vlbuehle

Title: Hot Tub Fun

Author:

vlbuehle

Fandom: SPN

Pairing: Gabriel/Sam

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: If they were mine, they would be doing this.

Word Count: ~2,500

Summary: From the

spn_gabriel kink meme prompt for Sam/Gabriel, sex in water.

Sam can’t resist any longer; he has to try the pool.

It’s winter, so they followed the heat down South; there’s no way Dean’s subjecting the Impala to the indignity of salt-encrusted Northern roads without one hell of a good hunt prompting it, and they’re on vacation at Dean’s insistence and over Sam’s objections, so Florida it was. It’s early March; Sam figures Dean’s planning on introducing Cas to the finer points of Spring Break, probably so he can get his fill of jealous angel. And they’re on a badly needed break now that the world’s no longer ending.

He’s never been so bored in all his life.

Dean’s God-knows-where, doing Sam-doesn’t-want-to-know-what with Cas. He stuck around for check in, then tossed Sam the keys with a smirk and vanished on his personal angel express. Sam’s glad for them, but that leaves him stuck here, alone and bored. It’s been so long since they’ve had real downtime that he doesn’t remember what he used to do. He’s already prowled the local library, but he didn’t find much useful. More suspiciously, his attempts to schedule appointments with local professors who might have some intriguing tidbits of lore he hasn’t scavenged up yet have failed miserably; every single professor is booked solid for the foreseeable future. Even turning up at office hours didn’t work, not with the lines of students waiting patiently for their own turn.

He’s going to kill Dean, and then he’s going to find a way to kill Cas for good measure.

It’s a conspiracy and he knows it—and more importantly, he can’t get around it. So he’s grudgingly read some of the latest bestsellers, listened to music he pirated off CDs borrowed from the library, and even wandered down the shoreline. He’s eating at least one meal a day, and he’s sleeping nearly five hours now, which for him is pretty damn good. But so far he hasn’t braved the small swimming pool every motel in Florida seems to require. He doesn’t like to swim with others around, doesn’t like the looks the scars garner, or how exposed he feels without a nice cache of weapons stashed around him—and that one summer in Louisiana when he was twelve taught him that guns and pools do not mix. But it’s hot and sticky tonight even though the A/C’s heroically rattling away, and the pool looks gloriously inviting under the starry sky. This entire side of the motel is deserted, the tourists checked out and the next wave yet to check in, which means it’s unlikely anyone would see him, and he can probably risk going out without a gun. He doesn’t really think Cas would’ve missed something as obvious as a monster or serial killer if he’s been blocking office hours, for Christ’s sake.

He leaves on his boxers, but he strips off his shirt and jeans in the room before he pads out, extra towel firmly in hand. He slides into the water with barely a ripple, stealth still so ingrained after all these months that it’s second-nature by now. The water is as cool as it looks, and he feels the tension slip from his muscles as he lets himself float, water filling his ears and muffling noises, gaze trained on the sky far ahead and the utter serenity of this moment. He simply floats, eyes finally drifting shut, blocking out everything but the gentle tug of the water as it circulates through the pool.

“Hey, Sammy.”

It’s soft and gentle, but it’s still an intrusion and he jerks, reaching reflexively for the weapon that isn’t there. It’s enough to knock him solidly off balance and he compounds his error by flailing, which sends him straight under. He’s yanked up by an unseen hand and coughs out chlorinated water as he stares into the startled, worried hazel eyes of the man crouching on the very end of the diving board against all known laws of gravity.

“Gabriel,” he says, and somehow manages to combine prayer and profanity in one word. He’d be impressed with himself, except he’s too busy drinking the archangel in. Gabriel looks—good. Not as tired, worn, utterly strained as he did at the end of the war. He’s happy, Sam realizes, and there’s a peace in his eyes that was lacking during his time as the Trickster.

“Hi,” Gabriel repeats, his smile gentle as he reaches out to brush sodden hair from Sam’s eyes, and yeah, he really needs a haircut, but that’ll keep. This won’t.

“Hi yourself,” he says, relaxing into the hold. Gabriel won’t let him fall.

It’s a surprise to see his lover so quickly; he’d pretty much figured it’d be weeks at best given that Gabriel’s an Archangel and Heaven is a mess from Cas’ terse description. Castiel is the angel assigned to keep the Winchester brothers safe, after all; Sam had assumed that meant Gabriel wouldn’t be around for awhile. Obviously he assumed wrong.

Gabriel grins at him, a rare and uncomplicated smile that’s full of nothing but simple joy. “Missed you, kiddo.”

