The Angel has finished yet another dazzling performance for the night, which means he’ll be retiring to his room now to rest and freshen up.
Crowley knows this routine by now.
He slinks past all the people backstage high on the energy of another night ended, past the crowded halls and towards the back where the Angel’s room is. He keeps it casual, of course. It’s a rookie mistake to betray he isn’t meant to be there by letting the nervous energy radiate out. A hat tipped here, a flash of a smile there, all an act to blend in and tamp down on the embers of guilt in his gut at what he was about to do. It’s gotten easier each time, and his reward so justifies the dishonest means he uses to get it. He hurries forward.
He’s watched the Angel from afar for weeks now, a chance encounter on the dance floor setting his heart tumbling out of his chest into freefall. Not that the Angel would remember their one encounter amongst the sea of faces he sees in an evening, but it’s a moment burned into Crowley’s mind.
Dazzling blue eyes had turned to him in the crowd as the Angel was lowered on a delicate, sensual swing, the entrance to his breath-taking performance. Crowley had been enraptured. Driven wilder still when somehow he was the lucky man of the evening, to find the Angel stepping into his space mid-performance with a flutter of eyelashes, before leaving him behind with a chaste kiss on the lips and a twirl, resuming the song. I don’t even know his name he had thought, hands clenched in his hat as he felt himself fall hopelessly in love.
The Angel may not know him, but Crowley can’t forget him.
The House has an absolute rabbit warren of corridors, once you branch off the main hallways. All the better to spirit away props and people from the stage, as well as an excellent place for the discrete customer to catch some privacy with one of the dancers. But that’s not Crowley’s destination tonight, the Angel ( his angel, he likes to fool himself to thinking sometimes) charges a far higher price and offers a much more luxurious time. Something definitely too good for the likes of Crowley to ever hope to taste, but Crowley has always had a wild imagination and the wiliness to complement.
He looks around and licks his lips in anticipation. Seeing that there are no people around, he ducks into the side passage and shimmies his way through the thin passageway until he comes to his usual spot, a hole in the wall that peeks right into the Angel’s chambers.
His breath is shaky and his heart is pounding as he draws slowly closer, and he gulps, running a hand through his hair (but not down his body, it’s too early for that, he has to pace himself ). A shameful blush creeps up his face when he realises he’s already half hard in anticipation, at the mere prospect of watching something forbidden, at the fear and thrill of discovery, the knowledge of what may come.
It’s not every night that the Angel takes visitors, and Crowley relishes those gentle, quiet nights just as much as the others. Taking in the way that the Angel potters around his room, and enjoying the light snack after a performance well done. Indecent groans spilling from his lips in appreciation that sets Crowley’s skin on fire. He imagines feeding the Angel himself, letting the object of his affections lounge on the soft, pillow laden bed as Crowley feeds him grape by grape, delicately offering up the fruit in strangled hope that those lips would catch his fingers. He imagines getting down on his knees by the bed, rolling off those stockings softly so that he can kiss and caress the soreness from those soft, milky legs. Imagines working his way up slowly and pulling more of those noises out from his Angel before hesitating and planting a kiss by the knee, his amber eyes staring up into those enrapturing blues.
The poor piano player barely holds back a whimper of his own at his fantasies, definitely hard now, and draws his eye towards the hole with shaky breath. Tonight’s not one of those nights it seems. He can see that the Angel has touched up his makeup and changed into something that makes him want to groan anew. Instead of the dazzling and bejewelled outfit of tonight’s performance, flashy and loud and drawing the eye, the Angel has swapped for something much softer and coy.
Soft, white lace hugs the Angel’s hips, with small ruffles to adorn them on either side and sheer fabric to hug over the swell of his bottom. He’s wearing a similarly lacey garter belt, the lace crawling down his thighs, as Crowley longs to do too, to catch on delicate white stockings that snugly holds onto the Angel’s curves as Crowley’s eyes trace them down to the toes. He gulps, and turns his eyes back up after taking a moment to catch his breath.
