Warnings for M/M pairings in this chapter.
Explicit Sabriel, implied Sastiel and Debriel (super-wiki says that's what we call Dean/Gabriel, therefore it must be true.)
Mistakes are mine (I really want a beta. If anyone has betaing tendencies, and a little free time. PM me for deets.)
"Ah, c'mon" Sam pleaded as Kevin returned to his seat at the bar with his and Garth's coats. Garth had drank two whole beers and was getting pink in the face. He smiled a stupid, drunk smile and clapped Sam's shoulder in another farewell. Sam pressed, "What if we went to a straight bar? It isn't even last call. Please? It's my special night!"
"I know Sam, and I'm sorry." Kevin said, trying to wrestle one of Garth's arms into a sleeve while the other, slighter man giggled. "But Garth lives clear across town and I have that meeting tomorrow morning. You coming with us or cabbing it tonight?"
"Do the meeting hungover! You're young! And it's my special night!"
Kevin smiled and shook his head. "You already used that twice tonight. Once to get us into this bar and again to keep me this late. I love you, man, but I'm cutting you off the guilt trips. I got work and stuff, dude."
"You're making some lucky man super happy." Garth drunkenly quipped, smiling dizzily. He started to turn green.
"Hey!" the bartender barked, "Your friend is gonna puke? Outside or bathroom, man."
Kevin gave a wave of surrender in his direction and tentatively took Garth's forearm.
"Sam, I love you and I'm so happy for you both." Kevin said, giving Sam a one armed hug. He turned to Garth and grew a little pale. "Don't puke in my car. Please don't puke in my car."
They waved as they left and Sam sat alone. On his special night. Wanting to go anywhere besides home.
He supposed that was what he got for dragging his straight friends out to a gay bar to celebrate, but it was his night. It wasn't the most flamboyant club Sam had ever been in. No go-go dancers in cages or shirtless men with glow-ring necklaces. Just a couple of guys in too tight tee-shirts and a couple of women, keeping to themselves and holding hands under the booth. He went some place a little more low-key just so that way friends like the older, grizzled and easily blushing Bobby would even walk in the door. But Sam might as well have gone some place louder, darker and with strobe lights and dry humping on the dance floor since everyone left before midnight anyways.
Because Sam wanted someplace too loud to be heard. He wanted someplace too crowded to feel alone. And he wanted someplace too dark to be held accountable for his actions. He made eye contact with the bartender.
"Another?" she asked, pointing to Sam's whiskey on the rocks.
"Yeah, and I think my friend forgot to close out his tab. Can I do that, please?"
The bartender poured his drink and disappeared towards the register. Sam felt eyes on him and fought to keep a straight face, though the attention dripping down his spine. He smiled into his drink.
"Hey, no worries, someone else paid for your friend's tab. Tran, Kevin? That guy," she pointed with her chin down the bar, "took care of all your guys' drinks for the night."
Sam followed the bartender's gesture, meeting the unashamedly roaming gaze of a man about ten seats down. The guy gave a thin lipped smirk and raised his appletini with a wink.
"I recognize him. Used to come in here a lot more." she said, "He's an ok guy. If you were looking."
Sam thanked the her and got up with his drink moving towards the man with the smirk. He saw his eyes widen as he stood, and Sam let his body be feasted on by his stare. It was nice. Shallow, but nice to be wanted so openly. Sam had always used to like guys in bars who watched him.
He stood next to the appletini guy.
"I think me and my friends owe you a pretty big thanks." Sam said, leaning on the bar so that he could shift and let his hard earned pecs cast shadows of their own. The peacocking was not lost on the man, who smiled knowingly, even as he drank all Sam's rippling muscle in.
"Make it up to me." The man said. Sam raised one eyebrow and the other guy gestured to the barstool beside him, "Have a seat and a drink with me. Or keep moving like you just did and let me watch."
"Well, you get straight to the punch, don't you?"
"And you love it, don't you?"
Sam dropped to the barstool, making him eye level with the other guy. An older guy, with sweeping medium colored hair and sharp, yellow-brown eyes.
"I'm Sam."
"Richard."
"Well, Richard." Sam said, "On behalf of me and my buddies, thank you."
"Buddies left pretty quick, huh?" Richard asked. " Straight guys in a gay bar, must have had some pretty good leverage to get them in here in the first place." Richard's eyes darted to the top of Sam's head and he realized, with a blush, that he was still wearing the plastic pink tiara that his friends produced at the beginning of the night. "Birthday?"
"Ah, no." Sam said, sheepish now, "Bachelor party."
"Oh, congratulations." He said. "Lucky guy."
"Yeah. We're both lucky. He's great." Sam said. He didn't want to talk about Castiel tonight. He definitely didn't want to talk about Castiel to this guy.
