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Deep in Uz a storm raged across the sands, wind swirling and whirling fiercely while lightning cracked the sky and struck the singed structure of Job's home.
And in the basement of Job's home lay an angel and a demon.
The demon lounged languidly against the grain sacks, a goblet in one hand while his other reached for the tap on the barrel of aged wine. The alcohol had begun to cause a merry buzz in his skull, while the sight before him brought him immense joy. His serpentine eyes flicked over the angel's form with an intensity he'd not witnessed before.
Aziraphale leaned against two conveniently placed grain sacks of his own, groans filling the basement as he nursed his obscenely full stomach. The evidence of his crimes lay to his left side—scraps of fat on stripped bones, thrown carelessly onto the platter, discarded from an evening of gluttony. The angel's palms splayed flat against the taut curve of his bloated gut as a deep belch forced its way out past plump lips coated with grease.
How in Heaven's name had he managed to eat so much?
He felt heavy as he glanced towards the platter with meat still left. He knew Crawley was watching him expectantly. He'd been doing it the entire evening and revelling in every single bite he'd managed to push past the angel's lips.
"Go on, I reckon you've still got room, angel," Crawley spoke out of the silence.
Aziraphale, who had been halfway to falling into a food-induced nap startled and looked over at Crawley indignantly. "Not a chance. I couldn't eat another… euph!—bite," he said, letting a stifled burp into his fist.
"Come ooon. I know you're thinking about it."
"Certainly not." Aziraphale's palm smoothed over his robe, rubbing gently at the taut flesh underneath.
"So, if I picked up a bit of this ox and dangled it in front of your nose, you wouldn't salivate even a little bit?" Crawley challenged.
"Stop it. I know what you're doing and it's not going to work." The angel looked over at the remainder of the ox and groaned all over again. "Oh good Lord, how much did I eat?" he asked.
"Mmm… I'd say, judging by what's left, about three quarters of an ox."
A pained moan sounded from Aziraphale. "No wonder my corporation is angry at me. I should have stopped. I shouldn't have eaten that much. How on earth did it all fit in here?" he asked to no one in particular as he stared at his huge stomach.
"Impressive is what it is, angel."
"Idiotic, more like," Aziraphale corrected.
"You said that, not me," Crawley replied in that sing-song tone of his which told Aziraphale he was loving every second of the angel's suffering.
Aziraphale pushed himself up the grain sack slightly, whining uncomfortably as his stomach grumbled, protesting the movement. "I wonder if angels can burst," he said quietly.
"M'not sure. Why? Want to test it out?" Crawley said with a glint in his eye.
"What? No!" Aziraphale practically squeaked back.
The demon chuckled at Aziraphale's reaction and sipped at his goblet of wine. "Oh, that's a thought, though. What d'you reckon it'd be like for an angel to burst? It'd be a sight, that's for sure. One for the ages, I reckon," Crawley mused.
"It would be patently unpleasant."
"Oh, come on, you've got be a little curious. Just a smidge?"
Aziraphale eyed him warily. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you like the idea of me bursting."
Crawley raised a brow at Aziraphale. "Did you expect anything less? I am a demon."
"And don't I know it!" the angel huffed and then seemed to pout. "The very same demon who turned Job's children into geckos? The demon who wouldn't kill his goats? That demon?"
The demon rolled his eyes. "Don't get so tetchy. It's not my fault you don't know when to stop eating."
"Actually, I think you'll find it is your fault. You tempted me!"
"Again, demon. Hello." Crawley waved for dramatic effect with a grin on his face. "But you didn't exactly object, did you? And I didn't force the food down your throat. That was all you, angel."
Aziraphale scowled at the demon. "You knew I'd react like that. You saw an opportunity and you ran with it, you foul demon!"
"Oh, don't act like you didn't enjoy it," Crawley dismissed with a wave of his hand.
The angel went quiet for a moment before his belly reminded him of the horribly grave mistake he'd made by eating so much. "Mm, well, now I rather think I'm paying dearly for my indulgent sins," he muttered, trying to soothe the rounded mass.
"Nah, you just need to let out a couple of good ol' belches. Make room."
"Crawley, I think you severely underestimate how full I am. One more bite and my corporation shall split right open, I swear it."
"You're not gonna burst, angel," Crawley said firmly. "I'm telling you, just try it."
