Work Text:
There were many things Gabriel considered during his time in Heaven. Many of sinful nature, for that matter.
On rare occasions would the temptations of the flesh call to him in tantalising whispers, tingling his skin with phantom heat that he would have to snuff out before it burned too hot.
This was God testing him, he thought; testing the strength of his willpower. For what other reason would he give his archangels the ability to feel such things and to think such thoughts? Certainly not to indulge in them. Not only would it be a waste of time and energy, but a cardinal sin.
To be absent of sin was to abstain from lustful desires, and thus Gabriel would have never considered such a thing. Celibacy was to be upheld at all costs.
A fine concept.
-Near excruciating in execution.
There were days where Gabriel became so stressed from his work that he wouldn't know what to do with himself. He would enter his home so bitterly pent-up from the day’s events, slamming doors with such force that their hinges would snap.
Attempting to train and practise his battle manoeuvres did not help while he was in these moods. If anything, it would only make it worse; exacerbating frustration as his body fought for a relief that it could not achieve from a method that would normally soothe him.
Every muscle tensed, he would grit his teeth and clench his fists to try and stave away the ache that would wrack his body.
These were days where Gabriel wanted nothing more than to be touched.
One of those days would strike him once again, plaguing the edges of his thoughts as he returned to his home.
Work had been particularly rough. He hadn't been able to get much done due to circumstances both within and out of his control, the former of which being an embarrassment to his image.
The stress had been piling on him for weeks by now, this point in time reaching the height of it. It had become an endless cycle of ‘too stressed to work on this, do it later’, remaining stressed about not doing it, and thus never getting it done.
Gabriel remembered to close his door softly, only just. His hand still clenched its handle dangerously. He was so tense that it almost hurt.
He quickly rid himself of his armour, leaving himself in only his skirt and helmet. While the freedom from its confines was relieving, it did leave behind the problem of exposing his body.
This would usually pose no issue. Though in this circumstance, Gabriel found himself feeling more confined outside of his armour than within it.
He almost couldn't bear to look down at his own body, for fear that it may incite any thoughts that he was absolutely unprepared to deal with in his current headspace.
He growled to himself, under his breath,
“..God, grant me strength.”
A simple prayer of word would not be enough. He needed to focus on it.
Gabriel would go to kneel before his shrine of the Father himself, in hopes that would be of any help. With his hands clasped together and chin tilted down, he would mumble his woes and pray for the Father’s guidance.
There would be no answer. There never was. Gabriel was merely left to simmer in his stupor.
Eventually, his hands came to rest on his thighs, tiring of being held up. Gabriel kept his focus honed, blinding his consciousness with the holy graciousness before him.
But, a thought slipped through the shadows; the contact of his hand on his leg felt nice. Involuntarily, he squeezed his thigh ever-so-slightly -- sending a pleasant trickle of warmth upwards through his abdomen, relieving just a little of that tension in his body.
That hand slipped an inch inwards, and only then did he catch himself.
His other hand snapped to the wrist of the explorative one as if it weren’t his own, wrenching it away and back towards his chest.
Keep yourself together. He thought.
You will find your relief in prayer. Do not give in.
A self promise built on unstable foundation, already crumbling at the seams.
He had no idea what to do with his twitching hands, afraid they would gain a mind of their own before he got another chance to stop them. He crossed them over his torso, only to pull them back with a squeak as a finger grazed the sensitive flesh of his sides, shooting another painfully pleasant tingle through his body.
He couldn't fucking focus when all that his hands would do was flit about and tempt him.
With an exasperated snarl, he called to his power to summon hard light -- a power normally used to conjure weapons or objects of convenience -- for something, anything to keep his hands still.
The crackle of summoned hard light lit the room, and he looked down at his hands.
Looped around his wrists, there was now a thick band of the substance -- keeping them locked together. He tugged at it slightly on instinct, his breath catching in his throat a little as he did. The tension in his body seemed to calm for a moment, soothed by the safety measure the bindings promised him.
This was a start.
There were still improvements to be had, though. Having his hands in front of him was not ideal -- they still had the capacity to find themselves in unsightly places, even if bound.
He unsummoned the light for a moment, curling his fingers into his palm and back outwards a few times. Despite only having those bindings for a few moments, he found himself already mourning its loss.
Its absence would not last long, thankfully; as he then brought his hands behind his back, re-summoning the hard light around his wrists there.
Much more ideal. Now there was no chance he would be able to reach anything.
He pulled against the restraints a little, involuntarily so -- his hands still remaining twitchy and restless.
With every tug, another pang of heat pulsed through him -- condensing in his abdomen, forging a burning hot pit within it. His hands writhed towards the growing ache between his thighs, unable to reach where they so desperately ached to touch.
To his surprise, it felt -- good. What should be a source of further tension was instead alleviating it.
