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There was nothing glamorous about owning a pool. Aziraphale had always prayed for the day the pump would break, or a tree would fall in it, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about the monster, the mess, and the expense that came with owning enough land to warrant having one. He could just fill it in and plant a vegetable garden, instead, or build a gazebo for reading in.
The pool had been Gabriel’s idea, of course. His previous Alpha who had been all show and flash, who had loved to host pool parties where he had wined and dined all of his glamorous movie producer friends. The movie star had spent most of those nights getting ridiculously drunk, until finally falling asleep in a pool chair, leaving Aziraphale with the responsibility of seeing all of the guests home as well as doing all of the clean up alongside his staff.
Well, a few years of that and Aziraphale had finally kicked Gabriel to the curb. The prolific Omega author, who had written the series-turned-into-a-film-franchise that Gabriel’s fame was based upon, had refused any Alpha’s amorous attentions ever since. He didn’t need one. When it came to money, he had that. When it came to companionship, he had a loyal and loving staff who adored him. And when it came to his heats, well, there were toys he could use.
Then last week, Madame Tracy, his head housekeeper and a wonderful chef, hired a new pool boy. The extra money saved now that Aziraphale wasn’t footing the bill for extravagant pool parties that he didn’t even enjoy had given her leeway to hire a young Alpha named Anthony, who preferred to be called by his last name, Crowley. Crowley was a two-in-one, she winked at Aziraphale, certified to be both his pool boy and his groundskeeper.
Though to call him ‘boy’ was a terrible understatement. The young Alpha was a man, clearly, in his mid-twenties, and he was wreaking havoc on Aziraphale’s nerves. Aziraphale watched him from his office window, walking around the pool with his long pole in hand, sinuously sashaying along the edges to fish out leaves with a net. He wore dark sunglasses and a tight black shirt over his lean torso, along with red short shorts that hugged his buttocks and thighs. Those hips rocked like a buoy in the bay as he walked, and those shorts did nothing to hide the bulge jutting like a cannon in the front of his pants.
It was obscene, really.
Aziraphale could not stop watching him.
***
~One Month Ago~
“The pool?”
Madame Tracy, head housekeeper of the Fell Estate, nodded. “Looking a bit shoddy out there, Master Fell.”
Aziraphale craned his neck to the high cathedral windows that let ample light into his study. “What happened to young Newton?”
Madame Tracy clicked her tongue. “Found a different calling, the cute duck.” She winked at him. “Witch-finder’s army, private first class.”
“Now surely, Madame Tracy, you are pulling my leg. Such a thing could never exist in this day and age, could it?” Aziraphale stood to look out the window, and sure enough, there were leaves in the pool, gathering around the filters that were already struggling to handle rose petals and twigs blowing in from the garden.
“Hmm,” he frowned. “It might be difficult to find help this late in the season. Almost not worth worrying about it. You know I’ve been thinking about draining the pool, Madame Tracey, filling it in—
“Oh, Master Fell, no!“ Tracy objected. “All of your staff love the pool! We appreciate you opening it up to our children over the summer. And you just put in that nice heating system last year, right before you kicked that nasty old Gabriel to the curb.”
Aziraphale’s smile faltered. “Please don’t mention my ex, Madame Tracy, it’s such a nice day and I’d hate for it to be ruined.”
“What I mean is,” she continued. “You've already put so much expense into that pool. I know you don’t throw extravagant parties anymore, but I have seen you walking around there at night, enjoying the pool lights dancing off the water.”
Aziraphale blinked, stunned. “I didn’t know you noticed.”
Tracy twittered a laugh, a joyous melodic sound that made one forgive her for being slightly more intrusive than was proper. “I notice everything around here, Master Fell. It’s what you pay me for!”
Aziraphale softened. “Well, if that’s how you feel, we’ll keep it. For now.” He cleared his throat, then walked back to his chair. His typewriter and hand-written notes for his next novel awaited. “I will trust your judgement on this, Madam Tracy. You may hire whomever you think is best for the job.” He sat down and adjusted his reading glasses, now a necessity in his mid-forties, on the bridge of his nose.
Madame Tracy pressed a finger to her lips, red nail polish a striking contrast against her peach pink lipstick. “Oh, don’t you worry Master Fell. I have just the man in mind.”
