Chapter Text
“Good evening, sir. Can I get you anything?”
Aziraphale adjusted his weight on the barstool, leaning forward a little. “Could I get an Old Fashioned? With Maker’s Mark, please.”
“Coming right up.” The bartender was a slim young man, dark-skinned and handsome, and Aziraphale watched him go, walking down the bar to gather his supplies, elegant fingers measuring out the ingredients and gently stirring the drink before placing it in front of Aziraphale on a cocktail napkin. There was no harm in looking.
“Thank you very much.”
Aziraphale took a sip of his drink, then rested his elbows on the bar, his eyes sweeping around the room, taking in his surroundings. The hotel bar was located just off the front desk, and it was exactly what you would expect from a historic hotel in Connecticut’s state capitol — dark wood paneling in every direction, intimate tables glowing with soft, warm light, relaxing jazz piped over the sound system. It was reasonably busy for a Friday evening, with couples and small groups occupying many of the tables, and a few solo travelers at the bar, enjoying a drink or a meal after concluding their business for the day.
And down at the other end of the bar was the most beautiful woman Aziraphale had ever seen.
She was tall and angular, with sharp features in a face that seemed designed for mischief, with long, scarlet hair tumbling over her shoulders. She was wearing a tight black minidress that hugged her slim body, the long sleeves clinging to her toned arms, asymmetrical slashes across the chest and at the midriff revealing tantalizing glimpses of pale skin and a firm, flat tummy. Her legs seemed to go on for days, ending in black stiletto pumps. She was nursing her drink, something in a tumbler that was bright red and fizzy, and scrolling through her phone, a hint of a frown appearing between her expressive brows.
As Aziraphale watched, she tossed her head, drumming her short, black-varnished nails on the bar. There was something almost coltish about her, as if no barstool in the world could hold her, and Aziraphale couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to harness that energy, to pin it beneath him. If he were that sort of person.
He dithered, reaching for the napkin underneath his drink and beginning to shred the edges. Surely such a gorgeous person had somewhere to be — someone to meet — some equally glamorous gentleman who would sweep her off her feet — not a schlubby man in a rumpled tweed blazer, who was closer to fifty than forty —
He must have been floating somewhere above his body, because he watched dispassionately as a hand that seemed to be his own beckoned the bartender back over, as his body leaned over, his voice dropping conspiratorially —
“Could I buy the young lady at the other end of the bar another of whatever she’s drinking?”
The bartender nodded curtly and went to mix up the drink. When he placed it in front of the redhead, she looked startled, questioning him sharply. The bartender pointed over his shoulder, and she fixed her eyes on Aziraphale, sliding up and down his body. Finally, she raised her glass in a silent toast and nodded curtly, a half-smile lifting the corner of her dark crimson mouth.
Aziraphale scrambled off his barstool, picking up his drink and crossing the bar to stand at her elbow.
“Would you mind if I joined you?”
The redhead gave him a long look, then indicated the seat beside her. “Alright, then.”
Aziraphale sat, then enthusiastically extended his hand. “I’m Aziraphale.”
“Aziraphale, huh?” She lifted an eyebrow. Her eyes were an unusual color, almost golden — and set off by a generous amount of black kohl and smoky eyeshadow. But she put her hand into Aziraphale’s, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’m Ash.”
“Ash —” The word came out like a breath of air, and Aziraphale realized he hadn’t the foggiest idea what to say next. It had been so long since he’d done anything like this. He took a gulp of his drink, ducking his head.
Thankfully, Ash seemed to have more experience with small talk. “What do you do for work, Aziraphale?” she asked, a hint of archness in her voice.
“I’m — I’m a rare books dealer.” Aziraphale stumbled over the words a little, and he thought Ash might be suppressing a smirk. “I came into town just for the day to make a few acquisitions, and I’ll be leaving tomorrow. What about you — are you staying in the hotel for business or pleasure?”
“Actually, I’m not staying in the hotel.” Ash ducked her head, her curtain of hair falling over her face as she played with the stirrer in her drink. “I was here for a business meeting, but my client canceled at the last minute. So here I am, I suppose.”
“My dear, it’s after nine o’clock —” Aziraphale gasped. “What sort of business could you possibly be conducting?”
“Oh, all sorts of business.” Ash watched as the bartender walked down to the other end of the bar, noisily scooping ice into a cocktail shaker and measuring out three different kinds of spirits. Then, she laid a hand on Aziraphale’s forearm, dropping her voice to a husky whisper. “Aziraphale, you seem like a lovely man. But I need to tell you that I’m a working girl, and I don’t believe I’m the kind of date that you’re looking for this evening.”
“A wor — oh. Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he could feel his face heating. Ash smiled at him sadly.
