The Anonymooses

Sabriel~

Pairing: Sam Winchester and Gabriel

Rating: PG-15

Disclaimer: Kripke & C o. own these characters, and Supernatural. They are used for entertainment purposes only.

Sam moaned softly as the archangel rolled his hips slowly before bending over to press a light, breathy kiss to his lips. He grinned as his hips bucked upwards, panting lightly as the heat in the pit of his stomach was beginning to build up.

The youngest Winchester and Gabriel had been hooking up for a few weeks now, the archangel stopping by when ever Dean went out somewhere. It was a hard thing to explain. Sam had always felt something for the angel since the first time they had met, and even though Gabe had put him and his brother through hell and back, Sam couldn’t deny the fact that he was heart broken when he had joined their side and “died” while trying to fight Lucifer. That’s why, a few weeks ago when Gabe had suddenly popped out of no where, (and Sam made sure he wasn’t anything but) he couldn’t stop himself from crushing his lips against Gabriel’s.

Gabriel moaned loudly as Sam suddenly flipped them, driving himself into Gabe’s sweet spot, causing one of Sam’s giant hands to come down over his mouth. “Sh! Are you crazy?… Dean could walk in any minute!” Sam pulled away as Gabriel’s tongue slid out, covering his palm in saliva, wide trickster grin plastered to his face.

“Sorry, gorgeous. Can’t help myself you’re just so b-…”

At that very moment the door to the motel room swung open, following behind it no other then the eldest Winchester.

“Hey Sammy, I picked us up some burg….” His face suddenly dropped, eyes flashing between his younger brother and the amber eyed’ archangel.

”You wanna join or something there, Dean-o? You’re awfully staring!”

”Gabriel!” Sam hissed.

”S-Sam…” Dean’s face began to turn red in anger. “YOU!” He pointed right at Gabe who was staring up at him with his signature smirk. “You get out of here. Right now!”

Gabe’s grin grew even wider. “What? You ain’t even gonna let us fin-“

”NOW!”

Sam blushed as he coughed. “Uh. Dean… think you could maybe… go outside while we uh- you know. Get decent?…”

Dean just glared at him before turning to storm out of the room, door slamming behind him. “You have two minutes!”

Sam took a deep breath, looking down at Gabriel’s smug expression.

”You think we can finish in two minutes, sweet cheeks?” The archangel wiggled his eyebrows, causing Sam to just roll his eyes. “We’ll have to finish this some other time, Gabriel. Dean is really pissed.”

”And? Come on, Dean of all people should know that cock blocking and blue balls is not a cool thing!”

Sam sighed. “Can’t you just snap your fingers and make it… you know… go away. Just for now. I promise, we’ll finish this.” He started pulling his “Lost puppy” face.

Gabe slumped. “Don’t make that face at me.” He pushed Sam playfully, snapping his fingers. “Fine. But I’m holding you to your word, kiddo. I’ll be coming back here later, and we’re finishing this whether Dean is here or not.”

Sam snorted, rolling off of Gabe as he felt himself soften. “I said that I promise.” He got up, pulling his boxers on, ignoring Gabriel as he purred while eying him up.

”Yeah, yeah.” Gabe smiled and winked, snapping out of the room as the door knob began to turn.

”Decent?” Dean called out from behind the half opened door.

”He isn’t here anymore Dean. You can come in.”

”Good!” Dean stepped in, door swinging shut as he walked right up to Sam. “So then you wanna tell me just what the fuck is going on here, Sam?”

Sam’s eye brows drew close as struggled to keep their eyes locked. “Sex, Dean. People have it.”

“You know what I mean! Geez, Sam!…First, fucking werewolves, then Demons… now your hooking up with a dead Archangel!?”

”Clearly, he isn’t dead Dean. He is or was.. or whatever… the trickster. You really think he was going to allow Lucifer to just kill him? He helped us as best he could, then got out of there.”

Dean growled, stepping back a single step. “So, what then. You telling me you’re gay?”

The youngest Winchester took a second to think. His mouth opening then shutting again. “Dean…”

”What, Sam?! You can’t just think I’m going to catch you having sex with another guy and leave it at that!”

”I don’t know, Dean! I don’t know what to think! Fuck… you’re so judgmental.” He huffed angerliy, turning to sit on the bed.

Dean took a deep breath before turning to sit beside his little brother. “Sam… I wont hate you if you’re gay…”

”Just as long as it isn’t with Gabe.” Sam glared at him.

”Fuck, Sam! Do you not remember what he did to me? What he did to you! Fuck, he probably has some spell over you so that you’ll sleep with him.”

”Dean!” Sam shook his head. “Yeah, Dean. I know what he did. I also know that he was just trying to help me! And no? There is no “spell” Dean. I’m the one that made the first move!”

”Ugh! Okay! Enough. Fuck, I don’t need to hear another play by play about who my brother is fucking.”

Sam rolled his eyes before standing. “Well, you better get used to it, because he is going to be coming around a lot.”

”What do you mean, “A lot” Sammy?”

”I mean, that me and him are sort of…”

”You are dating him!?” Dean’s eyes flashed over with rage again.

”Dean! Fuck. Give me a second. No… well, not really. Things are slow.”

The eldest Winchester continued to stare at him, expecting more.

”I- I just… I really like him Dean. He makes me happy. Seriously.”

”Well, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t notice that it looked like you were just seconds away from exploding rainbows, recently.” Dean sighed. “So, you’re telling me that Gabriel has been the one behind this then?”

Sam just nodded once.

Dean hung his head before looking back up at his brother. “Well… despite the fact that I am going to need intensive therapy from witnessing what I just saw…and despite the fact that I hate your boyfriend… Who am I to deny my brother happiness.” He forced a light smile for Sam’s sake.

Sam’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Wh-wha- Really? You serious, Dean? Gabe and I thought it was going to be much tougher then this.”

”Don’t make me change my mind… Yes, Sam. I’m serious.” He then suddenly found himself pulled into Sam’s arms, hugging him tightly. “I-I can’t breath you Sasquatch!” He chuckled before hugging him back.

”Thank you, Dean. Really!”

”Alright, alright.” He pulled away. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam just rolled his eyes, stepping back. “You, um… You may want to go find something to do, Dean.”

”Why’s that?” He cocked his brow.

”Cause either that you me and little bro are gonna get it on in the back of the Impal— OW!”

”Gabriel!” Sam pulled on his ear as he suddenly appeared in the motel room.

“You touch my baby! I swear I will tear you a new one!”

”A new what?”

”Gabe, don’t push it.” Sam pulled him in to a hug as Dean huffed. Gabriel pushing up onto his tip-toe’s to kiss Sam.

”Ugh! Okay! okay! I’m gone!” The eldest Winchester covered his eyes as he grabbed his keys from his pocket and slipped out the door.

Gabriel purred. “Mm, alone again, eh Gorgeous?”

Sam chuckled. “You think you could have given us a little more time? I don’t even think Dean had time to recover from what he saw the first time.”

