The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 70: A Game

Chapter 70: A Game

Instead, Aziraphale pulled away, and studied him. He studied his face, and his hand on his wrist, and the smells wafting from all the demon's presents.

Then, he fell to his knees.

"Oh no you don't. Not for this game. Back on your feet."

The angel whipped his head up, surprised. Crowley drew him up by the elbow and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

"Will that make you come, angel? Just sucking me off?"

Aziraphale shook his head.

"Roit. You'll just stay hard, and deny yourself."

The angel cast his eyes over the demon's shoulder and tilted his head. After a moment his mouth opened, his eyebrows rose, and he said," Alright. But I want the feeling I get by doing that."

"Then play my game." Crowley drew closer and touched him.

Now Aziraphale looked up.

"One that lets you be wide-open, tests you as you like, and allows for some release."

"What game is that?"

Crowley leered at him. He said," Don't Feed the Angel."

He pulled out a chair and eased Aziraphale into it. Next, he came up from behind and overlaid his hand over the angel's, setting it around the top of the table leg, and squeezed it until Aziraphale understood and gripped. He repeated the gesture with his other hand.

"Why am I doing this?" the angel inquired.

"Because," Crowley grumbled playfully, "you're going to want to bring your hands up."

"Why?"

"Close your eyes and you'll find out," he replied wryly.

Th angel gave him the most suspicious sideways glance ever, but obliged.

"Now, tell me what this is?"

A spicy but fresh citrus smell nearly floored him. He wasn't expecting it. Then, left and right, the tart juice of some fruit flicked across his gasping lips. He never caught the full brunt of it, but it returned like a tantalizing kiss. His tongue caught the tip of the fruit and he puckered a bit.

"Shikuwasa. Crowley, where did you get shikuwasa—"

"Right, next." He had no time before something else nudged his lips and sent his senses reeling. "Now, bite into this one."

Aziraphale's mouth searched for the edge of the small fruit and bit. And explosion of sweet bubble-like orbitals popped between his teeth as he bore lightly down, and sent the aroma of directly to his sinus cavities. "Mh! A lime caviar round! Crowley, where—"

"Aw, here." Something slick and a tad salty pressed into his mouth to silence him, and he took the proffered morsal, and moaned as the tastes ran together.

"Oh, oyster. Oh..."

Crowley pressed the tip of a water bottle to his mouth, and had to slap his hand away.

"Keep them there or I'll tie you to the table."

"If only you would allow me a chance to savor—"

"Nope! Time for the speed round!"

"Speed round—"

"You don't have to guess this time. I'll just tell you."

"But—"

"Hands down!"

Shivering a little, the angel removed his hands back to the table legs, and held on for dear life.

"Citron de Menton," Crowley held it under his nose. A fresh citronella scent overtook him for a moment. Then the demon flicked the cut edge of the fruit left and right on his lips, leaving a slight acidic but pleasant taste. "Hailing from the Alpes-Maritimes region in France. Practically glows at night."

With his last words he quickly removed the fruit, making the angel jolt. He barely had time to recover before he heard," Pomelo de Corse, from the isle of Corsica. Lucky to find this one at all, out of season. A cross between a grapefruit and an orange." The juicy flesh was so sweet his tongue came out trying to catch more before the bombardment of its fragrance was whisked away.

"Clementine de Corse!" Crowley declared, pushing a tiny, delicate, and above all tangy bit under his nostrils. "The only clementine produced in France, also from Corsica." This time Aziraphale felt the demon press his fingertips against the edge of his mouth, encouraging it open. He was allowed one nibble before it was taken away, leaving his mouth watering.

"Orange calamansi!" Now he was getting the gist of the game. His body started to tremble.

"Crowley," he jokingly begged, "Perhaps you might slow down."

"Ah, no." A very soft and sweet flesh pressed onto his lips, then was gone. Quickly it was replaced with a dark chocolate which he was finally permitted to eat, and its flavor practically exploded in his mouth. When he moaned he could hear Crowley chuckling, and he knew he was blushing. When he swallowed he tried to protest, but the water was brought to his mouth, cleansing his pallet.

Crowley continued," Limequat." A very small bit made its way barely under his nose. This time he smelled it pulled away, hanging there. Crowley was waiting for him to do something. Cursing under his breath, he stuck out his tongue. His reward was a quick lick before another oyster was fed him. As he munched he emitted a mournful little noise. But the demon laughed, and persisted.

The meyer lemon came along with a pastry, but Aziraphale was only permitted to smell it. Sour but aromatic bergamot was produced with a sip of earl gray and a bite of cold salmon.

Then Buddha fingers, candied cedrat lemon, key lime, spicy citron rouge with more salmon, tart kabossu lemon, sudachi lemon so juicy along with shellfish he had to swallow to keep from drooling, and the mere perfume of kaffir lime.

Between each of these the demon gave him water and a cracker, and every so often a deep penetrating kiss. Along for the ride came pralines, dark chocolate, fish, and other assorted tidbits. It was driving him to the edge.

Never was Aziraphale given a chance to savor the flavors, getting only a hint or a whiff, just a quick taste or smell, before the sensation was whisked away and something else nearly rammed under his nose. Ten minutes into the onslaught he was quaking.

"Agape! Agape!" he hollered.