![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
louiseluxHurray, Friday! It's amazing what you can find on your hard drive when you're supposed to be working. I don't think I've ever posted this, although some might have seen it before.
Title: Kama Shatra
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Rating: m/m
Notes: rather silly, but it does have houseplants, sex and ducks.
Kama Shatra
Part One: Choose your Partner with Care
Crowley woke up on the floor in a painful tangle of arms and legs and bits of something else that was hard and uncomfortable. He hurt all over, and in the most unusual places, and one of his arms was numb and rubbery. He felt annoyed almost immediately, and this was exacerbated by Aziraphale shifting around next to him, making little groans and noises of surprise, and then,
'Oh dear.'
Various facts began to impinge on Crowley's half-awake state. He had his face in a pile of feathers, and there were hard bits of wood scratching and poking at him. He heaved a deep sigh and hauled himself up into a sitting position.
'Oh shit,' he cried, taking in the devastation, 'look what you've done!'
'No, my dear, look what we've done,' Aziraphale said, with no small amount of glee. He smiled brilliantly into Crowley's dismayed face.
The bedroom was a ruin.
The bed, upon the remains of which they were lying, was mere matchsticks, and the duvet and its contents seemed to have been shredded somehow, but Crowley couldn't remember when. That would account for the feathers then, Crowley thought, rather relieved that either one of them hadn't had a severe attack of moult. The light fittings were smashed and the bedside tables were upside down and out in the hall for some reason. There were several large dents in the wall next to the bed, and small fragments of ceiling plaster scattered the carpet.
'What-- what did we do to cause those?' Crowley asked cautiously, peering at the dents. 'They look man-sized.'
'Ah, I believe that would be the sex,' Aziraphale said, seemingly altogether too happy at the destruction of Crowley's flat.
Crowley groaned and lay back down, his arm over his eyes.
'I almost feel embarrassed,' he said.
Aziraphale turned to look at him.
'Really?' His smile vanished, replaced by a frown. 'You don't, I mean, you're not-- sorry?'
Crowley snaked an arm out and grabbed Aziraphale's hand. He pulled the angel back down into the pile of bed.
'I said 'almost'.'
Part Two: Self Love
Crowley lay back, waiting. After few moments a familiar voice said,
'I'm ready.'
Crowley opened his eyes and blinked. He couldn't find it in himself to speak.
'What do you think?' the other Crowley said, twirling lithely on the polished floorboards. 'Nice aren't I? You, rather.' He was dressed in nothing more than the glow from Crowley's bedside lamp.
'Yes,' Crowley managed to croak, his gaze travelling slowly over the figure before him, up the long legs and flat stomach, over the narrow chest, up until he met his own gleaming yellow eyes. The weight of that unblinking gaze pinned him to the bed as effectively as the entire weight of the angel had earlier. He suddenly felt very much like a tiny insect under a very large microscope.
'I'm quite enjoying this. You're very bendy.' The other Crowley stretched and sprang energetically from a standing start straight onto Crowley, who let out a surprised yelp. Rolling on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Crowley had a jolt of fear - what if they got confused somehow? It seemed absurd, but looking at this other version of himself made Crowley suddenly doubt who he was. His stomach flipped in fear and he shut his eyes quickly, snatching his hands away from his own smooth skin.
'Change back,' he moaned, 'it's too weird.'
'What's wrong? Don't you want to see yourself?'
The other Crowley bent over him, peering into his eyes. Crowley was quite certain that he'd never wear an expression quite that soppy, and breathed a sigh of relief. The other Crowley seemed to guess that something was wrong and his grip turned to one of comfort. He bent his head and placed a line of soft kisses along the curve of Crowley's neck, trailing down over his collar bone to the middle of his smooth chest.
'You taste delicious, you know,' Aziraphale said at last.
Crowley laughed and slipped his arms round a waist that suddenly wasn't like his at all.
'Trust you to think of how I taste.'
Aziraphale sat back, looking flustered. 'Well, I-- '
'Shhh,' Crowley murmured, pulling him back and kissing him firmly. 'You can taste much more of me than that.'
'I didn't think you'd like it,' Aziraphale said after a while, reaching up to tuck Crowley's hair neatly behind one ear. 'I didn't when you turned into me. Bit disturbing, seeing yourself like that, all those little imperfections.'
'Are you saying I'm not perfect?'
A pillow hit him in the face.
Part Three: Variety
'...standing up, yes. Sitting, yes.'
Aziraphale was sitting up in bed with a notebook and a pencil, ticking things off a long list. Crowley lay with his head in Aziraphale's lap, idly stroking the soft bit of skin located behind Aziraphale's left knee. Aziraphale tried to ignore the light shivery sensation that Crowley's fingers seemed able to produce at the slightest touch, and instead concentrated on his list. There were just so many things to remember, and Aziraphale was sure he'd forget something if he didn't have a list. He liked lists. Valiantly he struggled on.