He lost himself in the feeling of it all for a moment -- a soft, yet guttural noise escaping from the back of his throat as he clenched his hands, pushing against the confines of the hard light, his hips bucking forward in an unsuccessful attempt to make contact with something.
No. Stop.
His subconscious scolded him, harshly.
This is a punishment, for God’s sake. You are not meant to enjoy this. What is wrong with you?
Gabriel whined, his posture curling in on itself out of shame. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but want to reach for any grip on the relieved tension that seemed oh-so fleeting. He was desperate.
And then he realised something.
He could not commit the sin of touching himself. He had effectively disabled his own ability to do so.
And If he could not touch himself, then surely relishing in this feeling was not all so bad.
This did not fall under celibacy. This was allowed. -- Right?
Gabriel did not care much for the logistics of it in the heat of the moment, just that he had found a sliver of rationalisation.
He could indulge in this -- and this only. That was all the justification he needed to lose himself entirely to the throes of his own predicament.
What he had done wasn’t enough. He needed to make sure he was well and truly unable to touch himself.
First of all, though -- he thought he should at the very least make himself more comfortable. Hands still bound behind him, he pushed himself to a stance -- hastily making his way towards his bedchamber. He had long since stopped praying, anyway.
He caught glance of himself in the reflection of a hallway mirror on his way there, halting for a moment as he met his own gaze. His expressionless helmet stared back at him, his chest visibly rising and falling with laboured breaths.
Cautiously, he turned around and peered over his shoulder at his reflection, admiring the way his fingers curled as he strained against the hard light bindings. A jittered exhale escaped him as he watched himself writhe, his back arching as the coals in the pit of his stomach smouldered.
Enough of this, His subconscious snapped him out of his self-infatuation. Do not linger.
After one final look he continued onwards to his bedchamber, struggling for a moment to open the door.
Once he did as such, he closed it behind him, then made his way to his bed. Tentatively, he lay himself upon it sideways -- fidgeting with his hands as he tried to fish a cognitive thought out of the raging rapids of his mind.
-Right. This was not enough. He needed more -- just to be safe.
He formed another band of hard light further up around his arms. Another around his shoulders.
Not enough. His legs could still position themselves obscenely. They were still a threat.
A hard light band formed around his ankles. Another under his knees, and another around his thighs.
This was good. He was virtually immobile, now. There was no possible outlet for him to commit sin.
He moved, and then the heat seared him from within.
“-Ohh ffuck," He mewled, straining against his now much more restrictive bindings.
The feeling was almost indescribable. It was as if the most tender, loving arms had wrapped themselves around him and refused to loosen their grasp -- almost as if he were being held by another -- being touched without being touched . It was bliss.
Almost immediately Gabriel found himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him, unable to control himself in light of the blistering desire that consumed his entire being. He needed this relief. He needed it.
This is not sin. You are not touching yourself. This is allowed.
Phrases of reassurance rewound and repeated themselves in his subconscious -- which was all that remained able to stay above the burning fire of his fervour.
He buried his face into his pillow to muffle the debauched moan that crawled from his throat. Pitiful whines and whimpers continued to trickle from him as he struggled against his binds, desperately trying to find any friction he could against the throbbing heat between his thighs.
This is not sin.
Gabriel writhed, arching his back, savouring the feeling of knowing the restriction of his movement so intimately. Every part of him felt so, so sensitive.
You are not touching yourself.
The fire burning in his abdomen was becoming near-unbearable in intensity. His frenzied grinding picked up in its pace, his moans rising in octave. His nails dug into his palms so hard that he thought they would draw blood.
This is-
Ecstasy.
Blinding, white-hot ecstasy shot through him like lightning. Gabriel could do nothing but choke on a gasp, his body twitching as it rode out his climax.
His breathless outcry faded into a whimper as the unrelenting eruption of euphoria pounding into him slowed to gentle pulses, leaving an exhausted and still-bound angel in its wake.
Gabriel was still seeing stars. It would take him a very long moment to begin regaining his senses.
Even as he did, he found that his mind was eerily clear. All the tension in his body was gone, leaving nothing but a pleasant tingle across his skin and the comforting hold of the binds. It was the most relaxed he had felt in God knows how long.
His laboured panting gradually slowed to a regular rate of breathing, his rapidly beating heart following in turn. He lay there for a few more moments before eventually sitting himself up, staring down at his bound body.
As much as he enjoyed the feeling, he figured it was probably not ideal to stay like this for much longer -- he would prefer to not wake up with a sore and taut body.
With a small sigh, he began to call away the hard light that bound him -- stretching out his legs and rolling his shoulders to be rid of any tightness.
He felt too bare, now. He already missed the sensation of being held.
Gabriel hesitated on dispelling the hard light around his wrists.
Perhaps leaving that one on while he slept couldn't hurt.