”What fun would that be? I live for torturing Dean-o.” He grinned wide. “Now. I sense to many clothes are going on right now, kiddo!” Gabriel snapped his fingers as he pushed Sam back onto the bed, straddling him as he covered his face in kisses.

”Now, where did we leave off? Oh! I remember!” Gabe rolled off of the larger man’s body, laying spread eagle on his back. “I believe you were on top of me, Sammy.”

Sam huffed a laugh as he rolled over onto the archangel, moaning softly as they jumped back into what they started.

(Source: the-anonymooses)

30 October 2011 @ 9pm | 22 notes
tags: Sam Dean Sam Winchester Dean Winchester Gabriel Archangel Sabriel

Sabriel

Pairing: Sam Winchester and the Archangel Gabriel.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Kripke & C o. own these characters, and Supernatural. They are used for entertainment purposes only.

Written For: WhatsTheSymbology

FROOT LOOPS

“Oh, /God/ Sam, they’re everywhere!”

“Dean, just… Just calm down, alright? Try not to drive us off the road.”

“How can I stay calm?! They’re in my pants!”

“Well, quit moving around, then! You’re only making it worse!”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! You know how hard it’s going to be to get these things out of my baby?”

The wheels of Dean’s precious 1967 Chevrolet Impala blew up a plume of dust and gravel as the eldest Winchester drove her into a nearly empty motel parking lot and slammed on the breaks. Frankly, Sam was surprised his brother could even /find/ the brakes under the mountain of colour and sweetness they were currently buried under. The heavy scent of sugar and fruit assaulted his nostrils. When the comforting growl of the engine cut out, Dean threw the driver’s side door open, allowing not only himself, but the sea of multicoloured O’s to pour out of the car and onto the sandy ground.

Froot Loops. Everywhere.

It had been a sudden and unexpected attack not long after returning from one of their favourite diner’s. Once the day’s vampire case had been taken care of, and the two brothers were just about ready to pack it in for the night at a nearby hotel, the cereal had appeared inside of the car without warning. It was unlike anything Sam had ever seen before. The stuff was /everywhere/.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed and stumbled to his feet, colourful cereal falling out of his leather coat to litter the ground. There was even some trapped in his hair. “What kind of twisted person would pull this kind of crap?”

Sam shoved the passenger’s side door open with his foot once it was unlocked, laptop clutched preciously to his strong chest to prevent those God-forsaken hunks of fruity goodness from clogging it with crumbs. As he stood, he groaned when the he felt them in his shirt, in his boots, in his damn /underwear/.

“Maybe a hex or something?” Sam suggested, brushing rainbow crumbs from his plaid shirt.

“What kind of witch would get off on burying us in cereal?”

“Beats me.”

Dean growled and moved to the trunk to fetch their duffel bags, only to me met with even more cereal once the lid was popped open. A rainbow waterfall poured onto the ground at their feet and Dean made a sound that was only one notch short of being called animalistic. After digging their bags out of the mess, he slammed the trunk closed, handed Sam his own bag, and slung the strap of his own over his broad shoulder.

“Swear, I’m /this/ close to murdering someone.”

Once inside the motel, the Winchester’s purchased themselves a room for a few nights. It wasn’t spectacular; just the usual dingy little hole with two beds, working bathroom, and a fridge big enough to store a case or two of beer. The wallpaper, a strange and almost blinding orangy-red colour, was peeling near the corners, and the whitewashed ceiling was yellowing with age and years of smokers occupying the room. Greying light from the dawn was pouring in through the single window, sending spears of light across the faded quilts atop the two double beds.

Sam tossed his duffel onto one of the beds before gingerly placing his laptop on the tiny table near the window. Dean busied himself with stocking the mini fridge with beers and the containers of pie slices they had picked up from a nearby diner.

“I should call Bobby.” Sam spoke up. “Maybe he’ll know what could have caused something like this.”

“Think so?” Dean cracked open a bottle of beer and took a swig, only to spew the mouthful of booze clear across the room. He held the bottle out as though it was ready to grow teeth and bite him. “What the fuck?! This shit tastes like Froot Loops!”

“You’re kidding me.”

Sam snatched up the outstretched bottle and sniffed at it. Just as expected, the contents smelled heavily of that vile fruity sweetness that had filled the inside of their Impala. His brows furrowed deeply and he pitched the thing into the trash, where it shattered on impact.

Dean wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his leather jacket, only to suddenly pale. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…” He flung the fridge door open and grabbed one of the Styrofoam pie containers. He popped the lid, dipped his finger into the warm, oozing apple filling, and took a taste. “Fuck! Fucking motherfucker of fucking fuck!”

“Your way with words is enlightening.” Sam frowned. “Pie got hit, too?”

Dean whipped the container into the trash with the shattered beer bottle. “That is just evil.” He pointed a firm finger at his little brother. “Get Bobby on the line. Find out what this is and how to fix it.”

“What are you gonna do?” Sam asked, settling his body into the always too-small motel chairs at the table. He fired up his laptop.

Dean marched toward the door. “I’m going to rent me a powerful shop-vac and clean those disgusting things out of my baby.”

Before Sam could utter a response, Dean disappeared out of the motel room and slammed the door shut behind him. Alone in the silence, Sam huffed out a sigh and whipped out his cell, dialling Bobby’s number while he hacked the motel’s WiFi system in order to access the internet.

“What?” Came the elder hunter’s gruff reply on the other end of the phone.

“Bobby, it’s Sam. Dean and I need some information.”

“Shoot.”

Sam got into the network in a few short clicks, and immediately brought up the most reliable search engine. “Do you happen to know anything about, well, um… we were kinda wondering if you know of any creature or being that would, say… fill a car with cereal.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Sam wondered if the connection had cut out. Then, Bobby spoke. “Come again?”

Sam went on and explained the strange ordeal he and Dean had experienced that morning regarding the Froot Loops, all the while attempting to find any clues on the internet. On Bobby’s end, the old hunter was scanning through his library of ancient texts, but neither of them came up with any valid conclusion, except…

“Honestly? Sounds like Trickster work to me.” Bobby said.

Sam sat back in his seat, the very mention of a Trickster sending his mind careening to one certain being that had made his life a living hell for years. He recalled bright, almost effervescent golden eyes, a cheeky mischievous smile, an arrogant swagger, and vicious sense of humour. The Archangel Gabriel was the only “Trickster” Sam and Dean had ever encountered in their years of hunting, and the youngest Winchester probably would have blamed him for the cereal ambush first… had the guy not been killed by Lucifer weeks before.

“What Trickster would do this to us?” Sam asked, pushing the memory of their unexpected ally to the back of his mind. He didn’t like the way it made his chest clench up as though it was trapped in a vice. “We’ve never encountered one before that wasn’t Gabe.”

“Gabe?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Uh… G-Gabriel. Gabriel. Sorry.”

“Giving him a nickname already, kid?” Bobby asked, a hint of curiosity in his gruff tone. “Didn’t think you were fond of the guy.”

