A/N: So, haha, I sort of wrote this at five in the morning (I hadn't slept all night. Bit of an insomniac, but I'm assuming all fangirls are?), so the smut is scarce and terrible and so is the rest of the story but especially the smut. I just wanted to write something that had to do with grace-induced orgasms, alright? Jeesh! Enjoy the story, though, to the best of your ability. xD
Also: if you read my other shit, then you'll know that I was supposed to be posting more Max Ride. Well I will, but it's not like this is very long, anyway. I haven't had the time to write much else. But I'm on it!
"...and so there Ricardo was, with Marcus, in the throes of pleasure - and who can really blame him, Marcus is fiiiine - when Francesca walks in-"
"God dammit, Gabriel, quit filling Cas' head with those bullshit soap opera stories," Dean snaps irritably as he limps into the motel room, shoulder most definitely dislocated and a cut running down through his pant leg. Sam follows suit, shutting the door and wincing as he does so, a cut running from his hair line to his cheek and a pretty obvious concussion, even if just a small one.
While Sam and Dean were out on a hunt against a large but inexperienced pack of skinwalkers, Gabriel and Cas had spent their evening bonding, with Gabriel trying to explain to the younger angel the complicated drama of everyday human life. And no matter how many times Dean told Castiel that all of what Gabriel says is complete and utter bull, he still listens like it's the gospel.
Gabriel pouts playfully at Dean. "C'mon, don't be such a killjoy. Cas was just asking me about Ricardo and Marcus' romance, which has to be kept secret from Marcus' sister Francesca, whose secretly in a relationship with Ricardo's brother Xavier." He throws a smirk Sam's way, who would've responded to the parallel if it wasn't for the fact that his head was pounding and his body ached.
"Like I fucking care," Dean retorts, but not glaring at Gabriel - at Cas. But he averts his eyes from the almost guilty looking angel, and says, "I'm going out," apparently so prideful that he was willing to ignore his dislocated shoulder just so he wouldn't have to ask for help. He slams the door shut on his way out.
After he's gone, Castiel stands from his position sitting cross legged on the floor and looks to Gabriel, his lips pressed into a straight line, expression unsure. "Should I do what you said, then?" he asks, his voice deep and serious, because he doesn't know that this will be both hilarious and successful.
Gabriel nods, holding back a snicker but unable to do so with his grin. "Yup. Go get 'em, tiger."
With another unsure glance to Gabriel, Cas is gone, nothing acknowledging his disappearance except for a flutter of wings.
Sam, surprisingly still awake, turns his head to look at Gabriel, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and slurs, his voice laden with sleep, "What'd you tell him to do?"
Gabriel shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just gave him some advice on how to get pretty boy to notice him in a more... Adult way," he says simply, his voice an octave higher than usual, feigning innocence.
Sam could care less about the fact that Cas likes Dean - actually, he would prefer if Cas and Dean got together, because all of this UST is killing him - but the thought of them... doing things isn't necessarily pleasant. He wrinkles his nose. "Gross."
"It has to happen sooner or later," Gabriel points out, watching Sam with somewhat curiosity. He lets his eyes trail the other man's back, the curve of his ass and the small of his back, where layers upon layers lie bunched up, one over the other and revealing no skin, which just makes life 113% more sexually frustrating for Gabriel.
Sam doesn't notice him watching, though, he's much too exhausted to. He doesn't think about asking the archangel to heal him, although it would be nice, because that would just be another merit on the list of things Gabriel has done for them, which, mind you, have already surpassed the Mystery Spot incident and the freakin' TV show incident.
Which means, yeah, he's done a fucking lot.
Sam tries to shift in the bed to get more comfortable, but only ends up aggravating one of his rather large bruises. He groans in displeasure, and doesn't notice Gabriel's grimace when he does. "Shit," he moans into the pillow, and nope, Gabriel is so not turned on right now.
"Oh for Dad's sake!" Gabriel finally says, standing and practically marching over to Sam. He reaches out towards the larger man, only to have him flinch away, which actually makes Gabriel frown. "Sam, let me heal you."
Sam's voice is muffled when he replies. "No."
Gabriel crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. "Sam."
"No."
"Stop acting like your brother and let me heal you!"
"Stop acting like yours and stop trying to smother me with affection!"
