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~ooooOOOoooo~
The truly awesome thing about their lives, Sam decided, was the complete anonymity. Sometimes it was a bitch, and it was often lonely, but it was occasionally useful if only because it allowed Sam to act knowing there was a slim-to-none chance that he would ever see any of the people he met again, and an even smaller probability that they would remember him.
He knew Gabriel was planning to mark him… pierce him. The archangel kept twitching those tawny eyebrows at random moments, golden eyes narrow in mischief and lips pursed thoughtfully. Sometimes Sam felt like Gabriel was undressing him with those too-bright eyes just so he could gauge some aspect of the jewelry he was in the process of selecting for the procedure.
It would be soon. Sam knew that. They didn’t have time to take things slowly. Neither of them particularly wanted to.
Sam also enjoyed surprising his mate. He liked watching those sinfully expressive eyebrows lift and the pupils of those butterscotch eyes dilate, leaving the archangel looking somehow utterly defenseless. Like he was being given a gift he didn’t think he deserved. It warmed Sam even as it confused him. Sam was the one that didn’t deserve Gabriel: an archangel of the Lord, who, against all odds, actually loved him enough to want to protect him from his own destiny. Why Gabriel should think it was he that was undeserving of Sam, the hunter would never really understand.
The extreme downside to their lives, of course, was the total lack of anything resembling boundaries. He and Dean had lived in each other’s pockets for so long, it didn’t even occur to either of them to not to lock motel room doors unless they were getting laid or in the same room.
Case in point was Dean just walking right in at the exact moment Sam was thinking about anything but his brother and before he had time to hide his newest acquisition. The elder Winchester’s original question was lost as his eyes hit the box on the bed and the pamphlet in Sam’s hand. “Aw, come on, Sam! Really?”
“Could you knock next time?” Sam’s hands seemed to go nerveless in his surprise, clumsily cramming the pamphlet and the box under the pillow beside him as if both appendages were suddenly blocks of wood.
“Bitch.” Dean plunked down on Sam’s bed as Sam yanked his legs out of the way. “He talk you into that thing?”
“No… jerk.” Sam threw Dean an irritated bitchface. “This was something I wanted to try… and I like surprising him.”
Dean’s eyebrow shot up. “So he’s off someplace and you decided to do some, uh… personal research?”
Sam went scarlet and shoved the box further under the pillow. “Can we not talk about this? Like, ever again?”
“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean’s grin was maddeningly sly, threatening to rival Sam’s mate’s. “As your elder brother, it’s part of my job to rag on you about your sex life.”
“I hate you,” Sam grumpled, though the words lacked heat, his mouth tugging up at the corners. It was nice, honestly, to have this with Dean again. They hadn’t really bantered like this since… since before Stanford. Before Jess. Before death and darkness and destiny had tried to swallow them whole.
“You really don’t,” Dean countered. His grin never wavered, seeing Sam’s eyes full of light and the smile edging his baby brother’s serious mouth. Time was, he’d have taken that to heart, believed it. Mating with Cas and Gabriel had changed things between them… pushed them to open to each other, to share the darkness consuming them and let some of it bleed away. It made things lighter between them, made it easier to say things they didn’t mean and know the other understood.
Sam grimaced. “Look, Dean: you’ve already given me the big-brother sex talk. Just… leave it, okay?”
“Nope.” Dean settled in. “ ‘Cause there’s a couple things I gotta say, long as the subject’s up.” Sam threw a long-suffering bitchface that Dean studiously ignored. “First off: lube is your new best friend. You can’t even know. I don’t care if Gabriel can magic up whatever he wants whenever he wants: you keep a bottle with you that’s no less than half full at all times. You get down past half, you pick up a spare first place you can even if you have to steal it.”
“Dean…” Sam was half-mortified, not sure how to even deal with the conversation Dean obviously intended to have.
“I ain’t kidding, Sam.” Dean’s teasing face dropped, viridian eyes darkening. “I don’t care what you two get into and I care even less how much either of our angels can do with their mojo. You’re screwing a guy? You’re gonna keep me sane and take some basic precautions.”
