this was not inherently in their nature. Aziraphale kissed him deeply and Crowley shifted his hold so they were basically hugging. Crowley savored the feel of Aziraphale’s chest pressed up against his, the huff of his breath against Crowley’s cheek. It was intoxicating to be in each other’s space like this. If this was all they did, Crowley would have been satisfied. But there was an aching need between his legs, something he’d manifested as soon as Aziraphale invited him to the inn.
“Can I touch you?” Aziraphale asked, breathlessly.
“You are touching me.”
“I meant your…you know.”
“Oh.” Crowley’s head felt like it was full of clouds. He shook it and met Aziraphale’s gaze. “Yes. Can I…?”
“Yes, oh yes.”
Not knowing exactly how to go about this, Crowley pressed the palm of his hand to Aziraphale’s codpiece, feeling out the shape of his cock. It felt a bit awkward, but the sound that Aziraphale made was certainly encouraging. Then he returned the favor and Crowley’s knees nearly buckled. His hips jerked forward of their own accord and he chased that feeling, trying to keep his hand moving for Aziraphale at the same time.
“That feels incredible,” said Aziraphale, his voice breathy and very close to Crowley’s ear.
“I…I think…clothes,” said Crowley. His brain had lost the ability to form complete sentences. Luckily Aziraphale seemed to understand. Unluckily, he needed both his hands to pull down Crowley’s hose, which meant he stopped touching him. Crowley tried not to whimper at the loss of his hand.
It was awkward to negotiate their way around codpieces and drawers, but neither of them defaulted to using a miracle. They fumbled along together, hopping out of their hose and laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of it. When they were both naked from the waist down they came together again, and if it had been good before, it was bloody incredible now. Crowley rolled his hips up to grind against Aziraphale’s soft hand, his head falling forward onto the angel’s shoulder.
“That’s it,” Aziraphale breathed into his ear. “Oh, my dear.”
Crowley’s head snapped up and he stopped moving his hips. “If you keep talking in my ear like that, I won’t last five minutes.”
“Sorry,” said Aziraphale, but his smirk contradicted his apology.
Crowley kissed that smirk right off his face, one hand gripping the back of his neck. Aziraphale made a sound that rumbled into Crowley’s mouth, and Crowley kissed him harder in return. His brain was silent now, there was nothing in his world except the smell and feel of Aziraphale, the little sounds he kept making. Before he even knew what he was doing, Crowley pushed Aziraphale gently toward the wall, kissing him all the while, until his back hit the rough stone.
“All right?” said Crowley, pulling back to catch Aziraphale’s eye.
Aziraphale nodded, his usually clear-eyed gaze shrouded in arousal. “Very much, yes.”
“Here, I think if we…”
Crowley trailed off as he took hold of Aziraphale’s hips and slotted his cock into the crease of his thigh. Oh yes, that would do nicely. Aziraphale got the idea and reached around to squeeze Crowley’s arse, pulling them roughly together again and again.
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned. “Don’t stop…”
Hearing Aziraphale say his name in this new tone of voice made Crowley’s brain white out completely. He buried his face in the angel’s neck, breathing him in as he rutted against his soft skin. Their movements may have been clumsy but they were certainly getting the job done. Crowley could feel a rising tension in his abdomen, each thrust moving him toward an endpoint that he vaguely understood as the whole reason anyone did this. But it had all been so good already, he wasn’t sure what could be better than kissing Aziraphale and getting to touch him.
And then it slammed into him with almost no warning, a sensation of pleasure exploding out of him and ricocheting around his body. He gripped Aziraphale’s hips, dimly aware of the angel saying something, gentling him through it, and then everything came back into focus.
Aziraphale had stopped moving and was just watching Crowley now, eyes wide as though he were witnessing something divine. And then his mouth fell open and his head fell back as Crowley took hold of his cock. He slicked his hand with his own spend to make things easier and proceeded to take Aziraphale apart.
“That’s it,” he said, moving his hand faster and faster. “Oh, look at you.”
There was a sheen of sweat on Aziraphale’s brow, a pleasant flush high on his cheeks. His hair had been mussed from all their kissing, and his doublet was askew at his throat. Crowley pulled it open with his free hand and leaned in to taste the soft pink flesh there. When he gently bit the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw, the angel gasped and came, moaning Crowley’s name over and over.
The tension left Aziraphale’s body gradually in the aftermath and Crowley watched him warily. “Was that all right?”
Aziraphale let out a surprised chuckle. “Yes. Yes, it was.”
“Right. Yeah, me too,” said Crowley. “So, that’s…taking a break.”
“Humans take breaks all the time.”
“I was there the first time it happened.”
Aziraphale nodded and chewed his lip. His eyes darted up to Crowley’s, then down to his spent cock, and then quickly back up to Crowley. Just as Crowley opened his mouth to offer to leave, Aziraphale blurted out, “Shall we lie down?”
“Oh,” said Crowley, eyebrows shooting up. “Er, yeah. Sure.”
Aziraphale gave him a look that was almost shy and gestured down to his lower half, undergarments appearing there without any of the earlier hassle. Crowley followed his lead, reclothing himself with a snap of his fingers. And then they climbed into bed, just like two humans might after doing what they’d done.
The dark glasses had stayed on during the main event -- Crowley figured Aziraphale would have taken them off if he wanted to -- but they came off now. He didn’t want to have to worry about them crunching into his face sometime in the night. He snapped them to the bureau, by the books, and then settled back into a comfortable position. When he turned to say goodnight, he was surprised to find Aziraphale leaning toward him. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s chest, huddling in close.
“Do you mind?” he asked in a soft voice.
“No,” said Crowley, almost a whisper. “No, it’s fine.”
Aziraphale let out a sigh, and Crowley shut his eyes against the feeling of weight against his heart. Maybe they shouldn’t have sobered up, mulled wine would’ve made this part easier to deal with. Crowley shook that thought away, knowing the memory of this would be sharper in his sober mind.
For the first time in several centuries, Crowley didn’t want to sleep the night away.
Lovely!
Date: 2023-12-13 06:10 pm (UTC)Re: Lovely!
Date: 2024-01-13 03:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-13 11:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 03:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-14 02:36 am (UTC)‘His own personal bright spot’ aww. But it’s true! Bright holidays in the dead of winter are important, no matter where they come from :)
“Crowley’s knees, which he’d never given much thought to before, suddenly felt like jelly” lol!
The way they don’t exactly know what they’re doing but just find their way through it all is so endearing :) And then they stay together for the night! It’s nice to think they might have had sweet moments like this all along. And I love Aziraphale taking the initiative.
“For the first time in several centuries, Crowley didn’t want to sleep the night away.” <3<3<3 Lovely!
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-27 05:07 am (UTC)- Ruby
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 03:27 am (UTC)Wonderful!
Date: 2023-12-14 03:52 am (UTC)I am new here; is there a way to bookmark or subscribe here?
Edit to say, I figured it out; I had to verify my email first. All sorted! :)
Re: Wonderful!
Date: 2024-01-13 03:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-14 11:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 03:28 am (UTC)