#i feel like i need a specific kip posting tag mmm

[the-kipsabian]

will edit a few old superbads cause he made me cry ✌️

[paperficwriter]

"Tipping the Scales" (Good Omens, Aziraphale x Crowley)

Look, all I'm saying is I posted this yesterday before watching the end of Season 2 and it exists and I'm sticking to it, okay?

Cut is for length and for content. AO3 link and tags in the reblog.

It started, quite appropriately enough, in a garden. No, not that garden. This was the Kew Gardens in London, and Aziraphale and Crowley had found themselves very specifically in the outdoor enclosure among rocks and waterfalls. Perhaps there was a little miracling involved to keep people from noticing them sitting atop one of the large, flat ledges, but nothing too extraordinary.

Unless you took a closer look and realized that it was one angel and one very unnaturally large snake. Well, serpent , if you asked him. Because serpent was quite a lot more impressive, wasn’t it?

“Mmm…” Crowley shifted, his coils sliding together in a circle like a tight spiral. “Thisssss isss the life.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. All around them, the lush green grass and vibrant flowers shimmered in the breeze, and the sunshine made the whole rock quite warm, which had been exactly why Crowley wanted them perched on this one, so he could soak it all up into his scales. He didn’t have to, of course, but that wasn’t why he did that - or anything - at all. 

Aziraphale was not paying attention to anything but Crowley. Lifting a hand, he put it down on the spot right behind Crowley’s thick skull and stroked back, the muscles shifting as he wondered over the silky sensation of the flattened scales. He kept moving around, going deeper, until a child throwing a stone into the pool (and being scolded) made him jump a little. “Oh! Forgive me, I should have asked.”

“Sssince when do I give a fig about you asssking, angel?” 

“I was just...I’m so curious.” Aziraphale returned to touching, putting a bit more pressure on the thickest part of Crowley’s long body. His fingers couldn’t get anywhere near far enough around it to say he was holding it. “Does it feel different, being touched like this?”

“In a way. It’sss like...more distance between the inside and the outside. Harder. Feelsss more protected.”

“Are you comfortable being moved around in it?” To make his point, Aziraphale reached down and hefted the first quarter or so of his body up across his lap...and immediately regretted it. Not because of the weight, no, but for how it was distributed, and, more importantly, where.

“Well enough,” Crowley responded. He brought his body up, across Aziraphale’s chest rather like the world’s densest seatbelt. His head rested on his shoulder, chuckling in his ear. “You ssseem quite interested in thisss. I’d love to know why…”

That was the moment Aziraphale felt entirely much too close. Caught. “Oh, my, someone seems to have come into the store. Knew I should have slipped my mind. Er, flipped the sign. Er, pardon me for a few, dear!”

And with a small fluttering poof, Aziraphale was gone, and all Crowley had was an angel-sized hot spot to curl into.

—————————————————————-

A few days later, Crowley, once again in full flash bastard form, wandered his way up to the loft above the bookshop. “Taking a kip, angel. Shout if you need anything.”

“I’ll have tea ready when you get up!” Aziraphale announced cheerfully from below, going back to shelving several new books by some popular authors (yes, the Apocalypse That Wasn’t really had changed many things, and not just between the two of them).

Crowley curled up on his side facing the window, listening to the bustling street below. It was easier to sleep with a bit of noise, he found. Soon enough, his arm had dropped off the edge of the metal frame bed covered in quilts and wonderfully-worn pillows, but instead of touching the hardwood floor, he found himself caressing a book. No, two books.

One of them was very old, and on the cover was a creature he quickly recognized: a naga, half-snake and half-human. This one had its tits out, long flowing hair, and a long tail that disappeared off the illustration. A Study in Mythological Creatures, Volume 3: Reptiles.  

And then Crowley picked up the second one, and his gold eyes went huge. Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns. This one certainly left little to the imagination; the paperback textbook showed a photograph depicting someone in a state of rather complete undress, eyes covered with a padded blindfold, arms crossed over their chest with shackles around each wrist.

“The Romance and...Sexual Sorcery of...Sadomasochism,” Crowley read to himself. “Oh, angel…”

Below, Aziraphale had a small sneeze. 

Later that night, over a light supper of balti curry with naan, with some British baking show that Aziraphale had been obsessed with for the past ten years and had recently pulled Crowley into, Crowley casually let his fingers play at the back of Aziraphale’s neck. He watched with interest as there were subtle changes to his partner’s responses: more rapidly blinking eyes. Quicker breaths. Spoon hovering over his meal but never dipping in again.

