#ineffable wives

“Hmpf.”

Crowley snatched two goblets and a pitcher of wine off the table where a group of pilgrims surrounded a tiny man in a grey cloak. His eyes twinkled with mirth as he spoke, grinning at his audience, and when he spotted the nun stealing their wine, he merely winked at her and carried on. She, naturally, winked back and disappeared in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

“So,” Crowley started as she splashed a bit of wine into their goblets, pushing one into the other woman’s hand, “what do you suggest?”

Aziraphale gave it a side eye, and then gobbled it down in one swift gulp.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot above the rims of her stained glass spectacles.

“Let’s * burp*  call a truce for tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Aziraphale sighed, “a truce is -”

 “I know what a truce isssss!”

“Very well.”

They both inhaled, lightning bolts crackling in the air where their sights met.

“I SLEEP BY THE WINDOW!” “I SLEEP BY THE WINDOW!”

Both women blinked at the quizzical gazes coming from around the quieted tavern. Soon, it eased back into the murmur of chatter, laughter and clinking of cutlery.

Aziraphale tucked the runaway lock back under the headscarf, her eyes storm dark in the blushing face. She bottomed another goblet, her eyes locked onto Crowley’s, and slowly cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Ugh, fine. Have the window spot.” Crowley slumped into her seat, hand flailing. “But don’t blame me if I hoard the blanket.”

“Oh, I absolutely will, you fiend.” The grin on the angel’s face was a hair short of blasphemous. “There’s no way I would let you get away with it!”

Crowley’s eyes bulged into the night, her limbs frozen still. There was a button nose pressed into the nape of her neck, and a pair of plump lips gently snoring underneath. The hot breath bristled the tiny hair there, sending shivers down her spine. That alone would not be mortifying. Not even the impossibly warm arm wrapped around her waist. No, the worst ordeal that kept her from sleeping was the tiny, high-pitched whimpers escaping those treacherous lips in between the snores, and the unconscious undulation of the voluminous hips, pressing into her buttocks.

At once, Aziraphale stirred. The hand at Crowley’s belly sprawled, grabbing as much of her as it could, pushing her closer. Crowley shivered. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she could swear Aziraphale could feel it through the thin layer of linen between them. Oh, those perfect fingers! Crowley gulped, her eyes fluttering shut as not one but two hands dragged sleepily over her body. The drag of the hot fingertips over her belly and the gentle swell of her chest, the curious touches tracing the patch of hair. She wished, almost prayed, for it all to be real.

“mmm… Crowley…”

Her eyes shot wide open. Did she really hear that? Was Aziraphale actually awake, with her mind set on torturing her? Crowley forced herself to move her head a tiny bit to see the sleeping angel, but the latter had a different plan. The movement pressed Aziraphale’s lips onto Crowley’s neck, and the angel latched onto the skin. It was Crowley’s turn to whimper and slither closer to the arms of that heavenly tease.

And yet, she dared not move again, dared not to stop it when Aziraphale rolled her hips against her again, schooled herself into not stirring when the angel’s hand slid under the hem of her tunic and found her hot and dripping with need. Crowley carefully manoeuvred her leg to give her bedmate better access, and almost dissolved into a puddle when the soft hand gently stroked her in between her own frantic thrusts.

If Crowley could liken the sensation to something earthly, it would be slowly being dipped into a steaming hot bath. The warmth started with her toes, travelled up her legs, her hips, and engulfed her breasts, licked past her collarbones, and her slender neck to swallow her whole. The glorious heat made her remember flying close to the sun when suddenly, with a flick of those wonderful fingers, it felt like someone threw a bucket of ice into her face. The sharp contrast tore her from her plane of existence momentarily; her eyes rolled back, and a droplet of blood was drawn where her fang pushed too hard into her lip. It did very little to conceal her moans or to stop her from spasming against Aziraphale’s lap, but at the very least it created a little anchor. Otherwise, she was sure she would have been torn from her corporation and blown to the pearly gates.

“Azi… raphale…”

Her body refused to stop shivering, no matter how much Crowley had willed it to. All the more so, it panted wantonly, and her lap was starting to feel sticky. Treacherous flesh! She really needed to build up some resistance, especially because the pilgrimage would force them to co-habitate much more often. The hand anchored between her legs stilled, holding fast again.

“Aziraphale!”

There was a tiny, interrupted snore before the angel stirred and, with an incoherent yet angry grumble, threw her leg over Crowley’s waist, and almost inhaled a mouthful of her fiery curls. For good measure, she chomped down on them and snored again, much louder, right into Crowley’s ear.

Crowley didn’t know if she was annoyed or disappointed. Probably both, given the familiar sting under her belly button. She was being pinned down by a juicy leg, her hair was being decimated, she was uncomfortably wet and weak from cumming, and the angel had the audacity to feign sleep? With a bit of effort and a lot of determination, she managed to get her right hand onto Aziraphale’s breast and give it a gentle, testing squeeze. Aziraphale snored in reply. Perfect. She tested the waters again, and found an opening through which she could slither her hand in and hide the bud of angelic nipple in her palm. She was rewarded with a weak, needy keening noise in between the snores.

