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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months

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saturate me, i can't get enough

rated e 4,066 words cw: please read full note below the cut in regards to terminology used in this ficlet/warnings A really big thank you/shoutout to @patchworkgargoyle for proofreading this and giving me a few great suggestions to make sure this was absolutely perfect for @steves-strapcollection's birthday! Also available on ao3.

This labor of love (and smut) is for my favorite transmasc Steve truther, Gerry. I am so grateful for your contributions to this fandom, and I am even more grateful that you welcome me into your chaos (Tig threads I'm lookin' at you 👀). While I may still not think my writing could be a gift to anyone, let alone a talented writer like you, I will just be positive that you'll enjoy this for what it is which is soft and tender fuckin'.

A VERY SERIOUS NOTE FOR EVERYONE ELSE: I am very much a cis woman. I spoke with Ger before even starting on this because I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with me even attempting to write transmasc Steve. I am using masculine and feminine terms for lower anatomy that he uses in his own fics and his own life with his express permission to do so. If you think this might be a trigger for you, please don't read. I wrote this specifically for Ger, and realize that it may not be for everyone. Taking care of yourself is the most important thing!

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If Eddie had known what exactly he was getting into when he asked Steve on a date, he probably would have done it a lot sooner.

He tugged on the silk ropes around his wrist, just tight enough to keep him in place on the bed, but still loose enough that he knew he could pull out of them if he had to.

Steve refused to tie them any tighter.

“Need you to feel safe with me, Eds,” he’d said with a soft kiss to his lips.

As if he could feel anything other than safe with him. As if he hadn’t spent the last five or so months falling in love with him, learning what makes Steve Steve, figuring out how he could fit in Steve’s life.

Somehow, Eddie ended up naked first, tied up in his own bed, breaths heavy with anticipation of what was to come.

And he had very little idea of what was to come.

He’d already been surprised at how quickly Steve took charge of their date, their first kiss, the torturous ride back to Eddie’s apartment where Steve’s hand just brushed against his cock every minute or so.

Now, he was at Steve’s mercy entirely.

Just the thought of Steve leaving him like this while he touched, and kissed, and bit every part of his body was enough to have him leaking.

“Can’t believe how good you look like this,” Steve groaned from his spot between Eddie’s legs.

Oh, his shirt was off.

Finally.

Eddie whined as he saw Steve’s one and only tattoo, a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, on his left side just under the scar from his top surgery.

He wanted to trace the outline with his tongue, maybe mark it up so that it wasn’t just black ink, cover him in purples and blues that would take days to heal.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that now, not with his hands tied above his head and his legs spread wide enough that he couldn’t get leverage to pull himself up or Steve down.

Next time.

“Steve, please,” Eddie begged, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for at this point other than touch.

“Sorry, baby. You’re just so distracting.”

Eddie knew he was blushing, could feel the heat on his face and neck, on his chest.

His hands were sweaty where he had them clenched into fists, somehow already overwhelmed before even being properly touched.

Steve’s fingers glided across his chest, pausing to pay attention to his only nipple, laughing to himself when Eddie jumped.

“Sensitive? Maybe this one got all the nerves from the other one being gone,” Steve smirked as he leaned down to flick his tongue over the soft, pink flesh of his one remaining nipple.

It was like an electric shock, a fire burning through his veins and Steve’s tongue was the match that lit it.

He arched his back, chasing the feeling as far as he physically could, pouting when Steve pulled away.

“Hey,” Steve touched his cheek, smiling when Eddie relaxed into the touch. “I know we’re moving fast, but I kinda wanna take my time with you. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, thankful that Steve said it first.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of going as far as they could as fast as they could, not at all. Eddie would be happy with anything.

But taking their time?

He would take all night.

“Wanted this for so long, baby. You have no idea,” Steve whispered, breath hot against his lips as he leaned back in.

“Me too,” Eddie’s voice trembled.

Steve’s palm settled against his chest, no doubt feeling how hard and fast Eddie’s heart was beating, but not saying anything about it.

Eddie could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his toes, in his hair.

“You like being tied up?”

Eddie nodded, biting his bottom lip between his teeth and letting his mind drift to thoughts of being like this hours.

“You want me to do what I want? Not let you pick?”

Eddie didn’t even care about his teasing tone, his knowing smirk.

He wasn’t asking for an answer, he was asking for control, and he already had both.

“I think you want me to take over, ride your face maybe? And then your cock?”

Steve was spot on.

Eddie couldn’t count the amount of times he’d pictured that exact scenario in his head. Just last night, while he was cooking dinner, he thought about the way Steve would taste, how he would look while Eddie took him apart with his tongue, his fingers.

He hadn’t even gotten to picture his cock inside him when the fire alarm started beeping to let him know he was burning his supper.

“Yeah, that’s what you want. Don’t even have to say it, I can see it all over your face,” Steve teased.

He could only imagine.

Steve got off the bed, shushing Eddie’s whines with a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Just getting everything else off, Eds.”

It was said to calm him down, but it just caused him to cant his hips upwards, seeking any type of friction on his leaking cock.

Steve’s eyes never left him as he stripped his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop, his feet stepping out of the pant legs as quickly as he could without tripping.

He joined him on the bed again, settling between his legs and staring down at him, eyes holding so much affection that Eddie wasn’t sure what to do with it, where to put it all.

When they made eye contact, Steve smiled softly down at him.

“You okay with this?” He asked, wanting to be sure before they got too carried away.

“More than okay,” Eddie nodded. “Wanna taste you so bad, Stevie.”