A choker, as ruffly and frilly as the rest of the Angel’s outfit, with a single sparkling gem hanging from his throat, decorated with beads and soft downy feathers that wrap around that graceful throat, finished with a satin bow at the nape of his neck. Crowley takes in the strong shoulders, the roll and swell of flesh at the stomach so enticingly soft, currently semi-obscured by a sheer white camisole that featured two feathered wings embroidered as if hugging the chest. Thin beads trail out to the hem of the camisole, a sparse curtain over a stomach that Crowley is dying to kiss and nuzzle and nibble as he worships his Angel.
There’s a knock at the door, and the Angel pulls on a floor length coat, cream coloured and downy with feathers. Crowley almost keens as the Angel’s body is covered, like a drowning man seeing flotsam bob away, the delicious view obscured by a coat that demures. Frustrated, and with a sense of loss, he turns his eyes to the doorway and sees the Angel leaning shyly behind the door and going through a routine that he could hear in his head.
Oh, Monsieur, how kind of you to see me after the show! His Angel would say, blushing over the praise that stranger would pay him What’s that? A-Alone? Well, I don’t know how Gabriel would feel about that … The stranger would suggest that it’s just for his Angel’s company, nothing more and his Angel would act at thinking it over, biting his lip and saying I suppose, just for a little bit. He would blush and draw up the coat prettily, saying Please excuse me for my state of dress, I hope you don’t mind…? And the stranger wouldn’t mind at all, eyes roving over the sight his Angel must be, and in Crowley’s other fantasies, it’s him at the door, him taking his Angel’s hand and kissing it gently, before walking in and shutting the door behind him.
Except when the Angel stepped back to let the stranger in, another man followed him in, and then another and Crowley’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth agape. Surely not! He thought desperately. The thought of his Angel with one other man already drove him to his wit’s end and the thought of his Angel with three...
The unconscious buck of his hips and a knuckle brought up between his teeth showed what he thought of that . He could feel his pants tenting now, uncomfortably tight and begging for release but not yet, it’s too early.
The Angel walks back to his bed, hips swaying as he sashays over and sits down, gesturing the other men to draw closer. Two sit on the chairs conveniently stationed by the bed, and one has the gall to sit on the bed right next to his Angel.
Crowley watches them converse, and draws himself closer to the wall, both hands coming up to frame the view. Hats, jackets, vests and gloves are taken off and placed aside until the men were in just their shirts. He watches as the gentleman on the bed slowly leans closer, planting one hand on his Angel’s knee, and the way the other two also shift when they see this. His Angel is oblivious of course, chatting merrily on, and if there was a flicker of a satisfied smile and a rather pointed fluttering of eyelids well, Crowley was more than happy to ignore that. But soon it’s obvious the energy in the room has grown more electric as the men draw nearer, and it seems a moment hangs in the air when the Angel leans forward to place a gentle hand on the gentleman’s chest. There’s a beat, and then the man surges forward to plant a hungry kiss on his Angel’s mouth as he tugs down the coat.
That seems to send the occupants of the room into a flurry of roving hands and unbuttoning of shirts. One of the gentlemen from the chairs joins the Angel and the other one in bed, crawling on his knees to come up beside his Angel and grope at his thighs and ass. The first one has one hand in the Angel’s hair and the other wrapped around his waist to pull him flush. They break the kiss and his Angel moans as the first one starts rutting against him and the other one is pulling the coat off completely so that he may attack his Angel’s shoulders with kisses and bites. The bed being quite full, the third gentleman seemed to opt for watching the display with rapt attention, palming himself through his pants.
Crowley groans, mirroring the third gentleman. Shame and lust burns through him equally as he watches the object of his affections getting attacked by those two, hungry men. He yearns to be in that room with them, to perhaps be that third gentleman so that at least there was a chance. To get even one taste of his Angel’s skin would be like Heaven, or perhaps it would damn him even more. He doesn’t know and can’t tell, could barely think through the haze of want. His hips buck when his Angel gives a particularly loud moan, an Oh Monsieur! gasped into the air.