“I’m afraid so.” She picked up her drink, draining it in one gulp, and reached down to the floor for her handbag. “So I believe I’ll be off, and I hope you have a lovely evening —”
“Wait —” Aziraphale reached out and caught Ash’s hand, and her golden eyes widened. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “If one were — I mean, if I were — to desire to engage your services — how would I — how would I do so?”
“Usually? You would call my agency and they would vet you first.” Ash pushed her hair back from her forehead. “But maybe I’m going a little soft, because I have a good feeling about you.”
She glanced around the bar, making sure no one was listening, and then put her lips very close to Aziraphale’s ear. She smelled like something fresh and botanical, heated over an open flame. “My fee is $200 per hour, cash up front. If you’re serious, you could take me up to your room right now.”
Coincidentally, that was exactly the amount of cash Aziraphale had in his wallet. “I think that sounds wonderful, my dear.”
“Well then, why don’t you let me make your night?” Ash purred. She stood, and Aziraphale offered his arm to escort her through the hotel lobby to the elevator. In her high heels, she towered over him, a goddess among mortals, and Aziraphale felt lucky just to be seen with her. They rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence, and Aziraphale could feel the excitement bubbling up within him, nervous butterflies that had him clenching his fists, leaving little half-moons where his fingernails dug into his flesh.
When they reached the door of his room, he fumbled the keycard out of his pocket, his hands trembling as he slid it into the lock. Ash looked on sympathetically.
“Have you ever done this before?” she asked kindly.
“Opened a hotel room door?”
She snorted, then covered her nose and mouth hastily with her hand, suppressing her giggles. “No, I mean — have you ever hired an escort before?”
“Oh — No, I haven’t.” Finally, Aziraphale succeeded in springing the lock, and he ushered Ash inside. “So you’ll have to — I mean, if you want — tell me what to do.”
“First things first, I do need to see the cash —”
Aziraphale pulled out his wallet and counted the bills into her hand. When she was satisfied, she rolled them up and tucked them into a pocket of her handbag, stowing it on the shelf next to the door.
“And now —” She stretched both arms over her head, posing elegantly as she shook her hair back from her face. Then she took two steps forward, lighting resting her hands on Aziraphale’s chest, pressing against him as he leaned against the door. “What can I do for you, baby?”
“I — I’m not quite sure,” Aziraphale stammered. Just for something to do, he reached for her waist, but jumped when his palm touched her bare midriff. Goodness, her skin was warm. “It’s been so long since I last —”
“That’s quite alright,” she purred. “Can I make you a little more comfortable?”
Aziraphale jerked a nod, and with a smile that was a little sharklike, Ash reached for his navy tartan bowtie, gently pulling the knot apart with her finger and thumb. Then her fingers proceeded to his shirt, opening the first three buttons and spreading it wide.
“Such a lovely broad chest,” she murmured. “May I put my mouth on you?”
“Please —”
Her lips were soft against the side of his throat, just underneath his beard, pushing his head to the side. He stretched his neck giving her room to work, and she wriggled against him, her hot mouth traveling over his earlobe, his jawline, his collarbone, his chest. Aziraphale rested his head against the door, a sigh escaping from his lips as she tended to him, his cock starting to fill under her ministrations, pressing insistently against her thigh. On her next pass up his neck, she put her lips to his ear.
“I can feel how much you want me, baby —” she breathed. “I know how much you want my cunt stretched around this fat cock of yours — or my lips — or anything that you want. But I won’t do any of it until you tell me the words — until you say how badly you’ve been wanting to fuck me since you saw me across the bar —”
“Oh god —” Aziraphale gripped her waist with both hands. “I want —”
“Tell me —” Ash’s hand wandered down past Aziraphale’s waist, squeezing him through the front of his trousers, and he gasped, his hips rutting involuntarily.
He didn’t know how to put it into words, his wishes laying heavy in his mouth, buried under more layers of inhibition than he could possibly begin to comb through. So he took her gently by the hips, encouraging her to take a step back and give him room as he sank to the floor, sitting back on his heels and gazing up at her face.
She looked nonplussed for just a moment. “Not quite what I expected, but —”
Aziraphale waited patiently, resting his hands gently on the backs of her thighs. As he watched, she drew herself up to her full (and impressive) height, squaring her shoulders as an air of determination settled over her.
“If that’s what you’d like to do, why don’t you follow me into the room so that we have a little more space.” She turned, stalking the few steps from the door to the foot of the bed, hips swaying as she went, and then turned, placing her hands on her hips.
Aziraphale made a move to climb to his feet, but she held out an admonishing hand.
“No, not like that — on the floor —”
Nothing in Aziraphale’s life had prepared him for this moment, crawling across the dusty hotel carpet with a goddess’s eyes boring into him — but he did it, returning her gaze with his devotion as he moved forward on hands and knees. When he reached her, she lifted one heeled foot and braced it on his shoulder, and he turned, nuzzling into her toned calf, one hand brushing up her leg. She could crush him like this, and he would consider himself lucky.