“I missed you too.” He doesn’t have to tread water despite the depth of the pool, there’s nothing to distract him from watching Gabriel perch on the end of the diving board, in a position Sam’s pretty sure would be impossible for any being who lacks wings. For a moment he simply drinks the sight in, enjoying Gabriel without the shadow of bitterness, grief and worry that was once layered thick beneath the amusement and cockiness. This is Gabriel, Archangel and pagan god, happy. It’s not a sight he figured he’d ever see, so he’s going to enjoy it thoroughly while he’s got it.

Gabriel cocks his head, smile deepening in the way that means he’s probably reading Sam’s mind, but it’s been months and Sam’s used to no longer having any privacy in his own head by now. Then the smile turns warm and utterly, sinfully wicked and Sam’s breath catches in mingled hunger and alarm. It’s been nearly a month since they’ve had the time, and in Sam’s case, the energy, for anything other than cuddling while Sam caught up on desperately needed sleep and Gabriel kept him safe from the Apocalypse raging around them. So yeah, he wants the sweet pleasure of Gabriel riding him deep and slow and hard. Then he wants to fall asleep in his angel’s arms and wake to a slow and languid fuck. He thinks about how it feels when Gabriel is deep inside him, touching him in places nobody else has.

“Nor will,” Gabriel growls possessively, and Sam’s lips twitch at the hoarseness to the older male’s voice. No, of course not, nobody else will touch him; he doesn’t need anyone else. Not when he’s got the ultimate prize already.

But that’s verging into serious territory, and Sam’s had enough serious for awhile. He thinks of the last time they fucked, quick and with a desperate edge because they both knew that it could be the last time. That edge has flavored all of their time together and he’s suddenly eager to taste lovemaking that doesn’t involve fear, or the bitter knowledge that this could be it. Granted, he doesn’t have Gabriel’s immortality—but he is the claimed mate of the archangel and they both know that even if he dies in the next ten minutes, he’s Gabriel’s and not in the metaphorical sense.

Gabriel swallows thickly and vanishes, and then a too-hot body is plastered firmly against Sam.

“So, Sammy,” Gabriel says huskily. “Ever done it in a pool before?”

Sam suddenly remembers the last time he saw that particular grin, right before Gabriel jerked them both off in the backseat of the Impala before vanishing with that exact evil smile right before Dean opened the door, leaving Sam to face his big brother with the car still reeking of sex—and how to this day, Dean hasn’t let him live it down.

“Um,” he says intelligently, and any protests die when Gabriel slowly, deliberately licks the spot on his neck that’s one of his biggest erogenous zones. A quiet snap and the boxers that were doubling as swim trunks are gone, leaving him bare-ass naked in the water, literally. Which is now pleasantly warm. And seems to have jets bubbling happily away, sending streams of warm water tingling over his skin.

A quick glance confirms that yes, Gabriel has turned the swimming pool into their own giant Jacuzzi.

Gabriel tugs them over to the edge, making sure Sam’s braced before he glides behind Sam. Large hands pull his cheeks apart and then a warm, wet tongue slides over the puckered hole and he yelps in mingled surprise and dazed pleasure. Gabriel doesn’t stop, keeps licking, coaxing him open bit by bit until his tongue slides in. Sam moans but he’s pretty much at Gabriel’s mercy; his grip on the side of the Jacuzzi is anchoring him in place, but Gabriel has him stretched out, the water buoying him up and the jets buffeting him gently. He’s got no leverage whatsoever; his legs are spread wide by the angel between them, and Gabriel doesn’t heed the laws of physics unless he feels like it. Which means Sam’s got nothing to do but take whatever Gabriel gives him and enjoy it. Yeah, he can do that.

And Gabriel is in no rush. He feasts on Sam, tongue delving deep, laving his insides, pulling back to nip teasingly around the small hole as Sam begs, curses, and finally wails. That is apparently what Gabe’s been waiting for, because now one long finger eases into him. Gabriel rubs him, coaxing his muscles into relaxing further, brushing lightly over his prostate before he pulls back, and now it’s two fingers and there’s that sweet, achy burn. It’s been awhile and Sam’s virgin-tight again, but Gabriel is in no rush. The fingers slide deep and still, letting his body contract around them, letting his muscles remember how to respond to this familiar sensation. He relents when Sam gives a frustrated snarl and spreads them, working him open more thoroughly than his tongue alone could do. The third comes more quickly then, and this time Gabriel pauses only briefly before he continues working Sam open, wringing guttural noises from his lover as he prods Sam’s prostate with deliberate randomness, sending spark shivering through Sam’s veins. His cock is hard against his belly, and he’s ready for the thickness of Gabriel’s cock to fill him.