"Oh, what do you know? You're drunk!"
Crawley scoffed. "You would be too if you weren't packed full of ox," he muttered.
The reminder of all the wine Aziraphale had drunk along with the ox (he needed something to drink, or else he'd have choked) hit him and his stomach let out a rather bubbly sort of groan, causing him to suddenly belch loudly. His face flushed pink from the sheer impropriety of the moment.
"Goodness, how uncouth!" Aziraphale scolded himself under his breath. He wasn't one for burping openly, especially in polite—or impolite, where Crawley was concerned—company.
But much to his surprise, he did feel a little less packed full; not that he was suddenly feeling better, but his stomach muscles relaxed just a fraction.
"See?" Crawley said softly close to Aziraphale's ear. His hand pressed into the angel's plush stomach. "Room for more."
"Crawley, stop it. I'm not eating anymore," Aziraphale said, crossing his arms.
"Oh, you're not, hm?" Crawley asked innocently, raising his eyebrows
"No. I'm an angel. I have a certain… image to uphold."
Crawley picked up a large piece of ox rump, bringing it close to the angel.
Aziraphale saw this and shifted away. "Stop it, you serpent! This is not fair at all! You know the rules."
"Rules?" There was mirth in Crawley's tone.
"Yes. Heaven and Hell have an… understanding. You do your job. I do mine. We shouldn't interfere with one another too much. And some things go too far. They cross lines. And I believe this," Aziraphale said, gesturing at their situation, "is crossing a line."
Crawley lowered the ox rump onto the platter. "Right. So, what's your solution?"
"We should have left after we got into this blasted basement. The children are geckos in a pot, and Job's goats are… well, safe. We should have gone our separate ways for the evening."
"Ngk, did you forget about the storm outside?" Crawley pointed out.
"Well, it wouldn't matter. We're an angel and a demon. We'd survive. We're immortal after all.."
"Our corporations wouldn't have."
"Why must you always have some sort of retort?" Aziraphale huffed. "Perhaps it would be for the best if this corporation didn't survive," he murmured to himself. "At least then I wouldn't have the rest of the ox under my nose." He sighed. "I doubt there are many good, tender parts left anyway."
"There's the rump," Crawley shrugged.
Aziraphale stole a glance at him and the remaining parts of the ox.
"Want it?"
He did. Oh, Lord did he want it. But he knew deep down he shouldn't. His poor corporation's stomach was bulging farther than he ever thought it possibly could. He felt heavy and sluggish, close to the lull of sleep once more. The scent of the ox, robust and gamey, forced itself into his nostrils, and for whatever unknown reason, awoke that ravenousness of a man absolutely starved—a deep, feral appetite that he thought he'd buried after that first round of belches.
Against his better judgement, he nodded. "Yes. Lord, yes, I want it. But… I really shouldn't." Crawley picked up the rump and held it out towards Aziraphale mid-protest. "I need to uphold temperance, Crawley—I… you know I mustn't be so gluttonous. I…" his words died in his throat as his mouth salivated.
The angel had to swallow hard and lick at his lips, pulling his gaze away from the ox to force himself to think this through properly. If he gave in now there was no going back, and he knew it.
Please, stop tempting me… was what he thought, but he couldn't bring himself say it.
Instead, Aziraphale took the rump from Crawley and began to tear the meat clean from the bone as if this was that first taste of food all over again.
The demon watched him with such desire, and it wasn't quite lustful.
Crawley wasn't fully certain what it was that he was feeling while he watched Aziraphale continue to glut himself on the ox, but he knew that it was impossible to ignore. It felt like a tight, fluttery feeling in his stomach, heat radiating outwards, and in his chest was an intense thudding. He was enjoying watching the angel eat, but it wasn't the same as his other temptations. He got satisfaction from them, and a desire to see them completed, but he'd never found himself so utterly captivated like this before.
He didn't want to pull his eyes away. Instead, he found himself leaning forward to get a better look at the angel as he pushed the hearty meal into his lips knowing well in his mind that he was already full. This angel was stuffed to the brim, and yet he wanted to eat more.
Crawley's yellow gaze slipped lower and he saw the way Aziraphale's robes clung tightly to that increasingly bloated gut. Surely Aziraphale could feel some discomfort as the fabric constricted around him? Surely, Crawley thought, he would stop to readjust the robes, or hike the robes up his thighs to allow the fabric some movement? That was the logical thing to do. Even a subtle miracle would be enough.