“I can make that happen.”

Steve untied one of his hands from the bedframe, but didn’t let it touch any part of him yet.

“This is only so you can tap out if you need to. You’re not allowed to touch anywhere except my leg. Three taps if you need to stop, okay?” Eddie nodded. “Show me.”

Eddie waited for Steve to climb up a bit, straddle his chest, the warmth between his legs enough to make him forget for a moment what he was supposed to be doing.

“Eddie. Show me,” Steve’s voice was stern enough to grab his attention again, and Eddie focused on making his shaking hand tap his thigh three times. “Good boy. You can keep your hand there if it’ll help you remember, but no moving unless it’s to tap.”

Eddie’s head felt cloudy already, something he so rarely experienced with anyone, something he hoped he’d get to keep experiencing with Steve from now on.

Steve shifted back down for long enough to leave a kiss on Eddie’s lips, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he let out a laugh.

“I can feel your heartbeat between my thighs. A bit excited, aren’t you?” Steve teased him again, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. If anything, it just made his heartbeat louder with anticipation at what he was about to get.

“Need you,” Eddie managed to say.

Steve didn’t wait any longer, scooting his body up so his pussy was level with Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie groaned, lifted his head an inch so he could be even closer.

He needed it, needed him. He couldn’t wait any longer to get a taste.

Eddie’s tongue lapped at Steve’s hole, the only part he could reach at the moment, but it was enough.

Steve let out a long moan, gravelly voice letting out a long “yes” as he rocked his hips forward to get Eddie’s tongue inside.

Eddie closed his eyes and let himself be surrounded by Steve.

His slightly musky smell, the sweat that was rolling down his thighs, the surprisingly sweet slick dripping from his pussy, all of it was better than Eddie could have possibly imagined.

The noises got louder as Steve adjusted himself directly over Eddie’s face.

He pulled away just enough for Eddie to catch his breath, but Eddie didn’t want to catch his breath.

“Need your cock, please,” Eddie begged, not caring if he was breaking an unspoken rule, not caring if he suffocated for it.

But he didn’t get in trouble. In fact, he got exactly what he wanted when Steve settled back down, his dick rubbing against Eddie lips in silent instruction.

Eddie opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue, and moaned.

“God you’re so good,” Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand on his thigh, squeezing as he rocked back and forth, taking things slower than Eddie expected him to.

Eddie whimpered, letting out what little breath he had as Steve rested more of his weight on his tongue.

“You made me so wet just laying there, all tied up for me, hng,” Steve groaned.

The hand squeezing Eddie’s moved to the headboard, giving Steve just a bit more leverage to bear down and chase his own release on Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie could feel his fingernails digging into Steve’s thighs, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop unless Steve made him.

He could feel slick and drool dripping down his chin, his cheeks, his neck, probably making a mess of his hair and the pillow under him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Steve was making low groaning noises now, his pace getting faster every few thrusts back and forth.

Eddie opened his eyes, wanting to try to see what Steve looked like from this angle.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Steve’s head was thrown back, his arm muscles straining as he held onto the bed, leg muscles and stomach tensing as his pleasure started to crest.

The flush that Eddie had barely gotten to enjoy before was now covering his hairy chest and his neck, a few drops of sweat dripping to his stomach.

Eddie hoped he could lick them up after Steve came.

Steve let out a loud whine and one of his hands fell to Eddie’s hair, his fingers tugging at his roots in a way that reminded him he had no control over any of this.

Eddie decided to take matters into his own hands the best that he could, curling his tongue into a sharper point so that on the next thrust, Steve’s dick was given more pointed pressure.

“Fuck!” Steve yelled out. He looked down at Eddie, hair flopping into his face. “You wanna suck it, baby? You can if you want.”

He sounded so close, breathlessly framing his own wants as something Eddie wanted. And Eddie did want those things.

He was starting to realize he wanted everything with Steve.

It should have been a scary thought, especially when this was just the ending of their first date, but instead of worrying about it, Eddie used all the energy and muscle he could to lift his head up and start to suck on his dick.

“That’s it,” Steve panted, holding Eddie’s head against him, not giving him a chance to move away again. “You’re so good, baby. Gonna make me cum so hard, fuck.”

Eddie started to nod, and the extra movement seemed to set Steve off.

He felt Steve’s thighs clench, then loosen, then clench again, his hand tightening in Eddie’s hair, and a long moan left his body.

Eddie moaned too, and the vibration sent Steve over the edge.

Steve slowed his pace, but didn’t get up, letting Eddie slowly lick along his folds, gathering up the slick dripping out of him.

When Eddie’s tongue brushed over his cock again, he flinched, but let out a huff of a laugh.

“Sorry, baby, you got me so oversensitive already. You’re too good at that,” Steve said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Good at what? Being used?” Eddie managed to ask, voice hoarse.

Steve looked down at him as he moved down to settle against his stomach instead.

“Good at being good for me,” he finally said, seriousness ruined by the hint of fondness in his tone and smile.

“Always wanna be good for you, Stevie,” Eddie admitted.

Steve looked at him for a moment, searched his face for any sign of him lying or being too sex-drunk to be realistic.

But whatever was on Eddie’s face must have shown him that he was serious.

“Yeah, baby. I think you could be,” Steve leaned down to kiss him, licking into his mouth like he wanted to taste himself on Eddie’s lips and tongue, like he wanted to know what they tasted like together.

Eddie felt his cock pulse, felt the tug in his stomach that let him know he was probably much closer than he should be just from eating Steve out for five minutes.