***
~Three Weeks Ago~
“Crowley?”
“Yeah, I prefer it over my first name. If you don’t mind, sir.”
“No need to call me sir,” Aziraphale blinked, stunned by the amber color of his new hire’s eyes. “And you say you're a friend of Newton’s?”
Crowley winked. “Technically of his girlfriend, Anna, but we roam in the same circles. Horticulture club and all that.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale blushed, though he wasn’t sure why. “Miss Device. I remember her. She was, er, very strange.”
Crowley laughed. “Never met a fiercer Alpha, I’m sure. She’s got me beat in that department in spades. I was never what you could call conventional.”
“Ah, same.” Aziraphale chuckled, but it died in his throat. He tugged his bowtie to loosen it. They were walking around the pool, going over the specifics of its care. Goodness, but it was hot outside, despite it being September.
“So, you use solar panels to keep it heated in winter?” Crowley asked, nodding to the panels in question as he looked in the pool house door. “That’s a smart idea. Keeps the pipes from freezin’.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale mumbled. Gabriel had been annoyed at the expense, but had also lightened up at the thought of Winter Wonderland-themed pool parties, although he would never throw one here himself: Aziraphale had found Gabriel cheating on him with what turned out to be one of many movie producer friends with benefits, thus causing him to end of their relationship before winter last year. "In the summer we switch it off, so the water is nice and cool for the children.”
“Ah, Tracy told me about your pool party for the staff kids. Awful kind of you.” Crowley stopped at a long line of red rose bushes at the end of the pool. They were gaudy and beautiful, in a garish sort of way. Aziraphale had always wanted to see what other colors they could plant, but Gabriel had insisted that red roses looked better in uniformity.
“This color doesn’t suit you,” Crowley surprised him by saying. Aziraphale blinked.
“Pardon?”
“I would have thought you’d go with white roses, given your aesthetic. Or blue, like your eyes. Do you know some roses can grow multiple shades of color?”
No he hadn’t, and Aziraphale said as much. Crowley smiled, and gave him a half shrug. “I can plant some, if you like. Have a bit of a green thumb, and I think the white and blue might look nice. Maybe throw in a pink or yellow while we’re at it. We can plant a whole rainbow of roses out here.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale found himself breathless. “That would be….lovely.”
Crowley put out his hand, and it took Aziraphale an alarmingly long moment to realize he was supposed to take it. They shook hands, until Aziraphale hesitantly pulled his hand away first. Crowley had long, thin hands, and strong. Goodness. He choked out some nonsense over having Madame Tracy draw up a contract for him, and Crowley just winked at him and said he was easy, that whatever Aziraphale needed him to do, he need just say the word.
Aziraphale demurred a flustered, “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” and headed back to his office, steadfastly ignoring the thrum of heat pooling inside his belly.
***
~One Month Later~
It was the first day of November. Aziraphale brought a mug of cocoa to his lips. Madame Tracy made a mean cup of cocoa that always tasted sweeter after he had acquiesced to one of her fantastic ideas. This time it was hosting a Halloween-themed pool party for the entire staff. Last night had been a hoot and a holler, a roaring success, with children running between their parents and friends, trick or treating in stations around the yard, and hopping into the delightfully warm swimming pool which was a soothing balm to the skin as the season grew colder.
Not that Aziraphale ever swam in it. It was one thing to take a solo dip in the shallow end in the middle of the night, quite another to be seen in his bathing suit in front of Crowley at a party.
He sighed into his mug, relishing the warmth blowing back upon his face. What he wouldn’t have given to be in that pool with Crowley last night. Splashing around, pressing him up against the wall and coming in awfully close. That was a bit more adult fun than was warranted at a family-friendly pool party, though, so Aziraphale had kept to the sidelines. He had dressed like an angel, and Crowley had been dressed as a devil. Of course. The young Alpha was a menace, pulling pranks and jump-scaring the children, much to their squealing delight. He had also played water guns with them, and bombed over half the children with water balloons he had kept hidden somewhere in the garden.