"If you're getting married." Richard said, breaking his eyes from Sam and gesturing to the bartender, "You clearly need shots."
"I've been telling people that all night." Sam said and Richard grinned.
"Six Purple Nurples." Richard said to the bartender. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and winked. He was too good at that. Made Sam feel sleazy and cheap and so, so hot.
"Trying to get me drunk?" Sam joked. Richard cracked a grin but was deadly serious as he leaned into Sam.
"You want me to get you drunk." He said, low and dangerous. Sam couldn't be help the tremor down his back. "And you want me to get you stupid. I'll give you what you want, you just have to be man enough to admit it. Don't even have to do it out loud."
Sam took a Purple Nurple and shot it back. Richard smirked and matched him. Richard's hand laid on his thigh, like a coiled snake, waiting to strike. It had been so long since Sam had a hand on him like that. Sam put a reached to his head to dislodge the tiara when the hand on his thigh gave a sudden, viper-like squeeze.
"Leave it." It was an order. Sam's cock twitched.
Two more shots and a whole other whiskey in, Sam was beaming and leaning into Richard. Sam had a hand on his thigh,now, higher than Richard's hand on his. He kneaded his fingers into the denim seam.
"I needed this." Sam confided in his new best friend. "I needed this so bad. I love him, but we never go out. Even when we were dating, you know? And, like, he doesn't drink. I mean, he doesn't not drink, but like, he doesn't drink like we do. He just watches. He never pursues me. He's so beautiful and... and clean." Sam realized he was rambling. About Cas. To the man who's hand was on his thigh. To the man who's thigh was under his hand. And he smelled so damn good. "Sorry. I'm drinking and all—I do love him." Sam concluded, but he was looking at his empty glass.
"You love him, but the things you loved about him are now, kind of the things that bother you." Richard said for him. Sam nodded. "You're not so special, kiddo. Happens to everyone."
"Have you ever been in love?" Sam asked with a level of sincerity that could only be explained by being officially drunk.
"Was once."
"What happened?"
"Nothing much. Woke up one morning and I stopped thinking the sun shined out his ass. It was just an ass. Hot ass. Nice ass. But just an ass, like everyone else's. He was a good guy. He is a good guy." Richard took a drink. "Wish it never changed. Guess it's natural."
"I'm sorry." Sam said.
"Listen." Richard said, something familiar and predatory in his gaze. "I can buy you another drink if that's what you need to go through with this, but I'll be clear with you since it's almost last call and you look like a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity fuck."
The curse word snapped Sam's fuzzed attention back to Richard and his own cock fattening beneath the rigid zipper of his pants. Little Sam was very interested in what Richard had to say, and liked the way that his mouth moved as he said it. Richard's hand slid up the seam of his pants and Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head. There wasn't a tablecloth or any disguise at the bar, to hide such a vulgar invitation. But it was late, and everyone else was paired off and huddled together a little too close, hands in shadowy places.
Richard had a nice car, a Porsche from the 1970s without a backseat, but Sam had Castiel at home and a plan from the beginning of the night to take a cab, so he couldn't complain when Richard shoved him into the passenger side. The slighter man turned on the radio and sped out of the lot like a bat out of Hell, driving towards anywhere. Richard needed his hands for steering and shifting but Sam's hands were free.
He reached over and cupped Richard's crotch. The older man groaned but made no other acknowledgement that he was getting fondled while he drove. Richard grew hard, fully hard so that Sam could trace the contours of his cock through his jeans. He was rubbing his thumb around the dampening spot at the head when he realized he was almost as stiff, in that small car with that strange man, driving them someplace where no one would see.
Sam moaned and dropped his hand to his own lap, squeezing himself through his pants.
"Take your cock out." Richard said, that low, commanding voice again. Sam trembled as he obeyed without hesitation, his half-hard dick spilling out of his pants. Sam stroked it twice before it was stiff enough to cut glass. Richard made a hungry sound in the back of his throat. "Fuck, yeah. That's gonna feel good inside of me." Sam whined, his hips bucking into air. He gripped his cock again. "Do. Not. Touch." he said from the driver's seat. Sam's hitched at the order. Even more so at his own willingness to do exactly as the older man said, as long as he said it like that.
"God-." Sam hissed, slamming the hand not stroking Richard into the ceiling of the Porsche, just for something to do.
"-Has nothing to do with the things I want to do to you."
Sam whined again, but nodded.
It was an alleyway that they pulled into. Laundry hanging from the fire escape on one side of the building, a graffiti marred dumpster on the other, but Sam didn't even really see because Richard was opening his pants and Sam's mouth was watering.
"Put your lips on me." he whispered. Sam swooped in and pressed the other man's head back against the head rest as he kissed him.