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed though; Steve was moving down his body further, reaching a hand back to touch his cock.

“Wait!” Eddie leaned his head away.

Steve pulled his hand away and looked at him, frowning as he took in the panicked look on Eddie’s face.

“I just, um, I’m close. Like, pretty sure if you touch me, I will cum all over your hand and probably never be able to look you in the eyes again.”

Steve snorted out a laugh.

“What’s wrong with that?” Steve asked, slowly tracing his fingers across Eddie’s waistline, not even looking as he got closer to his cock.

“I…I don’t know?” Eddie admitted.

And truly, he had no idea why he shouldn’t cum. That was the goal of this, and Steve was making it pretty clear he didn’t mind if he did, might even prefer if he did.

The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want any of this to end.

“Eds, you’ve been so good for me, I kinda want you to feel good, too. Unless you really don’t want to-”

“No! I do!” Eddie ignored the way Steve was trying to cover his laughter. “I just thought you wanted to ride me.”

“Ohhhh. I see. You’re being selfish.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut, teeth audibly clacking together.

No one had ever called him selfish in bed, not even jokingly.

But Steve’s tone wasn’t joking. His face wasn’t joking.

“I guess you think I don’t wanna see you squirming because I’m wringing the third orgasm from you in less than an hour? Is that it?”

“Uh…”

Steve clicked his tongue.

“I planned on you begging to stop soon enough. Unless you want to stop now? Seems like it might be hard to go to sleep like that, though.”

Steve’s brow raised as he glanced behind him for a moment at Eddie’s red and dripping cock, then looked back at Eddie.

“No, please don’t stop. I…can I be inside you?” Eddie was desperate, and didn’t care if he sounded like it.

“You wanna cum inside me? Fill me up good, make sure I feel who I belong to?” Steve asked as he slowly moved back further, his hand firmly grasping the base of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whined, bucking his hips up, but not making the contact he needed.

“You can if you promise to clean me up after,” Steve’s hand slid up Eddie’s dick slowly, the pressure not nearly enough to satisfy him, but enough to make him whine.

“I promise. Please,” Eddie nodded, his one free hand making a fist in the sheets while his still tied up hand tugged on the binds.

Steve didn’t respond with words, just sat back and guided Eddie’s cock along the inner lips of his cunt, moaning at the sensation.

“So warm,” Eddie groaned.

“Gonna get me all wet again, baby,” Steve rocked his hips slowly, teasing the tip along his folds and against his entrance. “You’re leaking worse than I am.”

Which may be true at this point. Eddie had spent enough time licking up as much of his mess as possible.

Steve sat down on his cock with no warning.

He hissed, clenching his fists and curling his toes to fight off the impending orgasm.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the way Steve’s pussy sucked him in, clenching around him in a way that left him shivering and panting.

“Good?” Steve asked, smug grin the only thing keeping Eddie from losing it completely.

“Yes, yeah, so good, fuck,” Eddie threw his head back, arching his back as Steve slowly lifted himself up and dropped back down.

Fuck, Eddie wasn’t gonna be able to hold off. He’d just have to live with the embarrassment.

Steve reached up to untie his hand, grabbing his wrist and massaging it in his own hands as he moved his hips in circles.

“Wait, you didn’t-”

“Yeah, I did.”

“When?” Eddie knew his brain hadn’t been working for a while now, but he was certain his eyes had been. Steve hadn’t stretched himself on his fingers this entire time, and going from just Eddie’s tongue barely breaching his entrance to suddenly sitting on his cock, no matter how wet he was, had to be at least a little painful.

“Bathroom when we got home,” Steve shrugged.

Steve had been fingering himself in the bathroom not even an hour ago. Without Eddie. Without even making a noise.

God, Eddie was so fucked. Literally.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, smug grin back in place as he guided Eddie’s hands to his own hips. “Think you can do this part or do I have to do everything?”

Eddie gripped his hips, hoping his fingers would leave bruises, and let himself have this. It may only last for another minute, but he was going to make it worth every second.

He lifted Steve up, then dropped him down, smirking at the loud yelp Steve let out.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard later, this is just a preview,” Eddie growled out.

“Promise?” Steve gasped as Eddie shoved his hips up as he pulled Steve down.

“Swear. Every night you want me to from now on, Stevie,” Eddie slowed his thrusting, felt the tension building in his abdomen.

Steve groaned as he placed his hands on Eddie’s chest and started lifting his hips up on his own, clenching as he moved up Eddie’s cock.

He quickened his pace, little whimpers leaving him every time his ass met Eddie’s thighs.

“You feel so good, Stevie, gonna cum,” Eddie whined as his thighs clenched.

“Yes, yes, please. You’ve been so good, Eds,” Steve nodded, not pausing for a second.

Eddie’s eyes closed without his permission, Steve’s words hitting him right in the chest, making his breath leave him in one long, drawn-out moan.

Steve didn’t slow down, lacing his fingers with Eddie’s and pushing them backwards onto the sheets as he rode Eddie through his orgasm.

“Kiss me, please,” Eddie begged, opening his eyes to look up at Steve’s flushed face. Sweat was beading along his hairline, bangs flopping into his eyes.

Steve’s lips hovered over Eddie’s, not quite making contact, but close enough for their breaths to mingle together, for the small whimpers Eddie was unintentionally letting out to be swallowed by Steve’s hungry tongue as it grazed against his own.