But no.
Remarkably, Aziraphale ate largely unhindered.
However, as the demon continued to watch, he noted the small huffs of breath the angel would release down his nose as he took a particularly large bite. He saw the slight pinch in his brow when his belly grumbled a certain way.
Aziraphale was ignoring his body's signals on purpose! Oh, that was too good.
Crawley set his goblet down and crawled closer to Aziraphale, swallowing hard as he looked down at the angel's burgeoning gut.
"Angel?" he whispered.
Aziraphale paused mid-bite and looked at Crawley expectantly, hardly making a sound of question.
"D'you need—?"
A gesture at his stomach made Aziraphale release a groan he'd been holding back before he nodded.
Crawley carefully put a hand on the angel's belly and gasped. "You were right, angel. You really are full."
"I know. I feel fit to burst, but I can't stop. I have to finish it all," Aziraphale declared pathetically.
"All of it?"
"Of course… no good leaving a rib uneaten, or a scrap of thigh half-nibbled. Feels terribly wasteful, especially since you won't have any."
"Food isn't my thing, angel," Crawley agreed.
"Precisely. I doubt Job and Sitis will want such a pittance left behind. If you really think about it, I'm doing them a favour," Aziraphale said, glancing at the demon shyly.
"Can't argue with that logic." The demon shrugged.
Aziraphale continued to eat the remainder of the ox, taking a moment to accept a small mouthful of wine every few bites. The more he ate and drank, the more his belly expanded. The robes he wore started to dangerously creak and groan as they tried to stretch around his ever-growing gut.
He tried desperately to ignore the sounds and sensations, but soon it became impossible. He was panting softly as Crawley rubbed and massaged his taut stomach.
"Ooh… Crawley, would you be a dear and—" Aziraphale gestured to the robes.
Crawley paused his ministrations and understood immediately, lifting the robes up above the angel's thighs. He struggled to make it rise over his belly, but with some effort and tugging on both their parts, it slid up and revealed a large expanse of the angel's pale flesh.
Crawley's mouth ran dry all of a sudden and he had force himself to breathe as his eyes roamed the angel's form.
Aziraphale blushed brightly under the demon's gaze. "Oh my, this is… h-highly inappropriate."
"I won't tell if you won't," Crawley hummed, sidling up close to Aziraphale and continuing to rub the distended tummy. "Are you going to tell?" He raised his brows.
Aziraphale shook his head hesitantly.
"Good," the demon replied.
The angel carried on eating, but he was slowing down considerably. "I-I might need to stop," he said as he saw the remaining two ribs on the plate. "I really think I might explode…" There was a deep discomfort settling into his stomach as it tried to stretch further.
"C'mon angel, don't give up now. You've done so well. You've already been such a naughty little angel, haven't you? Why not just go the whole way? Give into that gluttony…"
"I can't—"
"You can. You're strong, angel. You can do this," Crawley encouraged as he held up the first of the two ox ribs. "Just a few bites."
Aziraphale hesitated as he leaned in and took a nibble at the first one. He felt each little morsel slide down into his belly and add to that tight swell. He moaned quietly as his belly rumbled unhappily.
"That's it… almost there."
The second rib was held up and Aziraphale wanted to protest, but his body betrayed him, taking in the remaining mouthfuls of ox.
Almost immediately his stomach screamed and he held it, quite unsure of if he was going to be sick everywhere or not. His body also didn't seem to be able to decide, gut churning and rolling as it figured out how to proceed.
Aziraphale's expression was a wash of panic, which Crawley automatically tried to soothe. "You're alright, angel. You did so well. I'm proud of you. Just lean back and let it all settle. That's right," he said. He helped Aziraphale to lie back against him, cradling the angel against his chest, while his other hand carefully worked free any knots.
"I'm so full…" Aziraphale moaned in a small voice against Crawley's chest. "So tight… it hurts, Crawley."
"I know, I know. Shhh," Crawley soothed as he gently ran his open palm over the tight skin. "But you enjoyed it, right?"
The angel nodded against him. "Felt satisfying to get full. I'm so heavy and tired now, though," he yawned, despite the sharpness that hit as he took a deep breath in.
"Sleep," Crawley whispered. "I've got you, angel."