Gabriel scoffs, about to deny the claim, but then clamps his mouth shut. He supposes he has been rather affectionate as of late, but it's not like he can help himself. Sam's a nice guy. Sam will sometimes defend Gabriel when Dean tries to make fun of him.
And, anyways, have you seen the guy shirtless? Well, you don't know arousal unless you have.
"Sam," Gabriel says gently, but his tone firm, "let me heal you, or I'll smite you."
"You're so threatening," is Sam's sassy retort. And, yeah, Gabriel knows that Sam knows that he would never harm him, but it was worth a try anyway.
"Sam."
Sam lets out a one of his dramatic, usually bitchface accompanied sighs. "Fine." He rolls over carefully, and sits up, not looking at Gabriel.
Gabriel sits on the bed, on his knees, and examines Sam for a minute, who still refuses to make eye contact. And it stings, a little, but at least Gabriel gets to heal him, and be in close proximity.
But, you know. Healing him is way more important.
Now, Gabriel could do this one of two ways: he could touch two fingers to Sam's forehead and it would be done and over with, lil' Sammy all healed up and ready to go, or he could take his sweet time. You guess which one he chooses.
He reaches over to Sam, pushing his finger against the top of the cut on his face, and then dragging downward, and slow, steady pulse of grace emitting from his finger to Sam's skin, pulling together the cut and healing it.
Sam can't help but suck in a deep breath when Gabriel does this, the slow drag of his finger lighting up every nerve on his body, all the way to his fingertips. He could feel the grace transferring between him and Gabriel, and, goddammit, it felt good.
Gabriel smirks at this. "I like your face much better when it's in one piece," he comments, leaning in close to Sam and moving his thumb to Sam's bottom lip, which was split. He covers the cut with his thumb, and, with a pulse of grace, it's healed.
This pulse does even more than the slow drag did. Sam can't help but release a small moan, because for a moment it felt almost like he was shooting up heroin or something. He blinks at Gabriel, embarrassed by his display of the pleasure he was getting from this.
But Gabriel just beams, dropping his hand from Sam's mouth and down to his chest. Now, being an all-powerful archangel and all, he could just make Sam's clothes disappear with his touch and get straight down to business, but it's more fun this way, and Sam seems to be enjoying this nearly as much as Gabriel, maybe more.
So Gabriel gently pushes off Sam's jacket, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. "Gabe," Sam says, his voice barely above a whisper. Gabriel likes the nickname, making a pleased, "mm," and moving closer to Sam.
They both know where this is leading, and it's not going to stop after Sam is all healed. No, it'll probably go much farther than that. Maybe as far as they do in all of the fantasies that Gabriel actually blushes at, or the dreams that Sam won't admit to having.
"Gabe," Sam says again, this time his voice a bit louder, a bit firmer.
Gabriel's not irritated, which surprises Sam. "Yes?" he asks sweetly, distracted as he continues working on unbuttoning Sam's button up flannel - the third layer, after the sweatshirt but before the t-shirt. "What is it with you boys and layers?"
Sam swallows, liking the way that Gabriel is enjoying such a task as undressing him. Most people wouldn't have bothered with going so slowly. No, they would've practically torn off his clothes and gotten to business - and it's especially surprising because Gabriel's an archangel, and his clothes could be long gone by now, somewhere in Florida, for all Sam knows.
"You don't have to heal me," Sam feels compelled to say, his heart beating fast in anticipation for the answer that Gabriel might give.
Gabriel finishes unbuttoning the shirt and takes it off of Sam, who complies, moving his arms as needed. "You're right," he says, not looking Sam in the eye, instead concentrating on the hem of his undershirt, playing with it. "I want to."
They both know how he means it. He might as well have said, "I want you."
Sam can feel Gabriel's grace creating a bubble around them, can see tiny sparks from the corner of his eye, but when he turns his head they're gone. "It's excited," Gabriel murmurs in explanation as he lifts Sam's shirt over his head, revealing a plane of smooth, tan, toned skin.
Sam would question why it's excited, but he's pretty sure he already knows, and he flushes at the thought. This is Gabriel. Gabriel, with his constant pranks and junk food, and he's being sweet, and gentle, and he wants Sam.
Gabriel runs his hand over Sam's chest and stomach appreciatively, commenting, "This may be the only upside to hunting that I can see."
"A year without having to sleep helped, too," Sam practically croaks, dangerously close to awkward, because he's suddenly self-conscious about his body, even though he knows he doesn't have a reason to be. "I'd work out when I would've slept. Same with eating, too, I suppose..."