Aziraphale could not stop watching Crowley the whole time, holding the same slice of cake with a fork halfway to his mouth. At least, until Madame Tracy sidled up to him and asked, with an all too-knowing grin, if he was ever going to eat it. He had, but he couldn’t remember the taste of it, now. Crowley had been a sight, splashing around the orange and black candles that floated on the steaming warm water. Aziraphale had been captivated and disturbed at the same time. The Alpha was so much younger, yes, but he had dressed like a devil and winked at Aziraphale and said “Nice costume, boss,” as if he hadn’t devastated Aziraphale with his wet costume clinging to, well, all of his body.
Aziraphale didn’t know what to do about it.
Now, watching Crowley walk around the pool, wearing a pair of headphones while preparing the garden for winter, Aziraphale licked his lips. What would Crowley taste like? He was an unconventional Alpha, good with kids, kind and caring and willing to share in the household responsibilities. Aziraphale had never been what one could call a conventional Omega, either. He liked to be in control. He liked to be wanted, but he wanted to want as well.
Crowley’s physique was long where Gabriel’s had been brute strength. And Gabriel had been all charm, very flash and easy to fall for, whereas Crowley’s strength was inner, softer, lithe, and Aziraphale found himself longing to be held by him.
There was sudden movement to the bushes on Crowley’s right. Aziraphale lowered his cocoa and craned his neck to look. A black snake wiggled out from under the bushes, heading straight for the water. Aziraphale gasped as it fell into the pool. He banged on the window, trying to get Crowley’s attention, but Crowley had his back to him and his headphones on. He did not hear him.
“Oh, fuck!” Aziraphale cursed. He put down his cocoa and hurried out of his office. He flew down the stairs and across the hall, then through the kitchen and out the back door, only to stop short.
Crowley was already bent by the pool, nestling the net pole along his shoulder as he lifted the snake out of the water. His headphones hung around his neck, and he whispered soft words of encouragement to the snake wriggling in the net. “There you go. You’re alright, now.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed heavily as he slowed down his approach. Crowley stood up and looked at him. “You already saved it.”
“Watching me from above, were you?” Crowley smirked. “Like an angel.” He looked back down at the snake. “It’s just a little garden snake. Completely harmless.” He drew the net up to his hand and gently tipped it until the snake wriggled out and looped around his fingers. “We should look into getting a mesh cover for the pool when it’s not in use. Snakes and frogs might still find a way to fall in there, but it would prevent bigger creatures like moles and toads from taking a dive. But don’t you worry, Mister Fell. Either way, I’ll be here to protect them.”
Aziraphale blushed. He had always been sad whenever he found a creature he was unable to save in the skimmer, would lay them as gently as he could into the pile of leaves under the rose bushes. But with Crowley standing by, ready at a moment's notice to catch them with those clever hands…
Oh, to be held as gently as that snake right now.
He gulped and cleared his throat, dithering as the Alpha crouched down next to the newly-planted white rose bushes. Crowley had moved some of the red ones to the far-off garden wall, but given most away to the local parks. Aziraphale focused on Crowley’s hands, and felt a pitch of heat go straight to his groin.
“Er…what were you listening to?” He said instead of revealing how many lurid images he was picturing contorting with Crowley in: Crowley slamming him into the nearest deck chair and having his way with him, Crowley crowding him in the pool house and snogging him senseless, Crowley putting that pole of his to good use somewhere else (his metaphorical ‘pole’, not the literal net one). But he gestured to Crowley’s headphones instead. “Is that… bebop?”
“Oh!” Crowley suddenly looked embarrassed. “No! It’s, er, well…” He pushed a button on his phone, presumably to pause whatever was playing. “It’s one of your books.”
“What?” Aziraphale blinked.
“An audiobook version. Some of your early stuff. Never really went in for the Gabriel super hero series even though it was fantastically written, just not a fan of the main character. But your early stuff. The social commentaries. Romances. Fantasy series. That sort of thing.”
“Oh goodness,” Aziraphale chuckled, abashed and embarrassed. “That was a long time ago. One of the first things I ever published, that fantasy series.” He swallowed, not sure what to say next.
“I’ve listened to just about all your books,” Crowley mumbled. He turned away, his face red from more than just the autumn sunlight. “Shame you don’t read them out loud yourself, though. You have the voice for it.”
