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Aziraphale strapped Crowley to the bench, making sure the belts weren’t too tight. With the way he was tied up, Crowley had no way to move around, other than wriggling his fingers and turning his head, but it wasn’t something Aziraphale was concerned with.
He didn’t put the gag in, and after he pulled out the last things he needed for today’s spell, the demon had already started to beg.
Ignoring his slightly annoying yet still somehow delightful protests, Aziraphale quickly put the device in. By the time he reached out to the cage, Crowley was already getting hard.
“Not today,” Aziraphale said, squeezing the base of the demon’s cock, hard enough to cut off the blood flow. The cage-- small thing, really, with spikes on the inside-- made Crowley whine, but that was all he could do, tied up like this. Aziraphale patted him on the bony thigh. “I will be back in,” he checked his watch. “A few hours. Trust the spell will be ready by then.”
His errands took a bit longer than he thought, and by the time he got back home, the demon gave up on crying. As soon as he saw Aziraphale, however, he tried to beg again.
“Please,” he whined. “Pl- pleeeeeeassse, take it out, take it out, I’ll do anything, please--!”
“I know you will,” said Aziraphale, taking off his overcoat.
He didn’t turn the device off right away. He made this mistake once, when he just got Crowley and didn’t know his limits yet. That first spell didn’t get charged, and they had to start all over again, and Aziraphale didn’t even get the bonus from the client. Which was really rude of him, but, Aziraphale mused, he really ought to know better. Demons were unreliable things, after all.
The spell sigil on Crowley’s belly was blue, and glowing. The spell was ready, then.
Aziraphale took a sheet of paper from the table, spread it over the demon. He had to make sure the sigil fit , and that was one of the reasons why he had to tie Crowley up.
The other reason was-- oh, but what was the point of his job if he didn’t indulge sometimes?
He wiped the demon’s belly, where pre-come gathered in the hollow of it. His soft cock, angry red and twitching in the cage, looked pathetic. The spikes of the cage weren’t sharp enough to do any real damage, but they pushed on the skin and left charming dimples after the cage was removed.
Only when the spell was safely transferred to the paper did Aziraphale turn the device off. The low buzzing receded and then stopped completely, leaving him and the demon in pleasant silence. Or what would be a pleasant silence, if Crowley would ever realize that breathing was not necessary.
“T’ank you,” the demon slurred. “‘ank you, t-- th-- ssss--!”
He could be such a dear when he bothered. Aziraphale patted his quivering belly, now completely bare, and frowned.
“Ever since you made me take an additional day with that first order,” he said, feeling the shift of already sweaty again, silky skin under his palm. “I’ve been running behind the schedule. Suppose I should get back on it.”
He watched how the demon opened and closed his mouth, red and shining from where he was biting his lips. His rather fetching eyes were yellow to the edges, pupils so wide he could even pass as a human, if he ever wanted to.
“W-- wh--” Aziraphale could listen to Crowley struggling with words all day. It was unfortunate he never had time to enjoy it properly.
When Aziraphale reached out for the record book, the demon started struggling. Not that it could get him anywhere-- he had been strapped to the bench for a good six hours for now, and with the brand coiled on the back of his neck, he had no way to break out from the bonds. Still, it was an admirable effort.
“No,” Crowley mewled when Aziraphale started transferring the sigil on his skin. “No, no-- nnnaugh!”
The procedure itself was entirely painless. He really didn’t have to be such a drama queen. Aziraphale petted his belly again. One day he should do something interesting with it. No orders, no clients, no deadlines to worry about. Just he and the demon, having fun.
Or rather, him having his fun. For all that the demon was lovely sometimes, Aziraphale didn’t really care about his opinions.
He reached out between the sparse buttocks of Crowley’s bottom, running a finger over the stretched out rim. It felt like the demon could use more lube.
The device-- not overly long, as there was no need for that, but a thick plug with bumps all over it-- went out reluctantly. The demon whimpered, obviously trying to clench down. His hole was red, still shining from the remaining lube, and Aziraphale could see inside, the inviting pink walls of it, and he didn’t resist the urge to push his fingers in. They went easily, but he knew that after a few hours of rest the demon would be as tight as he was when Aziraphale bought him. Amazing things, demons. Fascinating, even.
“Stop making such a fuss,” Aziraphale said when the noises the demon kept making stopped being cute and tethered on this side of unpleasantness. He had a long day, and would like to go to bed without a looming headache, thank you very much. (He didn’t sleep. Angels didn’t need to sleep, and neither did demons-- regardless of what opinions this particular demon had about it-- but Aziraphale had gotten into the habit of lying down on the soft bed in equally soft pajamas. Talk about the pleasures of the world, would you?) “Unless you want the gag?”
That shut the demon all right. He hated the gag. Aziraphale didn’t particularly like it either-- but most of the time the threat of it was just enough.
He pushed lube inside Crowley, making sure there was enough of it, and lubed the outside of the hole as well. This particular spell required two hours worth of charge, and although Aziraphale didn’t usually do more than one spell a day, it wouldn’t impact the quality in any way. He preferred to let the demon rest-- if only to make sure he wasn’t all numbed out, in the end. Demons could take quite a lot, but he’d been to the workshops that made it their brand image (so to speak) to produce as many spells a day as possible, not letting the demons rest. Their product, in Aziraphale’s opinion, was rather unsatisfactory. No, he preferred this-- hand-made spells, one at a time. He always took care of his demons, just like he took care of his other things. He disliked the current notion of mass-production, the idea of dispensable, single-use objects.
The plug was heavy in his hand. He turned it around, considering. He’d never tried to go for two spells in one day before, but surely a change of routine would do some good.
He stood up, leaving the trembling demon on the bench. His collection of devices wasn’t that big-- they were expensive, and he couldn’t just buy one on a whim, but through the ages he accumulated a good assortment. He hasn't tried them all on Crowley yet, and didn’t want to go for something drastically different today, when the demon was already tired and therefore not as receptive, but surely there was something--
“Oh, here you are,” Aziraphale said, taking the device out. It was short and thick, and mostly smooth save for one nib that would, if the plug was installed correctly, press right at the prostate. The main benefit of this plug, however, were the steel balls lodged at the base. They were heavy and shifted every few seconds on their own, making whoever the plug was in worry that it would fall out. It wouldn’t-- it was too thick for that, but it was an impression that counted. Or something like that.
Aziraphale pushed the plug into the demon, making him whine. Then he unstrapped his thighs, but left him tied up otherwise.
The first shift of his newly-freed (if only partly) legs made Crowley freeze.
Aziraphale turned the device on.
The demon, still remembering the threat of the gag, tried to not make a sound; but he couldn’t help but wriggle his hips, trying to get away from the pressure and the vibrations-- or perhaps trying to hump the air in a feeble attempt to get some relief to his trapped cock. Either way it didn’t matter, not to Aziraphale. The plug did its job, and it was time for the demon to do his as well.
“I will be right back,” Aziraphale told the demon, thumbing the stray tear off his cheek.
He didn’t close the door, and could hear precisely when Crowley gave up on trying to be silent.