Which is why it’s a surprise when Gabriel pulls his fingers out and tugs on Sam’s hips, signaling Sam to let go which he obediently does. He’s promptly hauled back and then twisted until he’s facing Gabriel, eyes blurry with need and harder than ever. There’s nothing but water beneath him—his brain’s too fried to even contemplate how Gabriel’s standing on thin water—but Gabriel pulls his legs up and Sam follows the unspoken cue to gratefully wrap his legs around Gabriel’s hips, positioning himself until the head of Gabriel’s cock is nudging teasingly at his entrance. Nearly there, just a bit of pressure down and Gabriel will be in him, but Gabriel apparently has other ideas because his hands cup Sam’s ass, keeping him open and holding him utterly immobile at the same time.

They’re moving through the water, but Sam’s too focused on the teasing nudges against his hole to give a damn about the mechanics of it. Gabriel’s hands spread him further, and then he shrieks as warm water jets into his opened ass. He clenches on nothing in the shock of it, but the water keeps moving; Gabriel’s positioned him right in front of one of the jets and he varies the speed, the water stimulating Sam’s body until he shouts for Gabriel to fuck him already, dammit!

“Patience,” Gabriel informs him in a dark, husky voice Sam’s rarely heard, “is a virtue.”

Sam’s response is graphic, profane, and very nearly incomprehensible, and it makes Gabriel vibrate against him with laughter before he takes pity on his mortal. He claims Sam’s mouth in a deep kiss, and thrusts up, cock splitting Sam open. He gasps into Gabriel’s mouth—preparation or not, the archangel is big—and clenches automatically, but the other male waits him out until Sam’s channel relaxes around him, just enough. Then he starts to move, setting up a steady rhythm. Sam gasps and curses as the thick head strokes him internally, opening him anew with each deep thrust he can feel in his throat, hitting his prostate enough to keep him on the edge of orgasm but never quite enough to let him tumble over it.

He loses track of how long it’s been, his world narrowing to Gabriel and the cock stretching him wide, the quiet murmurs of love and the soft, pleased noises his mate makes against his flesh as he nips bruises into Sam. Finally Gabriel wraps a hand around his skull and forces dazed eyes to meet his.

“Ready for the good stuff?” he asks, grinning. Sam can’t think, can’t manage much more than whines by now, so his thick tongue stumbles over anything he might’ve said. Gabriel isn’t waiting; he pulls Sam down, mouth locking over Sam’s and then they’re both sinking deep into the Jacuzzi, water swirling around them. Sam gasps as the motion drives Gabriel into him to the hilt, and air fills his lungs. Right. Archangel. Who's not at all adverse to using his divine powers in pursuit of really awesome sex.

The water serves to muffle all his senses until the only thing he can even begin to focus on is Gabriel and how his lover is playing his body. The thrusts are getting deeper, harder, striking his prostate more and more often and Sam whimpers into Gabriel’s mouth. The hand around his skull doesn’t move—Gabriel is, wisely, not taking chances on Sam’s control at this point—but his other hand falls to clamp onto the handprint etched into Sam’s left hip, the physical manifestation of the mark on his soul that proclaims him to be Gabriel’s.

It’s as good as a command, and Sam comes so hard his vision goes black, body clamping down on the cock inside him repeatedly, his seed hot against his belly until the water washes it all away and then Gabriel’s coming too, waves of heat filling his bowels.

His mouth is freed and he greedily sucks down gulps of air, wheezing for breath like an old man as his body quivers in the aftermath of what has to be one of his most spectacular orgasms yet. Gabriel is still pressed against him, keeping him warm as the water quiets around them. He presses a lazy kiss into Sam’s hair.

“Not a bad start,” Gabriel muses, sounding thoroughly sated and pleased with himself. He snaps his fingers and they’re in a bed, dry and still naked. Gabriel tugs the silken sheets up and over them, wrapping himself firmly around Sam. “Get some sleep, baby. We’re just getting started.” He hums contentedly. “Riding you awake in the morning, I like that one.”

Sam blinks hazily at the fire crackling in the gigantic fireplace, the snow drifting down outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. He hopes Dean’s having as much fun with Cas. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t kill Dean after all.

Hell, at this rate, he might even thank him. This vacation’s going to kill him, but what a way to go.

FINIS