Half of the day has already gone, and Sam still doesn't know what the Hell the Trickster was trying to say. He doesn't know what role to play, how or why, and when he is separated from his brother he feels the intense urge to strangle something... more namely someone. But, he is still alive, and considering the Trickster's track record with the Winchesters, that was probably a good thing because the odds are against him.
He has just finished his third sexually transmitted infection awareness advert when he comes upon a spacious and well furnished bedroom, complete with an antique loveseat, an enormous king sized bed with dozens of pillows, and a large balcony overlooking what could have been... Sam blinks. He's in Paris. He has always wanted to go to Paris, just to see what all of the fuss was about. Sam is certain that this is not a holiday for him though, and glances around himself warily. Any second now, someone with genital herpes, syphilis or a rash of ambiguous origin will step forth from the shadows and lecture him on safe sex.
However, after a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen, so he ventures out onto the balcony, knowing that whatever he does is going to end in misery whatever way he does it, so he might as well enjoy the view while he can. He can see everything that he has ever wondered about in Paris; everything that he has ever considered visiting it for. He isn't even entirely sure that everything is real, but damn, it's beautiful.
"See anything you like?" A loud and obnoxiously familiar voice sings up from behind him, and Sam turns around to see the Trickster, lounging against the wall with two glasses in his hand, no doubt containing some sort of liquid contraception. Pushing himself off, the creature saunters up to the human, and offers him the glass casually. Sam eyes it distrustfully, but takes it anyway, without the slightest inclination of actually drinking it. "Now, Samuel, what have we learned about not letting other people suffer from our own stupid mistakes?"
Rolling his eyes, the human pours the contents of his glass over the edge of the balcony. A short scream rang out from beneath them, and the Trickster surveys the horizon thoughtfully as Sam's eyes widen at the figure three stories down, now damp with champagne. "You do realise this is actually Paris, right?" He sounds almost amused, which infuriates Sam further. After waving apologetically to the woman he had poured his drink on, he turned sideways.
"Where's Dean?" He asks, gruffly, hands curled into fists as he's long since dropped the empty glass onto the nearby breakfast table.
"Learning a little lesson of his own. No worries. Completely safe." The Trickster swirls the slightly fizzy liquid in the glass, looking semi-interested at it. "What's important here is that you learn your lesson."
"No sex without a condom; consider it learned." Sam quips sarcastically, and the Trickster giggles. Sam does not think he has ever heard a man giggle like that before, and then he reminds himself that the Trickster is much more than just a man.
"For your real lesson, Sammy-boy, you gotta look behind the rashes." He makes a face, but doesn't continue. When Sam leaves them in silence, he finally sighs and the drink disappears from his hand for convenience sakes as he places both hands on Sam's shoulders, having to reach up quite a lot due to the height difference. "I've already told you. Think back, Sam, a grand total of twenty seconds ago." Sam does.
"Learning not to let other people suffer from our mistakes... Are you seriously equating genital herpes to bringing the Devil topside?" Eyebrows raised, Sam's lip curls with incredulous scorn. The Trickster shrugs.
"Call it artistic licence." The Trickster nods, to confirm and his thumbs dig in just above Sam's collarbone with the strength of something that isn't quite human.
"But we're trying to kill Lucifer." He does not reply, and merely cocks his head to the side in a way which actually reminds Sam a little of Castiel. Golden eyes, flecked with an indescribable colour close yet different to green, are the only thing in Sam's vision, and he feels himself being drawn in by them. Behind them was a lot of power, and it actually gave Sam a buzz to think... what if he was on their side? What would Sam get him to do for them?
A quick, almost negligible flash of heat shudders through his groin as he thinks about having power over something like the Trickster. He can imagine pinning the creature down, feeling how helpless he would feel and it would be so much better than it was with Ruby because he was so much stronger. And he was under Sam's control; completely and unchangeably his.
"Play your role, Sam." His voice is curt, no doubt offended by the implications which he can see in Sam's imagination.
Before he has time to ask, in flustered frustration, what role to play, the Trickster is gone.
Letting his breath go in a long exhale which released some of the tension in his stomach, he leans against the banister, ignoring the throbbing in his dick at the thought of pinning down a demi-god. Oh, the things he would do to him. The things he would make him do. He would fuck him until he screamed, and not once would he be able to stop him because he was Sam's. He belonged to Sam and he liked it. Biting his lip, Sam turns around, and is surprised to be faced with a young, worried looking woman wearing little in the way of underwear, under a red satin robe.
"We need to talk, Sam." His eyebrows shot up, and the confusion running through his head contributing to his disorientation. "I got tested yesterday, and I have Chlamydia." Sam groans.
Not again.
