Crêpes, Chains, and Chaises
While this is in the same universe as my other Aziraphale and Crowley Through the Ages fics, it can easily be read in isolation.
Summary:
Crowley finds Aziraphale locked in the Bastille, and does a lot more than simply release the chains keeping the Angel prisoner.
“Now, you know what I think?” Crowley murmured against the Angel’s neck. Aziraphale responded with a small hum of encouragement. “I think you wanted to be chained up. But not at the mercy of the Frenchmen, at the mercy of me.”
—
Notes: This was written for GOAD’s Fall Ball Kink Thrall quickstep. My original prompts that I got on Saturday were “corruption” and “imprisonment”. I figured that I pretty much had those both set by placing them in the 1793 Bastille scene, but then I took too long to write it and collected the additional prompt “blindfolds” on Tuesday. I’ve still got nearly six hours of Thursday left in my time zone so this still counts as being on time imo.
Thank you so much to xenanigans, SazzyLJ, and Starlightdreamerstar for their amazing beta work, especially on such short notice!!! Y’all are great.
Crêpes, Chains, and Chaises
“If you must know, it was the crêpes. You can’t get decent ones anywhere but Paris. And brioche…” Aziraphale trailed off as he saw Crowley’s expression of disbelief.
“So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble ? Dressed like that ?”
Aziraphale bristled, not quite liking Crowley’s tone. “I have standards . I did hear that they were getting a bit carried away over here but…”
“ This is not getting ‘carried away’, Angel. This is cutting off lots of people’s heads, very efficiently, with a big head-cutting machine.” Crowley stood and walked toward Aziraphale, cupping the angel’s cheek in his hand. “Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?” Crowley asked softly, kneeling in front of the angel, who had sat back down on the small stool he had been provided.
“Well, don’t you remember last month, that strongly-worded letter from Gabriel?” Aziraphale looked down at where his chained hands were linked with the demon’s.
“Oh right . That tosser. Still on your case about the ‘frivolous’ miracles, then?” Crowley was tracing patterns lazily on the back of Aziraphale’s hands, and Aziraphale’s breath hitched with his reply.
“He rather is, yes. And I didn’t want—”
“Angel,” Crowley cut Aziraphale off by laying a gentle hand on Aziraphale’s palm. “You can admit that you wanted me to rescue you.”
“Now really Crowley—” Aziraphale’s protests were quieted as the longer chains fell away. His wrists remained cuffed together, though the restraints were softer and no longer chafed uncomfortably at his wrists. Furthermore, the hard stool he had been perched on was now a much more comfortable chaise longue . Aziraphale was braced against the solid back, his legs extended and pressed tightly together, Crowley having spread his own legs to straddle Aziraphale and the chaise longue. The demon was kissing at the small bit of exposed neck above Aziraphale’s collar, which caused him to let out an involuntary whimper.
“Now, you know what I think?” Crowley murmured against the Angel’s neck. Aziraphale responded with a small hum of encouragement. “I think you wanted to be chained up. But not at the mercy of the Frenchmen, at the mercy of me.”
Aziraphale let out another small whimper. “Crowley.”
“Now now Angel, you can be patient, can you not? I’d like to take my time with you.” Crowley teased Aziraphale’s ear with his teeth, and Aziraphale let out another small whimper as he felt Crowley’s crowing erection press into his own.
“Should we really, ah, be doing this here?” Aziraphale’s breath hitched as Crowley’s hand dipped under the hem of his exquisitely tailored white ruffled shirt to caress his soft belly.
“Worried about being caught with your pants down, Angel?” Crowley’s breath was hot in Aziraphale’s ear, making him shudder.
“Well, that’s not possible just now as my pants appear to still be on, don’t they?” Aziraphale replied, giving into the thrill of it.
“Hmmm, well that’s certainly something we could fix.” Crowley laid a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s mouth, simultaneously snapping his fingers. They were both now bare from the waist down, their trousers folded neatly at the foot of the chaise longue. Aziraphale gasped as their hot lengths slid against each other and against Aziraphale’s chained hands.
They kissed sloppily, rutting against each other with fervor as they sought their releases. It had been too long since they were together like this—for beings as old as they were, a few months really should feel like the blink of an eye—but nevertheless it felt like an age since they had been together for something so intimate.
In the aftermath of their coupling, they simply stared into one another’s eyes, sweaty foreheads pressed together. Once they had caught their breaths and looked away from one another Aziraphale wrinkled his nose.
“What’s wrong, Angel? Was that not good for you? I didn’t mean—” Crowley pulled back, clicking his fingers again and vanishing the cuffs that still imprisoned Aziraphale’s wrists.
“Oh no, my dear, that was lovely. I could have stopped you if it wasn’t. It’s only that I quite like this shirt and it is now covered in ejaculate. As I mentioned previously, I’m a bit limited in what I can do with regards to miracles right now.” Aziraphale pouted. Crowley laughed in relief, shaking his head fondly as he clicked his fingers again, all trace of their activities gone as they were now both perfectly clean and wearing trousers. Standing up, Crowley offered Aziraphale his hand to help the rather wobbly angel get to his feet. With another snap the lounge was removed back to its home.
“Well, you’re lucky I was in the area, then,” Crowley quipped with a crooked smile.
“Hmm, yes I suppose I was. They sent you that commendation for outstanding job performance, then?” Aziraphale asked, bemused.
“Yep.” Crowley enunciated. “Once again, the humans thought up something horrible all on their own, and I got the credit.” Crowley clapped his hands. “Now. You wanted crêpes. I know a place that does them quite well, if you’re willing to take a chance on somewhere new? You won’t even need to change out of your fancy clothes.”