Sam’s fingers tightened around his cell phone, to the point where his knuckles whitened. “Can’t be fond of the dead, Bobby.”

“Ah, damn it, he’s…?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, Sam.”

The hunter shook his head out. “What for? Not like it bothers me or anything. You know as well as I do how much pain his antics caused Dean and I.”

Thankfully, Bobby put an end to that conversation right then and there, and Sam heard him flip through page after page in his books. “I don’t have much here, but I’ll keep looking. Try and see if there are any other similar cases in the area and get back to me, alright?”

“Sure, Bobby. Thanks for the help.”

Sam hung up quick and raked his long fingers through the shaggy mop of chocolate hair atop his head. He sighed, pushing past any questions and speculations to focus his mind on the task at hand. Gabriel was dead. Over and done. There wasn’t a single reason to believe he could have anything to do with this.

He had to quit missing him.

He had to quit hoping.

In a matter of minutes, Sam used his skills to pull up every police report in the surrounding town from the past week, and was busy reading through them in search for any Trickster-like activity. He could hear the faint roar of a shop-vac being used in the parking lot outside, along with a good few hundred cusses from Dean that would have even shocked a demon.

Sam flinched when he felt something small whack him on the back of the neck. He looked down at the stained carpet, only to find a little green Froot Loop sitting at his feet. It was definitely not there before.

“The hell?” He murmured.

A second piece of cereal, this time orange, struck the youngest Winchester behind his ear, and he whipped to his feet, hand diving for the hilt of Ruby’s knife inside his jacket. He spun around, only to have his breath instantly sucked right from his lungs when his hazel eyes fell upon the small figure lounging on his bed.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Bright, honey gold eyes sparkled in the pale lighting.

Sam was struck. There was no way this was real. “Gabriel… H-how…? I just…” He raised the blade of his knife, hand far from steady.

“Easy there, Sasquatch, easy. No need to go all Full Metal Jacket on me again.” The Archangel, or the thing that /looked/ like the Archangel, rose off the mattress and strolled toward him. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his olive-coloured jacket. Their eyes locked, and the stare was powerful. Penetrating. “It’s really me.”

“You’re dead.” Sam breathed, heart racing to the point where he heard it above the sound of his own voice. “Lucifer… He… You told us…”

Gabriel shrugged, pivoting about on the ball of his foot. “Yeah, kinda fibbed a little. Had to get you boys and Satan off my trail for a while. I’ve been hiding out since I handed Dean the Casa Erotica DVD back at that hotel.”

Sam’s mouth felt dry as he lowered the knife. “So, the thing Lucifer killed…?”

“Illusion. I’m not an idiot, kiddo. I knew he’d beat me.” Gabriel smiled. “Aren’t’cha happy to see me?”

Sam didn’t answer. Not with words at least. Dropping the knife to the floor, he rushed forward and threw his arms around the much smaller man, drawing their bodies flush against each other in a suffocating embrace. It was a purely impulse-driven move, and Sam considered pulling away, until Gabriel made a soft, muffled noise into his chest and returned the hug with equal force. That got the hunter’s heart racing like mad. Sam clenched his eyes shut, burying his nose in the Archangel’s golden locks and inhaling his scent. Musky and sweet; spicy, electric. Beautiful.

Gabriel’s fingers curled themselves into the fabric of Sam’s plaid shirt. “Missed you, too.”

Sam refused to let go, speaking into the soft bed of hair. “You son of a bitch. You could’ve told me it was a trick.”

“Couldn’t have anyone find out.” Gabriel said, his warm tickling breaths running over Sam’s collar bone. “I’m actually not even supposed to be here, now.”

Sam pulled back just enough to peer down at Gabriel’s face. “Why did you come, then?”

“C’mon, I couldn’t resist messing with you guys again,” The Archangel grinned a grin that was all Trickster. “Froot Loops seemed like a fun way to frustrate the hell out of Deano.”

“He’ll kill you if he finds out you did that to his car and his pie.” Sam had to grin, too.

“That’s if he can catch me.” Gabriel’s small but strong hands slid around Sam’s side, fingers gliding over his ribs, before settling his palms over each of his pectorals. “I just popped in cause I had to say hi before I go back into hiding.”

Disappointment flooded through Sam’s chest. “You’re leaving?”

“Gotta.” Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Least until things clear up with this Apocalypse nonsense, but I doubt I’ll be able to show my face for a while. Archangel or not, ditching out on Heaven is gonna mean bad news for me if the God Squad know about me.”

Sam tightened his grip around the Archangel’s waist. “Not…” He swallowed hard, attempting to summon his voice. “Not yet. Not yet.”

“Sam, I have to…”

“Shut up. Please, just… shut up.” Without hesitation, without even a thought, Sam leaned in and closed the distance between them, mouth claiming Gabriel’s in a soft but deep kiss.

The Archangel whimpered into the kiss, rising up onto his tiptoes in order to get closer to the tall hunter. As corny and cliché as it sounded in Sam’s head, Gabriel tasted like Heaven itself. Warm and sweet. It was an unearthly flavour that Sam had never tasted before. And his lips were soft and cushioned, begging to be nipped and bit and suckled, which Sam did shamelessly. The sounds coming out of Gabriel as the youngest Winchester marked up his mouth were the things sins were made of. Pure, unbridled lust.

Their height difference caused a strain in Sam’s neck, but he wasn’t about to pull away anytime soon. Instead, he crushed his arms around Gabriel’s body and hugged him with such force, both of the Archangel’s feet lifted off the floor. Their tongues swept together, a lazy but desperate dance to entangle and taste. Gabriel’s fingers were woven into the back of Sam’s hair, tugging until Sam made a sound that belonged more in a porno.

“G-Gabe…” The hunter groaned and stumbled forward, sending them both crashing into the springy mattress.

Gabriel was trapped under the weight of Sam’s body, and neither of them bothered to shift their positions. The Archangel was powerful enough to handle the weight. He certainly wasn’t complaining. Their bodies began to rock in unison, pressing and rubbing and grinding in all the right places.

“Fuck…” Gabriel threw his head back, soft-tipped fingers biting into the muscles of Sam’s shoulders. “Sammy, you’re killing me here.”

“Good,” Sam growled against the soft flesh of the Archangel’s exposed throat before biting down. “You’re not leaving. Not again. Not unless I say so.” He blew cool air over the bite mark blooming darkly on Gabriel’s skin. “Everyone leaves me in the end. Everyone but Dean and Bobby abandon me. I’m not letting you do that, too.”

“S-Sam…”

“No.” Sam stopped grinding down into the Archangel and softly peppered kisses over the patch of chest exposed under Gabriel’s burgundy button-down. “You can’t just leave. You can’t just disappear, Gabe. I need you in my life.”

Gabriel was writhing beneath him. Absolutely falling apart. “They’ll kill me if they catch me, kiddo.”