...
So the Trickster is Gabriel.
Damn.
Sam exhales slowly through his nose, staring at the ceiling as though it will tell him the answers of the Universe if he looks at it for long enough. Dean is out, no doubt picking someone up so he can chuck Sam out to the Impala for yet another night. Dean doesn't seem to mind that the Trickster is Gabriel... if anything it is a relief to him. Not being able to kill the Trickster had been bugging him for a long time... Dean has always been one to hold a grudge against a monster which survived. But not being able to kill an archangel? That is almost understandable; they are only human, after all.
That said, it doesn't bode well for future aspirations, more namely killing the Devil and stopping the apocalypse.
Sam realises that he's not breathed in a while, and does so deeply. Thoughts wander onto to all the things which make more sense now that Gabriel is... well, Gabriel.
"Yes, quite the revelation, isn't it?" It is a mark of how much the apocalypse is grating on him that he doesn't even jump at the sound of Gabriel's voice. "Me, the strength of God?" Sam cuts his eyes over to where the Trickster is standing in the corner nonchalantly, sucking on a lollipop. "Quite the curveball."
"Why didn't you just tell us?" Gabriel raises his eyebrows, midway through pondering how best to lick the round cherry flavoured sweet, and freezes with his tongue poking slightly out of his mouth.
"Yeah." He began, sarcastically, waving the candy in a lazy circle in the air. "Then we could have spent more time braiding each others' hair and talking about our feelings." Rolling his eyes, he licked the candy again, turning his eyes away from the human. "It wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference." He muttered, in an almost serious tone.
"Why... you're an angel." Determined to get this all in the right order, Sam chooses to begin at the beginning.
"You are correct, Sir."
"But you kill people." Sam's face is contorted in confusion, and Gabriel moves closer, eyes ablaze once more with golden.
"I don't kill just people, Samuel." He sounds almost offended at the accusation of being a murderer. "I give assholes what they deserve."
"So. You're a dick." Even though he is talking to the strength of God, he does not trip over himself to be respectful. Most angels were dicks anyway.
"So punish me." Gabriel challenges, and even though he knows it was meant as a show of power, Sam still feels that little rush downstairs and his vision blanks slightly as he tries to control his dirty fantasy. Noting movement, Sam jerks backwards as the archangel comes to stand directly before him, positioning himself between the human's knees. "No really, Sammy." Sam's mouth falls slightly ajar as he realises that the challenge was meant in all of its literal glory. "I want you to punish me."
"I-" Sam attempts to deny it, but he is cut off from what was going to be a very unconvincing argument before he can even make it.
"I can see inside you, Sam, and not just your conscious thoughts. I can see your desires... not your want, but the things that you feel you need..." Fingers clasp around Sam's shoulder, and smooth along the back of his neck. Part of him wants to push away, and run away; push away the Trickster who had killed his brother repeatedly just to teach him a lesson which could have been taught with words, and run away from the confusion his stomach is twisting with.
The rest of him wants to succumb to the want fuelling his fantasies... that portion of him wants to bend Gabriel over the bed and fuck him until names are screamed and he is claimed as Sam's. No... he needs to succumb to his desires.
Growling, Sam turns his face to the side, away from Gabriel, eyes closed as he tries to force his body not to respond. His body, intent on not listening, fizzled with tension and energy, keeping him on edge.
He starts, and opens his eyes in shock as something cold, wet and decidedly stick touches his cheek.
"What-" Gabriel rubs the lollipop along his jawbone, eyes following its every move like it was the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed. Unconsciously, Sam licks his bottom lip, and Gabriel freezes; a gasp is barely audible above the ambient noise that comes as a package in the cheap motel room. Sam does not care if he's being disrespectful when he takes the candy from the quivering archangel and licks it thoughtfully, before turning it against its owner. The saliva – now a mix between his and Gabriel's – leaves a trail along the angel's chin up to his mouth. Resting the head on a full and shaking bottom lip, Sam looks up into fiercely burning eyes.
"Suck." He orders, and the eyes flutter closed, their owner closing his lips around the head with a barely concealed groan. Fuck, would Gabriel feel good on his dick. It occurs to Sam, as he watches Gabriel giving the lollipop his undivided attention, that he's probably done this before, a lot of times. The more possessive part of Sam growled at this, and he pulled it away from Gabriel, eliciting a small disappointed whine. Golden eyes open once more, and they widen at the expression on Sam's face.
Upright, Sam stands taller than Gabriel by about nine inches, and although this makes him of a dominant statue he marvels at the power beneath Gabriel's vessel. He cannot think why he ever thought that he could have possibly been just a Trickster. Groaning, he leans down as far as his neck deems healthy and bites into the flesh of Gabriel's cheek, thriving on the whine that he is rewarded with. He knows that it is a show. Gabriel could kill him with a bat of his eyelid, but he wanted this.