She gave him a little shove with her foot, pushing him back onto his heels, the tip of her stiletto digging into his upper chest just a little, before returning her foot to the floor and plucking at his blazer with one hand.
“Take this off. The shirt, too.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Aziraphale fixed his eyes on the floor as he did what she asked, removing all the clothing above his waist and putting it to the side. When he was done, he lifted his face, and she smiled coolly, reaching out to caress his jaw.
“What an obedient boy you are.”
The words hit Aziraphale like a depth charge, an odd warmth spreading deep inside him as he kept his face tilted upwards. She reached for the bottom hem of her dress, peeling it up and over her head, shaking her hair back as she tossed it to the side. Underneath, she was wearing a matching bra and knickers, nude satin overlaid with lace, the pattern made up of intertwining snakes. And she had her own impressive erection, barely contained by the skimpy knickers, the tip peeking out of the waistband, smearing a trail of wetness across her taut stomach.
“You’re gorgeous —” Aziraphale couldn’t help the words that fell from his lips. “Please —”
“Since you ask so prettily —”
Ash eased the knickers down her milky thighs, just enough to release her cock, letting it swing freely directly in front of Aziraphale’s face. She grasped Aziraphale by the curls, tilting his head back even further so that she could feed her cock between his lips, the salt-tang of her length heavy on his tongue, all of his senses overwhelmed with the thrill of sex. He hummed with pleasure and began to bob his head, giving her exactly what they both clearly needed.
He had heard of this before, this floaty feeling that all of his cares had been taken away, that there was nowhere he needed to be but right here, nothing he needed to be except a willing vessel for this magnificent creature, a sheath where she could bury herself. His own cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, but his need was a distant pull, easily sated when she shifted her weight, resting the leather sole of one heeled shoe directly on the center of his crotch. He wrapped his hand around her ankle, keeping her there, and he accepted the hand that she put on his shoulder to steady herself, and he offered his mouth as she began to thrust lightly, her cock grazing the back of his throat.
He could live here, here on his knees with precome bursting across his tastebuds, his free hand reaching up to brush gently across her entrance as she pistoned her hips, her husky grunts of pleasure puncturing the air. And it would have been enough for him to let her come like this, to receive her down his throat or across his lips and cheeks.
But her hips began to stutter, her grip on his shoulder intensifying as she pulled suddenly out of his mouth.
“Want to sit on your cock — can’t if you make me come like that —”
Aziraphale sat back on his heels, letting go of her calf. “What should I —”
“On the bed. On your back. Take everything off —”
Aziraphale scrambled to do what he was told, stepping out of his shoes and socks and undoing his trousers, baring himself the rest of the way. He had only just made it to the bed when she moved to straddle him, pushing him down into the pillows and grabbing both of his hands. She looped his bowtie around his wrists, tying a hasty knot, and then pushed them up underneath the pillows.
“Don’t move them unless I tell you that you can —”
What a happy coincidence that Aziraphale had left a pump bottle of lube out on the bedside table! From her position astride his hip, Ash reached for it, pumping a generous amount into her palm and using it to prepare them both — first reaching between her legs to finger herself, and then sliding her palm up and down Aziraphale’s waiting shaft.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be huge —” she breathed. “Want you inside my cunt — need you to fill me up —”
“You can have everything —” Aziraphale moaned back, and she smiled, trailing her fingers across his lips so that he could suck them into his mouth.
“I know —”
It took her a moment to line herself up, to ease herself down onto his shaft with little rolls of her hips, to rest her spread-out sex flush against his bulk. But when she did, they both groaned contentedly, their eyes meeting as she braced her hands on his chest.
“I’m going to rock your world —”
Aziraphale had never experienced anything quite like it. He longed to touch her, to wrap his broad hands around her narrow waist, to run his fingers through her hair, to drag her down into a kiss, to crush her against his chest — but his hands were bound above his head, his body pinned to the mattress under her weight. So there was nothing for him to do but take it — to let her ride him, take her pleasure from him, blunting her nails against his chest as her hair tumbled around her face. He was laid out like a moth on a specimen card, and he was surprised how much he liked it, how much he enjoyed being her toy, nothing but a cock for her to ride, a willing surface to catch her spend, when she was ready to spill it —
And so he closed his eyes and he let it happen, his need building inside him, her tantalizing heat sliding up and down his length, so close, so —
“Oh, Crowley —”
Ash stopped suddenly, her ass coming down hard against Aziraphale’s hips, and Aziraphale’s eyes flew open. “Who’s Crowley?”
