Genre: Smut. Probable schmoop
Spoilers: Probably should say S5
Warnings: Wing!fic, oh yeah.
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Sam does more than touch this time
Note: Sequel to Covert Operation, and follows directly from there. Written for the "first kiss" square on my schmoop_bingo card. What was supposed to be a light little smooching story grew, er, wings, and got about twice as long (and porny) as I intended. And morganoconner ? It's still all your fault.
Sam dropped and bounced, tumbling onto his back, and maybe Gabriel's aim was a little off and maybe not, you never really knew with the Trickster. But whatever he'd landed on felt like some kind of decadent mattress, pillowtop and all. Sam hitched up on his elbows and got a quick impression of a bedroom, elaborate and enormous, before his gaze snagged on his companion. And stayed there.
Gabriel was on his knees no more than a foot away, wings unfurled and taking up a stupid amount of space, mantled up and out. And out, and out. Sam's mouth dropped open; as much as he could usually see the pair he'd just had his hands in, he rarely caught sight of the others. They were there now, somewhat – enormous impressions, like drifts of smoke arched and fading, copper haze barely there and gone.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was Gabriel tipping forward and prowling up the bed on hands and knees. Up and over Sam's body, stopping with his arms on either side of Sam's chest and legs pressed against Sam's hips, caging Sam in archangel.
Sam's heartbeat skipped into double time. Gabriel was so close that Sam could see every minute fleck of color in those strange amber eyes. He smelled like mint and cocoa and ozone, thick with the threat of lightning. Poised. Dangerous.
Arousing as all hell. His rock-hard cock got harder, if that was possible. Sam swallowed. "Hi."
Gabriel smiled, sharp and predatory, and it coiled around Sam's erection like a steel hand in a velvet glove. "Hi. So, Sammy. You've got room. You've got me. Now what?"
"You've got me."
Sam smiled back, with teeth. "How about we start at the top?" And reached up to cup Gabriel's face and pull even as Sam himself fell back, and drag him down into a kiss.
Kiss. God. He was kissing Gabriel. He was kissing Gabriel and Gabriel was kissing him back, kissing like he talked – prickly-sweet, gentle licks and sharper nips, biting at Sam's bottom lip.
Finally. Sweet Christ on a crutch, finally.
"Don't talk about my family during sex and I won't talk about yours, deal?" Gabriel murmured against Sam's mouth, and Sam smothered a chuckle.
"So then don't go reading my mind."
He felt Gabriel's answering chuckle as much as heard it. "But Sam, that's how we got here."
Here being warm and wet and shatteringly good, everything a first kiss should be. Better than any Sam remembered, in fact, because there had never been the weight of an archangel behind them before. Never this compact body settling firmly down along the length of Sam's, thighs spread around Sam's hips and hard ridge of erection slotting against Sam's own as if Gabriel's vessel had been formed for this, just for Sam. First kisses had never had the scent of a storm and the canopy of copper glory that shifted overhead, gleaming in the light, finally folding in close against Gabriel's back. Close enough to touch.
Gabriel started and then groaned softly as Sam stroked, burrowing his fingers gently between silky outer feathers to the unearthly-soft down beneath.
"Not the feathers," Gabriel said lowly, his voice tight. "'S'kinda like your hair. You washing it doesn't give you a boner, but somebody else…."
And oh, shit, yeah, did Sam ever understand that kind of feeling. "So, when I offered to help with your wings…."
"You weren't quite saying 'I'd like to have the sex with you' but you weren't – far from it –"
Gabriel twitched again and Sam made himself stop, ordered his fingers to be still. It was a lot tougher than it should have been. "Sorry."
Gabriel's head came up then and his eyes – fuck, his eyes were lit up like there were stars caught in his pupils. "Oh, now you're gonna stop? Nobody likes a cocktease,
Man, nobody pushed his buttons quite the way Gabriel could. Sam reached with one hand and grabbed Gabriel's ass and pushed down hard, rocking his own hips up. Didn't try and hide the way that made his breath catch. "That feel like a tease?"
"Depends on what I get to do with it," Gabriel growled, pushing back, rubbing their groins together, and Sam's eyes nearly crossed. He dug the fingers of his other hand into Gabriel's hair.
"Anything you want," he breathed, and pulled Gabriel's head back down.
Gabriel's mouth opened and Sam dove right in. Tongue to tongue, and fuck was it good, wet and dirty and oddly sweet, like a thousand years of sugar had left their mark. Gabriel wrestled with him for the kiss, hips moving just so and Sam gasped as the sensation washed him, arching up helplessly. Gabriel devoured him then, tongue plunging in and wrecking him. It went on and on, rough and messy and so good, swirling under Sam's skin until there was nothing, nothing in the world but Gabriel.
Clothes, Sam thought hazily. He was painfully hard against the fly of his jeans, and he was going to fucking well come in his pants for the first time since puberty if something didn't give. Clothes, off, now.
He never heard a click but the constriction vanished, denim replaced with skin on skin. Sam moaned in relief and surged up, wrapping his arms around Gabriel's waist. "Yes," he groaned, ripping his mouth away to breath and groaning again when Gabriel sucked on his throat. "Yes. Harder," and he didn't know if he meant the rolling slide of Gabriel's hips or the sharp edge of the archangel's teeth. "Harder."
Gabriel gave him both and Sam moaned, his thighs starting to shake as Gabriel's dick rode tight against his, hot and slick with something, precome, mojoed lube, he didn't know and didn't give a damn. God it was perfect, Gabriel shoving against him, breath gusting against Sam's throat, fingers tangled almost too hard in his hair, pulling, pushing.
Air shifted suddenly cool against Sam's face and he opened his eyes. Gabriel's wings were out again, spread wide, rowing against the air as if for balance, trailing swaths of light behind them and without thinking Sam grabbed, burying his hands in the feathers just at Gabriel's back.
It was like grabbing a live wire. Gabriel's head snapped back and he shouted, hips grinding down. Electricity lit up every nerve Sam owned and fired them all at once, shaking him as he came harder than he ever had in his life. It went on forever, no thought, no breath, just a bliss too much to bear, locking him up tight for seconds or hours before it tossed him back down, shattered, half-conscious at best.
Somebody was chanting, sobbing his name, his name, over and over – "Sam, Sam, Sam -"
Gabriel froze against him and suddenly everything was too bright, solar-flare white even behind Sam's still-closed eyes, beating hot against his skin. Then a long harsh groan as Gabriel folded down, and Sam had just enough mind and muscle control left to wrap him close and hang on.
Sam eventually crawled out of his daze enough to find Gabriel heavy across his chest, fingers brushing his neck and drawing patterns on the sensitive skin behind his ears. "You're a piece of work, Samuel Winchester," Gabriel said softly, hoarsely.
Sam blinked up at him. Gabriel looked quite thoroughly wrecked, all sex-hair and feathers, limned copper and golden in the beams coming through a skylight Sam was only now noticing. "Which piece is that?" he asked idly, reaching up with a fingertip to trace the edge of Gabriel's folded right wing,
"The wrench in the works. The grit in Heaven's microscope," Gabriel said, mouth curling. He twitched the wing, pressing into Sam's touch. "The duck in the jet engine."
"Oh, thanks for that," Sam said, rolling his eyes.
"The most important piece, Sasquatch," Gabriel said, and kissed him on the nose. "Mine."