'In the bath, yes. In public-- ' Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley, 'well, if you count houseplants,' he added in an undertone. Aziraphale had had to forcibly prevent Crowley from throwing them all out of the window afterwards, but it had been worth it. That settee had very interesting tactile qualities.
'You on top, me on top, kneeling, lying down, upside down, on the ceiling, tied up, er- fruit.' Sometimes Aziraphale could make himself blush, and this was one of those times. The memory of Crowley and that apple--
'Outside?'
'What?'
'We've done it outside?'
'Er, wait, let me see. Don't you remember the pile-up?'
'Oh yes, that was Thursday. I still say you went too far. No one had to see us. It was the day after you got me to wear that appalling outfit. I don't know what made you think leather trousers were alluring.'
'Well, they look good on me,' Crowley smiled.
Aziraphale gave him a sly look and pursed his lips.
'Whatever you say, dear.'
'Don't give me that, angel.' Crowley said, languidly rolling over onto his side, a threat glinting in his eyes. 'Not unless you want them on again, but this time a size smaller.'
Aziraphale shifted uneasily on the bed.
'Now, now, there's no need for that kind of thing. You know I'm quite amenable to suggestions.'
'Try anything once eh?' Crowley ran his hand under the sheets, making Aziraphale gasp and drop his pencil.
'Ummm.'
Part Four: The Music of Love.
Thwap, thwap, thwap.
'Ow! That stings. Do you have to do it so hard?'
'Don't interrupt. I'm trying to achieve a certain effect.'
Crowley looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, scowling,
'Just who's supposed to be benefiting from this anyway? It seems to me you're taking far too much pleasure in abusing my defenceless body.' Thwap, thwap, THWAP. 'Arrgh! What are you trying to do? I thought we'd got past the stage of you hitting me for no particular reason a long time ago.'
'Look, it says quite clearly here that one can vary the slaps in order to make you quack like a duck.'
'What? Give me that.'
Crowley rolled over and snatched up the ancient copy of the Kama Sutra that Aziraphale had thoughtfully fetched from his shop a few days ago.
'Careful,' Aziraphale warned, 'it's very old.'
'Not as old as I am, and you aren't being careful with me,' Crowley said petulantly. He studied the Sanskrit intently for a few moments and then tossed it to the floor, but not without making sure it landed on something soft.
'You're paraphrasing,' he said, reclining. 'I always knew you had a thing about ducks*. Pervert.'
*There really is a slapping technique in the Kama Sutra that can, with practise, make your partner emit various farmyard noises. Ducks are only one of them.
There was going to be a part five with more sex in, but my helpful muses decided to put their clothes back on and go for a drink, and that was at least a couple of years ago now.
Title: Kama Shatra
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Rating: m/m
Notes: rather silly, but it does have houseplants, sex and ducks.
Kama Shatra
Part One: Choose your Partner with Care
Crowley woke up on the floor in a painful tangle of arms and legs and bits of something else that was hard and uncomfortable. He hurt all over, and in the most unusual places, and one of his arms was numb and rubbery. He felt annoyed almost immediately, and this was exacerbated by Aziraphale shifting around next to him, making little groans and noises of surprise, and then,
'Oh dear.'
Various facts began to impinge on Crowley's half-awake state. He had his face in a pile of feathers, and there were hard bits of wood scratching and poking at him. He heaved a deep sigh and hauled himself up into a sitting position.
'Oh shit,' he cried, taking in the devastation, 'look what you've done!'
'No, my dear, look what we've done,' Aziraphale said, with no small amount of glee. He smiled brilliantly into Crowley's dismayed face.
The bedroom was a ruin.
The bed, upon the remains of which they were lying, was mere matchsticks, and the duvet and its contents seemed to have been shredded somehow, but Crowley couldn't remember when. That would account for the feathers then, Crowley thought, rather relieved that either one of them hadn't had a severe attack of moult. The light fittings were smashed and the bedside tables were upside down and out in the hall for some reason. There were several large dents in the wall next to the bed, and small fragments of ceiling plaster scattered the carpet.
'What-- what did we do to cause those?' Crowley asked cautiously, peering at the dents. 'They look man-sized.'
'Ah, I believe that would be the sex,' Aziraphale said, seemingly altogether too happy at the destruction of Crowley's flat.
Crowley groaned and lay back down, his arm over his eyes.
'I almost feel embarrassed,' he said.
Aziraphale turned to look at him.
'Really?' His smile vanished, replaced by a frown. 'You don't, I mean, you're not-- sorry?'
Crowley snaked an arm out and grabbed Aziraphale's hand. He pulled the angel back down into the pile of bed.
'I said 'almost'.'
Part Two: Self Love
Crowley lay back, waiting. After few moments a familiar voice said,
'I'm ready.'
Crowley opened his eyes and blinked. He couldn't find it in himself to speak.
'What do you think?' the other Crowley said, twirling lithely on the polished floorboards. 'Nice aren't I? You, rather.' He was dressed in nothing more than the glow from Crowley's bedside lamp.
