Notes: Warnings for Shibari, bondage, sexual content, oral, ruined orgasms.
"Ahh …"
"Hmm …?"
"A-A-"
"Mmm-hmm …?"
"Az-Aziraphale?" Crowley manages between hitched breaths that sputter into existence from the farthest reaches of their throat.
"Mmm … yes, my dear?" Aziraphale pulls off his demon's cock slowly, punctuated by a pleased smack of his lips.
"I …" Crowley shivers in waves from shoulders to stomach, knees, and then ankles, undulating mid-air like a captured snake.
Which Crowley is, in essence - dangling from obedient vines strong enough to hold them steady despite their squirming.
Vines that listen only to Aziraphale, do his bidding.
They belong to him, see him as their only master.
And they're not afraid of Crowley in the slightest.
"Yes …?" Aziraphale asks, fist closed around the demon's swollen member, which bobs when the slicked flat of Aziraphale's palm caresses its head. Crowley moans and shakes their head, eager to watch the angel tease them, but the vines wrapped around their eyes tighten to resist being dislodged.
Crowley gives up, more subdued than defeated. "Aziraphale?" they repeat, brain spinning its gears to re-set, having trouble since the blood normally available to help things along have drained to other places.
"I'm waiting." Aziraphale grins fondly at his languid lover, flushed scarlet, hanging from the ceiling like fruit from a pregnant branch, hovering at just the right height to be fondled and played with.
And tasted.
Sort of like an apple, one might say - the original temptation that led to the world's first sin.
"N-nuthin'," Crowley stutters, relaxing back into their cradle of monstera andansonii and surrendering to the angel's attentions.
Aziraphale smiles. "Good. You're not quite where I want you, but you're close." He snaps his fingers, and the vines binding Crowley lift higher. They give Aziraphale unfettered access to his demon's body without him needing to alter lines or untie and re-tie knots. They move and shift with a snap of his fingers, taking over with the stroking when he decides to dip inside Crowley's body for a spot of edging.
Which he does as often as he can since being inside Crowley has become something of a religious experience in Aziraphale's eyes.
When the thought occurred to Aziraphale to rig Crowley up like this, using vines as his medium, a nostalgic throwback to their time in Eden, he knew immediately he couldn't use Crowley's.
The ones that don't suffer from raging cases of PTSD hold some serious grudges. He could see them taking advantage, trying to seize their moment and strangle Crowley, or tear them apart.
Aziraphale purchased these from a nursery a few blocks down from his shop, run by a lovely polyamorous thruple. The place had a quaint bohemian atmosphere, the air filled with soothing strains of Sitar music and the scent of patchouli ... mixed with more potent concoctions.
These vines are mellow, to say the least.
While he was there, he bought the yummy chocolate-flavored lube slathered all over Crowley's body. It's made in-house (or so the proprietor claimed), completely organic, sugar-free, gluten-free, calorie-free ...
Basically lacking all the things humans tend to fret over putting in or on their bodies.
The best part of all - it heats up when he blows on it.
With a tug here and a click of the tongue there, Crowley is upended, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to mouth over his demon's cock without bending over. Of course, since Crowley gives Aziraphale free reign over their physical form during these sessions, Aziraphale manipulates Crowley depending on whether he's in the mood to lick or suck.
This feet-over-head position puts Crowley mouth to crotch with Aziraphale, too. But gagged by vines, all Crowley can do is mouth ineffectually over Aziraphale's groin. When Crowley can do nothing to please their angel and starts to whimper in frustration, Aziraphale chuckles.
"My poor dear!" Aziraphale thrusts his hips, teasing his demon with his cock against their lips. "Is this what you want?"
"Mmm …" Crowley groans in the affirmative. "Mmm-hmm."
"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait. You see, I'd set this time aside special to play with you. Twelve ruined orgasms, that's what you owe me. So, first I get what I want … then maybe ... just maybe … you'll get what you want."