“They won’t catch you.” Sam began to pluck each button on the Archangel’s shirt open, until his entire torso was exposed to the cool air. His skin was pale, stretched taut over a lean, but strong body. So ridiculously stunning. Sam nuzzled his mouth over one dusky nipple, earning him a moan from the angel beneath him. “You hide when you need to, but you come see me every chance you get. Dean and I will protect you.” He gave the fleshy bud a gentle nip. “I just need to see you once in a while. Think you can do that for me, Gabe?”

The Archangel mewled and arched his hips off the mattress, seeking Sam’s, /needing/ friction. “…Y-yes.”

“Promise?”

“Swear on it.” Gabriel clawed at Sam’s shirt. “Not gonna pass up any opportunity on seeing you, kiddo. Besides murdering Deano over and over again, that was always my favorite thing to do.”

“I know it was.” Sam smiled genuinely, leaning up to nuzzle their faces together. Gabriel purred like a kitten at the affection, which was /far/ too adorable. “Tonight? Think you can see me tonight? Maybe once Dean’s asleep?”

Brows arched over mischievous gold eyes. “You asking me on a date?”

“Yes,” Sam admitted without shame. “I want to finish what we’ve started without any risk of my brother walking in on us.” He strummed a thumb over Gabriel’s exposed nipple.

“Moving a tad fast there, huh, kiddo?” Gabriel grinned. His breath hitched at the contact. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Sam stole another kiss. And then another. “When the world is ending, there’s not really much time to spare., is there? Clock’s ticking for all of us.”

“Point taken.”

“Mm…” Sam brushed a sweet kiss across Gabriel’s eyelids. A gesture far more tender than expected. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight.” The Archangel sighed blissfully and sat up on his elbows. With a smirk, a little purple Froot Loop appeared in his hand and he popped it into Sam’s mouth. “Have fun dealing with Deano and the incredible rainbow Impala.”

Sam chewed the sweet cereal bit without complaint. “You owe me for having to listen to him bitch all day, you know.”

“Ohoho, I plan on making it up to you in /every/ way possible.”

After one last lingering kiss, the Archangel vanished from the bed with a loud snap of wings and a rush of warm air. Sam shut his eyes, breathing in the breeze that smelled solely of Gabriel, inviting it into his body and soul.

Dean’s booming voice from outside snapped him out of his daze, along with an ear-jarring whining sound from a machine. “Sam, for the love of God, help me out here! The damn shop vac is jammed!”

The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes and climbed off the bed, the promise of a night with his Archangel keeping his spirits up as he assisted Dean in cleaning the Froot Loops out of the incredible rainbow Impala.

11 October 2011 @ 3pm | 47 notes
tags: sam winchester gabriel sabriel sambriel supernatural

Destiel

Pairing: Past!Dean Winchester and Future!Castiel

Rating: NC- 17

Disclaimer: Kripke & C o. own these characters, and Supernatural. They are used for entertainment purposes only.

Written For: Weapons-And-Whiskey

THANK YOU

Night fell fast over the quietude of Camp Chitaqua. Most of the soldiers had either bunkered down for the evening, or were still out on a mission into the Croats-infested wasteland that was once a bustling metropolis. The hush of solemn darkness settled in over the camp; so much that not even the crickets chirped. With death and infection running rampant through the world, much thanks to Lucifer and his band of merry assholes known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, peace was a rarity. Not even the stars dared to shine.

Dean marched through the camp, his combat boots crunching over pebbles and soil in desperate need of the rains that would never come. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his blue jacket, as he was practically freezing his balls off. Breath escaped his lips in white puffs of clouded moisture. All around him, lights flickered through the dingy windows of the surrounding cabins. Not many were out and about, tonight, save for a few guards at the gate. His future self, along with a handful of others, were still on a mission.

Dean was almost thankful for that. He knew he was a dick and all, but not even /he/ could deal with what five years had done to the future version of himself. He’d much rather focus on getting back to his own page on the calendar.

Up ahead, the sound of female giggles broke the silence of the night. Dean looked up, narrowing his forest green eyes as he stared across the darkened path toward a small cabin near the gate. A small group of women were huddled together on a porch, most of them half-naked, their hands clutching at the clothes they hadn’t bothered to put back on. In the glow coming from the porch light, he could see the grins plastered on their faces, the way their sweat-slicked bodies swayed back and forth. They were all either stoned out of their minds, or just had the best lay of their lives.

Considering whose cabin it was… probably both.

Dean halted his march, body remaining hidden in the patch of shadow the light from the porch hadn’t been able to reach. Lips pressed tight, he glared at the familiar figure of a man in the doorway, his form silhouetted by the golden light bleeding out from the house. He was leaning against the doorframe, ankles crossed, one hand absentmindedly twirling through his dishevelled black hair. He was grinning, mumbling incoherent words to the women…

And more baked than a goldfish cracker.

God damn it, Castiel… What happened? One moment a straight and true angel of the Lord, and the next… /this/? If Dean had thought the five years had taken a toll on his future self, it was nothing in comparison to what had become of his beloved friend. Cas… wasn’t Cas anymore. Not /his/ Cas, at least. This was an empty shell of a man. No more stern looks, no more accidentally hilarious moments, no more social awkwardness, no more misunderstandings of references… Just no more Cas.

The fact that he’d stuck with Dean through it all was probably the most mind-boggling scenario the hunter could think of. Even after losing the war, even after all his brothers and sisters had abandoned Heaven and earth, Castiel still remained at Dean’s side, the loyal son of a bitch he always was.

At least that didn’t change.

But, what pissed Dean off the most, what really struck a nerve within him, was that his future self didn’t even seem to care. In the few brief interactions he’d seen between future-Dean and future-Castiel, there was more bitterness and resentment than anything else. His future self was cold, angry; broken from losing Sam, and who could blame him? Losing Sam would always be Dean’s breaking point. But, not even a smile at Castiel? No joking around, no teasing or a fucking kind word to spare? Not even a Goddamn /thank you/?!

And what did Cas do through it all? Smile.

The magnificent angel of the Lord who would have probably knocked him down a thousand pegs with a single piercing glare… took the anger with an empty smile, and trotted off somewhere to cloud his mind with drugs and sex.

And the asshole of the century award goes to… Dean Motherfucking Winchester.

“Shit,” Dean cursed himself, kicking a pebble.

He listened quietly as Cas bid the group of women a good night, mixed in with a few non-existent words and crazy hippie-guru-whatever-the-fuck-blessings complete with an arm wave or two. The women practically skipped down the steps, their school-girl giggles echoing through the night as they each dispersed to their own separate cabins for a much-needed rest. When Castiel turned and disappeared inside his own cabin, Dean followed suite, leaping up the steps two at a time and shoving the front door open before the other man had the chance to lock it.

The cabin smelled heavily of sweat, sex, and spiced incense. Multicoloured blankets and throw pillows littered the floor, which made something churn in Dean’s stomach.

Disgust? Maybe.

Sadness? Looks like it.

Jealousy? More than he’d like to admit.

