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a cup runneth over

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“Al, please… S-stop,” Angel begged. 

“You’re the one who wanted this,” Alastor replied in his usual chipper tone, discordant given the circumstances of the moment.

Angel was splayed on his knees on the floor of Alastor’s room, speared on one of his larger toys. It had been secured inside him through a series of lovely ties Angel had introduced Alastor to--something from the Orient called shibari. All four of his wrists were bound together in a series of knots Alastor found frankly beautiful for their intricacy and method, then wound around the base of the toy, and finally in a series of loops hiked tight around the spider’s thighs. Alastor enjoyed the process of it--the rope in his fingers, the designs on Angel’s pale flesh, the control, the silent command, the sequence of motions to achieve something so precise.

“Fuckfuckfuck--it’s too much, fuck!” Angel cried and threw his head back.

Alastor watched dispassionately. Angel had been a trembling mess for the better part of two hours. He had been very gung-ho for most of the elapsed time.

“Hmm, you say that, but I think you’re going to come again, darling,” Alastor commented.

Angel let out a strangled cry and huffed and drooled. His hips were raised in the air, his flush-ruined face pressed down against the floor as his toes curled. “Fuck--please!” Angel shouted hoarsely, rubbing a tear-stained cheek into the unforgiving hardwood floor. It wasn’t just the thick toy held tight inside him. His cock was trapped, too, in some deliciously Hellish invention that was slurping by some demonic force against his cock. It was like a wet, hot mouth prison latched onto his dick, refusing to release him, never tiring, and not letting a drop escape. This addition was not intended by Alastor as a gift, but merely a means to keep Angel from making an unsightly mess on his floor.

“Please what, Angel Dust?” Alastor asked. He had little interest in giving Angel what he had asked for, and all the interest in the world for his own entertainment: seeing Angel suffer most by the force of the thing he loved.

“I’m done!” Angel gasped. “I’m through! Fuck, I can’t take any m-m-mooore,” he sobbed as he came again for the nth time, his words choked through a painful moan.

“How am I to know?” Alastor asked. “You were fucking yourself silly for an age.” The radio demon tilted his head at Angel’s wracked body. He hummed to himself and nudged the base of the toy with his boot-covered toe.

Angel shrieked and writhed away, smearing fresh tears against the floor.

“I do think you’re still achieving orgasm, so I can’t understand why you’re complaining, dear boy,” Alastor said lightly, though his grin widened. He’d never heard Angel beg for mercy. He wasn’t going to release him for the world, now. "Isn't this what you like?"

Angel was still shuddering, crying with orgasm, his chest heaving, hips pumping as he gasped harshly. "Al--please, Al--" Angel couldn't even find the words.

"If you recall, Angel," Alastor said, his voice dipping low and golden, "you are the one who insisted you didn't need a safe word."

Angel whimpered, a moan on every breath as he canted his hips uselessly. If he tried to free his trapped cock, the device only sucked harder and it meant pushing the toy deeper inside him. If he tried to shrink back from the toy and pull it out, the ropes bit his skin and he thrust his hips toward the torture devouring his cock.

"How are we supposed to negotiate now, hmm?"

Angel twisted his shoulders. His hair was limp, damp against his brow, clinging to his temples and cheeks. "Al, ya know I wouldn't ah--" Angel bit his lip. "Ya know I wouldn't say stop unless I meant it!'

"You're in a state," Alastor said plainly with a little shake of his head. He blinked at Angel. "I can't rightfully believe anything you say."

Angel keened and tried to wrest his wrists back, tried to pull the toy back from his protest with a mewl.

"What if this is part of your fantasy, and I let you down by stopping?" Alastor postulated with concern. His Oxfords clicked on the wood floor. Angel was so sensitive that even the echo of footfalls made him shudder and push his forehead desperately into the ground. "You wanted this so badly. You fought so hard to get it." Alastor reached down to stroke Angel's hair back.

The spider gasped and lifted his head to meet Alastor's fingers. "Oh, please," he whispered. Alastor wasn't sure if Angel was begging for more or less. Angel's slender back arched. He fought his own trembling muscles to follow Alastor's hand. With desperate moans, Angel dragged his face up Alastor's boot, nuzzled up his red trousers.

"Oh, my dear fellow. Look at you." Alastor smiled down at Angel. The porn star curled beautifully up his leg, canting and kissing. Alastor tangled his gloved fingers in the spider's hair. He had never seen Angel look so beautiful. Perhaps there might be something to his picture shows.

Angel's breasts heaved as he looked starry-eyed up at Alastor. The nails raking against his scalp, just the fact that Alastor found him worthy of his touch. He was sitting on the toy now, his bendy thighs splayed, shoulders limp in surrender. He rolled his hips, the toy bouncing on his cock, and came undone again.

Angel watched Alastor as he came desperately, his mouth hanging open. Alastor just smiled, giving Angel his whole attention. The spider demon felt so special. 

"You said you wanted to break your record. Why stop there? Shoot for the moon!" Alastor encouraged, dragging a finger under Angel’s chin.

Angel bit his lip and whimpered.

“How many has it been now, my dear?” Alastor kept Angel’s trembling frame held with just the power of his finger under his chin as he crouched down to eye-level with the spider.

Angel’s breath came out in desperate huffs. Alastor was so close, those red eyes searing through him, and yet he felt the chill of his distance, his reluctance to touch. That distance was the thing that drove him wild, made him eager for every little precious bit of contact. No one had ever made him want for so much from so little.