Richard made a surprised sound before bringing his hands up to cup Sam's head, returning the kiss. Sam gasped because he needed to breathe but he didn't want to. Then the other man was opening his mouth and Sam licked into it, winning a full body jolt from the slighter form beneath him. Sam wrapped his fingers around Richard's newly freed cock, stroking it. He wanted this to last forever. He wanted this man and this car for eternity because after… after it would be just Castiel for the rest of his life. He loved Castiel.
But he sort of loved this too.
Sam felt a hand clutching at the back of his head and pushing him downwards. Sam grinned against his lips and let himself be guided to the hard cock in his hand.
The car was impossibly small. The shift gear was jabbing into his shoulder, but it wasn't so bad because it narrowed every ounce of Sam's focus to the man, writhing into his mouth, pulsing his hips up in shallow bursts. He could hear his breathing, thin and harsh. He could feel every one of the man's fingers in his hair, demanding and base and everything Sam needed.
The hand left his hair and started reaching behind him in the seat. Sam pulled his mouth off the beautifully flushed and spit shined sight of cock. Richard returned his attention to Sam, this time accompanied by a condom and bottle of lube. He pushed Sam back against the seat and began sliding his pants down. Sam couldn't seem to stop nodding.
Yes, yes to everything that was happening.
Stripped of his pants and going commando (Sam's raging cock throbbed in approval at the sight of that,) Richard climbed over the console and straddled Sam's lap, taking the lube in his hands and reaching behind himself.
"Fuck." Sam murmured. His hands up and under Richard's shirt.
The older man smiled at him, followed by a wince, then his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from Richard as he prepared himself. Every gasp of breath, every roll of his body made Sam surge in response.
Finally, The older man ripped the condom open, rolling it onto Sam in a motion that Sam could only describe as practiced. Sam took the moment to pull Richard's shirt off and the sight of the fully naked man in his lap was ingrained in his mind forever.
He sunk himself onto Sam's cock and Sam bit his lip to stop from crying out. He had never felt this kind of depth. Never this kind of wanton, half thought out fucking.
Then the other man started to move and Sam couldn't say that anymore.
They fucked.
There was simply no other word for the harsh, hard hands battling for purchase. No other way to describe the way that Sam's knees kept knocking the sides of the car, or the way that the naked skin felt through his clothing. Fucking hard and fast and seedy in the darkened car in the darkened alley.
Sam kissed him again, with little finesse, but the man accepted his tongue into his mouth as he took his cock in his ass. Sam moved his lips down his body to his hardened nipple, then back up to his neck without much thought or direction, just a need to taste as he felt. Sam bit down and he felt the man's dick throb against his stomach.
"No marks," he hissed. Sam nodded and went back to simply tasting him all over.
He was so close. Too close. Too soon. He didn't want this to end, didn't want the night to end because in two weeks…
"Coming. I'm going to come." Sam gasped.
He spread Richard's cheeks around his cock, holding the man still so that he could thrust into him. The man could only brace his arms against the ceiling of the car so as to not knock his head as he rode the violent speed of Sam.
Forgetting what Richard had said earlier, forgetting everything except the fact that it was hot and tight and filthy and wrong, Sam bit into his shoulder as he spurted into the condom.
Richard sighed as he felt Sam spend inside of him, then started fisting his cock as Sam began to soften. Sam knocked Richard's hand away and picked up his pace, dirty and hard. The older man slammed his eyes shut then turned suddenly, grabbing his own shirt from the back of his seat where it landed when Sam stripped him and coming into it.
Sam felt jealous, for some reason. Robbed of that hot come marking his skin.
The man ran a hand through his hair as he dismounted Sam, barely even flinching as Sam's cock slid out of him. He followed Sam's eyes to his crumpled, come stained shirt.
"You can't go home with come on your shirt." He said.
"Oh. Right."
Richard started to get dressed beside him and Sam was suddenly numb as he put his cock away. Feeling dirty wasn't sexy anymore. He just felt… wrong.
Beside him, Richard was looking as Sam's bite mark on his shoulder, seeming mildly annoyed.
"Sorry. I forgot." Sam said softly. The man shrugged, but wrinkled his nose as he put his coat over his bare chest, zipping it up. Sam narrowed his eyes. "You can't go home with come on your shirt either." He realized flatly.
"You didn't ask."
"You're still with that guy." Sam concluded. He wanted to vomit a little bit. He didn't want to be in his skin anymore.
"Look, "the older man said, "It is what it is. A good time. You're… fuck, kiddo, you're something else. You don't do this often, do you?" Sam shook his head and the other guy smiled sadly. "It isn't a prophecy, alright? You fucked around once before you got married. Doesn't mean you're going to fuck around once you actually are."
"Doesn't look good."
"It's normal. Get it out of your system, or whatever. Don't beat yourself up too much."