At the sound of the sudden intrusion, Castiel turned on his heel to face Dean, his once sharp blue eyes now clouded dully by drugs. He grinned a huge toothy grin and held his arms open. His shirt was wrinkled as all hell, and hickeys littered the side of his throat.

Dean tried not to stare at them.

“Dean, you missed the party, man!” Cas said. “The ladies just left.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean swallowed hard, shutting the door behind him and flicking the lock.

“Shame, shame. They do love when you come knocking,” Cas paused, gesturing to him with a flick of his hand. “Well, not /you/ you. Future you.” The other man strolled across the room, hopping over the mess of pillows to reach the bright red hookah pipe perched by the window. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk.”

“Mhm, sure!” Cas proceeded to light up the hookah, lips wrapped around the mouthpiece at the end of the hose. He dragged in deep, soft white smoke passing from between his lips. “Want some? It’s good.”

“No, thanks,” Dean clenched his jaw tight, a crack running down the middle of his heart with each passing second of watching his friend slowly destroy himself. “Think you can put the drugs down for a bit?”

Cas seemed to not hear him. “You know what would be awesome right now? Kite flying.”

“Say what?” Dean was caught off guard.

“Kite flying!” Castiel’s giggle was unsettling. “Like, we could make one and take it out. The winds are strong tonight.”

Dean could only stare at him. “I… w-what, you… n-no. No.” He shook his head. “Cas, I gotta talk to you.”

Cas rubbed at the heavy black scruff covering his strong jaw, eyes running over the walls, as though Dean wasn’t even there to begin with. He was muttering softly to himself. “Course, the Croats might catch sight of the kite and know where our camp is…”

Dean snapped. “Fuck the kites!”

Castiel finally met his eyes and gave him an odd look. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Dean, but I doubt having sex with an inanimate object will give you much satisfaction.”

“I swear to…” Dean had to turn away for a moment to suppress the anger and frustration bubbling hotly inside him. He ran a hand down his face, reminding himself over and over that it was the drugs talking. Not Castiel. “Deep breaths, Winchester.”

“You /sure/ you don’t want a drag, oh clone of our fearless leader?” He heard Cas coo from behind him. “Might help you getting that stick from out of your ass.”

With a quick spin, the hunter seized Castiel by the wrists and shoved him backward, pinning him against the wall. The hookah, having been in the middle of the collision of bodies, toppled over and fell to the wooden floor, its blown glass body shattering on impact. The shove seemed to knock the wind right out of Castiel and he stared wide eyed at Dean. All drug-induced haziness had vanished from those bright cerulean eyes, leaving behind a look of shock that was equally mirrored on Dean’s face.

Maybe he was being a bit too forward.

Fuck it.

“Why did you stay?” Dean asked softly, his thumbs digging into the soft skin of Castiel’s wrists. “After all that happened, after we lost, why the hell are you still here, Cas? Huh? Just tell me that.”

Cas’ tongue peeked out to wet his chapped bottom lip. “I had no choice.”

“No, don’t you fucking play that card with me. You tell me the truth. Right now, man. I’m not kidding, here.” Dean leaned closer, chest to chest. The distinct scent of Castiel filled his nostrils; a mixture of sweat and spice and something that reminded Dean of a thunderstorm.

The blue eyes that stared back at him were pained. “That /is/ the truth, Dean.”

“No, Cas, you /had/ a choice!” Dean felt his voice rise. “You could have left with your family. You didn’t have to end up this way.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you, Dean? I wasn’t forced to stay with you. I wanted to be left behind.” He tried to break free, but the hunter held him still.

“Why the fuck would anyone want to be left behind in this place? It’s a depressing wasteland.” Dean asked.

Castiel’s huffed out a breath, his gaze turning to the dusty floorboards beneath them. “I couldn’t just abandon you after you lost your brother. You’d be dead if I wasn’t here to watch out for you.”

Dean cocked his jaw. “No offense, Cas, but I doubt you can do much /watching/ when you’re ass-deep in chicks and drugs.”

“Just because my eyes are not always on you, doesn’t mean I am not alert,” Castiel shifted his weight from one leg to the other, still refusing to look up. “We share a bond, you and I, and that keeps us connected.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Bond?”

When Cas’ eyes finally lifted, they did not raise high enough to look at the hunter. Instead, they fell on Dean’s upper arm, where the seared handprint lay hidden beneath layers of old, faded clothing. Dean was aware of what he saw in his old friend’s expression; a deep sadness, a regret, a longing he either couldn’t explain or was too damn terrified to.

He released his hold on Castiel’s wrists momentarily, only to shrug off his tattered old jacket, letting the thing fall in a heap on the floor. When he rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt, exposing the raised scar in the shape of Castiel’s hand, Dean could’ve sworn he heard the other man’s breath hitch.

“I haven’t seen it in quite a long while…” Castiel whispered, and it sounded more like he was talking to himself than to Dean. He lifted a hand, but paused mid-reach. “Can I…?”

“Knock yourself out.”

With slight hesitation, Cas closed the distance between their flesh, palm falling to rest in perfect alignment with the handprint he’d left on Dean’s body so long ago. There was a strange, pleasant, wonderful tingle that ran right through Dean’s entire being at the contact, not only jolting his flesh to life, but his very soul. It was hot; electric. It was like every light switch inside him had suddenly been flipped on. Dean couldn’t help but make note of how warm the other man’s hands were, the pads of his fingers calloused from handling weaponry.

“So, um…” Dean attempted to create words out of the bowl of mashed potatoes that was currently his brain. “This, uh, this mark thing connects us?”

“Yes.” Castiel answered in a breathy tone.

“Care to elaborate a little?”

Castiel’s storm blue eyes finally raised, latching onto Dean’s. “When I raised you from Hell all those years ago, a small fragment of my Grace was burned into you through this mark. I can feel it within you, even though my own…” He laughed, a bitter sound. “Mine isn’t exactly as strong as it should be right now.”

Dean wet his lips with his tongue. He was vaguely aware that his other hand had somehow re-pinned Cas’ wrist to the wall sometime during the previous exchange of words, as though he was unconsciously afraid of the other man making a break for it. The grip has loosened to the point where Dean’s fingers were nestled in the soft crease of his friend’s palm, and he allowed it to slip further, so much that their palms met, and their fingers wove together. Castiel turned his head to stare at their conjoined hands, his face displaying the surprise and confusion that Dean was too afraid to showcase himself.

The hunter swallowed, eyes following the strong line of Castiel’s scruff-covered jaw and tracing over his damn near perfect profile. “Damn it, Cas, why’re you still here? If it’s hurting you…”

“I don’t regret staying,” Castiel cut him off, his eyes still focused on their hands, as if he’d never had his hands held before.

“Why not?” Dean grit his teeth. “It’s not like future me really appreciates it.”

“He does. He’s not just not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve.” Those piercing blue eyes glanced sidelong at him. “I’m sure you can relate.”

