Stuff to Listen

Rating: Explicit
Summary: Some things can only be said in the dark.
Original Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268515
Music: Ice Landings by David Tobin, Jeff Meegan and Malcolm Edmonstone

Ad Astra

Ad Astra by drawlight

Summary: Aziraphale has never met anyone else who can so eloquently convey the embodiment of a nonchalant shrug with a quirk of their mouth alone, but Crowley succeeds in doing just that before getting up and sauntering off into the sitting room. Goodness, the sway of his hips when he walks is so unnecessary. A distraction that frankly shouldn’t be allowed.
He lasts thirty-seven minutes before rescheduling their ‘evening’ appointment to ‘imminent’ and informing Crowley there’s been a change of plan.
(or: Crowley stumbles upon Aziraphale’s private book collection, and revelations are had of the non-biblical kind)
Rating: Explicit
Original Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239514
Music: Excursion by Christopher Slaski

Well Versed In Wanting

Rating: Explicit
Original Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810837
Summary: Crowley couldn’t quite recall how he came to find himself in this exact scenario. He asked himself what he could possibly have done in all his many many many many years to deserve to be burning as he was just now. Then he took a mental tally and silently agreed that perhaps he’d been a bit of a bastard and deserved this.

What this was, was Aziraphale asking him if he’d ever masturbated before.

Music: Doing Stuff by David Kelly

An Angel's Temptation

Rating:  Explicit
Original Text:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874908
Summary:  He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel.
“Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

Music: Highlands by Michael Levine, Bijan Olia and Charles Sicouri

You, Soft and Only

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden

Rating: Explicit
Original text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806460#main
Summary:  “Stand up?” he echoed, incredulous but too undone by sensation to express the full force of his disbelief. “I can barely even remember my own name after that, and you want me to stand up?”

“Your name is Anthony J Crowley, apparently, although you never did tell me what the J stood for so I can’t help you there,” he said, not hiding his smile. “Do stand up, I promise you’ll like it.”
Music: Love Connection by Chris Blackwell

the technology is neutral

Rating: Explicit
Original Text: archiveofourown.org/works/20014447
Summary: Crowley hiccups. It turns into a burp. “Angel,” he repeats, and if it sounds soppy, well, what do you expect. Crowley is three winds—sheets—anyway he’s shitfaced. It’s not like Aziraphale doesn’t know Crowley’s in love with him. It’s not like it’s a secret. It’s not like Crowley hasn’t lived with the mortification of being known down to the molecule every day for six thousand years.
Why is he here again? Oh yes.
Music:  Guilty Pleasures by Igor Dvorak, Duncan Pittock and Ellie Kidd

indelible

Rating: Explicit
Original Text:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268964
Summary:  Crowley is not nicccccccce!
Music: Cool Customer by Sam Wedgwood

Nice

Nice **Explicit**

Rating:  Explicit
Original Text:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468468
Summary:  What would it hurt, really? It wasn’t like Crowley had anything better on. No more orders, no more quotas, no more Arrangement. Aziraphale would never have to know.
“Wonderful. I’m the demon on my own shoulder.”
And he’d lost his angel, hadn’t he? All he had left were thoughts, memories…fantasies. And he had a very good imagination.
(After thwarting the end of the world, Aziraphale begins to avoid Crowley, and Crowley accidentally awakens his own repressed lust.)
Music:  Wind In My Sails by Chris Warner

Through Every Door

Rating:  Explicit
Original Text:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598830
Summary:  Crowley’s eyes flutter shut and he pictures that it’s Aziraphale’s hand in his hair. Imagines that Aziraphale is there with him, touching his curls and his chest. Crowley drags his fingers through the downy hair smattering his chest, then continues down, grazing over the slightly concave curve of his stomach and past his belly button. Stopping at the elastic waistband of his boxers— designer, of course, Versace, and the only clothing he still has on— fingers dipping beneath the fabric but not yet committing. Teasing.
He lets out a shuddery breath, eyelids fluttering against his cheek.
Crowley doesn’t give in to the aching desire to make that commitment yet. Instead he pulls his fingers from the waistband and lets his hand float back up his body to settle against his chest once more.
He pinches a nipple. Rolls it between his fingers. Stutters out another hot breath. His hips twitch.
Aziraphale’s name sits hot and heavy on the back of his tongue.
Music:  Soho Sleaze by Chris Warner

Stuff to Listen

Alex Bilinski