Work Text:
The video started – as all videos from this studio did – with the model on a generic couch in front of a generic wall. Crowley skipped past it immediately. He knew very well that the people this studio hired (indulged? he didn't actually know if they were paid for this…) were more than willing. The pregame chat-slash-consent-discussion was only a distraction from the main event, and he'd rather get right down to it this time.
Flipping forward, Crowley vaguely noticed that the man's features were blurred out. It wasn't unusual. Lots of people were embarrassed about what they were into. The more embarrassed, though, the more feral they usually went when getting just what they'd asked for. It was a promising sign.
Crowley took his hand off the mouse when the scene changed to the studio's standard concrete room, and he settled back in his chair, sparing a miracle to loosen his too-tight trousers in anticipation of a very good evening.
On the screen, the model was being led into the room, naked but for a white leather mask that covered his face and seemed to obscure his vision. The Dom, a dark-haired man with a long braid and sharp eyes that Crowley had watched work a few times before, guided him to an elaborate padded table and helped him lie back on it, while Crowley admired the subject's physique. A bit stocky, probably strong under that comfortable layer of fat. Platinum blond curls spread over his chest and between his legs, a tempting tangle for fingers to snag in.
Oh, yes. This would be an evening well spent indeed.
The man's arms were secured above his head and his ankles comfortably below either side of the table, spreading his legs to expose powerful inner thighs. No fancy ropework in this video – it was all quick, solid leather cuffs, designed to hold him down securely and allow for some quick manhandling into different positions. The man tested the fit, pulling on each limb in turn, and then seemed to melt into the padded tabletop with a contented sigh.
The Dom stalked around the table in a practiced manner, dragging his hands over the prone man's skin. He palmed both his pecs at once, tweaked his pebbled nipples, then gave one a sharp slap that had the man's head tilting back with an audible huff. He stroked the man's thighs firmly up and down, then yanked them apart to give the camera a good view of the man's hardening cock, lying heavily on his stomach and proving his interest in the proceedings.
A gentle caress over his balls, hefting and then tugging them, then several pointed strokes to that cock, and the man tilted his hips up eagerly with a long groan. Crowley felt the first twitch of real arousal and, blindly, pulled open his flies in preparation. He could easily imagine touching this man like that, enjoying his enjoyment, taunting him and teasing him until he trembled and pleaded.
He could also imagine being in the man's place, twisting and squirming, savoring the pretense of being restrained by human accessories and at someone's mercy for his pleasure. Crowley was easy that way.
The Dom returned his attention to the man's tits, cupping them and pinching those peaked nipples, one after the other. He pulled first gently, then roughly, near pulling the man's torso up by his nipples at one point and earning a sharp cry. He put his mouth to use, too, showing his teeth as he bit down, and the cuffs rattled as the man arched his strong back into it, starting to breathe heavily, to pant and writhe on the table.
Out of the shot very briefly, the Dom brought back a short flogger, its tails broad and well-made, designed to thump without stinging. Not Crowley's favorite tool - he liked the sound the long, thin ones made as they struck flesh - but not a disappointment, either, as the leather trailed over the man's stomach and he gasped, pressing up into the sensation, offering himself.
The Dom started on his chest, targeting his abused nipples, making the man jerk and moan loudly with each impact. When he moved on to peppering the man's stomach with teasing, soft strikes, the arousing noises calmed, though Crowley could see his hips shifting, imagine the ache of his poor, neglected cock.
Then the Dom reached out of frame to snag something small and metal, and clamped one firmly on each nipple.
The model choked out an unbearably erotic sound as each clamp was affixed, and Crowley's breath caught on the heat swirling in his own body. He pulled his cock out for the first time this session, just trailing his fingers over it, enjoying the way the model panted and strained in his bonds. The bright little weights attached to the clamps caught the light with each movement, though Crowley was more drawn to the man's cock, reddened and thick against his stomach.
Impacts to his inner thighs caused delicious whimpers, his legs spreading willingly, obscenely wide even as his knees remained bent, ankles firmly fixed to the table. It gave Crowley a marvelous view of how each stroke shook his ample flesh, bloomed into red patterns that begged to be petted and teased.
A brief break. The Dom set the flogger aside with an audible thump, and the man relaxed – no, slumped – on the table, breathing harshly. Mercy was not in the cards, however. Hands grabbed at his tits again, manipulating them, flicking his nipples sharply to draw a beautifully pained cry. The clamps were removed and replaced, adjusting their position to ensure no actual damage, and Crowley squeezed the base of his cock hard at the reaction that caused.
He wouldn't have been able to take such brutal treatment of his own nipples – well, not enjoyed it, anyway. But the model took it wonderfully, his bared throat working in a swallow as he – to Crowley's awed delight – tossed his own chest deliberately, making the weights tug on the clamps. The man groaned, and Crowley shuddered, thrusting up into his own fist.
At the man's feet now, the Dom released his ankle cuffs, then lifted both legs into the air, showing off the gorgeous, unmarked flesh of his arse and the back of his thighs. Refastened high up and slightly apart, the man was even more exposed now, his heavy balls barely obscuring the crack between his nicely-padded cheeks.
He squirmed, lifting his arse off the table – which gave Crowley the glorious sight of the way his arse moved when the expected impact came, the flogger back in action.
