Chapter Text
So. This was it.
Crowley lay on his throne, one leg hooked around an arm and the other nearly falling off the seat. His fingers softly, nervously stroked around his folds, spreading little bits of wetness on his skin. He hummed, deep in his throat, before his fingers finally traced against his clit.
His hips jerked against the throne, and a small whine escapes from his chest. So much time passes between these sessions of his, where he would lounge for days and do nothing but masturbate, that he forgets how sensitive he’s rigged his clit to be. Again, he repeats the action, slower and lighter this time. The pleasure thrums through him, and he can already feel his abdomen begin to tense. He brings his index and middle finger down to his opening, gathering the wetness that had dripped from him already, bringing it up to smear around the hood of his clit. He gasps, wetly, at the slick sounds his fingers make as he rubs his clit between his fingers.
“Hah! Oh, yessss…” He hisses, as his movements become more frantic, hips minutely thrusting up, until he’s fucking his clit against his fingers, moans coming out so loud he’s glad he had the foresight to miracle his walls soundproof. His free hand grasps tightly at an arm on the chair as he comes, toes curling against the air and the hard tile of his floor. He throws his head back and lets out a long whine from between clenched teeth, feeling little drops of his own cum escape him, trickling down his skin and onto the velvet of the chair.
By the end of it, he’s trembling, just using his index to lightly circle his clit, little pants echoing around the room. Crowley relaxes into his throne, closing his eyes and grinning as he starts to work his hips against his clit once more. He’d rigged his system to ignore the already minuscule refractory period of the vagina, and could go for hours without stopping. Lucky for him, he had nothing to do for the rest of eternity. One of his fangs nicked his lip as he grinned wider, before shuddering as he came once more.
Hours later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and Crowley’s living room had been illuminated in a rare, clear night, the Serpent of Eden was still at it. He’d only just begun that morning, after all. Cum had dripped from his cunt and across the throne, and over the floor as he’d fingered himself to completion too many times to count, with only a small twenty minute break sometime during sunset.
At the moment, Crowley was writhing against the chair with pleasure, loudly moaning as his fingers thrusted in and out of himself, jackrabbit quick.