Work Text:
Somehow, the meeting was more boring than usual.
Gabriel wasn't sure how the other angels had managed that, but he suspected it had something to do with the tightness around his chest.
It pressed on his hips, shoulders, and back as well, rough lines of pressure that tugged and slid against his hot skin every time he shifted. He closed his eyes as he took in his next unnecessary breath, the fabric of his shirt a teasing brush against his nipples.
"Gabriel?" Michael's voice filtered in, a touch of irritation in her tone. "I asked if you approved of this policy change."
"Yes, yes, fine." Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. He didn't even remember what the proposed change was, and honestly didn't much care, if it got him out of that room faster.
This new game Aziraphale had proposed was going to kill him.
He'd worn ropes before, of course, but never like this, under his clothing, in public, where he was certain every dart of his fellow Archangels' eyes would discover his secret. It was filthy and thrilling, all at once, the twitch of his own cock a dull sensation against the metal cage surrounding it, keeping him captive, keeping even his own touch subject to Aziraphale's approval.
If they caught him, what possible excuse could he give? Their attention suddenly felt heavy, stripping him bare, until Gabriel couldn't hold still any more.
Abruptly, he stood, glaring around the table, daring the others to challenge his actions as all eyes came to rest on him. "I think you can handle the rest of this without me." He smiled, sharp. "Busy, busy, things to do."
There was silence behind him as he left the conference room, low conversation just beginning as the door swung shut.
Gabriel didn't care.
He walked as quickly as he dared to his own office, shutting and locking the door before he sagged against it. The movement jostled the tight harness around his torso again, and he let himself groan, rolling his muscles in a slow undulation to enjoy the constriction.
Fumbling for his pocket, Gabriel's phone was dialing Aziraphale's number before he even brought it all the way up to his ear.
"Don't tell me you failed already." Aziraphale greeted him, cool but curious, the combination making Gabriel shiver.
"I need to come home," Gabriel countered, breathless and rushed. His body was burning, skin sizzling in the best way, and he needed Aziraphale's hands on him.
Reaching down, he gripped the hard, unyielding cage between his legs, just to hold on to something, as he waited for an answer. If he tried, he could easily have peeled the flimsy steel away, ripped it apart, torn it to shreds to take his aching prick in hand.
He didn't try.
Aziraphale paused. "If you're asking for permission, you don't need to come home. Do you have anything else to say, my dove?"
The word trembled on the tip of Gabriel's tongue, and he swallowed it down, feeling something settle in his body as he refused to bow out. "No, nothing else. Just... please."
There was a click of tongue from the other end of the phone, the sound of Aziraphale's displeasure. "The shop will be open for another few hours. You can wait until then."
Defeated, but unsurprised, Gabriel let out a soft moan. "Yes, Sir."
"Good." Aziraphale's voice warmed. "Six o'clock sharp, then. Don't be late."
The line went dead, and Gabriel tipped his head back into the solid wooden door. He thrust his hips into nothing as the ropes held him in a tight embrace, pinned and wanting, looking forward to hours of this distracted torment before he could beg for Aziraphale's questionable mercy.
The illustration which inspired this, by THISisGREAT:
