Here. The lil section thingies are spaced out. Also, bear in mind that this was my first attempt at smut in my whole virgin life, so...yeah.
It had taken less convincing than you cared to admit for the pair of archangels to get in your pants. Of course, that had been back when their conquests were manageable and didn't involve handcuffs, blindfolds, ball gags and vibrators you didn't even know you existed and had not expected to fit inside you.
The anxiety surrounding having two of heavens "most powerful weapons" tie you down, take away your sight, and fuck you for an undetermined amount of hours (yes, hours) had been sizeable, understandable, and completely irrational considering how sweetly they'd treated you the first time. Safe-words, colors – hell, Lucifer had practically given you a verbal catalogue of what you could potentially expect from him before you'd started. You felt taken care of; more than that, you felt loved. The aftercare was sweet, the praise they'd given during and after boosted your confidence by miles, and the pleasant ache between your legs hadn't hurt, either.
So you'd done it again.
And again.
And somewhere down the line you'd gotten into gags. And vibrators. And even domming on occasion. With occasional vanilla outliers or quickies, your sex life had transcended to a level of kinky that had Dean blushing if you mentioned it (which was very rarely and always with an impish smile hidden behind a coffee or beer).
Gabriel and Lucifer weren't exactly known for their patience, even less for their subtlety, and they were notoriously lacking in cooperative skills. What they did do well was ambiance. And tonight they went above and beyond. Softly playing music wafted through the pleasantly rounded, classier than your average scene, curtesy of Gabriel. Vanilla-cinnamon scented candles scattered all around the room and counteracting the dimmed lights, also curtesy of Gabriel. Creamy (soon to be creamier) silk sheets laid perfectly upon a soft bed, with tan-gold beach-wood posts filigreed with gold and a swooping white canopy bedecked with fairy lights...brought to the table by Gabriel. Okay, so setting the mood was Gabe's forte, but it wasn't like Luci didn't contribute. On the contrary, Lucifer brought maybe the best piece of all.
Toys.
This time, you were blindfolded before you even entered the room, and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out why. It wasn't your birthday. No, that had come and gone – they'd made the day quite memorable. A day at a resort you weren't sure really existed, an evening in London floating along the River Thames, and the whole night with them at your disposal, happy to pleasure you in any way you requested. Which had been many – you'd been happy to challenge them.
So it wasn't your birthday. That much you knew. Not yours, probably not theirs, and no obscure holiday could warrant this level of stealth. You hadn't seen your archangels since that morning, when you'd awoken to an unusually cheerful Lucifer. Your first conclusion regarding his happy demeanor had been that something horrible and debilitating had occurred and Gabriel was no longer among the living. When he'd entered five minutes later, sporting a wide grin and a tray of waffles laden in strawberries and whipped cream. When you'd offhandedly asked the occasion, they'd laughed, shoved the waffles under your nose, and instructed you to steer clear of my room for the day.
So, you'd read. Watched T.V. Started on research before Lucifer had appeared and lit the book on fire, claiming that it wasn't a day for work. No harm had come to you – it never did with your angels around – but Wendigo Slaughter for Dummies was as fried as the subjects often became.
"I'm gonna lay you down," Lucifer murmured against your ear, hands you assumed were his skimming down to cup your ass before scooping you up and pinning you to him. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck; he had a tendency to toss you, and you had a tendency to hit your head on objects even with your eyesight. You'd be clinging to him until you felt a mattress.