Eddie was coherent enough to pull one of his hands loose, reaching up to cup Steve’s jaw as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

“Can I?” Eddie asked, moving his hand down his neck, tracing a finger along his collarbone. He looked up at Steve’s wide eyes, felt his pace slow to a stop.

“Can you…?” Steve asked, breathless as he tried to figure out what Eddie was trying to ask him.

“Can I touch your cock? Want you to come on mine.”

Eddie felt Steve clench around him, his cock almost over sensitive enough for it to be painful.

“Yeah, I’m close,” Steve admitted, pulling his other hand away to sit back so Eddie had easier access to his dick.

He was dripping, and Eddie’s cum was leaking from his hole now that he’d stopped moving and Eddie was starting to get soft.

Eddie’s fingers gathered up as much as they could, gliding down to where his cock was still inside him and away a few times, just to tease.

“Eddie…”

“Sorry, sorry. Just like touching you,” Eddie smiled up at him, at the way Steve’s back was arched, at the way his thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

Steve grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to his dick, impatience finally taking over.

“I like you touching me too, but if I don’t get to come again soon, you won’t touch me again for the rest of the night,” Steve snarked.

Eddie loved him.

He didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers so his knuckles rested against the sides of his dick, still teasing, but at least where Steve wanted it now. He didn’t move for a moment, wanted Steve to be desperate enough to rock forward.

“Eddie, please,” Steve whined.

“Look who’s begging now,” Eddie teased. “You’re so hard, sweetheart. Should’ve told me you were this close earlier. Would’ve taken care of you.”

Steve whimpered, shaking his head as Eddie’s knuckles started dragging up and down his dick.

Watching Steve fall apart above him like this, making him fall apart, especially when he’d been the one in control all night, was making Eddie feel unstoppable.

This was all he ever wanted: making Steve feel good in any way Steve wanted or needed.

Eddie started jerking his fingers faster, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve groaned, shifting his hips up for more pressure, for anything else he could possibly get.

“That’s it, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna be good for you.”

And just like Steve’s words had done for Eddie before, Eddie’s must have been the final straw for Steve.

Steve’s thighs shook as he came, his fingers digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he fell forward, trapping his hand against his pulsing dick.

“Hmm,” Steve moaned out as his grasp loosened, leaving half-moons in Eddie’s skin.

Eddie knew he would be hard again soon. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he got hard while still inside Steve.

But Steve’s eyes opened, and Eddie somehow fell further.

“I don’t wanna stop,” Steve whispered, leaning in to kiss along his jawline, letting his teeth gently brush against his chin before pecking his lips.

“I’ve got perfectly good fingers. Or…” Eddie leaned up to kiss him, smirking when he felt Steve grind against him. “You could also fuck me.”

Steve’s responding groan was muffled by Eddie’s chest, a laugh immediately following.

“As much as I would love to, and will as soon as I have energy, I was thinking maybe we could just…stay like this?” Steve looked up towards the end, a pink blush coating his cheeks unlike anything Eddie had ever seen on him before.

Steve didn’t get embarrassed or nervous, he didn’t get flustered, at least not where others could see him.

He was Mr. Charming, the smoothest guy around, the one who always knew how to respond in a flirty situation.

But right now, all Eddie saw was vulnerability, his eyes mirroring back the love Eddie felt but hadn’t put into words.

“Like this or on our sides?” Eddie whispered, not wanting the moment to be broken.

“Like this for now.”

Eddie gave a single nod, not mentioning that they should probably clean up a little, or the fact that Robin would be home soon and the bedroom door was wide open.

Steve kissed his chest before he settled with his head in the crook of his neck, breath hot against Eddie’s pulse point.

Eddie’s cock was hard again inside Steve, but both of them ignored it, savoring the feeling of finally having each other.

Steve was asleep quickly, and Eddie let his mind wander as he traced his fingers up and down Steve’s back.

This first date felt a lot like the beginning of a long future.

–

When Eddie woke up the next morning, his cock was in Steve’s mouth, and Steve already had two fingers in his hole, lube slowly dripping between his cheeks.

“What a way to wake up,” Eddie moaned.

Steve pulled off of him, already smirking, lips red and glistening with spit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Keep going,” Eddie’s voice was rough from sleep.

“You got it, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #transmasculine steve harrington #light d/s #soft dom steve harrington #sub eddie munson

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citizen-sade · 6 months

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A Hand to Your Darkness (4326 words) by HalloweenJack7 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Power Play, Power Imbalance, Light Masochism, Switch Crowley (Good Omens), Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Crowley is a Tease (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Top Crowley/Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale/Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens) Summary: Inspired by and partly directly taken from that scene in episode 5 ("Giants") of Season 2 of Masters of Sex with Michael Sheen. The rest is just... ineffable horny brainrot and smut. Enjoy.

The angel tracked Crowley warily out of the corner of his periphery as the demon moved to pour himself a scotch. Aziraphale sat on the edge of the couch to remove his shoes, contemplating his friend’s particularly restless behavior throughout the evening. The serpent sidled over and dropped like a lead weight into the overstuffed armchair opposite him, throwing one leg over the side. He observed Aziraphale silently from behind the dark shades, taking in the dashing angel. The new three-piece Aziraphale had commissioned specifically for Maggie and Nina’s engagement party was quite becoming on him. Shame he had other plans for it.

The ice shifting and clattering against the glass tumbler wall was grating in the silence. Aziraphale paused, his eyes flitting from the demon’s face, to his crotch, to his face again and back to his shoes as he slipped the second one off. He felt his cheeks redden at the memory of their brief but risqué encounter in the pub loo earlier that evening—Crowley’s fingers prying open the collar of his shirt, his lips on his neck, his lean body pinning him against the door. And now… this. His brow furrowed and he glanced up to clear his throat as an unsettling tension stretched between them.