Ever greedy, the one kissing his Angel’s shoulders had started pawing more aggressively at the soft body, leaving streaks of light red as he scratches and Crowley’s heart burns with jealousy. He would never treat his Angel so roughly. The one in front of his Angel has finished unbuttoning his shirt, moving onto undoing his trousers so that he can pull himself free and stroke.
The Angel’s eyes seemed to flutter and focus on the cock before him, pretty mouth a soft ‘o’ and a blush dusting his cheeks. There’s murmuring, and then his Angel gives an absolutely delicious roll of his hips that sends the man behind him groaning into his shoulder, before bending over shyly to come face to face with that cock. The man breathes heavily as his Angel’s breath ghosts over the cock, and groans when the Angel takes him in hand with a flutter of eyelashes then slowly drags his tongue from root to tip. The Angel focuses on lavishing the cock with as much attention as he gives his food, and from what Crowley can tell, the Angel is very very good. The man falls apart in shaking groans and fists a hand in his Angel’s hair in a poor attempt to gain control, but the Angel hollows his cheeks with a suck and drags his lips up to the tip before pulling it out with a pop. Immediately, he bobs his head back down and sets a steady pace as the man above watches his world get taken apart piece by piece.
The other man has also taken up the idea of disrobing himself further, shucking his shirt and pulling down his trousers around his knees. He’s bent over his Angel, kissing his way down that beautiful back before hooking his fingers around the lacy panties and tugging them down. The Angel even helps him along with a wiggle of his hips that sends want shooting straight down to Crowley’s groin. But still Crowley waits, throat dry as he watches on and guiltily rubs at himself. The third gentleman has rolled up his sleeves now, top few buttons popped open giving a rumpled look to his collar, and Crowley could see himself there in his place. Watching on, controlled and patient as the other two men take what they wanted brutishly. But he would treat his Angel so much better, make sure he’s properly taken care of so that Crowley could make his Angel spill countless moans of pleasure into his skin. So that Crowley could have his Angel fluttering those eyelashes at him .
His Angel gasps and pushes his hips back desperately, as the other man is leaned over him and pumping his fingers in and out of his Angel’s hole. He’s propped on one hand as he does this, trapping his Angel in between the bed and his frame, as the Angel sinks his mouth back down on the cock in front of him, muffling his moans on flesh. Impatient, Crowley admonishes in his mind, the man draws his fingers out too soon before lining himself up. It’s not nearly enough time to prep, and not nearly enough attention that his Angel deserves, and Crowley frets for a little moment but the man pushes in smoothly with a guttural groan.
Belatedly, Crowley realises that his Angel must have prepared himself for this earlier. Fingers slick and working himself pliant and open for the night to come. He gasps, a quiet whine in his throat as his eyes dart over to the third gentleman. Seeing that he’s opened his trousers and is openly stroking himself now, Crowley follows suit. His hands are frantic from anticipation, scrabbling at his trousers to pull himself free and there’s a relief when he finally touches himself. He hisses, fisting himself and pumping twice before easing off. It wouldn’t do to finish before his Angel does, he would make his Angel come and come again until he was fully satisfied before allowing himself release. He longs to see his Angel’s pliant, fucked out form below him, a satisfied smile as a hand reaches up to take his chin and kiss him for a job well done. Longs to be told that he did so well, and wouldn’t he please come in his Angel’s ass now, and Crowley has to take a shuddering breath, taking his hand off himself before he breaks his own promise.
Back in the room, he can see the man giving it to his Angel, hips snapping against his Angel’s backside and causing a delightful ripple of flesh down his thighs and back. Two hands are gripped tightly on the hips, and another hand fisted in the Angel’s hair as he works on the messy blowjob. Crowley could see strings of saliva joining the Angel’s mouth to the cock and huffs, imagining what it would be like if that mouth were on him . The man pulls him off suddenly, saying something and the other man slows reluctantly. They seem to argue a little, before the Angel props himself up and says something must have been absolutely debauched because both men are suddenly appeased, a spring and excitement to their movements.