"Well, I like you better with a soul, even if it means you don't work out as much," Gabriel shares, bringing his hand back up to Sam's chest. Before Sam can respond, Gabriel's grace is at work once again, working its way through Sam's upper body, curing the aches and pains in his muscles and bones.
He can practically feel it pulsing through his veins. The grace vaguely reminds him of demon blood, but it feels much more - pure. While the blood had tasted bitter and heavy and left him feeling high and dizzy but dirty, Gabriel's grace is sweet, probably sweeter than any other angels because of his obsession with anything sugary. His grace feels as light as air, tickling his nerve endings and buzzing in his veins, and fills him with euphoria that he can fully sense, not making him dizzy and unaware. Even though it gives him power much like the demon blood, this was a different kind. He just doesn't know how to describe it.
He wants to be greedy for it, he truly does. But the wholeness that it gives him, the purity, is just something that he can't take. Especially not from Gabriel. He just...neither of them deserve this.
"Stop," Sam blurts suddenly, pushing away Gabriel's hand and dropping it like it's the plague. "Just... just stop."
You can see the hurt and confusion etched on Gabriel's face. "Sam—"
"Get away," he says, his voice hoarse. He presses himself against the headboard in an attempt to stay as far away from the shorter man as possible. "Please. Stay away from me."
Gabriel can't decide what to feel - hurt, denial, or confusion - so he opts for the easiest, most familiar emotion he has.
Anger.
"I don't get you, Sam Winchester," he growls, leaning forward, no longer in a lustful way, but in a threatening one. "We have moments, I undress you with my eyes sometimes and you never seem very disgusted, I literally undress you and you seem fucking excited about it, but then you pull this! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you we're still soulless!"
Sam sucks in a sharp breath at the insult, but doesn't look at Gabriel, eyes fixated on the wall behind him. He deserved that insult. It should hurt.
"I've been pining over you for months, and so obviously that you'd have to be Helen Keller not to see that! If you don't want me, you could just say. I know I can be overwhelming, and hard to like, and you may think that I just want your body - oh, believe me, I want your body, smothered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, but I also want you, fucking angst-soaked soul and all."
At this Sam finally looks at him, because this passionate, emotion-driven rant was not on tonight's agenda for either of them, and the shock of Gabriel's admission is near enough to give Sam a heart attack.
Gabriel grips onto Sam's shoulders, because of the lack of a shirt to grab onto, and comes closer to Sam, words quieter but not any calmer. "I'll be first to admit that I'm a hedonist," Gabriel continues, not letting Sam's eyes leave his. "I mean, fuck, I left my dad, creator of the universe, for women, booze, and Poptarts. So doesn't it mean something, anything, to you that I want your screwed up, sorry ass? Anything?"
Sam doesn't answer, just continues gazing at the angel.
Gabriel drops his hands from Sam's shoulder, and looks down. "Do you think it's pleasurable or easy to deal with you, Sam? Sometimes it is, yeah. But most of the time, you're just about as messed up as one can get. But I'm still here."
"I'm sorry," Sam croaks, reaching out for Gabriel, who obediently leans toward him. "I'm sorry. I was stupid. I... Look. I don't deserve you, or your passion, or your grace. You're too good for me. I'm just the boy with the demon blood, right? That's all I've ever really been to angels. But to you I was more, for some reason, I am more, and that's addictive. And I tried to make that my reason for liking you, I honestly did. But it's not. I can't deny that I find your milder pranks endearing, and I think that you're cute when you open sugar packet after sugar packet to put into your coffee, and… I just... you're addictive, Gabriel. You and your annoying jibes and everything."
Sam doesn't have to say more, because Gabriel's kissing him, the grace that had formed a bubble of isolation and privacy around him buzzing uncontrollably, sparking madly. Sam doesn't care, though, he just pulls Gabriel closer towards him as the archangel tangles his fingers in his hair.
Gabriel tastes just the way that Sam imagined he would. Very sweet, but not sickeningly so, not like a girl's flavored lip gloss or plain sugar would. More like... a gummy bear. Gabriel, meanwhile, can taste the blood from when Sam's lip had been split, but otherwise mouthwash, which he didn't think would ever be a turn on but it fucking is and damn that's crazy, especially for someone like Gabriel.