“Wh-whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale swallowed, his mouth dry.
Crowley glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. His hands gripped the pole so tight his knuckles turned white. “It’s nice. Husky. Soft.” He cleared his throat. “I could listen to you all day.”
He moved away then, eyes cast down to the pool, fishing one lonely leaf out of the water, where it was spinning, just like Aziraphale’s heart.
Aziraphale choked as he turned around. “Right. Er, thank you.” He nodded, not hearing anything but the pounding of his own heart. “For rescuing the snake, I mean. I’ll just leave you to your work.”
He went inside, and pressed a shaking hand against the wall once he shut the door. He braced there for a moment just to breathe and collect himself.
The seasons were going to change, soon. His heat always came in the winter, and he had gone too long without seeing to himself. That was all this heart-pounding feeling was. It was high time he go and do something about it before it got worse. Toys had always gotten the job done before, but he worried they would be unsatisfactory, now.
***
~Two Weeks Later~
Aziraphale was laid low. His heat was a funny thing, encroaching only to suddenly side-step away, leaving him feeling lost and muddled when it didn’t actually happen. It was still too early for it, afterall. He got up out of bed and, bleary-eyed, made his way to the window. It was a habit these days, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
He drew his dressing gown closed around himself as he looked outside.
Crowley was tending the garden. Just like clockwork every morning, he started on the side of the house that faced Aziraphale’s window, trimming what needed trimming and weeding what needed weeding, before taking that long pole of his to scoop up everything that blew into the pool last night out of the water. He had taken to wearing more substantial, but still just as tight-fitting, clothes in the changing season. Dark jeans that hugged his long legs. Black gloves that made his hands look absolutely sinful.
Aziraphale groaned, feeling miserably heavy and hot. He stroked himself over his robe. He wished it was Crowley touching him now, not just himself, pining at a window, waiting for the Alpha to notice him. He wanted his attention, his hands, mouth, cock, and eyes, right here in this room.
He sighed, then opened his eyes. He froze.
Crowley was looking up at him. He held the long silver pole in his hand, a stark contrast to his black-gloved hands, as he stood there, waiting.
Goodness, what had he seen? Was the vase of flowers on the small table in front of the window enough to hide what he had been doing? Aziraphale took a step back. Crowley took a step forward, one hand out. He gave him the briefest of nods, and a heated look flared in his eyes.
Oh, he knew just what Aziraphale had been doing.
Crowley twisted one hand up the long pole, then slid it back down. A telling gesture. Aziraphale pressed his hand to the window, mouth open. Crowley knew. Crowley knew, and what’s more he seemed to be fine with it. Encouraging, even. Aziraphale braced himself against the window as his other hand flew into the opening of his robe, resuming his ministrations. Crowley knew and watched as Aziraphale touched himself to the rise and fall of his hand. Crowley mouthed encouragement, kept his eyes on him, and never stopped stroking that pole, up and down. Aziraphale pumped himself in time with his hand until he came, powerful and strong. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and when he opened them again Crowley was nowhere to be seen. The pole lay abandoned on the deck.
There came a knock on his door. Aziraphale turned, gasping, then rushed over and opened it.
He had never been so disappointed to see Madame Tracy in all his life.
“Oh! Madame Tracy! One moment, please.” Thankfully he had been wearing his robe, but now he turned and hastily tied it around himself.
“Master Fell,” she tutted. “Are you ill? I thought you would have been dressed already.”
“N-no, I,” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Just out of sorts. Slow morning. What can I do for you, Madame Tracy?”
“Well, we had an appointment in your office not fifteen minutes ago, but when you didn’t appear I decided to come looking for you, to see if you were alright.” She handed him a file. “I brought the planning guide for the estate’s Christmas party for your approval.” The file was tabbed by layout, activities, and expenses, ever the organized woman. “The Halloween party was such a success, the staff pitched together ideas for the Christmas party. They’re very excited. Mister Crowley had the most wonderful idea that we could create a sort of Narnia theme, with a lamppost and fake lion to take pictures in front of. We might even throw in a hot cocoa station.”
That was something. Aziraphale liked the ideas. Flipping through the pictures of the proposal, he smiled. This would be a small but beautiful party, with the staff who loved him, in theme with his literary interests, nothing like Gabriel’s flash ideas last year of having a party full of posh strangers with a budget even he could barely afford.
