Archive of Our Own ^beta

“That about wraps up the reports, then,” Gabriel said, bringing his hands together with a loud clap that made Aziraphale wince. He sat stiffly in the chair in front of the Archangel’s mahogany desk, picking at his cuticles, more than a little eager to be dismissed. His heart swelled with hope at the prospect of being finished, but then sank when Gabriel continued, “All that’s left is …” his eyes skimmed over the tablet in front of him and Aziraphale’s heart pounded. “... ah, yes, of course. The reprimand.” Gabriel’s lips turned up into a wolfish smirk.

“Oh, but I thought -- ” Aziraphale quickly swallowed his protest. Though his recently botched assignment hadn’t been his fault, and he knew he’d squared things to the Archangels’ satisfaction, there was no use in arguing. Heaven’s decrees were absolute. Even if the punishment was unjust. Or at least unjust in Aziraphale’s humble opinion. “Right. Well, then,” Aziraphale stood awkwardly and tilted his head towards the door. “I’ll just be off to Sandalphon’s office, then …”

“There’s no need for that, is there?” Gabriel leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, eyes sweeping over Aziraphale’s corporation. His smile was deceptively friendly; the fox inviting the hen for dinner. “We can handle it here, right? Just between us? I hate to think of you suffering more than necessary, Aziraphale. You know how strict Sandalphon always is. And then there’s the humiliation of witnesses, and records, photographs, and blah blah blah!” Gabriel waved his hands and rolled his eyes, shaking his head knowingly at Aziraphale as if they were at all on the same page about this.

A wave of cold dread settled down Aziraphale’s spine. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as though considering his options, but really, what choice did he have? If he refused, Gabriel could easily (and likely would) trump up the charges, resulting in a harsher reprimand. And Gabriel was right. The witnesses, records, and photographs were immensely unpleasant. Surely this was better. Aziraphale steadfastly convinced himself, and then nodded slowly.

“All right,” he said in a small voice.

“That’s a good angel,” Gabriel said, jumping up out of his chair. He looked every inch the cat that ate the canary, from the lascivious gaze of his violet eyes to the way he licked his lips as he went to fetch an implement from his cabinet. “You’re lucky, Aziraphale, that I’m willing to take the time out of my busy schedule to discipline you myself.”

“Yes, I know, Gabriel,” Aziraphale answered, head down, hands clasped in front of him. They’d done this dance before, many times, and Aziraphale knew his moves by heart. “I’m really terribly sorry.”

“I know you are, Sunshine, but you know the rules.”

Aziraphale did know the rules, and he also knew the ones Gabriel was playing by were unwritten; something secret, unsanctioned, and likely to get Aziraphale in a lot of trouble if he ever spoke about them outside of this office. Self-preservation demanded zipped lips more often than not in Heaven.

Gabriel opened the cabinet and selected a wicked looking cane - a long narrow strip of rattan. He inspected it carefully in his hands if it weren’t miracled to perfection, more than capable of imparting a stinging moral argument against one’s backside. As if Gabriel hadn’t used it countless times before on Aziraphale’s unfortunate hide. He spoke without even sparing Aziraphale a glance, “Move the chair and bend over the desk, please.”

Hands shaking, Aziraphale dragged the chair out of the way and then leaned over the desk as instructed, placing his palms on the cool wood. Gabriel was a minimalist, and so there was plenty of room between the tablet, the Archangel nameplate, and a small potted succulent Aziraphale was quite sure had been taken from Eden.

“Really, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale turned to see Gabriel waving the cane at his backside, his face screwed up in annoyance. 

“Oh! I just thought --” Gabriel raised his eyebrows and Aziraphale trailed off with a deep blush on his cheeks. “O-of course. Sorry.”

Aziraphale quickly unfastened his trousers then tucked his thumbs inside his pants and pulled everything down to his knees. The cool air rushed against his bare bottom and his ears burned at his complete lack of modesty as he bent back over.

Gabriel tapped the cane against Aziraphale’s exposed buttocks. “Cute underwear,” he said, voice dripping with snark, and Aziraphale instantly regretted the tartan boxer-briefs currently bunched around his knees, feeling embarrassed about the cut, style, and pattern. Gabriel always made him feel like that somehow, like every choice he made was wrong and foolish.

The cane suddenly whistled through the air, and Aziraphale winced, bracing himself for the burning impact, but then it didn’t come. After several beats, he let out the breath he’d been holding, nervous and unsure, sickeningly wrong-footed.

Gabriel hummed, the sound low in his throat. “I suppose I don’t have to use the cane. It wasn’t that serious of a fuck up.” He set the cane down on the desk and then placed his hand against Aziraphale’s quivering left buttock and gave it a firm squeeze. “I’ll just use my hand. Aren’t you relieved?”

Aziraphale’s heart was pounding harder than ever, but he forced himself to nod. “Y-yes, of course. Thank you, Gabriel. You’re always so kind to me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Gabriel chuckled. He raised his arm high and brought it down with a loud smack! against Aziraphale’s bottom.