"Um, aren't you going to... get comfortable...?" Aziraphale inquired, smiling curiously.

"No."

He blinked, unnerved by the nearly imperceptible shift in the serpent's demeanor, "Because...?"

"I don't want to.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, not at all grasping the situation as his mouth formed a perplexed Oh… "So, what do we—?"

"I want you to strip."

The angel cast wide eyes upon his friend with an incredulous chuckle that quickly tapered off into mortified silence when Crowley removed his sunglasses to reveal just how serious he was.

The cold, razor-edged gleam in the slitted golden eyes left little room for discussion. Crowley could see the wheels turning in Aziraphale’s head, fearing he might discorporate if he thought too hard about it. Somewhat to Crowley’s surprise, however; Aziraphale rose, slow and resolute. He took a steadying breath to calm his nerves and shrugged the jacket from his shoulders, draping it gingerly over the far arm of the couch before sliding the tartan bow tie from around his neck.

His limbs felt heavy; moving of their own accord in opposition to every synapse in his body screaming in protest against this outrageous power play—and moreover, that he was going along with it.

He untucked the crisp ivory shirt and hesitantly began unfastening each button; making slow, tantalizing work of it, as far as Crowley was concerned. He laid the shirt aside and, down to the final article of clothing on his upper body, unwittingly pivoted away from Crowley to remove it. This earned him a soft, guttural sound of admonishment that made him shudder. He closed his eyes briefly and turned back, grasping the neckline of his undershirt to pull it over his head, discarding both garments in much the same fashion as the jacket. He sighed and raked a hand through his white-blonde curls before turning to sit on the edge of the couch.

"No,” the demon clipped abruptly, sending a mild shockwave of apprehension through him, “Stand."

Aziraphale clenched his jaw, reining in his increasing consternation before doing as he was told. He drew himself back up to his full height, sparing a fleeting glance in Crowley’s direction—and the serpent was quick to note the lack of direct eye contact—as if expecting him to burst into a fit of laughter and declare this cruel joke a riotous success at his expense.

What occurred instead was enough to leech the color from Aziraphale’s face.

"Now you're going to touch yourself,” Crowley drawled as he took a sip of the dark amber liquid, as matter-of-fact and innocuous as discussing the weather.

He felt his blood run cold, and he stared at the being opposite him. Ha ha. You got me. You win. Enough. The only answer to his unspoken plea was the downward tilt of Crowley's chin, those eyes regarding him from beneath dark lashes, encouraging, yet vaguely menacing.

"Begin."

He inhaled as though to speak but immediately expelled the breath in a quiet huff and glanced with trepidation to his waistband. The demon’s icy countenance all but wavered when Aziraphale unfastened and dropped his trousers to the floor. Crowley’s brow visibly twitched when he realized that, despite the endearing pretense of righteous indignation, the angel was already half hard.

Aziraphale shifted his weight nervously. Crowley watched the muscles in his neck work as the lump in his throat bobbed on a thick swallow and a trembling hand reached for his cock. His breath hitched at the friction, paired with the sensation of that burning gaze on him as he stroked himself to full attention.

"You've closed your eyes,” the serpent mused, head tipped to one side with a lazy half-smile that Aziraphale could hear in his voice, “is that standard behavior for you?"

"I... um...” he stuttered uneasily, not having anticipated a quiz. He felt like the subject of a social experiment, “I believe it is...”

"Is that to... facilitate fantasy?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat, "It's an automatic reflex, not a... conscious process—” he gasped, swallowing a groan and swaying slightly, “but, uh—yes, I suppose so."

Crowley grinned at the angel's stubborn refusal to give him the satisfaction of hearing his obvious pleasure. Although, to say he wasn’t intrigued by the idea of watching Aziraphale slowly come apart before him would be a vicious lie. He sipped from his glass as he looked the angel up and down, tracking each micro expression, the subtle part of his lips on a soft, breathy moan. Crowley admired the physique Aziraphale so often kept concealed beneath layers of various lush fabrics that made him appear more portly than he really was. He contemplated how it might feel to have the Guardian of the Eastern Gate writhing beneath him; on top of him... He adjusted himself, lightheaded and almost giddy at how easy it was to coax the angel into submission.

"And what are you thinking about?" he asked patiently.

The seemingly innocent question that was anything but embedded in his side like a barb, and a small flame of rebellion flared to life in his belly. Aziraphale straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. The nervous grip he’d had on himself visibly tightened, earning a raised eyebrow, and he opened dazzling, crystalline eyes to fix them on the smug demon with a renewed confidence.

"You."

Crowley froze. His heart stuttered and his groin tightened. He clumsily set his glass down, making a conscious effort not to choke on the burn of the liquor as it clawed its way down his esophagus.

"You can stop touching yourself,” he said in a far more strained voice than intended.

"But I haven't—yet—" Aziraphale stammered.

"Stop.”

Aziraphale's hand slowed to a halt. He looked at the demon with mounting panic, his mind reeling with fear, confusion, relief and disappointment. The impenetrable eyes narrowed as they searched the angel's face for a maddening stretch of time before Crowley shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of his chair to propel himself to his feet. He stepped forward with purpose and planted both feet shoulder-width apart.

"Come here.”