With even more effort, taking her time, Crowley pushed her left hand underneath Aziraphale’s leg and snaked forward till she found a mound of soft, curly hair. With a tongue between her teeth, she prodded further, but a shiver of the hot body against her back stopped her momentarily. Aziraphale’s hand slid up again and grabbed Crowley’s breast, frantically looking for something to hold onto as Crowley slid her fingers against her angel’s effort. Crowley grinned, closing her eyes to devour the symphony of the wetness under her fingers, tremors and tiny moans escaping Aziraphale.

With each languid stroke, Aziraphale held onto her faster, thrusted her hips into her hand, until she crushed Crowley against her chest. The shivers that took over her body vibrated through Crowley, who was partially buried under the beautiful somnambulist, with the angelic lips now sprawled against her cheek. The way Aziraphale moaned in her sleep sent Crowley’s heart into turmoil, and each time she found her pushing against her hand, she turned, just a fraction, to gain access to those plush, trembling lips.

“C…rowley! Oh, Crowley!”

Finally, Crowley turned enough to be able to see Aziraphale’s face. A ray of silver moonlight lit a halo in her pale curls, and they shook to the rhythm of Crowley’s adorations. She needed more. She wanted to see her angel on the edge of falling apart, and wanted to witness her hand being the culprit in her gentle fall. One swift, little miracle, and Crowley lay face to face with the angel, who frowned in her sleep, furrowed brows adorned with pearly drops of sweat. There was a swell of heat in Crowley, and for once, she allowed it. I did that. I brought her here.

Facing her bedmate promised not only a full range of motion, which Crowley quickly took advantage of and continued with stroking Aziraphale’s cunt, but there was a much bolder idea blooming in her head now that she was a breath away from those dangerous lips. What if Aziraphale woke up, though? It would have been bad enough, being caught with a hand on her effort, but Crowley could say it just happened in her sleep, and that she gets handsy. But is it possible to get kissy? Well, there was only one way to find out.

At first, the touch was a soft, tentative thing. Aziraphale’s breath caught on Crowley’s lips as she brought them closer again, drawn by the gentle opening through which Aziraphale voiced her delight. Then, Crowley pushed further, gently catching Aziraphale’s lower lip and giving it a gentle squeeze. As she pulled back, Aziraphale’s sleeping face crumbled in disregard, and she chased her lips. The third time Crowley allowed herself to bring their lips close, Aziraphale stirred in her sleep and crashed into Crowley, making the latter moan into the impact.

Their lips had not parted since then. Crowley’s world was reduced to tasting, suckling, pulling and ravishing Aziraphale’s mouth, who kissed her back with a surprising enthusiasm. The angel even pulled her closer against her chest, drawing nails into Crowley’s back. The hand between Aziraphale’s legs took the liberty of being unsupervised and slid two fingers inside the angel, while circling a thumb on her clit, which, in return, made kissing her a hot, moaning struggle.

“Crowley! Crow..leeeeee!”

“I’m here, love, I’m here.” She managed to whisper in between kisses. “What do you want?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped and curled out of reach of Crowley’s lips, hiding her face into the nape of her neck. “Crow…ley, please!”

Crowley craned her arm to still have access to Aziraphale’s cunt, easing her way into her. “Yes, your Crowley is here. I’m right here, Aziraphale.”

With one last stroke, Aziraphale wrung free from the ball she curled herself into, clasping Crowley’s hand in between her thighs so hard the demon was certain she would tear it off with one of the tremors that jerked through her. Crowley watched, eyes wide, as Aziraphale flailed in place without a sound, and then melted into a pliant pile of breathy moans and sweat-drenched skin, collapsing onto her back. She made her angel cum. In her sleep. Not even using all her good moves. To say Crowley was transfixed by the possibilities this new experience offered would be an understatement. But for the moment, she propped herself on her elbow and watched how the deep breaths shallowed and how the little crease between her angel’s brows smoothed, until she hummed something and smiled, her head turned slightly towards Crowley.

If it was a conscious invitation, or a plain coincidence, Crowley didn’t want to know. What she knew, though, was that the opportunity might not present itself so plainly anytime soon, and that if she knew what was good for her, she would seize it. And so she shimmied closer, gently cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, and kissed her again, one last time. Aziraphale puckered her lips ever so slightly, and her kiss tasted salty and wet, maybe from the sweat, maybe from tears. Only moonlight would know.

“Hmmmmmghn” Aziraphale stretched, her hair cascading over her back. “Good morning!”

“Nmgh” Crowley grumbled and threw a pillow over her head.

Aziraphale had the audacity to chuckle and tickle her naked foot. Crowley yelped and threw the pillow right into her laughing face.

“Look at you! Aren’t you supposed to never need sleep?”

“Tsk, I don’t need it. I like it.” Crowley sat up. The bags under her eyes almost made her plant her face back into bed. “But you’re suspiciously crisp.”

Crowley shook out her hair with her eyes closed, and cracked them open just to catch Aziraphale staring with her mouth open. She winked at her. “Were your dreams that good?”

Tips of Aziraphale’s ears turned crimson, and the colour bled through her whole face and neck as she averted her gaze, wide-eyed and gulped. Crowley grinned. Bullseye.

“Uh, yes, very good, um, dreams, yes, dreamy dreams, thank you very much.” She fumbled with her hands in her lap for a moment before giving Crowley a tight smile. “Breakfast?”