"That what you tell yourself before you go home to him?" Sam asked. He was being mean. A defense mechanism. Richard's eyes hardened but Sam pressed on because he was an asshole. He had always been an asshole. Castiel seemed to be the only one who didn't notice. "How long have you been with this guy?"
"A while." Richard allowed. He turned on the car and backed out of the space, uninterested in appeasing Sam's guilt. Sam couldn't really blame him.
They drove in silence for a few long minutes. The streets were empty. No one to see them and Sam's shame. No one besides Richard to know how horrible he really was.
"I do love him." Sam said softly. Richard looked at him out of the corner of his eye, bracing himself for another blow. When it didn't come, he exhaled loudly.
"You can love someone and need something else." Richard said. "You can fuck me. Hard. And still love him just as much as you did two hours ago."
"That's not the way I work." Sam muttered.
"I don't think you know the way you work."
That shut Sam up until they got back to the parking lot of the bar. It was empty. Only the employees remained, closing up.
"I'm getting married." Sam said. Richard snorted and Sam looked over to see his eyes on the stupid tiara that Sam had forgotten he was wearing. He had worn it while he…
Sam snatched it off his head. If he didn't finish the thought, it didn't count.
"I'm getting married." Sam said again. The tiara looked worse in his hand, where he could see it. "Everyone is so happy for us. Well…" Sam broke off. "I haven't told my family."
"Would they be ok with that?" Richard asked, more sympathy in his tone than Sam expected. Sam let out a dry laugh.
"No." Sam said, smiling and shaking his head. "But, not like you think. My brother's gay too. He just really hates marriage on principle. He'd never forgive me for going over to the dark side."
"You have a gay brother?"
"Yeah." Said Sam. "He's my only brother. And he's gay too. Isn't that weird?"
"It isn't as uncommon as you'd think." Richard said, in an oddly hollow voice. "You should tell your brother."
"Yeah." Sam said, looking out the window, picking absently at a loose rhinestone. "I will."
Sam saw a cab down the street, milling around, hunting for the last drunks to take home.
Richard patted Sam's thigh. Sam placed his hand over Richard's.
He got out of the car, hailing the taxi.
Gabriel drove home with the windows of his Porsche rolled all the way down, trying get the smell of sweat and latex and lube and Sam out of the leather seats. He absently touched his shoulder where the love bite sat, raw and red and accusing.
And hot and delicious and primal. He grazed his hand over his satisfied cock in his pants. Sam. Sam would be a good memory. It was all that Gabriel was looking for. He shouldn't still be feeling that churning, distracting feeling in his gut, like he had forgotten something important at work. Like he left something he needed behind.
He pulled into the garage, parking next to the gleaming trophy of a car taking up the right side. He dropped the shirt in the trash on his way in. He moved in the dark, through the bedroom to the attached bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, stripped his incriminating clothing.
He would shower in the morning. A shower, first thing when he got in late at night was downright confessing.
"Gabriel?"
"Hey, Dean. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed."
"Was already up." His boyfriend said, turning on the bathroom light. Gabriel tried to not flinch. He pulled on a nearby tee as Dean blinked in the sudden brightness. Green eyes turned to his, squinted with sleep. "How was the party?"
"Good. Anna missed you." Gabriel lied easily. "She asked where you were, twice."
"Gah," Dean said, waving his hand in the air, dismissing the girl he kissed once before they started dating. "I'll catch the next one."
Dean had been saying that for years. He never went to the next one, the impromptu gatherings of Gabriel's little bar social set. It was the perfect excuse, all wrapped up in a pretty bow and left innocently at Gabriel's feet. Gabriel spat his mouthful of toothpaste and gave Dean a peck as he passed him on the way to bed.
"Sammy called." Dean said, suddenly from the bathroom. Gabriel didn't like how he was lit from behind where he couldn't read his face.
"How is your brother?" Gabriel asked without much interest, setting his alarm for the morning.
"He's getting married." Dean said.
"Oh." Gabriel's hand slipped, missing the button altogether.
"Like, really soon. To a dude."
"Well, if he's happy…"
"I didn't even know things were serious. He's been living with this guy. I didn't even know he was dating…" Dean came to the bed, dropping down on his side, taking up more than his fair share, as he always did. "He said he was afraid to tell me. Said I'd be mad. Said I'd be mad about him going to the dark side."
Gabriel's stomach dropped. He was lucky he didn't hurl four drinks and all the Sam he had tasted that night.
Sam, hot guy from the bar, was related to Dean, hot guy in his bed, and Gabriel's ass was still stretched from where his dick had been, like, an hour ago.
Things had just gotten so fucked up, they really couldn't get any worse.
But Gabriel should have known better than to say things like that by now.
Updates for this story should be much more consistent. Thursdays or Fridays since this is my first piece that isn't a WIP.