Gabriel wanted to be punished.
"Knees." Sam relishes the complete compliance with his order, and shudders when needy hands clutch at his sides, taking off his shirt as fast as they could; just another example of Gabriel's need for human sex practice. Zapping them away was faster, but it didn't bring the same exhilarating thrill which the desperately fumbling did. Realising that Gabriel, even on his knees, was at a height disadvantage for his crotch, Sam sits down on the side of the bed, watching the angel with gritted teeth as he noses the now bare flesh above the belt buckle. A tongue, sticky from sugar solution, darts out to lick lengthways along his abdomen. The belt buckle is the next to go, merely another obstacle to pleasure.
Popping the cherry tasting candy into his mouth, Sam sucks hard, nearly swallowing the whole damn thing when Gabriel catches his hardening dick through his boxers in his mouth, tongue working against the material with overwhelming sensation. Groaning, he throws his head back and reaches down to practically rip off his pants and underlying garments, now damp with angel saliva. Roughly, he grabs a handful of Gabriel's hair and forces him onto his dick, thrusting into an open and willing mouth much more forcefully than he otherwise would.
But he can't hurt Gabriel so he can be as rough as he wants to be.
"Harder, angel." The pressure builds and builds and damn Gabriel is a good job. Sam knows he's big – bigger than most men – but he has no qualms in fucking Gabriel's mouth like he asked for it rough. To have an archangel on his knees before him with dick halfway down his throat, pure strength shaking through the cracks in his composure which were rapidly forming, is exhilarating.
But at the same time, it isn't enough.
Pulling out with a grunt and a blasphemous curse, Sam drags Gabriel upright. He falls against him brokenly, more torn apart than even Sam, who is panting in ragged breaths. He almost laughs because Gabriel likes giving head. A low moan rumbles out, and it's as close that Sam is every going to hear of an angel's true voice as he removes Gabriel's clothes, cruelly ripping them to finally expose him completely.
Usually, if given such a choice, Sam would have returned the favour, and sucked Gabriel off, but this wasn't about sex. This wasn't even about release... not completely. No. This was about power; this was what he could never fully achieve with Ruby and her demon blood. It got him halfway, but it never completely got him off the way he needed it to.
"I could hurt you." Forcing the candy through Gabriel's lips, Sam watches with an open mouth as a tongue coats it liberally in saliva. "Bend over." Pulling away from the lollipop and leaving a string of spit, Gabriel fell over the bed, with help from one of Sam's shaking hands. He is going to do this. He is going to fuck an archangel. He is doing this.
Bringing the candy up, he rolls it on Gabriel's back, which arches at the touch and causes him to lean back, almost impaling himself on Sam's swollen cock. "Gabriel, how hard?" Sam's conscience kicks in and Christ, it took an amazingly long time to do so.
"Punish me." Gabriel whines and there's no doubt how hard he wants to be fucked. He wants to be bled.
Forcing himself in, Sam feels his voice leave him in a muted and strangled cry, as he loses himself to dry warmth. Gabriel's body buzzes with intimate power and he literally glows, his skin golden and burning under Sam's hands which were flattened across his back. It's so hot that he is nanometres from losing his mind, crying out in something bordering between pain and pleasure and loving every second that he's pushed even further to the edge.
Gabriel makes a mewling noise, like an injured cat and Sam knows that it's wrong, but he fucks him harder. Harder and harder until Gabriel is shouting; screaming and begging for him not to stop because it hurts so much that he's drowning in the sensation, losing himself in the sensation and the last thing that he wants to do is lose control but he knows that it's happening: that he's falling apart. Gabriel is so small, writhing and squirming beneath him and the energy that he was trying to keep in was escaping, a little more each hard thrust.
The archangel was falling apart faster than even Sam, needing something to dominate him in a world which he had already tricked into submission. He needed something to remind him that he has no right, because even though he has free reign over all he can get his hands on – which is a lot – he still knows that it does not belong to him. He wasn't just saying it for Sam's benefit; he really did need to be punished. He needed to be fucked, and so far in, he hasn't met anyone willing to give enough to actually hurt him.
With Sam it hurts, and that makes it so much easier to remember the pain that he has caused other people.
Unsurprisingly, Gabriel came first, a sharply golden light infusing through his skin to make it even hotter than before and Sam was worried, for a split second, that he had lost enough control to lose control over his vessel, but it faded again, as fast as it had arrived. Pushing his shaking body back, Gabriel's movements are muted, and tired, taking more than he needs when he usually would have pulled away, and left the other party unfulfilled. This part is a small kindness to his dominator, only partly out of obedience.