He slid his fingers up into his hair to the knuckles and squeezed. Oh, now that was a delicious expression Aziraphale made, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting just slightly more. Crowley firmly brought his head over and kissed him, grinning at how they were a bit slack. “Aziraphale, ” he said.

“Y-yes, dear?”

“I think we should take a pause on the show…” He leaned in to lick his throat, each part of his forked tongue following either side of Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple. “Don’t you?”

“...yes. Good idea.”

—————————————————————-

It didn’t stop there, of course. It was painfully easy to get Aziraphale on his knees begging for more. There were so many things that the angel responded to readily: a blindfold over his eyes, settling between Crowley’s legs while he pressed the toe of a shined shoe under his chin, and then there was the spanking.

He might have worried that being called ‘naughty’ or any other sort of playful but still negative term might make Aziraphale spiral a bit but he did take it in stride. If anything it made his prick harder, it made his cunt behind it wetter, it made him clench so tantalizingly. 

But what really ruined him, he found out, was when he had the soft angel in his lap, sitting with his back to Crowley’s front, and when he reached around him to palm his cock, the human skin of his hand shimmered and changed to snake scales. “Oh, by every dominion—!” Aziraphale had all but squealed, and then he came so swiftly, and so hard, that Crowley may or may not have found some in his hair later.

The whole thing really was fun, but Crowley had spent too long with Aziraphale. The guilt that he had come across his lover’s desires in a way that wasn’t exactly direct or through honest communication made him feel queasy and not altogether as fine with it as he might have a century ago. 

They were sitting on their usual bench with pieces of fruit now, because some London organization had made quite a to-do about feeding bread to ducks (and Crowley suspected it might have been his side’s doing, to cause the humans more stress and to make the ducks a bit more unhappily aggressive— after all, tell someone to have an apple instead of a croissant and see how well that goes over). 

Crowley was getting glared at by a particularly tenacious-looking mallard when he let the cat out of the bag, confessing how he had found the books the afternoon he had napped in the loft.

He waited for Aziraphale’s thin smile, his ‘I forgive you your discretions,’ but instead he blushed and looked down. “Well, that is probably for the best, because I may or may not have left them there. Quite on purpose. Hoping they might…” He swallowed. “Tempt you. I have been quite ashamed this whole time.”

Crowley screwed up his face in doubt. “You really expect me to believe that, angel?”

Aziraphale seemed to take more exception to that than to the matter at hand. “I have a perfectly good fainting couch, a century-old chestnut desk and a fireplace, Crowley. Why on earth would I read in bed?”

“Fair enough.” Crowley flipped his small bag of halved grapes and watermelon out into the grass for the begrudging pair of gadwalls that had come waddling about, all so he could reach over to grasp Aziraphale’s wrist. “So...that means I don’t have to be coy anymore.”

Aziraphale flushed, and although he still scattered his own diced cocktail across the pond, it was quicker, in larger handfuls. “Have you been coy to this point? My reddened buttocks might not have noticed.”

Crowley let himself soak in the pleasure of leaning in and getting a gasp from Aziraphale as he pressed his lips under his ear. “I have been holding onto one idea. If you’re feeling adventurous, of course.”

“Aren’t I always?” Aziraphale replied in a way that did not sound particularly like a ‘yes,’ but then he did add, “When it comes to you, I mean.”

One light kiss. “When it comes to me,” Crowley agreed.

—————————————————————-

“Clothes off, angel. Don’t make me wait.”

One might think that it was only because Crowley did very much like issuing orders to Aziraphale (nearly as much as Aziraphale enjoyed taking them) that he was already telling him what to do from his perch on the bed, a crimson silk robe hanging off his long, thin body. But actually, the latter part of the statement fit his mood. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted Aziraphale, and he wanted him now. 

“Not with magic,” he added, when Aziraphale raised his fingers as he tended to before miracling away his trappings. “With your hands.”

He watched through those golden slits as Aziraphale pulled back layer after layer of linen and tartan, of the soft undergarments he liked to wear - even though Crowley enjoyed teasing him about them not exactly being flattering, and that he was fairly sure they were at least eighty years old - all until he came to his socks and garters.