By now, Gabriel's grace has blown out all of the lights in the room, and the TV, but neither of them seem to care, if they even noticed. Their kissing is rough, all teeth and tongues and hands tugging at clothes and hair.
Gabriel manages to break their kiss so that he can bring his lips down to the larger man's neck, tasting sweat and dirt, still fresh from the hunt. He places one hand on the back of Sam's neck, palm on his nape and fingers curling around as far as they can before gripping tightly. He places his other hand on Sam's chest, right over his heart.
Sam knows what he's doing in an instant, but does nothing to stop it. He rolls his hips upwards, and Gabriel responds by grinding down, hard, moving his hips in a clockwise motion, to Sam's immense pleasure. "Gabriel," Sam groans, letting his head fall back against the headboard with a thunk. "Ah - fuck. Don't stop, please..."
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," Gabriel admits, his words squished together and spoken quickly, but not incomprehensible. "Granted, I thought it might be somewhere more exotic, like on a pyramid or in one of Mars' craters, but this works, too."
"Mars?" Sam can't help but laugh, breathless, and kisses Gabriel. "I doubt it."
"Don't underestimate me. You have no idea what I'm capable of," Gabriel says, his forehead pressed to Sam's and his voice incredibly determined. What Sam is just noticing now is that Gabriel's grace was no longer a shield around them, but was instead slowly assuming the shape of wings behind the archangel.
Gabriel stops grinding and Sam begins to protest, but stops when Gabriel unbuttons and unzips his pants. He takes Sam's hard cock in his hand and tugs upwards sharply, smirking at a Sam, who can't hold back a gasp.
"Bastard," Sam manages to choke out when Gabriel runs a thumb over the head of Sam's cock, teasing it.
"I love you too," Gabriel replies smugly, twisting his hand as he gives another tug. In all honesty, this is going to be messy, and he's not using all of his experience to the fullest, but he has something else planned.
Normal sex is for losers, anyway. This is fucking angel sex.
And, yes, Sam has had his share of handjobs and blowjobs and sex (most of which happened while he was soulless, but whatever), and he knows that this isn't, in most people's terms, the best. Hell, if he was still soulless, he'd probably think this was terrible. But it's the emotion, really, that makes it great. It's so thick between them he can hardly breathe.
They might as well be love struck teenagers.
Plus, there's the slow, steady addition of grace that Gabriel's pulsing into Sam's chest, somehow doubling the pleasure of each stroke, each twist, and dammit he wants to know how.
He resolves to ask later, because he can feel heat pooling in his abdomen, and, for once in his life, he can't think anything other than "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" over and over and over.
And then he's being pushed against the headboard, Gabriel's hand a firm pressure on his chest, a heat, now. With just one more stroke, Sam can't help it anymore, and—
He doesn't remember much of his orgasm, truthfully. He remembers the grace threatening to burn his eyes out, but it was literally inside him, so it couldn't do much. He remembers shaking and shuddering and pressure and heat and, of course, pure, powerful pleasure, and then coming back to reality slowly, like air being let out of a balloon.
His heart's racing incredibly fast, to a point that can't be healthy, and his breath is coming in short gasps (he's surprised he's breathing at all). He has to calm down before he notices that Gabriel's still sitting in front of him, grinning like he's a kid at Christmas.
"Still think I can't take you to Mars and back?" he teases. "'Cause I think I just did."
For the next month, everything is pretty normal (well, as normal as it can get).
Gabriel taught Sam all about his grace and how it induces amazing orgasms, and Dean and Castiel stared at each other with puppy eyes all day long. Honestly, they would probably be annoying if Sam didn't feel pretty much the same way about Gabriel.
Dean and Cas' relationship becomes known to Sam and Gabe the day after Cas had went out to find Dean. It was sort of obvious, even if they would have tried to hide it, because Cas would not stop hanging on Dean, and Dean just let him, which is what surprised Sam the most.
Sam was only curious about what Gabriel's advice to Cas had been for a few minutes before deciding that he probably didn't want to know.
Meanwhile, Gabriel and Sam's relationship was secret, for at least a little bit. No, they didn't exactly try to keep it that way, but Sam has never been too fond of PDA, and Gabriel (surprisingly) respected that.
Maybe if Dean would've paid more attention instead of staring at Cas' ass all day, he wouldn't have freaked out so badly when he found his boyfriend's brother sweating on top of his brother in his car.
Well. He probably would've no matter what due to that last fact alone, but whatever.