Sam shouts, hoarse and dirty, against the back of Gabriel's neck, warmth seeps between their bodies, filling Gabriel up from the inside, before the hunter collapses, shaking and gasping, onto his back. For a long moment, silence reigns, then:
"So much for the safe sex lesson." Gabriel finally forces out, face pressed into the bed so his voice is slightly muffled. Sam makes a noise which is midway between a laugh and a snort, attempting to disguise his amusement. The buzz is beginning to fade now, replaced with questions and regrets, most of them on Sam's side. Gabriel remains relatively thoughtless; he has what he wants.
Sam pulls out of him with an uncomfortable groan, and pushes himself away on shaking legs. He is beginning to doubt his decision, and has become frightened with the implications involved with his actions.
"Fuck," he says, without thought to tone down his language. "What the Hell just happened?" Gabriel rolls over, stretching his body, and watches Sam grab his pants, pulling them on roughly.
"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it." Gabriel sounds amused, and it infuriates Sam. "You wanna hurt me? Hurt me, Sammy. I won't bite back." The Trickster – or whatever he is – heaves himself off of the bed, still completely naked, and saunters towards Sam, tilting his head, although the action holds far less innocence than when Castiel does it.
"No, it's-" Sam stops short. He doesn't know what it is. He still feels amazing – so good and so fucking powerful. He wants this feeling again. "It's wrong. You're an angel." The laugh that his words tear from Gabriel is rough, and it is bitter.
"Why? Because you don't want to be responsible for ruining a pure thing? Because it's against the rules?" Gabriel snorts derisively. "Please. Don't even presume to tell me what's wrong and what's right. You can't even tell yourself anymore." Enraged, Sam pushes the archangel and is half surprised when Gabriel allows himself to be pinned against the nearby wall, held painfully tight. Instead of displaying understandable discomfort, the angel squirms with pleasure, enjoying the pressure and the urgency Sam is broiling with. "You liked fucking me Sammy, and you know it." His voice is a small whisper, husky against Sam's neck. "And you want it back."
"I don't... I don't want it back." Sam denies, helplessly. He doesn't enjoy feeling this helpless; this useless to his own bodily desires. "You should leave before Dean gets back."
"I'll let you hurt me." Persuasively, Gabriel tastes his neck and fuck, the wet warmth of his tongue makes Sam's abdomen tighten. "I'm yours to play with, Winchester. You can do whatever you want to me..." Trailing off, the angel becomes distracted licking Sam's neck.
Closing his eyes, Sam wills this to be a dream. A really, really fucked up dream wherein none of it is real. Gabriel isn't here. Hell, Gabriel isn't even the Trickster. It should all just be the way it used to be.
But the thought keeps circling around in his mind: Would it really hurt him? Gabriel isn't trying to convince him to give it up to Lucifer. In fact, Gabriel is in no position of power at all. He is. Gabriel isn't another Ruby. Ruby was never submissive like this. Unlike Ruby, Gabriel can give him what he needs, and not only would it feel good, it would be for the good of his cause.
Lucifer can't tempt him with power if he already has it, right?
Knowing that it is a really fucking bad idea, Sam kisses Gabriel anyway, hearing the Impala pulling up into the motel car park but taking a moment to register it.
"Dean." He warns, warily, and the tongue withdraws from his neck, followed by a sigh.
"Well you have my card."
"Card?" A soft, candy-filled giggle drifted through the air, followed by the unmistakeable sound of flapping wings, and a slight breeze plays across his cheek.
Sam is still sweating and sticky from activity, and he realises as he hears Dean's key in the lock that the bed must be too, but upon his brother's arrival into the room, he experiences the curious sensation of being dressed by an archangel, in a split second. Casting a glance towards the bed, he sees that it has been made, and is cleaner than it was upon his arrival.
"Alright?" Looking back up at his brother, Sam blinks twice before registering the question.
"Yeah, I'm gonna crash." Luckily, Dean nods and appears to share the sentiment, because he wanders over to the unused bed and collapsed, face down, almost instantly asleep.
Checking around him one last time, Sam reaches into his pockets, emptying them and setting the contents on the bedside table.
Among the keys, his phone and the assorted change and scraps of paper, he notices the red lollipop – no doubt cherry flavoured – and almost smiles.
"Nice calling card," he mutters, before pulling off his clothes, crawling under the covers, and falling straight to sleep.
...
Hey, just wanted to know if you wanted this to continue, into a whole, full-blown fic (pun so intended) or if you like it just like that. To let me know, or if just to share opinions or advice, press the little review button and type away! :)
-Em x