“Leave those,” Crowley ordered. A slim eyebrow went up. “I like them. But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you wear them, harlot.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks went pink. He knew better than to try to say that, no, he did in fact wear them to keep his socks up, because that would make Crowley quite cross. And tonight, he didn’t want Crowley crossed. He wanted his orders. He wanted his dominance. But he didn’t specifically want his ire.

“Stand up straight. Let me have a real look at you.” Crowley rose from the bed and moved around Aziraphale, humming as his palms slid along ivory flesh. “Yes...I think you’ll do nicely. One of heaven’s prizes.”

“Don’t say that too loud. You could... someone could hear.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s chin in his hand, licking across his mouth with a long, forked tongue in a way that made the angel’s knees weak. “Maybe I would like them to be listening. Maybe I want them to hear all those sweet symphonies that come out of your pretty throat.”

Aziraphale’s moan shook as Crowley made another pass around him, this time to bring his arms back, connecting them at the wrist and tying them with the silk sash from his robe. This time, when he stepped around him, Aziraphale could feel something slide at his feet, at his socked ankles, which was the start of Crowley’s tail as his legs came together to form the base of his snake shape.

“Yes, a pretty little bird to devour. You like being my prey, don’t you, soft thing?”

Crowley had considered telling Aziraphale to loose his wings so he could crush those too between his coils and Aziraphale’s body, feeling the feathers bend and make their strange ethereal noises, like a handful of harp strings being gripped in one’s fist. But he didn’t want to get too carried away. Immortal though they were, wings were sensitive things, and a pretty easy way to make or break the mood.

“Yes, yes I do,” Aziraphale whimpered. It was endearing how easily he fell into the submissive role. It was especially becoming on him, now after the Near End of Everything, when Crowley had seen what a brave, powerful soul he had when the chips were down. 

Aziraphale gasped as more of Crowley’s tail grew and wrapped around him. Now, it was easily twice the length his legs usually were, the scales all the way to the line under his chest. Around and around he went, tightening and pinning Aziraphale’s arms to his sides. These bodies of theirs...they didn’t have to let them function the same as human bodies - and Heaven and Hell knew that they did have some fun with the in’s and out’s (Crowley’s substantial cock, how Aziraphale personally identified well with both) - but they tended to, so when Crowley squeezed, he could find the thrumming of Aziraphale’s heart, could hear his breath quicken. And both his cock and heat were responding in time

“Still good, babe?” he whispered quietly, grin spreading as Aziraphale nodded. He kissed him, a reward for his bravery, for the gorgeous package he had let himself become, and Aziraphale’s arms flexed like he was trying to reach for him. The squirming only made Crowley’s cock slide out of him, with quite a bit of slick to it, standing.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale breathed, eyes locking on it. This wasn’t his usual human instrument; Crowley had taken some creative liberties with giving it a few extra bumps, making it a bit more curved with a solid base, the head smooth and tapered. He might have been a little worried that Aziraphale would call him out for it not being entirely accurate, but given the way he was staring at it…

“Don’t worry, angel. You’ll be getting that very shortly. If you ask for it nicely.”

Aziraphale tried to spread his legs for it, but it was futile in the rings of powerful muscle. “Please, Crowley, yes, please!”

“What was that, Aziraphale? Not sure I heard you…”

“Please!” Now he was needy, tears shimmering at the corner of one eye. Crowley kissed them away gently. “Please…”

He gave him exactly what he wanted, then. He slid his cock inside of him, every ridge bumping the wet cavern of Aziraphale’s body. “You just have to take it,” he said, biting at the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. “While I’m holding you, you’ll take the pleasure I give and like it. ”

He said it like it was a threat, and Aziraphale took it as such, though in the most excited way. Crowley moved him up and down, pressed in to meet every downward thrust. The tip of his tail found Aziraphale’s cock and wrapped around it, squeezing as beads of precome oozed from the tip. “Oh, yes...yes, just like that, my darling—!”

It wasn’t exactly an appropriate endearment given their scene but Crowley allowed it, lost in going faster and harder until they were both coming in tandem, Crowley crushing him tight with both coils and arms. As they stood together, Crowley slowly coming back to himself, Aziraphale let out a little giggle. “We didn’t even make it to the bed…”

Well. Crowley responded by giving him a hard kiss and then a shove to the mattress. His arms were still very much tied behind his back. “So naive of you, to think this is over…”