They shuck the remainder of their clothes, trousers, shoes and socks in a pile as they move to new positions. His Angel reaches a hand out towards the dressers, and one of the men hurries over, bringing a bottle back which his Angel accepts with a smile. He uncaps the bottle and pours a generous amount of lube onto his hands as he reaches back and slicks himself up. Crowley swallows dryly as the Angel pumps his fingers in and out, peeking out wantonly from under his lashes at the man. Crowley thinks he would die if his Angel looked at him like that, but he wants it all the same.
The man behind the Angel is now laid on his back on the bed as the Angel climbs up on top of him, stockinged legs straddled on either side as he takes the man’s cock in lube-slicked hands. After giving the cock one pump, he sinks down onto it with a deliberate slowness and gives an appreciative sigh. He moves, lifting himself up then pushing down for a few strokes, hands fluttering over the man’s chest as the belts of his garters strain and stretch at the activity. Seemingly satisfied, he calls out to the man whose cock had been in his mouth just moments prior, and obligingly the man crawls onto the bed behind the Angel. Crowley is still trying to work out what they were intending to do with stuttered breath when he realises with part horror and part fascination. Surely they don’t mean to both take him at the same time?
But that seems to be exactly what the Angel has suggested. He turns around, murmuring to the other man, a searching hand out to grip the other man’s cock and giving it a pump too. Crowley can only watch as the Angel leads the other man into position and encourages him with an eager beckon of his hand. His breath hitches as slowly, slowly the man pushes in and his Angel sinks forwards, bracing himself on a forearm as the other hand is still guiding the man’s cock. The two men groan as the Angel takes a moment to adjust, then says something and starts to push his hips back and down.
They move in tandem and Crowley burns with envy over the sight. Slow at first, but picking up speed as the men find handholds on his Angel’s body and start thrusting with more force. His Angel is on his elbows and knees, moaning and writhing prettily between the two men, and Crowley can see a peek of that delicate cock, trapped between the man’s and his Angel’s own stomach, leaking and twitching. Can see each thrust sending a ripple of motion through his Angel’s body as he begins to take on a more punishing pace set by the two men lost to sensation.
But his Angel manages to look up with lust-hazed at the third gentleman, and says something stuttered out between each thrust and gasp and moan. Crowley imagines himself in that third gentleman’s place. He would get up and take his Angel away from here, to kiss his face gently and sweetly as he spirits them away to a quiet corner where he can take care of him. To bring a washcloth out and wash away the sweat and saliva and lube that must be smeared into his Angel. He would lay next to his Angel, softly tucking those curls behind those ears and kissing him softly. What he wouldn’t give to have those innocent blue eyes flutter up at him as he takes his Angel’s cock in hand and brings him slowly to climax. To draw out stuttered gasps and soft moans so unlike the savagery that those men showed him in the room. Crowley guilty squeezes and tugs at himself as he fantasizes, watching that third gentleman walk up to the bed in front of his Angel and put a loving hand on his Angel’s cheek.
Crowley’s grip stutters in shock when the third gentleman moves that hand up into his Angel’s hair and yanks it back, baring his throat and causing his mouth to drop open in surprise. He says something that causes the Angel’s eyes to hood and he gives a salacious wiggle of his tongue, and then the man shoves his cock down his Angel’s throat.
His gasps, in shock, in want, in guilty electric lust as the third man starts fucking his Angel’s face. One hand becomes two, and the thrusts come rougher and deeper as the man fucks into the Angel’s warm, open mouth. And he wants to slam the wall and yell and hiss at the sight before him. All three men taking his Angel like that. How could he ever hope to compare to the sensation of three men at once ? His eyes rove over the scene as desperately as he’s fisting his cock, working himself up faster and faster. He could still see peeks of his Angel under the writhing bodies that are fucking into him. He looks pliant and beautiful. He looks fucked out and blissful. His angel takes three cocks in his holes and can only moan helplessly.