Aziraphale sucked in a gulp of air at the shockingly sharp spank, but quickly recovered as Gabriel’s large hand continued coming down, alternating swats from cheek to cheek. It wasn’t as bad as the cane, and certainly not as bad as Sandalphon’s paddle, but it was intimate; the skin of Gabriel’s palm making repeated contact with Aziraphale’s naked jiggling buttocks.

“Wow, Aziraphale,” Gabriel mused, not slowing down at all, “You’re looking awfully plump, aren’t you? I’ve told you my thoughts on food, haven’t I?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale gasped out. Despite the apparent leniency of a hand spanking instead of a caning, it did hurt, the steady, relentless smacks quickly heating up the sensitive skin which was really starting to smart. “I know! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

Gabriel didn’t respond, but began to spank harder, peppering every inch of Aziraphale’s wide wobbly bottom with crisp smacks that echoed loudly in the barren Heavenly office. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure what he’d been apologizing for. For indulging in human food? For being pudgy? For the assignment that had gone awry? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Gabriel’s hand smacking his bottom harder and harder while Aziraphale tried and failed to keep still and stoic. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t help but whimper and squirm, wiggling his hips from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid the endless punishing blows.

“You’re so squirmy today,” Gabriel finally said, pausing to run his hand over the scalded skin of Aziraphale’s reddened backside. 

Aziraphale lay panting with his clammy cheek resting on the desk, his eyes wet, fingers curled into fists. Gabriel took the liberty of giving Aziraphale's throbbing rump a good, firm rub, his fingers dipping between his buttocks, moving lower and lower, until they slipped down between his legs and Aziraphale failed to stifle a whine.

“You always get so wet, Aziraphale. It makes me wonder if this is really a punishment at all. Bet you don't get this wet with Sandalphon, huh?” Gabriel chuckled, working first one finger, and then two inside Aziraphale. He bent over Aziraphale's back, pressing his lips against his ear and whispered, "I hope that's just for me."

Aziraphale shuddered. Gabriel gave a few more good thrusts, and then dragged his warm, cunt-slick fingers up across Aziraphale’s well-spanked bottom, giving it another smack before taking a step back.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Have you learned your lesson? Ready to show me how sorry you are?”

Oh. That already. Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Of course, Gabriel,” he mumbled, trying to quell the shaking as he quickly turned and started to drop to his knees.

Gabriel stopped him with a firm hand to his shoulder. He spun Aziraphale and pushed him back over the desk. “Uh-uh. Not today. Today I think you should apologize with this …” Gabriel's hand was back between Aziraphale’s legs, cupping his cunt. “Is this the effort you make for that demon Crowley?”

A sharp chill shot up Aziraphale's spine. “I … I … ” It wasn’t, of course, since Crowley would never be interested in Aziraphale like that. Crowley was a demon; suave, handsome, and cool. What would he want with a fussy, portly old bookseller? Especially one who was also a low-ranked, goody-two-shoes angel? Gabriel had hit a nerve, though. Aziraphale had certainly thought about it before; thought about it at length while rubbing his clit and fucking himself on his fingers, alone in bed and desperately shouting Crowley’s name into the dark of night.

“It’s such a nice effort, too,” Gabriel continued, “Makes me jealous.”

“No! I’ve never … I mean, I haven’t ever. Gabriel, please, you don’t - ”

“Relax, sunshine,” Gabriel said with a dark chuckle, giving Aziraphale’s bottom a little pat. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

It was a warning. Frozen with fear, Aziraphale understood that all too well. And though Gabriel had the wrong idea about Crowley, it didn’t really matter. Such dangerous accusations were more than enough to keep Aziraphale well under Gabriel’s thumb; unable to refuse anything the Archangel demanded. Not that Aziraphale had ever refused him anyway.

Gabriel fucked him hard, though. The sharp edge of the desk dug into Aziraphale’s thighs as it shook beneath them, creaking loudly with each tremendous thrust. Aziraphale let his mind float. Close your eyes and think of Eden. He stared at the plant on Gabriel's desk and did just that.

Aziraphale didn’t drift back until Gabriel was tucking himself away and readjusting his clothing, peering into a small mirror on the wall, running a comb through his dark, perfectly coiffed hair. He was speaking, and it sounded like a question.

“Y-yes?” Aziraphale responded, hoping for the best.

“Right! I’m glad you understand things. You know this is for your own good, right? And the greater good, too.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale mumbled, standing with a wince, sore, stretched, and uncomfortably damp between the legs. He pulled his pants and trousers back up, feeling awkward as he fumbled with the zip and button, terribly embarrassed and longing to run from the room and scrub himself clean with a miracle or bath.

“I’ll put in a good word for you for those extra miracles you requested.”

Ah. A little tit for tat. It was the way of things, Aziraphale had found. “Thank you,” he said, making his way towards the door.

“No problem. I just hope you can stay out of trouble, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blushed and nodded as he hurried out of Gabriel’s office, knowing very well the Archangel didn’t really mean that at all.