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow in interest. “Well, lead on, then.”
The pair swiftly exited the prison. Soon, they were a good distance away and inside what was a relatively modest house. Crowley had owned the property under various names for quite a long while, and so it was comfortably familiar for Aziraphale.
“I’m assuming you’d like me to change before we go out?” Aziraphale asked. “You’re quite right that my style of dress isn’t ideal. Do you have anything I might be able to wear?” Aziraphale inquired, settling down on the chaise longue that was now in its rightful place as part of the sitting room’s decor.
“Ah, yes, if you would like to change I believe there are still some of your clothes in the armoire of the bedroom. However, they are more suited to a feminine corporation than you have currently,” Crowley informed him. “Take your time getting ready. I believe if you enter the bathing room, you will find a hot bath has already been drawn for your convenience.”
“Oh my dear, you are too kind.” Aziraphale stood and kissed his cheek before leaving the room.
Crowley, whose corporation had betrayed him by flooding his face with a bright red flush, muttered “not kind.” In response. Aziraphale ignored him.
—
After exiting what was a thoroughly needed bath—miracles could only do so much to clean oneself—Aziraphale wrapped a warm dressing gown around herself and hummed as she went through the armoire, examining the clothes she had left here upon her last visit. She hoped for something that would both meet her standards and not run her afoul of the revolutionaries again. They were currently protected by the wards miracled around the house, but it would not do to get captured as soon as they left.
Just as she had almost decided, she sensed Crowley behind her. He covered her eyes with his own hands. “Hi Angel.” Crowley’s voice rumbled in her ear, and Aziraphale gave a shiver.
“Crowley! What are you up to? There’s mischief happening here, I can sense your wiles at work.”
“Who, me?” Crowley asked in pseudo innocence.
Aziraphale rolled her eyes as she turned towards him. His hands dropped from her eyes and tangled in her hair as he pulled her into a long kiss. After several long moments, they broke away from each other.
“Do you trust me?” Crowley asked with a teasing smile.
Barely a moment’s hesitation passed before Aziraphale answered. “Of course, my dear. But what’s this about?”
“I have a surprise for you.” Crowley pulled out from his pocket a silk scarf, holding it up for her to examine. “Would you let me?”
Aziraphale hummed. “I thought we were getting crêpes?”
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll get them soon. Please?” Crowley asked hopefully.
Aziraphale sighed. May the Almighty help her, but she rarely could say no when Crowley’s slitted golden eyes pleaded with her.
“Very well.” She replied primly, turning her back to Crowley again.
Reverently, the demon tied the scarf lightly around his angel’s eyes. “Is this alright?” he breathed softly in her ear. Aziraphale swallowed thickly at the heat present in his voice and simply nodded. “Good, now take my arm, I’ve got you.” Aziraphale smiled almost unconsciously because her demon did have her. He always had.
They made their way down the steps and, if she had her geography right, into the dining room. Gradually Aziraphale realized that in addition to the spicy musk she associated with Crowley, she could also smell…
“Crêpes!”
Aziraphale grinned as Crowley sat her down at the table. He pulled the scarf off gently and she was pleased to see a selection of both sweet and savory crêpes before her, along with a brioche that made her mouth water just by looking at it all.
“Oh my dear!” Aziraphale gushed. “You know I had planned to treat you to lunch. Wherever did you find such a delectable spread?” Her eyes roamed over the food and, as Crowley sat himself next to her, she picked up the warm brioche. Tearing off a piece, she immediately broke it in half and offered it to Crowley, who took it shyly. Once Crowley had his own bread in hand, Aziraphale took her first bite, moaning as the flavors hit her tongue.
Crowley could only stare, entranced as ever by the sounds that were emitting from Aziraphale’s mouth when she ate, which were nearly as sensuous as the sounds that Aziraphale made when Crowley was eating her. With a happy sigh, Aziraphale picked up her fork and knife to dig into the crêpes. Crowley watched her carefully, as though he was anxious about something.
Once her initial enthusiasm was satisfied, Aziraphale began to notice that Crowley had yet to eat anything except for the small piece of bread that she had handed him. Setting her fork and knife down, she reached out to place one of her hands over his. “My dear, are you quite alright? I know you don’t tend to eat much, but I’m more than happy to share.”
“So you like the food, then?” Crowley asked, in a tone akin to hopefulness.
“Absolutely! I was planning to take us out, but your cook has done quite a nice job. I was not even aware that you had hired one. Might I be able to thank them?” Aziraphale asked, patting her mouth with a napkin. “Though I might want to get dressed first, given you brought me down here in nothing but my dressing gown.” She sniffed.
“Well…” and here Crowley blushed again, muttering something that Aziraphale, for all her keen hearing, could not make out.
“What was that, my dear?”
“I made them.” Crowley replied slightly louder, scratching the back of his head unconsciously.
Aziraphale gasped in delighted surprise. “My dear! I never knew you knew how to cook.”
“Well, I don’t really. Except you said that you quite like crêpes, and so I thought I’d learn how to make them, only the opportunity to show you never quite arose, and—” Aziraphale silenced Crowley’s rambling with a soft kiss, and he sank into it, tasting the sweet jam on her tongue as he did so.
“I love you.” Aziraphale whispered as they broke apart. “And I would love for you to make these again for me sometime.”
“I love you too, Angel.” Crowley nuzzled at her cheek. “I’d make you crêpes every day if I could.”
Aziraphale closed her eyes against the pang of sadness that welled in her. Because of course, this was not something that they could have every day, as much as they wanted it to be so.
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” She murmured softly.