Crowley keens silently, biting down on his knuckle and his hand pumps his cock furiously. He wants to, he wants to satisfy his Angel so much , and he can see how much his Angel is enjoying it. The way his back arches and he pushes his hips back to meet each thrust. The way that his mouth still tries to suck and lick despite the pace the face fucking sets. And Crowley is so strung out and tense, he can feel he’s on the precipice of coming but he won’t and paces himself. Not before his Angel, never before his Angel.
Finally, the man fucking from behind gives a strangled groan and collapses onto the Angel’s back, hips stuttering as he spills his release. The Angel groans around the cock in his mouth and pushes his hips down desperately to chase the thrusting. He rolls and pushes back as the man pulls out and slumps back onto the bed, focusing his efforts on the one cock that’s still fucking his hole. The man below him redoubles his efforts, hips lifting off the bed as he slams his cock home and his Angel makes desperate, muffled noises. Crowley pants harshly, wishing that he were the one to give it to his Angel like that, to make his body go rigid and tense as climax washes his Angel’s form.
The man beneath the Angel goes limp and so does his Angel, best that he can. His hooded eyes fluttered up to focus on the man still fucking his mouth and the man groans, finally pulling his Angel off his cock before pumping himself twice and shooting his load all over his Angel’s flushed face. Crowley slaps his hand over a muffled sob as he doubles over, finally allowing himself to chase his own pleasure.
The image of his Angel’s come streaked face burns in his mind, except it’s his come, and his Angel was setting the pace, had pulled his mouth off and pumped Crowley’s cock while he whispered sweet words to him. Darling, you’ve done so well he would say Thank you for making me come so sweetly . He imagined his Angel’s hands sliding across his cock, faster and faster as he nears his peak. Why don’t you come for me too, dear? and Crowley does, spending himself over his fist and splattering onto the wall as he takes gulps of air in the aftermath of his high. He braces his clean hand against the wall as he tries to find support for his suddenly boneless body and sinks down against it.
Shame burns him most, then. In the echoes of his orgasm, his fantasies leaves him feeling dirty at what he’s done. Crowley gives himself a few moments before standing back up and straightening out his clothes, grimacing as he wipes off his hand with a handkerchief, then shamefacedly wipes it off the wall too. No need to leave any evidence behind, after all.
He hesitates before leaving, chewing his lip and glancing at the peephole again. He should, at the very least, check that the Angel was okay, he rationalised. Three men were a lot , and he did actually care for the well-being of the Angel. Though his mind berates him, saying there’s nothing he could do even if there was something the Angel required. Ignoring his rationale, Crowley steps back to the hole again.
It seems the men have taken their things and left in the time it took Crowley needed to gather himself. Only the Angel was there in the room now, lounging on the bed, hair still mussed and skin flushed from the previous activities. The come was gone now, wiped off with a fresh towel, but the Angel still wore an expression of contentment and satiation on his face and Crowley could feel envy mingled with sad longing now. Fantasies were fantasies, and he didn’t fool himself outside of them that it was ever likely the two would meet as he wanted to.
He lingered, wanting to stay just a little longer, but begrudgingly convinced himself that he should leave. This was ridiculous, he can’t just stand here pining forever , and then his heart stops. The Angel was most definitely looking in his direction, and his heart starts up in a thunderous pace. Had he been caught? Did he make too much noise? Surely not, this hole was such a little thing how could the Angel ever take notice-
And then a very very predatory grin spreads across the Angel’s face and Crowley feels pinned. Watches as the Angel sits up and gives a roll of his body at Crowley, hands trailing down from neck to chest down to hip and thigh. Crowley swallows nervously.
“Did a little mouse enjoy that show?”
And Crowley jerks back as if burned, the fear of being caught a lump of lead in his throat. He thumps into the wall behind him, panics, and quickly sets off back down the corridor, away from the room, away from those knowing eyes.
In the room he left behind, the Angel smiles smugly at the thump and sound of rushed footsteps away. He lounges back on the bed, stretching out to relax. What a good night indeed .