Dean shook his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. He leaned forward, resting his forehead to Castiel’s temple. The other man stiffened, the soft-tipped fingers still pressed to his mark digging into the taut muscles of Dean’s arm.

“You deserve more than this, Cas,” Dean whispered.

Castiel swallowed audibly. “I am content with what I have.”

“You suck at lying.”

“I’m aware.”

The hot breath of the hunter left a patch of moisture upon the side of Castiel’s neck, and Dean risked a feather-light brush of lips over the lobe of his ear. He could actually /feel/ the goose bumps rise on Castiel’s body, which should not have turned him on as much as it did.

“You’re too damn loyal, Cas,” he breathed into the other man’s ear. “Too damn loyal, and it kills me, because it hurts you so much and you still fucking stand at my side without a single complaint.”

The shift of Castiel’s body against the wall allowed their hips to brush together, and Dean felt /far/ more than just goose bumps. Fuck, Cas was hard as a diamond under those faded blue jeans of his, the shaft a long line of throbbing flesh pressed into the hunter’s thigh. Dean hissed, his own cock not much different.

He should pull away.

This wasn’t right…

“Fuck…” Dean took the soft flesh of the Castiel’s earlobe into his mouth, suckling as he slipped one knee between Cas’ thighs, leg raising just enough to push against the aching bulge in his jeans, which granted him a sharp gasp from the other man.

“D-Dean… what’re you…?” Castiel’s words were drowned in shaky breaths.

Releasing his earlobe with a wet pop, Dean’s own breathing mirrored that of his companion. He could feel heat build in his belly; a trembling flutter that rose up into his chest and throat. Using his free hand, he cupped Castiel’s jaw, fingers to cheek, and turned his head to face him. The eyes that stared back reminded Dean of the angel that appeared in the old barn all those years ago; an unstoppable force of God showered in a blizzard of sparks and donned in a ratty old trench coat.

No matter how weak or broken or lost Castiel was now, Dean still saw that angel. /His/ angel.

Dean’s fingers traced the defined shape of Castiel’s lips, still so full and chapped. “…I want to kiss you.”

Castiel took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I thought men weren’t your preference.”

“They’re not.” Dean admitted. “But you’re not just some man. You’re more than that. You’re Cas, and I wouldn’t care if you were male or female or purple with orange polka dots. You’d still be Castiel inside, and I’d still want to kiss you as much as I do now.”

Cas’ lips parted as he drew in a trembling breath. He stared at Dean, a mixture of uncertainty and unbridled /want/ in his expression. The hunter was close to telling Castiel that he didn’t have to do it if he wasn’t comfortable, but his train of thought was cut off when their mouths suddenly crashed together.

It was rough, sloppy, desperate. Castiel’s lips were soft, much softer than they actually looked, and fuck, they tasted of spice and mint and a fresh rainfall. The scruff on Castiel’s chin was rough and tickled at Dean’s jaw, a stark difference from the smooth flesh of women that should have freaked the hell out of Dean, but didn’t.

This felt right… too fucking right.

Dean felt the hand on his marked arm lift and come to settle on the back of his neck, Cas’ strong fingers weaving themselves through his hair. They both breathed heavily through their noses, as neither man would dare break the connection for a gasp of air. With a reluctant release of Castiel’s hand, Dean reached down and hooked his arms behind each of Cas’ legs, hoisting him up with ease and pinning him firmly to the wall with his body. Castiel looped both of his lithe legs around Dean’s hips and crossed his ankles at the backs of his thighs. Their cocks, each trapped in their very own denim prison, pressed together, and they moaned in unison.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” Dean murmured against Castiel’s lips. “Let me in.”

Cas obliged, parting his lips just enough to allow Dean to sweep his tongue into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. He made sure to taste every last inch of the other man’s mouth, Castiel’s sharp and beautiful flavour nearly making Dean release right there. He growled viciously, grinding himself into Cas’ body.

“Ah, D-Dean!” Castiel sobbed with pleasure, breaking the kiss with a toss of his head. His lips were bruised and swollen and fucking gorgeous to look at. It made Dean want to cover that body in his love bites and bruises; just mark him up and make him his.

Soft green eyes locked onto the fading hickeys the women had left on Castiel’s throat during the orgy, and Dean felt that familiar pang of possessiveness burn through him. He latched onto that long line of neck with his mouth, suckling and biting and kissing until he covered every last bruise with a much darker one of his own. Cas was writhing against him all the while, his mewls and gasps as he was marked driving the hunter to the point of madness.

“Mine,” Dean whispered as he blew cool air over the tender skin.

The fingers through the back of his hair gripped tightly, yanking Dean back up for another lip-splitting kiss. Tongues dancing, teeth clashing, the hunter pulled back from the wall and headed for the couch, Castiel still latched to his body. It was an awkward trip trying to manoeuvre over the piles of pillows all over the floor. They fell in a heap upon the worn, musky couch cushions, Dean’s body settled comfortably between the other man’s legs as he continued to devour his mouth in his kisses.

The temperature inside the cabin was rising quickly, and Dean made quick work of shedding his t-shirt. He pitched the garment clear across the room, gasping when Castiel’s hands came up to rest on his bare chest as soon as they had the chance. They were big, masculine, each one perfectly cradling his pectorals. His heart hammered fiercely against Cas’ palm.

“Off,” Dean ordered through a smirk, tugging at the light fabric of Castiel’s shirt. “Let me see you.”

Castiel laughed and sat up. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

“Impatient.” Dean corrected with a purr.

He watched with hungry eyes as Castiel gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and off his body, revealing the rolling planes of muscle beneath. Taut, pale skin stretched over a toned stomach, so different from the soft, supple curves of a woman’s body, but no less appealing. As Cas lay back down, Dean licked his lips and ran his fingers along the sharp lines of the other man’s hips. He noticed, however, that Castiel’s body was riddled with scars, some years old. He frowned deeply, tracing a particularly harsh one along Cas’ ribs.

“You can’t heal?” Dean asked, more pain in his voice than he intended.

Castiel flinched away from his tickling touch. He sighed, one hand caressing up Dean’s arm. “Low on batteries, remember?”

“Yeah…” Dean clenched his jaw at the unfairness of it all. “Shit.” He bent over, peppering kisses over every last scar he could find; each one an apology for the amount of suffering the angel had endured for him.

The mood of the cabin had changed dramatically in a matter of minutes; from feral heat and lust to a solemn and quiet passion. There wasn’t a sound heard but the ragged breaths of the two men as Dean trailed his kisses all over Castiel’s chest, before catching one dusky nipple in his mouth and suckling tenderly. He arched his back into the feel of the other man’s hands on his shoulder blades, teeth scraping enough over the sensitive nub of flesh to draw a gasping moan from Castiel.

With one arm tucked under Cas’ side, Dean slid his free hand along the flat plane of his stomach, fingers travelling downward until they found the clasp to the jeans he wore. Dean popped it open in one quick snap, and Castiel’s released a loud groan when the pressure was released from his aching cock. Satisfied with the bruising he’d left around Cas’ nipple, Dean lifted his head and gazed into those blue depths as he dipped his hands under the denim and palmed the hard flesh beneath.