Aziraphale warily closed the gap between them and laid his hands on either side of his neck. Some part of him wanted to strangle the insufferable being, to wrap his fingers around Crowley's throat and squeeze, to savor the fear and confusion in his eyes that would undoubtedly match his own; but his fingers caressed his jaw and the nape of his neck instead. The corner of Crowley's mouth twitched into a wry, almost knowing smirk and he reached up to cover the angel’s hands with his own, slowly and deliberately guiding them down his torso. Aziraphale swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the firmness of Crowley's chest beneath the thin black turtleneck, until his hands came to rest upon the waistband of Crowley’s trousers.

"Take them off,” the demon ordered with a hint of venom.

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he glanced down to where his hands hovered, his attention lingering on the considerable bulge in Crowley’s pants just beyond the jeweled snakehead belt buckle. Did he truly have a similar effect on Crowley as the cunning serpent did on him? His heart bucked in his ribcage. Emboldened, he tipped his chin up to lock eyes with Crowley in a gesture of subtle defiance as he proceeded to undo the belt, unfastening the top button and yanking the zipper down.

There was an unspoken challenge in the smug arch of Crowley’s eyebrow as Aziraphale slid the tight pants over his slender hips, albeit with some effort.

His gaze remained on Crowley's face even as the demon's erection prodded at his thigh, meeting his air of superiority with a rare display of divine hubris. Something salacious flashed in Crowley’s eyes that sent a bolt of arousal crackling down Aziraphale’s spine. When Crowley raised a hand to his shoulder and pushed gently, he kneeled without hesitation.

In a moment of lucidity, it occurred to him that he had never really looked at Crowley. He was dark and handsome, no doubt, but Aziraphale had never taken (re: had) the time to fully appreciate the tall, lean corporation that the demon had chosen to display to the world. It was beautiful, slender like a girl, but chiseled and rigid in an unmistakably masculine way. He marveled at the shapes of Crowley’s sinewy thighs and calves, recalling his first glimpse of the statue of David. He breathed in the mingling scents of leather and wood smoke as Crowley cocked his head curiously above him.

He kissed the pale skin of Crowley’s inner thigh and palmed his testicles, taking a keen pleasure in the low hiss he elicited. Aziraphale would never have expected anyone, much less a being as beautiful as the Serpent of Eden, reacting in such a carnal manner to his touch. It was wrong, it was profane; it was—exhilarating.

Crowley groaned and rocked slightly when Aziraphale braced himself on his thighs and took him into his mouth. The demon tipped his head back, exposing his throat with a ragged sigh. Aziraphale felt his abandoned erection pulsate at the obscene noises he dragged from him.

“If I didn’t—know better,” the demon snarled, “I’d think you’ve done this b—before…”

Aziraphale hummed at the praise, the vibrations from his throat prompting a strangled cry.

“Fuck , Angel,” Crowley groaned, and something downright pagan uncoiled in Aziraphale. All at once he stood and seized Crowley by his scarlet hair, wrenching his head back.

“Say it again,” sounded the deep, resonating command. Crowley’s knees nearly buckled under the intensity of that voice. It was no longer the voice of the humble and mild-mannered shopkeeper that spent the majority of the evening weeping between samples of wedding cake, but the dangerous, leaden voice of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. And it wasn’t a request.

“Angel …” the serpent hissed in a trembling breath.

There was a fundamental shift between them. Aziraphale felt it like a switch that had been flipped in the recesses of his very being; almost as palpable as a rip in the time-space continuum; something that felt altogether… right. It dawned on him that Crowley wasn’t struggling. Curious, he raised his free hand to the demon’s graceful neck, caressing the ashy column of his throat, and then wrapped his fingers around it. He applied careful, calculated pressure to the sides of Crowley’s windpipe and watched with a sense of sadistic pride as the amber eyes rolled back in their sockets. He released the fistful of hair and slid an arm around the slender waist as clawed fingers grabbed hold of the angel’s forearm but made no attempt to remove the hand on his neck.

They locked eyes with a sudden, glaring mutual awareness that there was no coming back from… whatever this was. Aziraphale’s hand moved to the nape of Crowley’s neck to cradle the base of his skull, pulling his mouth to his as the arm around Crowley’s waist drew his body flush against him. They moaned against one another’s lips as their straining cocks slid together. The lean figure in his embrace undulated weakly against him. Crowley clawed at him, desperate to get closer, breaking the kiss to grasp the angel’s jaw and pivot his head to the side to gain access to his neck. The forked tongue trailed up his throat, pulling dizzying gasps from Aziraphale, who slid a hand over Crowley’s shoulder, down a protruding shoulder blade and along the curve of his back to squeeze his ass, holding his hips in place as he proceeded to grind against him.

The demon choked back a sob, his head spinning. Aziraphale uttered a hoarse groan against his ear and turned to fling Crowley onto the couch. He bounced as he landed on the cushions and blinked up at the high ceiling. He looked to Aziraphale as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. The angel heaved a deep, steadying breath as he admired the long, pale body, laid out like a veritable feast for him. Crowley threw a forearm behind his head and stretched like a cat across the cushions, his spine gently curved. It was a view so enticing it hurt.

“Oh, Crowley…”

He cracked an eyelid at the soft, dreamy voice. His heart hammered in his ribcage at the sight of Aziraphale hovering above him, fully exposed and, frankly, imposing as fuck. If he wasn’t already hard, he certainly would have been in that moment. He tipped his head coquettishly and extended his free arm out to him. The angel swiftly moved to sit on the edge of the couch at his side, leaning over to trail a knuckle along the demon’s sharp jaw line. Crowley grabbed his wrist; eyes clouded with lust fixed on his face as he touched the tip of his tongue to the pad of Aziraphale’s forefinger and then took the digit between his lips up to the second knuckle. Aziraphale moistened his lips as the yellow gaze fluttered closed, a small moan vibrating the tip of his finger.