“I — fuck —”
A peal of laughter, a body folding over his, insistent lips pressed against his own as a tongue slid into his mouth. Crowley was kissing him breathless, hands running through his hair, caressing his beard, his shoulders, half-pulling him up off the bed —
“Darling, my hands —”
“Oh fuck, yeah — do whatever you want with them —” Crowley reached under the pillows, undoing the knotted bowtie, and Aziraphale wrapped both arms around him, crushing their mouths together, his hips beginning to move, bouncing Crowley in his lap as they devoured each other.
“Az, please — just flip me over and fuck me — it’s — I dunno, pumpernickel, flapjacks, parachute — whatever the fuck the end scene word was —”
“It was pineapple, darling —” Aziraphale surged up off the bed, tumbling his husband onto his back, one arm hooked underneath his knee to spread him over as he began to pound him into the mattress. “You’re such a tease, you gorgeous little minx — wanted to take you right there in the bar —”
“Fuck, how about you with that innocent virgin act? I almost believed you —”
“Wanted this to be special for you, love —”
“What would be really special would be if you make me come so hard my eyeballs explode —”
“I’ll see what I can do —”
Aziraphale braced himself on the bed, pushing up on his knees for more leverage, the full weight of his body pounding against Crowley’s prostate with each roll of his hips. And Crowley seemed to be loving every minute of it, writhing on the mattress, meeting Aziraphale in the middle as well as he could, tugging at his own cock as he shouted his pleasure. It was too perfect to last — both of them were too keyed up, too relieved to be back in their usual roles, too drunk on love and attraction to hold back —
“I’m right there, darling — I’m —”
“Just fucking give it to me —”
Aziraphale cried out, his vision blurring at the edges as he came hard, spending deep inside Crowley’s body. And Crowley was cursing and panting too, semen spilling over his fist, shuddering through the aftershocks as he came back to earth. When he was finally quiet, he reached up, running a gentle hand along Aziraphale’s beard.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t keep that up any longer —”
“I do believe I’m the one who messed up first.” Aziraphale leaned down, pressing a kiss against Crowley’s forehead. “You were wonderful.”
Aziraphale gently eased himself out of Crowley’s body, moving over to lie down beside him. As he did, Crowley lifted his hand, peering at the mess on his knuckles.
“Are we still doing the role reversal thing? Because — bleurgh —”
Aziraphale chuckled, circling Crowley’s wrist with his fingers and bringing the hand close to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on Crowley’s face, he ran his tongue over his skin, tasting salt-musk as he lapped Crowley clean. When he was done, he placed the hand back on Crowley’s chest and covered it with his own.
“Okay, fuck — that was hot —”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling,” Aziraphale murmured, pulling Crowley close to him and resting his head on his husband’s shoulder. They would have to get up in a minute to clean up, and then there would be a lot to talk about, but right now he simply wanted to drift, with the person he loved most at his side.
“So, was that really okay?”
Crowley studied his face in the bathroom mirror, scrubbing the makeup removal wipe against his lips. He had gone for waterproof makeup to make sure it wouldn’t smudge while he was giving Aziraphale the ride of his life, but he was paying for it now as he rubbed it off bit by bit.
Aziraphale was washing his face, but he looked up, drying his beard with a towel as he met Crowley’s eyes in the mirror. “It was wonderful, darling. I very much enjoyed doing exactly what you wanted me to do, and you played your part perfectly. How was it for you?”
Crowley shrugged. “Good — I mean, fucking great, yeah. You were right that it was easier to act like that when I was playing a character. But nnggghhh — I dunno, I feel like I’ve transplanted all my guts onto my skin, and now my skin is screaming. Might need you to lie on top of me for a bit so my brain shuts up.”
Aziraphale tilted his head sympathetically, then reached for the makeup wipe. “Here, why don’t you let me do that?”
Crowley handed it over, and then turned, sitting up on the counter as Aziraphale stepped between his knees, gently wiping his face.
“You are so precious to me, my love,” he murmured, and Crowley shivered, leaning into his touch. “It was thrilling to see that side of you, and I’m so grateful that you decided to share it with me. Whatever kind of care you need to bring yourself back to center — you know I’m here for you.”
“Az —” Crowley threw his arms around his husband’s shoulders, hugging him tightly with all four of his limbs, and Aziraphale pulled him close, returning the hug and rocking them both gently. He was as solid and warm as he always was, smelling just the same, the shape and weight of him everything Crowley knew. Crowley breathed in deeply, relaxing into it. “Why do we keep doing stuff like this when we have to get up early and go back to the faire the next day? I feel like we’re on the moon right now.”
“I did raise that point, but you assured me you wanted it to be more crowded,” Aziraphale teased.
“I think that was the right call, though. It would have been weird for me sitting there dressed like that if we were the only two people in the bar.”
“This is true,” Aziraphale mused. “Still, I think we’ll manage.”
“We always do,” Crowley agreed, and he meant it.