Chapter Text
Planetesimals: Planetesimals are considered the building blocks of planets that may form in a solar system; they begin as dust clumps in a circ*mstellar disk before becoming pebbles and eventually larger rocks that grind together to expand, and through mutual gravitational attraction, they collide to create something bigger.
“Be sure you don’t miss a spot, darling,” Professor Fell’s instructional murmur is a wisp of a smoky purr that surrounds Crowley in its warmth as the professor glances down at him, “it’s agonizing enough that I have to attend this ridiculous dinner, I’ll not have these shoes be anything less than pristine— surely your greedy tongue can happily see to that, pet?”
Crowley nods as he hazily gazes up at Fell and glides his flattened tongue along the toe of his ebony leather, double monk strap dress shoe, taking meticulous care to maintain his position; he’s settled onto his knees and forearms, his back is arched on the right edge of severely and his thighs are spread wide to accommodate the extreme angle of his dipping down waist and chest.
In contrast to Fell’s perfectly tailored suit, Crowley’s barely wearing anything at all— a black lace thong, opaque obsidian thigh high stockings held up by a simple six strap suspender belt, and a pair of inky, glossy black stiletto heels featuring straps that secure around his ankles and are fastened with tiny gold, functional padlocks.
In one hand, Professor Fell elegantly holds a crystal tumbler of whiskey, and in the other he clutches the leather loop of the gold tone chain leash that’s clasped to the ring of Crowley’s matching collar— it’s not pulled very taut, but there’s also not a lot of slack for Crowley to move his head and neck much as he works.
“At least I’ll be able to picture this all evening,” Fell whispers as Crowley rapturously kisses and licks the twin silver buckles on the shoe, their metallic tang sparkling against the slight spice of the leather, “my pretty little f*cktoy, all dressed up and aching to be so very useful for me— arch your back more, dearest, show off for me.”
Crowley whines as he obeys, sinking his torso even closer to the floor as Fell takes a sip of his drink, his burning, stormy ocean eyes sliding over Crowley’s body with obvious hunger, and he sets his glass down on the side table by the settee before reaching into his jacket pocket.
There’s a tiny click before a very faint buzzing fills the room along with Crowley’s choked whimper, and he almost bites down on black leather as the plug inside him starts vibrating gently. He moans as he feverishly continues licking, his movements far jerkier and less coordinated now as shockwaves of pleasure reverberate throughout his scantily clad body, and he can hear the amused smirk in Fell’s next words.
“That’s the lowest setting, lovely, and you’re losing control already? Goodness, maybe you cannot handle this in addition to your current assignment— I know how hard it is for you to focus sometimes, Crowley,” Fell’s voice plummets to a glittering growl, “can you manage these two things at once, my sweet student?”
Crowley nods as he screws his eyes shut and whispers shakily, “y-yes, sir, I— I can handle it, professor.” He delicately laves the tip of his tongue all along the entire welt of the right shoe just above the sole, his panting breath strained as he does his best to focus on his task, the taste of the leather a pleasant but not piquant enough distraction from the vibrating toy that’s nestled just against his prostate.
“Good boy,” there’s a tug on the leash that forces Crowley forward a bit, and his nose grazes against Fell’s tartan sock clad ankle, which he automatically presses his lips to, “that one looks excellent, darling, well done— onto the other, now, I must be going very soon— can you finish in time?”
Crowley goes to nod as he shifts slightly on the ground, flexing his feet in his heels and cracking his neck before starting in on the other shoe, “yes, professor, I—”
Click.
“— oh, f*ck,” Crowley rasps, shuddering as his knees slip on the rug and his hands clench into tense fists, his nails digging into his palms.
“You’re quite lucky I find that filthy mouth charming, Anthony,” Fell points out as he recrosses his legs, graciously giving Crowley slightly easier access to his left shoe, “at the very least I’ve found multiple uses for it— go on, my dear boy, take a deep breath for me, focus— that’s it, so good, you’re so good for me.”
Crowley does as he’s told and inhales as deeply as he can before he starts skating his tongue over the onyx leather, shaking enough now that the metal ring of his collar and the little locks on his ankles clink and jingle, joining the growing symphony of the vibrating plug and his steadily climbing higher whimpers.
“Look up at me, sweetheart,” Crowley immediately flicks his eyes up at the command and moans as he sees Fell holding his phone at a downward angle, presumably filming him, “beautiful, thank you, rosebud— just want to record a bit so I have something to watch when I inevitably sneak off to touch myself in a few hours, when the stunningly lewd thought of you will become too much for me to bear.”
Crowley’s muffled “f*ck” against the now shining, slick toe cap pitches into a strangled cry as Fell puts his phone down, picks up the remote again and clicks it a third and fourth time rapidly, sending Crowley into literal convulsions as he frantically grabs Fell’s calf with both hands.
“Oh God, sir, please,” Crowley hisses through gritted teeth as the almost painfully intense vibration f*cks through him, his thighs quaking as he struggles to stay up on his knees, “please, c-can I—”
“No,” Fell says firmly, “you may not come, Crowley— you’re not done.”
Crowley barely refrains from sobbing in frustration as he plants both palms back on the ground and forces himself back into his position, not surprised by Fell’s refusal in the slightest, but the pulsing pressure is going to be nearly impossible to ignore as he valiantly attempts to continue.