“You are a wicked thing,” the deep, coarse voice droned, thick and ravenous.

The serpent chuckled breathlessly and released his finger, opening his eyes only slightly to regard Aziraphale from beneath his long, dark lashes in that uniquely sinful way of his.

“What do you intend to do about it, Angel?” he drawled, again taking Aziraphale’s hand in his.

Aziraphale straightened as Crowley first guided his hand to his throat. He squeezed gently, throbbing at the demon’s broken whimper. It was a sound he was happy to get used to. Crowley’s tongue ran along the edge of his pointed, needle-like teeth as he then slid the angel’s hand down his naked chest and over the smooth plane of his torso, entrancing Aziraphale with how his body rippled in the wake of his touch. He allowed the beguiling creature to guide his hand to his stomach but caught him by the wrist before moving further. He noted the lewd pout he received in response and answered it with a sly smirk of his own.

“Naughty demons don’t just get what they want that easily,” he chided, trailing his fingers along the inside of Crowley’s thigh just to watch him squirm, “They have to ask nicely.”

“Ah—” Crowley gasped, growling in frustration, “We’ve been—over this… I am not nice.”

Aziraphale chuckled darkly, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You look very nice to me…” The demon nearly leapt off the cushions crotch-first when he cupped his scrotum to roll his testicles between his fingers.

Crowley groaned sharply, one hand gripping the back of the couch. He writhed as the angel continued to tease him, his hips straining towards Aziraphale’s touch. Crowley hadn’t realized how starved he was for the smallest hint of affection until he felt he might discorporate at any moment from the stimulation alone.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” the angel cooed with a mocking edge, “Surely you haven’t become shy all of a sudden?”

“God—Angel,” he whined, snarling in desperation, “just touch me.”

Aziraphale immediately withdrew his hand altogether and stood as if to leave. The feverish yellow eyes flew open, and Crowley sat up to grasp at the angel’s arm, “PLEASE!”

He stopped, concealing his smirk before addressing Crowley over his shoulder, “Please what?”

“Aziraphale…” the demon sighed, hanging his head to add in a despairing voice, “I need this. I need you.”

His heart lurched and he turned to resume his seat. He reverently took Crowley’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to his. Crowley whimpered against his mouth and parted Aziraphale’s lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss, inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Now, now… there’s no need to get excited,” he smiled despite the ache in his chest and reached back to lightly grasp the demon’s twitching member, delighting in Crowley’s sigh of relief, “You see…” he continued, gently stroking the shaft, “I know what you need.”

“Mmm, harder,” Crowley whimpered, thrusting into the angel’s fist in his search for friction.

Aziraphale snorted softly and squeezed his cock for emphasis, “I will decide when you deserve harder. Understand?”

“Ah! Okay, okay!” he hissed impatiently, lying back and clutching convulsively at the cushions beneath him.

The angel eyed him intently; the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest, his clenched jaw, clawed fingers grasping for purchase. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sight of Crowley’s beautiful body twisting in his grasp before he generously tightened his grip. Crowley went rigid and his breathing grew ragged with need.

His free hand caressed Crowley’s side and he slid it over his chest to splay his fingers over his frantic heart. The organ thudded against his palm and he leaned down to press his lips to the valley between Crowley’s pectoral muscles. He maintained firm, unwavering strokes as he kissed his way to Crowley’s collarbone, then his neck, fixing his lips over the fluttering pulse and sucking gently. The serpent arched against him.

“Nghhh… Angel …” the haunted voice moaned. Aziraphale withdrew to catch his own breath as his groin pulsated.

“Yes, love?”

Crowley’s breath hitched and he threw an arm around Aziraphale’s neck, propping himself up on the other to crush their mouths together. His hips bucked in tandem with Aziraphale’s strokes, and he whimpered against his lips.

“Fuck —” he breathed, the sheer vulgarity of the word making Aziraphale’s head swim with arousal as he pumped him faster.

Crowley hissed through gritted teeth and suddenly placed a quivering hand on the angel’s wrist.

“No,” he wheezed, gasping for breath, “Wait—Please—“

“What is it?” he inquired urgently, smoothing damp strands of hair from his forehead, “Use your words, darling.”

“I—” Crowley gasped when Aziraphale licked at the shell of his ear and he pulled back to look into the angel’s eyes.

“Sin for me, Angel.”

Aziraphale blinked and sat upright, “What—?”

Crowley cupped the angel’s face in both hands, pitching his voice to a soft, fervent plea, “Make love to me.”

Aziraphale’s jade-green eyes darted between the golden, reptilian ones. Crowley waited, hopeful but apprehensive, as if his entire sense of purpose teetered upon the pinhead of Aziraphale’s acceptance—of his body, his mind, of what soul he had left; of him .

“Crowley—I,” he stuttered, placing a soothing hand on his neck when he saw the serpent’s brow twitch anxiously, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Angel,” he answered solemnly, tacking on a hint of his familiar humor, “I mean… if you are.”

Aziraphale swiftly moved to straddle the trembling demon and sat back on his thighs to wrap his fingers around both of their eager cocks, stroking them as one. Crowley's spine twisted as the motion wrested one long, ragged groan from his throat.