“Of course! Anything you need, just say the word.” Aziraphale brightly handed the file back over, though his heart was still beating fast. There was movement on the stairs, and he looked over. Crowley stood on the top step, frozen at seeing Madame Tracy in his doorway. “Was there… anything else?” Aziraphale ventured, hoping she would go away.
Madame Tracy smiled and held out a drawstring bag to him. “I’ve also taken the liberty of organizing our staff secret Santa this year.” She opened it up with a wink. “If you would like to take first pick, Master Fell?”
Aziraphale watched Crowley creep back down the stairs. Numb with disappointment, he put his hand in the bag, pinched the first paper he touched, and drew it back out. That disappointment turned into butterflies holding flame throwers and flapping amok when he read the name:
Anthony J. Crowley
***
~Later That Day~
A Christmas Party. Well.
Aziraphale paced his office. Dressed but a little worse for wear, his head scatterbrained and his heart aflutter and his body feeling like it was going haywire with his preheat looming in the near future, he gripped the slip paper that was still in his hands and read the name again. He refused to look out the window, where he knew Crowley would be working. That way madness lay - or at least lust and nothing at all getting done.
“Ohh, what am I thinking?” He moaned. He was older than Crowley by twenty years, and a twenty-five year old Alpha would not be interested in a forty-five year old fuddy duddy like him - - would he?
Aziraphale chewed his bottom lip, and sat down at his desk just to stop pacing. Christmas had always been a lonely affair for him. The staff was usually on leave to spend time with family and Gabriel had never been the most romantic partner. But now he had Crowley, and what in the world could he get Crowley that would be worthy of the stunning, beautiful man who was kind and good with animals and adored children and…
Aziraphale groaned, covering his face with his hands as he thunked his head down on the desk. He tried to breathe. All he knew were his books. Stories full of words that…
Wait. An idea sparked in the back of his mind. Something Crowley had said, only a few weeks ago. Crowley listened to audiobook versions of his work. He was surprisingly well-read, but he worked with his hands, so getting to sit down and read in the conventional way was rather difficult for him. He didn’t have time, so: audiobooks. It made sense.
Aziraphale knew what he should do. He pulled open a drawer and pulled out his laptop and a microphone he had bought for online interviews back when he had started getting some traction on his writing but was not nearly famous enough to be flown out to studios yet. He turned it on, found one of his favorite books on the shelf, and pulled it out. He cleared his throat, pressed ‘record’ on his computer screen. The red light turned on.
He began to read.
***
~Christmas~
The estate’s Christmas party was a smashing success. Think ‘White Christmas’ meets ‘Narnia’ meets ‘Who-ville’ and you have an idea of the general features and festivities of it.
Children ran between the hot cocoa stand and the photo op eagerly. Some of them played in the pool, but not many, given the cold air - just the teenagers, who don’t feel cold. Staff members were eating, drinking, and generally being merry, relaxed and exchanging gifts at their leisure.
Aziraphale, feeling more nervous than he had when he had pitched his first novel to an agent, approached Crowley, who was chatting with Madame Tracy and her nephew, Adam, who was five and wheeling around on a new tricycle his cousin Warlock had gifted him.
“Er, Crowley?” Aziraphale a-hem’d, only just now realizing he hadn’t spoken to Crowley in the weeks since the incident at his window. Oh dear, he really did get tunneled into his projects, didn’t he? “A moment of your time, please?”
Crowley’s smile was warm and lovely, and he followed Aziraphale to the now beautifully blooming bushes of white, blue, and pink roses. Aziraphale handed him a small rectangular box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Crowley’s eyes grew wide.
“Merry Christmas, Crowley,” Aziraphale just barely managed to say.
Crowley took it, the expression in his eyes like a fire being stoked to life. He made a sound of surprise, and goodness, that sharp tooth in the corner of his mouth. Aziraphale wanted to feel it bite into his neck. But he cleared his throat and took a step back, instead. Crowley lifted the package and shook it, carefully, next to his ear.