'Yes,' Crowley managed to croak, his gaze travelling slowly over the figure before him, up the long legs and flat stomach, over the narrow chest, up until he met his own gleaming yellow eyes. The weight of that unblinking gaze pinned him to the bed as effectively as the entire weight of the angel had earlier. He suddenly felt very much like a tiny insect under a very large microscope.
'I'm quite enjoying this. You're very bendy.' The other Crowley stretched and sprang energetically from a standing start straight onto Crowley, who let out a surprised yelp. Rolling on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Crowley had a jolt of fear - what if they got confused somehow? It seemed absurd, but looking at this other version of himself made Crowley suddenly doubt who he was. His stomach flipped in fear and he shut his eyes quickly, snatching his hands away from his own smooth skin.
'Change back,' he moaned, 'it's too weird.'
'What's wrong? Don't you want to see yourself?'
The other Crowley bent over him, peering into his eyes. Crowley was quite certain that he'd never wear an expression quite that soppy, and breathed a sigh of relief. The other Crowley seemed to guess that something was wrong and his grip turned to one of comfort. He bent his head and placed a line of soft kisses along the curve of Crowley's neck, trailing down over his collar bone to the middle of his smooth chest.
'You taste delicious, you know,' Aziraphale said at last.
Crowley laughed and slipped his arms round a waist that suddenly wasn't like his at all.
'Trust you to think of how I taste.'
Aziraphale sat back, looking flustered. 'Well, I-- '
'Shhh,' Crowley murmured, pulling him back and kissing him firmly. 'You can taste much more of me than that.'
'I didn't think you'd like it,' Aziraphale said after a while, reaching up to tuck Crowley's hair neatly behind one ear. 'I didn't when you turned into me. Bit disturbing, seeing yourself like that, all those little imperfections.'
'Are you saying I'm not perfect?'
A pillow hit him in the face.
Part Three: Variety
'...standing up, yes. Sitting, yes.'
Aziraphale was sitting up in bed with a notebook and a pencil, ticking things off a long list. Crowley lay with his head in Aziraphale's lap, idly stroking the soft bit of skin located behind Aziraphale's left knee. Aziraphale tried to ignore the light shivery sensation that Crowley's fingers seemed able to produce at the slightest touch, and instead concentrated on his list. There were just so many things to remember, and Aziraphale was sure he'd forget something if he didn't have a list. He liked lists. Valiantly he struggled on.
'In the bath, yes. In public-- ' Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley, 'well, if you count houseplants,' he added in an undertone. Aziraphale had had to forcibly prevent Crowley from throwing them all out of the window afterwards, but it had been worth it. That settee had very interesting tactile qualities.
'You on top, me on top, kneeling, lying down, upside down, on the ceiling, tied up, er- fruit.' Sometimes Aziraphale could make himself blush, and this was one of those times. The memory of Crowley and that apple--
'Outside?'
'What?'
'We've done it outside?'
'Er, wait, let me see. Don't you remember the pile-up?'
'Oh yes, that was Thursday. I still say you went too far. No one had to see us. It was the day after you got me to wear that appalling outfit. I don't know what made you think leather trousers were alluring.'
'Well, they look good on me,' Crowley smiled.
Aziraphale gave him a sly look and pursed his lips.
'Whatever you say, dear.'
'Don't give me that, angel.' Crowley said, languidly rolling over onto his side, a threat glinting in his eyes. 'Not unless you want them on again, but this time a size smaller.'
Aziraphale shifted uneasily on the bed.
'Now, now, there's no need for that kind of thing. You know I'm quite amenable to suggestions.'
'Try anything once eh?' Crowley ran his hand under the sheets, making Aziraphale gasp and drop his pencil.
'Ummm.'
Part Four: The Music of Love.
Thwap, thwap, thwap.
'Ow! That stings. Do you have to do it so hard?'
'Don't interrupt. I'm trying to achieve a certain effect.'
Crowley looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, scowling,
'Just who's supposed to be benefiting from this anyway? It seems to me you're taking far too much pleasure in abusing my defenceless body.' Thwap, thwap, THWAP. 'Arrgh! What are you trying to do? I thought we'd got past the stage of you hitting me for no particular reason a long time ago.'
'Look, it says quite clearly here that one can vary the slaps in order to make you quack like a duck.'
'What? Give me that.'
Crowley rolled over and snatched up the ancient copy of the Kama Sutra that Aziraphale had thoughtfully fetched from his shop a few days ago.
'Careful,' Aziraphale warned, 'it's very old.'
'Not as old as I am, and you aren't being careful with me,' Crowley said petulantly. He studied the Sanskrit intently for a few moments and then tossed it to the floor, but not without making sure it landed on something soft.
'You're paraphrasing,' he said, reclining. 'I always knew you had a thing about ducks*. Pervert.'
**
*There really is a slapping technique in the Kama Sutra that can, with practise, make your partner emit various farmyard noises. Ducks are only one of them.
There was going to be a part five with more sex in, but my helpful muses decided to put their clothes back on and go for a drink, and that was at least a couple of years ago now.