Work Text:
I've always had a low boredom threshold.
Usually, when I was bored I'd play little pranks on humans, or get drunk, or sleep. Sleeping was a great device to avoid long stretches of boredom, but also to avoid all responsibilities for months—or decades even. It didn't really matter when you were unconscious.
This time, sleeping wasn't an option. Not was I only bored, but I also craved attention, and the object of my craving (Well, 'object' does sound a little bit objectifying, doesn't it?)—the person—(Do angels count as 'person'? Does the word automatically imply 'human'? Hm? He's human shaped, though, and he has committed to this form one hundred percent.) didn't pay me any of it.
So, with a sigh loud enough that it was definitely being heard I turned over on the sofa dramatically, fluffing up my pillow as noisily as I could.
No reaction.
I glared at Aziraphale. He was happily reading his book, had been for at least 20 minutes—or 20 years, who knew?
Groaning, I turned again. The tartan blanket got tangled between my legs. I thrashed about to free myself. (Notice me!)
I waited.
Nothing.
I listened as he turned a page, my gaze trained on the ceiling. An idea was forming in my head.
I felt myself smirk. Determined, I slithered off the sofa to the ground, not like a snake, but like a melting demon. (I didn't really melt, and never had the desire to, really, this is just a metaphor for my flexibility, guys.)
Crawling under the desk that the Angel was sitting at, I took a moment to admire his sturdy legs with their plush thighs barely contained by the fabric that surrounded them.
Aziraphale tensed first, but relaxed quickly when I put my hands on each of his knees and pushed them apart, just enough for me to fit between them.
Keeping my touch light, my hands wandered up his thighs, stopping less than an inch away from his crotch. He let out an almost inaudible sigh, but I picked it up thanks to my demonic hearing.
I trailed my hands back down on the insides of his legs, making him shiver. My boredom was forgotten, but the fun was just about to begin.
With a firmer grip, I massaged the strong muscles in his soft thighs, wandering higher and higher until I reached the creases where his legs met his pelvis and caressed them, making sure that my fingers ghosted every so often along his Effort, which he made a long time ago, but never had gotten rid of. Much to my enjoyment, I must say.
A sudden urge made me grip the tantalising bulge of cock and balls and squeeze it like a stress ball. (Stress balls, hehe.) Above me, Aziraphale's leather-bound book slammed against the smooth tabletop with a loud SLAP.
My fingers worked his flies open and slipped inside his pants, curling around his fat cock that had started to fill with blood. I pulled it out drawing the foreskin back to admire the glistening flushed tip. It was perfect, because whenever Aziraphale did or made something he cared about he did it with meticulous care.
Like a starving kitten I lapped at it, making Aziraphale shiver. When a trickle of salty precome spread on my tongue I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and sucked it like the most exquisite lollipop.
I bobbed my head, holding on fast to his hips, as he moaned freely. Thanks to my non-existent gag reflex, I swallowed him down as far as possible, my nose pressing into his golden pubic hair.
Aziraphale tensed and shivered as come trickled down my throat. I let go of his spent cock.
He pushed back with his chair, looking at me with flushed cheeks.
"You foul fiend!" He reached for me. "Come here, I'll give you the attention you deserve."
And he pulled me up into his lap, kissing me passionately. (Success!)