“Do you mind if I open it, now?” He asked, eager and hopeful like a child. Aziraphale nodded his acquiescence, and Crowley carefully untied the string before peeling back the wrapping. When he saw the box inside, however, his smile faltered. “Oh. It’s a… hard drive.” He brought his smile back, but it was a withered dud in comparison to the vibrant blossom of before. “Thanks so much, Mister Fell. I can always use new tech.”
“No, it’s, er,” Aziraphale faltered, panicking. “It’s on the hard drive, actually. Oh, please tell me if you have a computer? I didn’t ask! I can burn it to a CD if you don’t. Or a—
Crowley’s lips twitched upward. “If you say ‘Floppy Disk’, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Aziraphale smiled, dropping his head to his chest with a groan that ended in a laugh. “Ohhh, I am mucking this up. Just. Please.” He covered Crowley’s hand with his own. “Take it. It’s an audiobook, my dear.”
Crowley froze, then his face lit up in understanding. “Oh! Did…did you read it?” When Aziraphale nodded, Crowley took a step closer, eyes never leaving his own. “You read an entire book out loud, for me?”
“Several, actually. And I’m happy to make more,” Aziraphale stepped closer as well, loving the way Crowley was smiling at him, very warm and very lovely.
“Thank you, Aziraphale. May I call you Aziraphale? Mister Fell works too, but,” Crowley blushed, and turned his head away. “I was wondering why you weren’t at the window, lately,” he mumbled. “Thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore.”
Aziraphale shook his head, breathless. “No, quite the opposite. I’m sorry to have disappeared with no explanation, dear, especially after…” he lost his courage then. Luckily, Crowley was there to find it for him.
“It just so happens,” Crowley drawled, reaching into his back pocket. “I got your name for Secret Santa.” He passed over a beautiful gold-foil box, with no name on the cover which was a sure sign it was from someplace fancy, tied with a black ribbon. “It’s just, er, chocolates, and this rose over here.” He plucked a rose from the rose bush and held it out to Aziraphale. “And…” He gulped. “…Me.”
Aziraphale froze. “I beg your pardon?”
“Me,” Crowley said again, throat bobbing. “Ever since I met you, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He cleared his throat. “If you want. You can have me, too.”
Aziraphale stared at him. This couldn’t be happening. This sort of thing didn’t happen to him. He was old and boring, Gabriel always said so, and - - He frowned, and took a step away. “That is not funny, Crowley—
“I’m not joking!”
“I’m your employer. And you must know I’m almost twice your age!
“I don’t care. None of that matters to me!”
Aziraphale huffed and turned away, striding along the pool, trying not to make a scene, but most definitely making a scene. Crowley followed after him, because of course he would, dropping the presents and rose on a pool chair as they went.
“Wait! Aziraphale! Please! After what happened at the window, I thought—
“Don’t mention that here!” Aziraphale hissed. “We’re at a party.”
Crowley spun him around, holding him fast by the arm. “You’ve been watching me every day. Every day I see you at that window,” He pointed up to Aziraphale’s bedroom. “Watching me as I work. Please tell me you feel the same way that I feel.”
Aziraphale faltered. He had to hide, had to retreat. What was wrong with him? His heart beat so fast and his breath was coming up short and—
Oh. It was his heat, wasn’t it? He shook his head. “Crowley, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this right now.”
“Then when can we talk about it?” Crowley ran a hand through his hair, cinnamon and fire reaching Aziraphale’s nostrils. “I’ve worked here for months, and all I want to do is talk to you, but I keep hiding behind this pool and this garden and I don’t want to hide anymore. I keep hoping you’ll come out for a swim and we can talk then, but you never come out of your office and I wish… I just wish—!”
“Master Fell, watch out!” Madame Tracy cried, as Adam Young on his new tricycle barreled toward them at the lightning speed of the young and not paying attention.
Aziraphale jumped out of the way, landing too close to the pool’s edge. He teetered, arms pinwheeling. Crowley grabbed onto him, and they both fell into the pool. Gasps of shock and cries of “oh no” drifted away as Aziraphale sank under the water. He flailed, unable to find which way was up. Memories of being underwater too long, of his brother pushing him down in the pond near their house once, long ago, bore down on Aziraphale. Panic set in. He tried to suck in air, but all he got was more water. His scream became a gurgle as his stomach filled. He was going to be sick.
A hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him to the surface. Aziraphale broke through with a gasp, and clung to Crowley, who tugged him to the side of the pool and hefted him over to the ledge.
Aziraphale spluttered and coughed, and shook from more than just the fall. He stared down at his hands, water leaking from his eyes and nose running with snot. He could hear the crowd above now, cries of “Are you alright?” and “Somebody get a towel!” but he didn’t say anything in response.
“I’m sorry,” Crowley whispered next to his ear. “I didn’t know you couldn’t swim.”
“Never learned,” Aziraphale mumbled. He gripped the cement and sniffed, eyes set firmly on his hands. Because where else could he look? Crowley’s face? Disappointment and scorn was not what he wanted to see on the handsome young Alpha’s face. He was old. And useless. What sort of Omega was he that he couldn’t even swim to save his life--
“Stop that.” Crowley snarled. If Aziraphale’s nose hadn’t been so drippy, he would have smelled the burnt cinnamon of Crowley’s protective ire. “Just stop thinking about it. It’s not your fault you can’t swim. I can teach you, if you like—
“Master Fell!” Madame Tracy broke through, looming above them. “Are you alright?”
Ah, yes. They had an audience. They were at a party, and everyone in that party was staring at them.
“Quite alright, Madame Tracy.” Aziraphale nodded as he walked, one hand on the side, over to the pool stairs. A wave of dizziness made him falter on the first step, followed by a twist of pain in his lower belly. His heat was finally hitting him full force.
Crowley could smell it, and his eyes grew wide. He swiftly took Aziraphale’s other arm and helped him up the rest of the stairs. Madam Tracy noticed it too, and bid the gathered the guests to give them some room. She held out a towel to Aziraphale, who took it gratefully, and one to Crowley, who just wrapped it over Aziraphale’s shoulders. The cold night air had them both shivering the moment they left the pool.
“Why don’t you two go upstairs and dry off. Don’t worry about the party, I’ll see to things here.” Tracy said, helpfully but also somewhat conspiratorially. Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale gripped him harder than he would like to admit as another wave of his heat made his knees buckle. Their clothes dripped and water squelched from their shoes as they walked slowly towards the house. “You take good care of our Master Fell, you hear?” Tracy called after them. “And if either of you need anything at all, just ask.”
They took the stairs, squelching and squishing, all the way up to Aziraphale’s bedroom.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale finally asked as Crowley opened the door for him. “Did you mean what you said down there? About… wanting me?”
Crowley was silent a long moment before he finally turned to Aziraphale. “Every word.”
Aziraphale was on him in a second. Their kiss grew hot and heavy, and soon they were shucking each other’s clothes off as they walked through the bedroom to the ensuite bathroom. By the time Crowley reached behind him to turn on the shower, they were both naked. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley nipped along his neck.
“I have wanted to taste you for ages,” Crowley panted between nibbles. “But are you sure you want this, Aziraphale? Right now? Your heat—
Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and pressed it to his cock, hard and throbbing under his hand, then further down to where he was slick and open and so very empty. “I want this more than anything, Crowley. Now take me into that shower and warm me up, then take me into that bedroom and fuck me.”
Crowley’s eyes burned, twin amber pools flaring into an inferno. “Yes, sir.” And oh, Azirpahale could get used to being called ‘sir,’ afterall.
They devoured each other under the hot spray, Crowley's hands roaming while Aziraphale clutched at his shoulders. When Crowley’s fingers slipped into the valley of Aziraphale’s buttocks he keened, crying out with pleasure. Crowley moaned to find him hot and slick and ready for him.
“Oh, my Alpha,” Aziraphale gasped, the shower spray warm on his tongue while Crowley’s lips dipped into his collar bone, licking and nipping there.
“My Omega,” Crowley whispered. “Tell me what you want.”
Crowley smelled like honey and cinnamon, a lovely scent that accentuated Aziraphale’s own of bergamot and chocolate. Aziraphale wanted more, wanted to feel alive with Crowley, wanting them both to get what they wanted. He reached past Crowley and turned the shower off. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “I want to ride you.”