“Zira—Ziraphale—” Crowley panted mindlessly, “I can’t—”

The angel snickered quietly, “Can’t what, dear? Can’t wait any longer?” he teased, miracling a small ornate bottle on the side table. Crowley writhed beneath him as he methodically prepared him, giving his impatient cock the occasional courtesy stroke.

“Ready, my darling?”

“M’ready,” Crowley replied hazily, readjusting as Aziraphale positioned himself at the serpent’s entrance. Crowley’s mouth opened on a pained gasp as the angel slowly sunk into him, groaning with the effort of keeping himself together.

“Crowley?” he rasped, raising a hand to his face, “Are you alright, love?”

“Nngh… Mhm…”

Aziraphale shifted, causing Crowley to shudder and clench around him, which in turn drew a tremulous breath from the angel. He took the serpent by the chin, “Look at me, Crowley.”

He opened his eyes, fixing Aziraphale with a stormy gaze. When he began to move inside him, Crowley uttered a shattered, helpless moan and buried his face in the angel’s neck.

After allowing a moment of adjustment, Aziraphale’s fingers slid up into the ginger tresses and clenched into a fist, tugging his face away from his neck as he gently rocked against him. He wrenched the demon’s head back to taste his slender throat.

The demon hooked a leg around the angel’s waist. Aziraphale closed his eyes, relishing in the notion of their corporations fitting together like lost puzzle pieces. He struggled to hear the serpent's deliciously anguished noises over the blood rushing in his ears and slid an arm beneath his slender waist to hold him up to better accommodate the slow, sensual rhythm of his hips. Crowley uttered a series of sharp cries as the angel’s cock repeatedly hit a spot that made flowers of dark matter blossom at the edges of his peripheral.

"Yes, my dear,” the angel breathed, “just like that."

His stomach clenched with desire even as he felt the warmth of Heaven’s light slipping away, eclipsed by a very different kind of warmth, dark and wicked and unfurling towards him like a great black plume of smoke. Hellfire.

Principalities be damned.

"Angel, can I—" Crowley swallowed, his words snagging in his throat as he reached for his throbbing erection but stopped short. Aziraphale smiled.

"Of course, dear boy," he cooed, "you may touch yourself."

Crowley flinched at the grounding sensation of wrapping his hand around his own cock. He groaned through clenched teeth with each stroke in time with the angel’s thrusts.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly as Crowley’s moans became higher pitched and broken. He clocked the indicative tightening of his groin and batted the serpent's hand away to resume pumping him himself.

"Crowley," the angel moaned against his lips, his hand sliding to the back of his head, compulsively winding in the ginger hair.

"Angel," the demon responded huskily, prepared to acquiesce to any request; carry out any order.

"Say my name, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed as he drove into him, as though it were his last request on this plane, "please."

Crowley whimpered and shuddered against him, gripping his shoulder with nails much sharper than Aziraphale recalled.

"Aziraphale," the raw, ethereal voice hissed, hot against his face, although he wasn't sure he'd actually heard it with his ears so much as the word crackled down his spine to coalesce in a dizzying electrical shock to his groin.

"Aziraphale," the demon moaned again, dragging his claws over Aziraphale’s back, wantonly riding him from beneath, not so much chasing his oblivion as rigorously hunting it down.

Tears streamed from the outer corners of the angel's eyes as the undulations of Crowley's hips became increasingly frenzied, his fist tightening on the serpent's cock and his own movements growing sharp and desperate.

"My darling," he groaned, releasing the throbbing phallus to lift Crowley into his arms until he was virtually sitting in his lap, impaling him over and over until the demon let out an unearthly, animalistic howl, dragging the angel over the edge with him. Aziraphale cried out and gave a final, powerful snap of his hips as the slender figure fell back to the cushions, his chest heaving.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and, panting, wrapped his arms around Crowley with a sense of possessiveness that, frankly, alarmed him. He wasn't sure what would happen if/when either side found out about their union, but he swore then and there that he would do whatever it took to keep Crowley out of harm's way.

"Mmm..." the serpent hummed weakly. Aziraphale blinked, passing a hand over Crowley’s chest, his translucent skin shimmering with a thin sheen of moisture.

"I love you."

Crowley barely registered the soft exhalation. Hell, he could have dreamt it for all he knew, but—had he? He jerked back to consciousness, head reeling when he sat up too quickly and hissed, reminded of the angel's twitching cock still nestled inside him. He clenched his eyes tightly against the onslaught of sensations.

The angel smiled through his blurred vision and caressed the demon's face. Crowley relaxed and opened his eyes to look at Aziraphale, his brow furrowing with worry as he placed a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, "What's wrong, Angel?"

"I love you," Aziraphale repeated through quivering lips, shrugging helplessly, failing to keep the trembling note out of his voice.

"Er, um—hold that thought."

He carefully disengaged from Aziraphale with a strangled gasp, sliding out of his lap, and shifted to sit next to him on the couch, drawing his legs up to the side. When he was settled, the angel turned to lie down and rest his head in Crowley's lap as the demon bent to kiss his tears away.

He raked his fingers through the angel's fair curls, "You're gonna give me a complex." He hooked a finger beneath Aziraphale's chin to gently pivot the angel's head towards him, "Can I tell you a secret, Angel?" he purred, pitching his voice to a sly, covert volume, "I love you, too."

#good omens #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #smut #smut and fluff #switches #light masochism #light sadism #light d/s #masters of sex #I don't know #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable brainrot #ineffable fanfic #ineffable kink

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