His jaw aches as he forces himself to conscientiously lick along the stitched seams, and the lace covering his co*ck growing wetter as he goes; he’s leaking continuously how as his prostate is mercilessly stimulated from the deliciously torturous plug, and the subtle stretch of it is an additionally euphoric element, although it’s not enough, it’s never enough.
“You’re doing so well for me, kitten,” Fell murmurs as he leans forward and slides a hand into Crowley’s hair to massage his scalp, his touch soothing, “I need to leave in four minutes, my dear— you have that amount of time to finish and come for me, otherwise you’ll be waiting to climax until I come home.”
Thank f*ck he’s nearly done, otherwise there wouldn’t even be a chance of successful completion, because there is one last final click just as Crowley finishes licking and places one last rapturous kiss on the toe, and his eyes roll back as he wraps his arms around Fell’s knees and wails into his thighs, the violent thrumming inside him now an unendurable stimulation that he’s not sure he can f*cking take much more of. He barely registers strong hands hooking under his arms and pulling him onto Fell’s lap, his org*sm already starting to explode through his nerves as he straddles his professor’s hips and buries his face in his neck, sinking his teeth into a lapel as a hand slides between his legs and rhythmically pushes the plug in and out of him, f*cking him shallowly.
“You never fail to amaze me, Crowley,” Fell growls as Crowley comes so hard it hurts, and he keens between gasping sobs as the excruciatingly built up ecstasy finally overflows and cascades through his body, “such a perfect slu*t for me, every time, every single time, my little harlot, you are so f*cking good for me—”
The fingers playing with the plug shift, and now Fell’s palm cups Crowley’s pulsing co*ck through soaking lace; the friction makes him jump and thrust forward, and he’s crawling towards overstimulation now as he bites his lip to keep from sucking on Fell’s neck, knowing he can’t leave a mark right now.
“F-f*ck, sir,” Crowley slurs as the very last blasts of pleasure start to ebb and the oversensitivity grows, but still he can’t help but rock into his professor’s hand, he cannot help but weakly surge his trembling hips towards the warm palm; Fell’s other arm is wrapped around his waist and is supporting him, not letting him fall backward, “‘s so g-good…”
He whines in simultaneous relief and loss as Fell pulls his now slick hand away and grabs the remote to hold down the button that turns off the plug with his thumb. Crowley sighs heavily and sags against the warm body beneath him, panting as he weakly throws his arms around Fell’s neck and melts into him, and he briefly worries about messing up Fell’s suit until the professor replaces his hand where it was in order to shield the wool of his jacket from soaked lace. He starts kissing Crowley deeply then, humming into his pliant mouth and gently licking into it as he whispers, his voice almost painfully adoring, its tone nearly lethally fond, “beautifully done, my dove.”
Crowley smiles into the kiss, still overwhelmed by Fell’s generously offered praise but soaking it up nonetheless, becoming more used to it by the day and craving it more and more.
As their kissing goes on, he regretfully murmurs, “you’re going to be late, professor— and I worked so hard on those shoes, I’d hate for no one to see them now.”
He is, of course, devastated that there’s no time to suck his professor off— he can feel how hard Fell is beneath him— but Crowley knows he’ll get the opportunity later when Fell returns home and inevitably uses him every which way, much to his delight and desire.
Fell sighs heavily in resignation as he nods, and Crowley gets to his feet slowly, his legs still quivering as he stands on the heels gingerly. Fell stands as well and pulls Crowley close, and he’s much shorter than him due to the stilettos, but still effortlessly in command as he looks up at him.
“I do so hate to run off, my darling boy,” he says softly as he reaches up and brushes some stray crimson locks back behind Crowley’s temple, tucking them there as the pad of his thumb slides along the shell of Crowley’s ear, “relax and take good care of yourself for me while I’m gone, alright?”
Crowley nods as he turns his head and kisses Fell’s wrist sweetly, his stomach fluttering from the tender treatment that’s as common as the roughly commanding handling from Fell and just as addicting, “I will, professor; I promise.”
“Good boy,” Fell whispers as he cups Crowley’s face in his hands, his skin so warm and soft, his palms making a home that Crowley knows he can safely rest within, “thank you, doll.” He lets his hands fall as a shadow of remorse shrouds his eyes, and Crowley knows Fell is incredibly reluctant to leave him after their scene, even though it was not a particularly intense one, and his natural penchant for aftercare is just one of professor’s many wonderful traits that Crowley absolutely adores.
“You’re welcome,” Crowley murmurs sincerely, and he bends to peck Fell’s cheek, lingering there as he continues, “I’ll be alright, truly— better than alright.”
He knows better than to tell Fell not to worry— he will regardless, and Crowley fully anticipates a text later on checking on him, but it’s something he’s looking forward to. Somehow Professor Fell’s care doesn’t ever smother Crowley, it never feels overbearing— it feels kind, genuine, and just the right amount of attentive. It doesn’t suffocate him; it makes him feel held.
Crowley then straightens and walks over to the coat rack to retrieve the overcoat Fell’s been favoring lately and hands it to him; he takes it with a grateful smile and drapes it over his forearm as Crowley slyly mutters, “and don’t forget to watch that video you took, sir; it would be simply tragic for that to go to waste.”
Fell chuckles as he goes in for one last kiss before turning to go, and Crowley notes with pleasure that the cloudiness has receded from the sky of his gaze that now gleams with almost devilish mirth, “oh, you need not worry about that, love; that most assuredly will not happen.”
