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One Sunday, a month after Aziraphale was appointed Supreme Archangel, he attempted to unwind with a crossword while encased in a pile of blankets and pillows. In the weeks since his promotion, he’d experienced some puzzling symptoms that made it difficult to focus on his mission of improving Heaven and averting the Second Coming. The intermittent fevers, abdominal cramps, and unusual urge to surround himself with soft objects, were one thing, but the fourth symptom…
Aziraphale had occasionally explored his human reproductive anatomy over the last 6000 years, but it had always been voluntary, easily ignored during stressful times. But now the arousal persisted, despite how busy he was. To make matters worse, he’d suddenly sprouted Eve’s anatomy in addition to Adam’s, which made it take twice as long to relieve his symptoms.
He hadn’t expected to find the cure to his ailment in the crossword. But then he reached 22 across: “See 13 Down”
13 down: “Letters on a divine frat house?”
“The Almighty doesn’t run a fraternity house,” Aziraphale scoffed as he filled in the answer. But filling it in proved to be a revelation, triggering an ancient memory of rejected human prototypes, a biological system he’d read about but never experienced. “By Jove, I think that’s it!” He dropped the puzzle and ran to the Celestial Library.
Aziraphale found Crowley in an uninhabited desert, the polar opposite of the crowded and damp city they had both called home for the last millennium or so. The demon was in serpent form from the waist down, reclining against a rock, and though Aziraphale was behind him, he could tell that Crowley was pleasuring himself. Aziraphale’s own anatomy throbbed at the sight, but the arousal wasn’t as troubling as the rest of Aziraphale’s new omega instincts telling him to bend over and present to his alpha. To submit to Crowley’s will and let him use Aziraphale’s body for relief instead of his hand. He didn’t truly want that. He wanted Crowley to be his partner, his equal, not some overlord alpha telling him what to do. But that didn’t stop his omega instincts demanding him to submit. And as much as his body wanted to be mated without another word, his mind knew that he would have to use his words to talk things over first.
Once finished, Crowley looked around and sniffed the air. He turned to see Aziraphale standing about twenty feet away. “Aziraphale. What are you doing here?” His voice was hard and bitter.
Aziraphale dared to take a few steps closer. “Crowley, my dear, I’m sorry for every–”
“Do I look like I’m in any state to talk?” Crowley motioned to his pelvic region, where one of his hemipenes stood erect. Aziraphale’s new anatomy throbbed at the sight, aching to be filled.
“Believe me, Crowley, I understand. I’m in quite a state myself, you see, which is why I’m dressed like this.” Aziraphale gestured at his body, clad in only a white shift as it had been Before the Beginning. With his constant need for sexual relief, abandoning his many layers of human clothing had been the most sensible option.
“You’re in…a state,” Crowley repeated slowly. “Somehow, I don’t think we’re talking about the same kind of state, angel.” The former endearment sounded downright venomous.
Aziraphale gulped. He was going to need to be more frank. “Well, my state for the last several weeks has been one of fevers, cramps, and a constant need for sexual release, none of which I can miracle away. Is that at all similar to your state, Crowley?”
“Fuck,” Crowley groaned, rolling his head back. Aziraphale longed to close the distance between him and kiss the hollows of that beautiful neck. Admiring Crowley from a distance had, out of necessity, had to suffice for their entire existence. Now, it was leagues away from sufficient. He needed to touch, to kiss, to taste.
“Yes, that is what these symptoms are meant to facilitate. According to my long, hard hours of research,” Aziraphale said, unable to resist the innuendo. “Do you recall the rejected prototypes for human sexual development?”
“Not really. Care to enlighten me, Supreme Archangel?”
“Well, one idea, the Alpha-Omega model, would’ve made humans more…canid-like, I suppose, with pheromones, estrus cycles, mating bites…”
“Oh yeah, I do remember that now. Uriel and Michael thought it sounded too messy, and for once, I agreed with them.”
“Yes, well, God decided against it for humans, but for angels…”
“Not an angel.”
“Same original stock, dear.” Obviously Aziraphale knew that Crowley wasn’t an angel, that accepting the Metatron’s offer would have made him lose some of the fundamental Crowley essence he had fallen in love with. However, Crowley’s demonic status did not seem pertinent to the matter at hand. “Angels, and demons by extension, can exhibit such traits, but only after forming a pair bond.”
“So you're saying these symptoms mean we’re…mates?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And they won’t go away until we…”
“Finish the physical bonding process we started when you…when we…” Aziraphale touched his lips, mirroring his movements on that dreadful day. How long had he dreamed of feeling Crowley’s lips against his own, only to get what he had wished for at the worst possible moment?
“When I tried to confess my lo…feelings, you tried to bring me back into the fold instead, we somehow broke up despite never really being together, I tried one fabulous kiss, and it only made things worse? That’s what turned us into mates?”
“Apparently, yes,” Aziraphale answered. “I’ve been quite puzzled about the timing myself. From my research, physical intimacy is the primary way of establishing a mating bond in the Alpha-Omega model, rather than…” than the myriad ways they had grown closer even as they maintained the loose pretense of being enemies? Than the act of exchanging blessings and temptations as part of the Arrangement? Than all the times they had shared wine, shared secrets, shared a life? Surely all of that was greater proof of a mating bond than a single bittersweet kiss? Apparently, the Almighty didn’t think so. Another one of Her little jokes with a confusing punchline. Not that Aziraphale was in any state to decipher jokes. His new omega instincts were rearing their ugly head again. They sensed Crowley’s displeasure and wanted to soothe that away along with his physical urges.
“Now,” Aziraphale said, daring to approach Crowley and caress his face. He was pleased to see Crowley lean into the touch. “I agree with your earlier assessment that we’re in no state to talk about it. But I would very much like to kiss you properly, if you’re amenable?”
“Well, we kind of have to, don’t we? Because we’re mates now, and that’s what mates do?”
“Well, yes, but…” Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to explain that his desire to kiss Crowley went far beyond his new symptoms, that his response of anger the first time had been due to the dreadful circumstances and not the kiss itself. But given that, as he had just said, they were in no state to talk about things, he abandoned words in favor of a second kiss. He intended it to be soft and sweet, a brief invitation for more, the way a first kiss should be. But he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, from pulling Crowley closer to him, maximizing their physical contact.
For the second time in his immortal existence, Crowley was kissing Aziraphale angrily. How dare he leave, then return to earth only to relieve his heat? A heat Crowley hadn’t been aware angels (and demons, apparently) could even have. Then again, hadn’t he compared his own need to that of a cat in heat, furiously wanking because he couldn’t focus on anything else?
He’d left the Bentley in London and flown out to somewhere dry and deserted, desperately needing a change of scenery. He hadn’t had any sort of plan, only the urge to run. He had transformed into a serpent, scaring all the local critters away in a surge of aggression. Logically, he knew he should have found a cave or somewhere to shelter himself from the desert wind, but his burning need for release had taken precedence. He had transformed himself again, half human-half snake, to take his hemipenes in hand. The need was insatiable–as soon as one hemipene had spent, the other would be swollen and eager to go again. His mind had flooded with ridiculous fantasies of fucking Aziraphale in this form, as if the high and mighty angel would ever let a lowly demon touch him like that.
Crowley wanted to stay angry at Aziraphale, but unfortunately, his body was not getting the memo. It responded to Aziraphale’s touch like he had wanted it for centuries, which he had. He groaned as Aziraphale pulled him closer, touching Crowley everywhere he could. This closeness felt so good, so right. Blood rushed to his groin, engorging his hemipenes again. They rubbed against Aziraphale’s pelvic region, and Crowley could almost taste the sweet scent of omega slick. He was an alpha then? He could remember that alphas would go into rut, experiencing an intense rage with a need to mate and claim and possess. Had any other angels or demons experienced this? Surely he would have heard about it if they had. Then again, the thought of any of his former coworkers finding out about this predicament was very troubling. If this had happened to some other demon, Crowley was certain they would hide the signs at any cost.
Aziraphale broke the kiss, interrupting Crowley’s musings. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more comfortable? At least less windy. There’s a cave over there we could shelter in?” Crowley knew he shouldn’t give in and let Aziraphale do anything to him that would require going somewhere more comfortable, but it was impossible to resist the plea in his mate’s eyes. Aziraphale had better weapons at his disposal than a flaming sword, and he absolutely knew it.
Once they reached the cave, Aziraphale transformed, matching Crowley’s naga form, his scales golden with a cream underbelly. His arousal smelled more potent in this form, and Crowley’s own body responded with the urge to satisfy his mate. His mate. What a ridiculous, animalistic notion. He was a demon, not a fucking wolf. And yet, he couldn’t deny the truth of Aziraphale’s earlier statement; this all consuming need wouldn’t settle until they finished bonding. He thought about biting Aziraphale, sinking his teeth into the new scent glands on the angel’s neck. The thought made him feel annoyingly aroused.
“So, how do we get this over with?” Crowley asked testily.
“This isn’t something to get over with, Crowley! It’s a mating bond!”
“Do you want my help or not?” Crowley snarled, trying to disguise that he needed Aziraphale’s help just as badly. The rut instincts to mate and possess were crawling through his body even more so in the angel’s presence than on his own.
