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Pairing: Sam/Gabriel

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: ~1,300

Summary: Sam/Gabriel, untitled shower sex

A/N:  Yes, I know, I promised Sam/Gabe/Cas and it's coming, I swear.  But for now, have some shower PWP. 

Also, on a completely unrelated sidenote, I had a bitch of a time getting this up.  I ended up having to literally cut and paste paragraph by paragraph from my Word document.  Now, granted, it's been awhile since I posted anything as large as fic--but I do not remember having to do that before.  Anyone have any suggestions?


Sam staggered into his hotel room, sending up a brief and fervent prayer of thanks that Dean had finally seen the light and jumped his angel, which meant separate rooms.  More importantly, it meant separate bathrooms.

The hunt had gone well enough, but it had involved chasing a zombie who’d once been the state track star through a rain-soaked field.  That, predictably, had resulted in both he and Dean soaked to the skin in smelly mud.
At least he didn’t have to fight Dean for the shower.  Sighing, he slogged into the bathroom, ignoring the trail of mud he left in his wake.  Hell, give it a week or six and it’d blend right into the rest of the stains in the faded carpet.  His clothes ended up in a sorry heap on the faded, cracked linoleum of the bathroom floor.  His soap and shampoo were already set out—he’d been on enough hunts to know what to expect.  He cranked up the hot water and stood, shivering and dripping as he waited for the gushing water to at least turn lukewarm.

Warm enough, and he flipped it to the shower, waiting hopefully until the shower sputtered to reluctant life.  He stepped into it, shivering as gradually warming water poured over him.  The tub was small and stained, the shower curtain old and smelling faintly of mildew, but the water pressure was decent and the mud was slowly coming off.  He leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall and letting his head fall, the spray pounding out the sore muscles in his back.  He’d wrenched it pretty good in a failed tackle, and the midair collision between himself and Dean had not helped.  Neither had slipping and sliding desperately across the boggy ground to get to the zombie.

He zoned out, letting himself drift.  He was safe here, with salt lining every threshold and Traps beneath them all.  He could let his guard down.  And because he was drifting, he didn’t notice that he was no longer alone until strong hands slid over sore muscles.  His head snapped up and he gasped as his body rebelled at the abrupt motion.

“Shh.”

He knew that voice and he knew that touch.  Soothing warmth followed slender, graceful fingers as they traced down his spine, torn muscles mending in their wake.  He let out a relieved breath as the pain vanished, and turned his head to meet amber eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  Gabriel’s usually amused smile was gone, his face solemn.  He got like that after some of the nastier hunts, though.  A zombie didn’t qualify, but Gabe didn’t like it when his mortal got hurt.  Strong fingers slipped up his spine to wrap around his neck, and he shivered under the gentle, possessive grip.  Gabriel simply held him for a moment, fragile flesh and bone cradled in a grip that could snap steel like a match, and then he began to knead.  Sam let his head drop forward again, relaxing.

The water changed and he lifted his head, blinking against the wet strands of hair falling into his eyes to find that the pitiful tub had been replaced by a gigantic walk-in shower, complete with three shower heads dowsing them with perfectly heated water.  A glass wall on the fourth side held the steam in.  He could dimly spot giant fluffy towels through the steam already clouding the glass, the type of towels only the really high-end hotels had.

Gabriel had shifted them to one of his homes from the hedonistic look of things.

He relaxed under Gabriel’s ministrations, passive as the angel soaped his skin, worked shampoo through sodden hair, and rubbed the last of the strain from weary muscles.  Then the touch changed from healing to sensual.  The cascading water had already sensitized his skin, and he leaned into the lazy strokes, the open-mouthed kisses pressed to his back as arousal kindled, slow and sweet, in his belly.  He shivered as Gabriel’s teeth found his flesh, a hot tongue soothing away the sting of the bite—Gabe liked little better than seeing his marks on Sam’s skin—and shuddered outright when warm breath danced over the spot, sending licks of heat curdling through him.  His cock was stirring to life, rising against his belly.  He shifted, prepared to turn, but a hand at the small of his back kept him locked firmly in place.  Sam braced himself more firmly, leaning his weight into his arms, and surrendered to Gabriel’s whim.

A knee nudged his legs wider and he obediently shifted his stance, opening himself to his lover’s touch.  Gabriel pressed lightly against the handprint seared into his hip in reward and Sam choked out a groan as his vision blurred, cock rock-hard and balls high and tight with hunger.

A hot hand wrapped around his cock, stroking gently, thumbing the head of his cock and spreading the precome beading at the tip down his aching length and back up again, working him slow and steady.  Too much, too fast, and he was going to come, could feel his balls tightening and climax just out of reach.

“Oh, no,” Gabriel murmured, and strong fingers closed around the base of his cock as surely as any cock ring, quelling his pending eruption.  “Not until I say.”

Sam couldn’t help the whimper in the back of his throat, and the wicked chuckle only made him ache more.  But he’d backed off the edge just enough, and Gabriel released him a moment later, teasing fingers sliding down to cup his balls for a moment.  He pulled back, brushing teasingly against his brand to elicit another groan and a “Gabriel, please!” before his fingers slipped back between Sam’s legs to rub along his perineum.  Sam hissed his encouragement in a stream of filthy whispers and pleads, until Gabriel took pity on him.

A finger slid deep into his hole, making him arch in surprise at the abrupt penetration.  He groaned, hips bucking back into the touch as Gabriel stroked over his prostate, pleasure darting through him in sharp bursts.  Gabriel pulled back and worked two fingers in quickly, opening him.  He pulled out and gave Sam a second to beg for something, anything to fill the emptiness—and then firm, blunt pressure slid into him.  Sam swore even as he rocked back onto Gabriel’s cock, his lover at the perfect angle to hit his prostate with each thrust.  One of the benefits of an archangel lover: minor things like natural laws of physics didn’t pose a problem despite said archangel wearing a mortal vessel significantly shorter than his mate.

Gabriel hadn’t opened him much, and it felt like he’d rammed a goddamn rocket up Sam’s ass.  But it was good, the burn just enough to add a spicy edge to the pleasure coursing through him as Gabriel pounded into him.  Almost…almost…strong hands found his hips and the Mark seared into his left hip.

“Now,” Gabriel commanded, and Sam came with a howl, hot water still dancing over them and washing away the smears of come on the tiled wall.  Gabriel stilled, groaning softly as his cock pulsed his pleasure deep into Sam.

Sam locked his wobbly legs, gasping for breath as sweet warmth danced through him, aftershocks sending sheets of pleasure quaking through oversensitized nerves.  Gabriel was warm and solid at his back, thick cock still buried deep, arms wrapped around Sam’s torso now.

They’d stay here for a bit, coming down off the aftermath and letting the water rinse away the evidence of their pleasure.  Then, Sam knew, Gabriel would coax him into the waiting bed, where they’d do it all over again until he fell into exhausted sleep.  But for now, he was content.

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