They made it to the bed in seconds flat, water dripping from their hair and towels tossed aside recklessly. Aziraphale giggled with the euphoria of doing something so foolhardy, so young. Crowley squeezed his hips and lay waiting for Aziraphale to make the next move.
Aziraphale took Crowley’s cock in his hand. No need to pump it to readiness, the Alpha was fully hard. He lowered himself, inch by inch, onto his poolboy’s pole (the metaphorical one, this time) and they both moaned in unison as it breached his tight channel. It certainly had been a while.
Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s shoulders while Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hips. He rocked back and forth tentatively, and Crowley groaned.
“Yessss, that's it.” Crowley grunted, sliding his hands down to Aziraphale's thighs. “Take it, Aziraphale.”
“Take what? What I… need?” Aziraphale gulped, thinking of the words of Gabriel, Just take what you need, Sunshine.
Crowley shook his head. “No. Take what you want.”
Something snapped in Aziraphale then. He growled - an unearthly sound, deep and husky, that he'd never heard reverberate thru his chest before. He rocked his hips forward, and Crowley gasped as he met him thrust for thrust. Slick spread between his thighs and sweat beaded from his forehead as Crowley’s fingertips gripped into his flesh, pressing deep. He would have bruises in the morning. He knew it. And he loved it.
“Fuck, Angel.” Crowley swallowed, eyes closed, muscles in his neck straining. “I am not going to last long if you keep up that pace.”
“You can go again,” Aziraphale panted. A smile curled on his lips. “I know you can. You’re a young, healthy, virile Alpha. You can fuck me all week and still be virile enough to—“ his breath faltered as Crowley swiveled his hips, hitting that spot deep inside him that made him see stars.
“To give you pups?” Crowley growled, finishing his sentence for him, canines flashing with the urge to bite. “Fill you with my seed? Shove my knot inside you, keep you there until you’re full of me, and your stomach fit to bursting?” He bit into Aziraphale’s neck, not enough to break the skin, just enough to feel. “You bet I can.”
Aziraphale yelped and shoved himself down hard on Crowley. He could feel the Alpha’s knot forming, and Crowley could feel it too.
“Keep going, Angel,” the younger man gasped. “Ride my knot. Take what you want.”
And Aziraphale did.
***
The afterglow was not what he expected.
It was much better.
After Crowley’s knot had swelled down enough to pull himself out of Aziraphale, he had strut to the bathroom and gotten them a warm wet cloth to clean themselves with. After licking what all he could off Aziraphale with his tongue - and boy did that make Aziraphale want to go again, but they both needed water and refreshment before they could go another round - he cleaned Aziraphale properly with the cloth.
“You surprise me,” Aziraphale whispered, one arm over his forehead, the other stretched out luxuriously on the pillows beckoning Crowley to come back to it. “I regret to admit I thought you might be a selfish lover.”
Crowley gasped, but it was stage-like, not serious at all. “Rude!” He rubbed the cloth over himself, then tossed it into the laundry basket. “I should report you to HR for that.” He flipped down on the bed, tucking his long, thin body perfectly into Aziraphale's arm.
Aziraphale chuckled. “As your employer, I’m afraid I am HR.”
Crowley snorted, playfully curling Aziraphale’s chest hair around his little finger. “Madame Tracy, then.”
Aziraphale turned and pressed his cheek to the top of Crowley’s hair. It was still wet from the shower, and smelled of sweat, shampoo, and the sweet tang of cinnamon just under the surface. He took a deep breath in before answering. “If you presume to tell Madame Tracy to cause some sort of scandal, I fear you may be disappointed. I think she already knows, my dear.”
“Oh?” Crowley raised his eyebrow as he looked up at him.
Aziraphale nodded, though it was just an excuse to breathe in the scent of Crowley’s hair again. “I don’t think it’s an accident we got each other for Secret Santa. She is very perceptive.”
Crowley dipped his head down with a hum. “Hmm. We ought to thank her, don’t you think? A fruit basket, or something…”
The fingers in Aziraphale’s chest hair were soon joined by warm lips, and Aziraphale felt his heat stirring up again. He lay his head back onto the pillows with a moan. “Yes, but not right this minute. I think we have some pressing business to attend to first, don’t you, love?”
Crowley chuckled, “Indeed we do, sir. Indeed we do.”
(The End.)