“Very well,” Aziraphale said. “To finish the bonding process, we need to…have relations, then once you’re inside me and approaching climax, you’ll bite down on my neck, sealing the bond for eternity.” Crowley’s cock throbbed as he pictured it sheathed inside the angel. His angel. His mate. Fuck, he wanted that so badly, even now.
Aziraphale looked down at his new body, clearly perplexed. “Crowley, how do we…I can’t see anything! I can feel my anatomy somewhere in there, but where…”
“Just relax and lie on your side. Then we can go from there.” Crowley had never actually mated with another creature in serpentine form, so this guidance was based purely on instincts.
Aziraphale followed Crowley’s instructions, laying the marvelous golden tail out on the cave floor. Crowley took his place beside Aziraphale, pulling him close and crashing their mouths together again in a mixture of anger and desire. He ran a hand down the softness of Aziraphale’s torso and underbelly scales before pressing his groin against Aziraphale’s abdomen to open up the cloaca.
“Now, just relax for me, angel. Feel yourself opening up for me,” Crowley instructed before pulling Aziraphale into another kiss. Aziraphale groaned in Crowley’s mouth like he had sampled a particularly fine pastry. Crowley felt like he was devouring and being devoured at the same time; it was everything he had ever wanted.
Aziraphale’s vent opened, revealing a rather unusual sight. Crowley had expected to see two hemipenes like his own, but there was only one, and the other half was a passage into the cloaca with a nub of flesh at the top.
“Is that a hemiclitoris?” Crowley gently touched the protrusion, making Aziraphale shudder. “You know human scientists just discovered these a few years ago?”
“Shocking,” Aziraphale deadpanned. “And yes, I believe it is. You see, with this heat, I acquired a second set of human genitalia, and I suppose that carried over to this form.”
“I see. And have you been…enjoying your new anatomy?” Crowley said, a devilish grin on his face as he rubbed the sensitive spot. Aziraphale’s new tail curled reflexively in response as the opening grew wet with slick. It was Crowley’s turn to savor all the little sounds the angel was making in response to his touch and his honey-sweet scent.
“I have. Though it’s been rather…insatiable. I feel so empty all the time!”
“And so you came to me to fill you up.” Crowley swiped some of Aziraphale’s slick onto his hemipenes. Perhaps in another version of this story, they would have made love slowly, enjoying hours of foreplay before coming together. But Crowley’s irritability and the urgency of the rut made him want to get to the main event faster. He gripped Aziraphale hard and thrust into the slick warmth, a hole that felt like it was made for him to fill. He groaned out of sheer relief, the feeling of being inside Azirapahle several orders of magnitude more satisfying than his own overworked hand.
“Fuck, angel, you feel so good.” Now that they were locked together, Crowley pinned Aziraphale down to the cave floor and drove into him with all the vigor he had, releasing his pent up energy and anger at last. Aziraphale’s cloaca grew slicker in response and his lone hemipene throbbed red and rock hard.
“Oh Crowley, my alpha! Please claim me!” Aziraphale turned to bare his throat. Crowley had never seen a patch of more biteable flesh. His logical mind wanted to leave it unmarked, not wanting to stake a claim on the angel who had so recently rejected him. But his instincts were louder, fueled by this primal need he barely understood. Whatever their current differences, he and Aziraphale had always come together in their moments of need, and right now, they both needed this.
“My omega,” Crowley responded, his voice deep and raspy as his alpha desires took over. “You’re mine, and I won’t let you forget it.” With that, he sank his teeth into Aziraphale’s neck. This naga form had sharper fangs than his standard form, so he quickly pierced the skin. The iron taste of Aziraphale’s blood felt warm on Crowley’s tongue as he sucked on the bite mark. The bite sent Aziraphale into a shuddering climax, his hemipene spurting and his walls clenching Crowley’s hemipenes in a tight embrace. Crowley’s own release quickly followed, making him get lost in a haze of ecstasy, feeling a deeper euphoria than ever before.
Once the aftershocks of their climaxes faded and they separated, Crowley felt oddly calm and centered. Seeing the mating bond mark on Aziraphale’s neck made his newly-discovered alpha instincts roar in pride and satisfaction. Aziraphale was his to hold, to protect, to defend, not to hurt and fight with. “I suppose we really ought to talk now,” he said.
Aziraphale nodded. “I am truly sorry for the things I said. I might have been under pressure, but I still hurt you.” Aziraphale explained he was under the watchful eye of the Metatron and his thinly veiled threats. With the benefit of hindsight, Crowley could see that Aziraphale would have never run away with him, leaving Heaven to proceed with wiping out humanity again. He had had no choice but to leave for Heaven, and once this heat and rut was over, he would have to return. Crowley could accept this as long as Aziraphale wouldn’t attempt to “reinstate” him again. Neither of them were sure yet what the plan was for averting the Second Coming, but they would figure it out together as lovers, partners, mates.