“Hm?” Alastor buzzed pleasantly. He let go of Angel’s chin and the demon sagged. The motion caused him to sink back on the toy and tense up as if he’d been electrocuted. He bit his lip around a sharp cry, fangs drawing blood on his swollen lips.

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost count,” Alastor said in disappointment. “What’s the point of this exercise if you don’t keep track?”

Angel had lost the faculty of speech, his mind utter mush, clear as mud.

Alastor sighed and shook his head. “I suppose,” he began as he brought one sharp-fingered hand to the device on Angel’s cock, “we’ll have to start over.” He pumped the slurping, hot toy along Angel’s cock and watched as the pale demon’s eyes flew wide and head fell back. He was vibrating with the intensity, absolutely trembling from head to toe.

Alastor loved him like this. It was the only way in which he could love Angel--too far gone for speech, tormented by pleasure, suffering for the thing he had wanted so badly. 

“What would your adoring fans think?” Alastor asked with mock concern. “Their beloved Angel Dust undone by just a few toys?”

Angel worried his lip raw, unable to still his trembling hips from fucking himself into Alastor’s hand on the toy. The radio demon thought Angel might choke on his own breath with the way his chest was hitching and jerking, struggling for air.

“Where’s that beautiful voice?” Alastor prompted. “How will the audience know you’re still enjoying yourself?”

Angel gasped sharply as Alastor suddenly freed his cock from the toy. The sudden loss of stimulation hit him like a slap in the face. He arched forward, whimpering as he canted his hips uselessly, driving the thick toy into his ass. He shuddered with the release of another orgasm, although he was spent of seed, not even a drop left as proof.

Alastor clicked his tongue. “How disappointing. You’ve nothing left.”

“Please…” Angel begged on a dry throat.

Alastor looked into the ruin of Angel’s face and felt a hunger inside him reach a fever pitch. He captured those bitten lips with his own, moaning with delight as he tasted the tang of Angel’s blood.

Angel moaned desperately against Alastor’s lips, cursing the radio demon for his sick brand of touch starvation. The sudden touch of his lips had Angel’s overwrought nerves on fire, a burning, stinging pain of want.

“Can you come again? Even with nothing left?” Alastor asked a breath away from Angel’s lips, deliciously husky as he drank in Angel’s desperation.

“I-I…” Angel gasped, then hitched with another whimper as Alastor’s hand found his cock. “Fuck--Al!” Angel cried, buckling forward against the radio demon’s shoulder. It was so rare that Alastor actually touched his cock at all. He was utterly undone, both desperate for the touch, the scent of Alastor’s musk mashed against his face, and wanting to recoil from it all.

“Tell me how it feels, Angel,” Alastor growled.

Angel sobbed into Alastor’s chest as the radio demon pumped his cock. The sound was music to Alastor’s ears. Angel was incapable of coherent thought, much less words to voice how divine and punishing the ecstasy was. It was only Angel’s staggered breath, his numb moans, and the jerk of his hips away from the touch that signaled the spider demon’s orgasm.

Alastor sat back on his heels with a sigh and watched as Angel crumpled forward. He wiped his hand on his trousers before petting Angel’s lowered head. “What a performance,” he mused fondly. “I thought you could handle a bit more this time, but,” he sighed again with delight, “alas.”

The radio demon stood and walked around to Angel’s back. “Gentle, now. Wouldn’t want to break you,” Alastor said softly, with all the promise in Hell that he would.

Angel gasped as he felt the toy move inside him, and lifted his hips sharply in silent plea to be free of it. With a whimper of relief, Alastor adjusted the ropes so that he could do just that. The spider demon fell to the floor a shivering heap.

Alastor’s strict hands were gentle as he picked Angel up. With his usual grace, he strode over to his chair and sat with Angel in his lap. Humming quietly to himself, Alastor began loosening the knots at Angel’s wrists. He enjoyed the untying as much as the tying itself.

Angel curled up in Alastor’s lap, legs tucked against the radio demon’s. He pressed against Alastor’s shoulder, relishing the way Alastor let him touch and be touched. His muscles sang with the pricks of a thousand tiny needles as his first set of wrists were freed.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” Alastor asked.

Angel shivered in response, shakily cradling his wrists between their chests.

“Not going to give into temptation and indulge in your harlot ways?”

Angel sighed and ran his numb fingers over Alastor’s coat.

“No late night rendezvous looking for gentleman callers?”

Angel grinned against Alastor’s shoulder. He loved the way Alastor’s accent slipped out when he used French words, that subtle lilt of Creole. He was just enjoying the unfiltered rumble of Alastor’s voice, so close that he didn’t hear the radio interference.

The questions were rhetorical, so Alastor didn’t mind that Angel was still too gone to answer. It was in these moments that Angel felt weak and small in his arms. Alastor liked being front and center to witness that larger-than-life persona devolve into a submissive mess. Angel was overbearing at best, downright obnoxious at worst. Like this, he was tolerable. More than tolerable, frankly.

“You did do well,” Alastor murmured as he undid Angel’s second pair of wrists, earning a whimper of gratitude. “But not good enough. I know you can do better.”

Angel bit his raw lip as he felt Alastor’s hands whisper over his thighs. Alastor’s touch was different than anyone else’s. Perfunctory, most of the time. Never hesitating, yet never asking for more. It was the perfect touch now--with anyone else, he would have shoved them away and demanded respite from stimulation. But Alastor touched him like a friend, a kind of care that demanded nothing.

“But how precious you are…” Alastor said, and Angel felt the words like a whole-body caress. “Especially when you fail me.”