“F-fuck!” Castiel’s long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes rolled back. His hips bucked clear off the couch, low, delicious sounds rumbling from his throat and chest. “Dean… Mm!”

“You’re so hard for me,” Dean whispered as he wrapped his long fingers around the shaft and began a slow, lazy stroke. “God, look at you. Look how easily I can make you fall apart.”

“D-Dean, please… Ah!” Cas sucked in breath through his teeth. “More.”

“Patience, sweetheart.” Dean grazed sharp teeth over Cas’ collarbone, thumb swirling over the moistened tip, spreading the slick precum. “So fucking beautiful. So hot.”

Warm hands scrambled desperately for something to latch onto as Dean quickened his strokes, finally finding purchase in the blanket trapped beneath their bodies. Castiel was coming undone right before Dean, and damn it if he’d never seen something so fucking gorgeous in his entire life. Dark bangs became matted onto Cas’ sweat-slicked forehead, clear beads of moisture glistening upon his chest. He was breathing rapidly as though he’d just run a mile. And the sounds he made… Jesus Christ, how can a whimper sound so damn erotic?

Dean paid little attention to the way his cock pressed painfully against the inside of his jeans, more focused on pleasuring Castiel than anything else. Their lips found each other again, and the kiss was deep, tender. It spoke the thousand words that neither of the men could ever bring up the courage to say out loud.

“Thank you…” Dean whispered as he watched Castiel’s face contort in the throes of bliss. “For everything you did. I just… I can’t begin to imagine how much you’ve sacrificed for me. So, thank you, Cas.”

Castiel’s fingers unclenched themselves from the blanket, and he lifted his hand to press it back onto the seared mark on Dean’s arm. They locked eyes, and Castiel could barely get his words out, his voice strained and cracking from the pleasure building within him with each pump of Dean’s hand.

“Anything…” he breathed. “…f-for you.”

Dean felt something rise up from his chest into his throat and plant itself there until it became difficult to swallow. He tucked his head under Cas’ chin and bit down fiercely on his throat until the man beneath him cried out.

“D-Dean… Gonna… g-gonna… Oh, God…”

The hunter lapped at the fresh bite mark, soothing its sting. “Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” He growled low, squeezing at the velvety weights hanging below Castiel’s shaft.

Cas’ entire body was a thrashing mess beneath him. “I… I… Ah, AH! DEAN!”

The release came fast and merciless, and Dean milked every last drop of it from Castiel’s body. The thick, warm cream shot out of Cas’ coating his stomach and Dean’s hand in it’s stickiness. The way Castiel’s body arched clear off the couch, the way his head tossed back and his mouth gaped open as he cried out Dean’s name… fuck, Heaven itself was no comparison.

As the heat began to settle, and Castiel had eased himself back into the plush couch cushions, so utterly spent and lost in the afterglow of pleasure, Dean worked on cleaning him up. He licked the salted cream from his fingers and palm, and then lapped up the cooling pools on Cas’ belly. The man beneath him purred in contentment, and Dean opened his mouth to say something, when there was a sudden knock on the cabin door.

Dean froze in place.

“Cas?” It was Chuck’s voice. “You in there?”

Castiel sat up on his elbows and tried to control his panting enough to reply. “Yeah, d-don’t come in. I’m, uh… I’m just getting changed.”

There was a soft shuffle of feet outside. “Oh, um, when you’re done, think you can meet us all at Dean’s cabin? He just got back from his mission, and he’s got a plan to run through.”

“Be there in ten!” Castiel said after exchanging a look with the hunter.

When Chuck’s footsteps faded away, Dean finally exhaled, forehead pressing to the sweat-slicked flesh of Castiel’s chest. He listened to the slowing heartbeat at his ear, the cramped ache down south all too obvious to him right now.

“Looks like I gotta blue ball this, don’t I?” He muttered through a chuckle.

“Yup.” Cas’ ran a hand through the dirty-blonde spikes atop Dean’s head.

“Well, ain’t that a bitch.”

Castiel slipped two fingers under Dean’s chin, drawing his face up just enough to steal one last lingering kiss. It felt as though the breath was getting sucked right from Dean’s lungs. “Think you can hold on until after the meeting? I’ll make it up to you.”

The grin that plastered itself on the hunter’s face was nothing short of joyous. “I’ll be holding you to that, sweetheart.”

~*~*~*~*~

“We don’t have to find Lucifer. We know where he is.” Dean’s future self stated grimly, his expression stone cold as he addressed the small cluster of people in his cabin. “The demon that we caught last week; he was one of the big guy’s entourage. He knew.”

“A demon tells you where Satan’s going to be, and you just believe it?” Rita questioned sceptically, her arms crossed over her breasts.

Dean, perched quietly in a little corner behind Rita and Castiel, watched the exchange with a deep frown. His eyes drifted between his clone and Samuel Colt’s gun sitting pretty on the long table in front of him. Cas had planted himself in a chair close by, his feet propped up on the table and a glass of booze in his hands. Occasionally, the two would glance at each other and lock eyes, the anticipation of their next moment alone thick in the air between them.

The very thought sent chills running all over the hunter’s body.

This meeting needed to end. /Now/.

“Trust me,” Future Dean said. “He wasn’t lying.”

Rita looked far from convinced. “And you know this how?”

Castiel jumped in, his tone flat, as though unsurprised. “Our fearless leader, I’m afraid, is all too well schooled in getting to the truth.”

Dean’s eyes flickered back and forth, the realization behind Cas’ words hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Torture?” He stared at his mirror image, and then rose to standing. “Oh, so we’re… we’re torturing again?”

Every set of eyes in the room fell on him, but there wasn’t a single answer uttered.

“That’s… that’s good,” Dean said sarcastically. He winked. “Classy.”

The smile that lit up Castiel’s face was nothing short of beautiful, crinkling up the corners of his blue eyes in that special way. The chuckle that escaped him was soft, almost secretive. Dean knew not to return it in front of the others, but man, did it warm him up in places he thought had long frozen over. His heart pattered hard against his ribcage.

As Castiel finally looked away, the beauty of his smile faded back to his usual smirk when he caught sight of Future Dean eyeing him accusingly for having not taken his side in the argument. Dean felt his chest swell with pride a little at that.

“What?” Cas snorted. “I like past you.”

24 September 2011 @ 2am | 36 notes
tags: destiel dean winchester castiel future!cas past!dean supernatural

Sabriel~ Shameless Porn.

Pairing: Sam Winchester and Archangel Gabriel

Rating: NC- 17

Disclaimer: Kripke & C o. own these characters, and Supernatural. They are used for entertainment purposes only.

Written For: Anonymous

Sabriel.