The Dom hit him faster now, no lazy strikes, all precise motion and power as he flogged that arse, those thighs, painting with broad red welts that raised blood to the surface of sensitized skin. The model seemed to have given up all pretense of being anything but a being of sensation, heedlessly lifting into the pain, arching off the table, gripping it white-knuckled where his hands were fastened. Unashamed, writhing and grunting and crying out.
Fucking beautiful. Crowley couldn't help but marvel at how human bodies were put together, how they could take pain and turn it into pleasure, how they could feel so much and ask for more. Their own kind of divinity.
When the sound of the flogger stopped abruptly, Crowley stilled his hand on his cock as well, savoring the ache in his balls as he squeezed the swollen head to hold himself back. The Dom smoothed strong, soothing hands over the back of the man's thighs, earning a symphony of unsteady gasps and needy little whimpers.
It was really too bad that these studios usually only worked with a model once. Crowley would love to see this one again, maybe freed enough of his embarrassment to show his face, to wrap his lips around a phallus. He could well imagine how those lovely moans would feel from the inside of the man's throat.
The Dom slipped on a glove with practiced ease, slicked it with a pump of lubricant, and wrapped his hand around the man's cock, petting the back of his upraised, beaten thigh as the man bucked his hips shamelessly into the contact. Only a few strokes again, but it was enough to leave the man gasping as the Dom pulled back, slicking lube over the dildo he'd just retrieved.
Crowley groaned aloud, forcing himself to shift his attention to his own balls, giving himself a little more time to stretch this out before he came. They didn't all want to be fucked, of course, but this man was just begging to be filled and used. He couldn't wait to see the shaft disappearing between those round cheeks, see how the man would react, hear more of his voice.
Steadied by a hand on his hip, the dildo nudged at the man's entrance, spreading lube with its tip, teasing and circling.
"Oh, yes," the man breathed, the first time Crowley had heard him speak. An upper British accent, he noted distantly, if pretty distorted by the pleasure and lingering pain.
More lube, rubbed directly into the man's hole with circling, gloved fingers, and then that nicely-sized dildo pressed into him, moving easily, as if there were no resistance at all.
It was just as good as Crowley had anticipated. The model's arms jerked against the restraints, his legs parting as much as they could as he breathed out a high, shameless sound of pure pleasure. "Oh, please, yes," he begged, quiet and rasping, "please don't hold back. Oh!"
Crowley had to close his eyes briefly to keep from tipping over the edge from that alone.
When he opened his eyes again, it was to the glorious sight of the man being fucked mercilessly. The dildo pounded in and out of his hole, the experienced Dom never letting up, and the man just took it, took it so well, helpless, keening and begging in broken words and ragged breaths.
It only took a gloved hand wrapping around his cock for the man to shout, legs snapping taut as all his muscles clenched and he pulsed pearly cum over his own straining, heaving stomach.
Crowley only realized he'd come as well when he blinked down at himself a moment later, staring at the mess across his trousers and on the floor, his pulse ringing in his ears, the echo of released pleasure still vibrating through his body. He unclenched his jaw and let out a delayed, breathless groan.
A sharp gasp from the screen brought Crowley's gaze back up, and he winced in sympathy as the second clamp was removed, the Dom rubbing gentle circles into the surrounding flesh to soothe the sting. As soon as the man's arms were released – his legs already free, draped haphazardly over the table – he heaved himself into the Dom's ready embrace, breathing heavily, visibly trembling.
Crowley let the start of the aftercare play as he lazily cleaned himself up, wiping down his fingers and his cock the human way, miracling off the rest of the mess. Tucking himself carefully away and zipping up with still-shaking fingers.
That had been a good one. So good. He'd have to watch it again, maybe pay to download it permanently. Always good to encourage these sinful studios.
"Oh, thank you ever so much," came from Crowley's speakers, and he froze, gaze snapping up.
That had sounded… frighteningly familiar.
The man was still wearing his concealing mask, relaxing on a soft bed as he sipped water through a straw. He was still naked, otherwise, and Crowley frantically examined his body with new eyes.
Platinum blond body hair. A thick waist and broad shoulders.
Those fingers wrapping around the water bottle.
His hair.
Everything was horribly obvious now that the model wasn't tied up, strung out on sensation, his voice mangled from pain and pleasure. Far too familiar hands with blunt fingers and precisely manicured nails presented in high def in front of Crowley's eyes.
A turn of the man's head to follow someone out of frame showed better his bright blond curls.
"That was really quite lovely," the man said in response to a murmured question.
Not the man.
Aziraphale.
A cold stone of panic settled in Crowley's gut.
He had watched Aziraphale have sex on camera. He had masturbated to it.
No, he had watched Aziraphale get beaten within an inch of his corporation on camera, and he had enjoyed it immensely.
So had Aziraphale, apparently.
Belatedly, Crowley smashed the space bar, pausing the video on a wide shot of Aziraphale just starting to get up from the bed, reaching for an offered robe. Everything was on display. Every beautiful curve, the soft hang of his cock.
The slowly bruising marks on his nipples and thighs.
It was too much. Crowley slammed the laptop shut, hyperventilating. He could never let Aziraphale know he had seen this. Never. They would both combust into eternal flames.
How would he ever be able to look his angel in the eye without remembering –
Nope. Nope, Crowley could not handle this. It was time for a very long nap. And alcohol. So much alcohol.
He was so very fucked.