The youngest Winchester sat in the dimly lit, musty motel room at a small wooden table. His laptop was set in front of him, open to a search page. Sam sat with his elbow on the table, chin resting in his palm. He and Dean were supposed to be working on this case together. But as usual, his brother was off at the bar, no doubt trying to hook up with every busty waitress that even glanced his way. Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. This always happened. Nearly every case he had to research alone while Dean went out to have fun. Sam thought back to a few years prior, when he and Dean had been investigating the trickster case at that university. Of course while Sam was interviewing some students Dean was doing shots, trying to get tail. Sam drifted back to the trickster, well- “Gabriel” as they knew him now. Even though he had put Dean and him through a lot, he still admired the man. Angel… Archangel. Sam thought even deeper, trying to remember every detail about him. His eyes were what stuck out the most. They were gorgeous, warm. When Gabe looked at Sam, they were filled with softness, welcoming, and what Sam thought was lust. The young Winchester laughed. What would the Archangel want with him? What would he want with Gabriel? Then again, Sam would surely fuck him if ever given the chance.

“Really, now?” The familiar voice rang through the empty room, causing Sam to jump with a start. His eyes widened as the settled on the much shorter man leaning against the door.

“Jeez, Gab-” He cocked his head in confusion. “Really, now… What?”

“Come on, Sammy! You’ve been out in La-La land since I snapped here ten minutes ago. You looked pretty deep in thought, pretty happy.” His signature grin stretched across his face as he pushed off the door, walking a little closer. “I just had to take a look. And my, the things I saw.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Sam gasped, quickly turning a deep red. “I- uh. I’m tired Gabe, really. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I am even thinki-“

“No need to be sorry kiddo.” He was instantly right across the table, leaning forward to shut the laptop. “I mean, I have to admit. You are quite the catch.” He winked. “I can’t say I never thought about driving you in to a wall or two.” He purred softly as Sam stared at him, eyes even wider. Gabriel began to walk around the table standing right beside Sam. He whispered softly against his ear. “Come on, Sammy. I know you want to. I can see right into your mind, I see your wants and needs.” He leaned back, gazing down into Sam’s deep hazel eyes.

Sam scanned around the room before pushing up from the table, crushing his lips against the archangel’s. He moaned softly. What the heck, right? He liked him anyways.

Though it caught the Archangel off guard, he quickly melted into it. The heat behind it made Gabe’s head whirl. As Sam pulled away Gabe looked up at him. “Well that was about a year or two over due.” His eyebrows wiggled again as he pushed Sam back until they fell on his bed. He purred, rolling their tongues together.

Sam sat up slightly, voice husky. “Drive me into a few walls huh?” His hips bucked up as Gabe bit his neck.

“Oh, baby. We can do much better than that.” He growled hungrily.

“I don’t think Dean would like holes in the wall anyways.” Sam laughed.

“I can fix them, Sammy. With a snap.” Instantly, their clothes were off, Sam finding himself tied to the headboard by his wrists. Gabe straddled him, holding a spouted dish in his hand. It was steaming slightly. The angel grinned. “This will only hurt a bit, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes widened as the dish was tilted forward, a light steam of hot, melted chocolate trailing from his chest down to his hips. He hissed as it burned him, hips bucking up.

“Mm. You look so vulnerable, Sammy.” Gabe dipped down, lapping the chocolate from the hips up. Sam moaned shamelessly causing Gabriel to harden quickly. “Sit up a bit Sam.” He purred. “I want you to blow me.”

Sam shuttered, eyes lidding as Gabe straddled his chest. He leaned forward, parting his lips. Instantly, the angel pushed his hard cock to Sam’s mouth, Sam taking in his head. He rolled his tongue over the slit, licking up the precum before taking more of him. The archangel’s head fell back as his hips jerked forward. Sam hummed softly as his tongue rolled; tapping Gabe’s hip, instructing him to grind them.

Gabe rocked his hips, pressing deeper down Sam’s throat, pulling back as Sam’s cheek’s hollowed. He panted hard, making love to Sam’s mouth.

Reluctantly he pulled away, scooting down and off Sam, a bottle of lube appearing in his hands. He coated his fingers as he pushed Sam’s knees to his chest. “Just gotta stretch yah a bit, Sammy.”

Sam tried to relax as one of Gabe’s fingers slid inside him, and then another. He hissed as the angel proceeded to scissor them and then add another. “You good?” He asked, climbing up to kiss him hotly.

Sam could only muster a nod, Gabe drawing back quickly holding the young Winchester’s legs in place as he positioned himself pressing his head against Sam’s entrance. Gabriel was deathly close but he continued, pressing into Sam’s tightness. He groaned, rocking his hips fast. Sam pulled at the ties, trying to break free, moaning as Gabe fucked him harder.

Suddenly, Sam’s hands dropped, as Gabe’s hips bucked forward, filling him up with his hot seed, crying out Sam’s name in pleasure. They panted hard, Sam twitching with anticipation.

“Your turn, Sammy.” Gabe swallowed. “Fuck me.” He panted hard.

Sam sat up. “Come.” He pulled Gabe off of the bed, leading him to the washroom.

The Archangel eyed him as he started up the shower. “Shower sex.” He purred. “You dirty boy.”

The young Winchester grinned, pulling Gabriel in under the hot stream of water. He picked Gabe up, pushing him into the wall, pressing between his legs. Gabe looked him up and down, watching as little rivers ran over the larger man’s muscular body. He snapped up the lube again, reaching down to rub Sam’s cock, coating it with the slippery gel.

“Mm, Sammy.” He pulled Sam in for another kiss, gasping as he was filled up by Sam’s hard cock. Fuck, he could nearly feel him in his throat. “Mm, fuck me hard, Sam!” He moaned loud, head rolling back to rest against the wall, wet hair matted to his face.

Sam growled, circling his hips, pressing in hard.

“Faster, Sammy!”

Sam shuttered hard, leaning in to bite Gabe’s neck. He drove his hips in deeper, drawing them out and snapping back in, picking up his pace. Gabriel moaned, short fingernails scratching up the Winchester’s back. “F-fuck!”

His moans pushed Sam to fuck the Archangel faster, hips losing control. Sam’s head fell back, as he was pushed over the edge, loads of his hot semen filling Gabe.

The Archangel locked his ankles around him, keeping Sam deep inside him, rolling his hips slowly. He nuzzled into Sam, purring loudly. “Wonderful.” He smiled, wiping the slicked hair for both their faces as he kissed Sam again.

After they had washed one another and gotten out of the shower, Sam and the Archangel had curled up in his bed. Gabe had ensured Sam the Dean would not be returning anytime soon that night and promised to stay until Dean came the next morning.

Pulling him close, Sam laughed lightly, biting Gabe’s ear. “We gotta do this more often.”

“Like I told you, Sammy. Two years overdue.” He nodded in agreement.

They laid like that until sleep finally took over Sam. Gabriel cradling him close against his chest, listening to his soft snores. Lost in his dreams.

”Goodnight, Sammy.”

(Source: the-anonymooses)

19 September 2011 @ 9pm | 20 notes
tags: Sabriel Sam Sam Winchester Gabriel Archangel Supernatural Shameless porn