Sam startled a little, taken aback by Dean’s seriousness. “Okay, Dean.” The words came out almost meekly, in the yielding tone that meant Sam wasn’t going to push back. The tone that John had never been able to get from Sam. Only Dean had ever been able to manage it.
It settled Dean’s nerves to hear it. “I gave you the safe-sex-condoms speech years ago, so I ain’t repeating it… don’t exactly know if I need to, anyway. It’s not like either one of ‘em would step out on us, and we’re both clean…” His eyes were suddenly bright, fixing on Sam. “Right?”
“I made sure after Wellington,” Sam advised quickly. “Just in case his sense of humor got away from him a little. Pure as the driven snow.”
“Good.” The glint in Dean’s eyes relaxed. “You’re also gonna pick a safe word.”
The very idea had Sam blushing crimson again, his neck and cheeks flushed hot with color. “Come on, Dean… he’d never hurt me… and I’m not into that stuff.”
The smile that twitched at the corners of Dean’s mouth was softly amused, carrying the faintest hint of remembrance. “You might surprise yourself, Sammy. When it’s right… when you trust ‘em, even a little… you try things you never thought you would.”
Hazel eyes widened. “You and Cas?”
“No!” Dean’s own eyes rounded in shock at the idea. “Just… just trust me on this one, Sam. Pick a word, tell him what it is, and use it if you need it, okay? Safe, sane and consensual is your new motto… for my sanity.”
A moment’s thought. “Vessel,” Sam said finally, nodding to himself. “That oughtta work.”
“Yeah…” Dean let himself relax a little. “That’ll work.”
For a moment, Sam regarded his brother. Something in Dean’s face… almost like a memory… “You’ve been with guys, haven’t you? Before Cas?”
“One,” Dean replied, a touch of defensiveness making his tone sharp. “One… a long time ago. While you were in college.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up and his face lit with curiosity. “Who?”
“Leave it, Sammy, huh?”
“No chance in Hell,” Sam retorted quickly. “C’mon, who?”
Dean shot him a warning look, but Sam promptly pasted on a Samantha face, framing puppy-dog eyes, and Dean’s will crumbled. “Roy.”
It was barely more than a grunt, but Sam’s eyes still went wide, having heard his brother quite clearly. “What?”
“You heard me.” Dean wasn’t quite looking at Sam, feeling exposed. He wasn’t used to this, not yet. Sharing things with Sam was still too new, this facet of their adult relationship still raw-cut. “ ‘s how I knew him back at that motel.”
“How long…” Sam broke off, then decided to push a little more. He wanted to know more about this side of his brother. Wanted the closeness they were capable of now. “How long were you together?”
“Couple months.” It took a long moment for Dean to finally look up, to meet Sam’s eyes. To not see any of the incredulity or revulsion he’d been expecting. For all he’d known, Sam considered their angels something different, beyond the labels of ‘gay’ or ‘bi’; he hadn’t ever been really sure exactly how Sam might react. It didn’t help that he sucked at using the bond to reach any further than Castiel. Sam could read him, but he couldn’t read Sam yet. It bothered him. “Kind’ve a hunt, fuck, repeat sorta thing… Roy was interested and I was… well, it didn’t seem like it’d make that much difference.”
Silent for a long moment, Sam tried to sort through his questions. Tried to decide what he did and didn’t want to know. What Dean would or wouldn’t tell him. Finally, Sam opted to just smile and let it go. “Explains why you didn’t have the big ‘I’m gay’ fit over Cas.”
Dean’s eyebrow arched, and without really thinking about it, he pushed out, looking for Sam. Looking for warning signs that Sam was starting to second-guess this development in his sexual identity. He found Cas easily enough; his angel wasn’t far away and would be joining him soon. Gabriel was just beyond him… burning brighter than Cas ever could…
Sam felt him searching and reached, just a little, just enough. Physically perfectly still, he reached through his mate, beckoning to his brother. Dean… brother… I’m right here…
Following his instincts, Dean flung himself across the bond at Sam, wrapping around his brother’s mind. Sam caught him, a laugh bubbling up from his mouth as Dean’s body followed the mental movement, losing himself in the moment and tumbling them to the floor, wrestling with Dean like they hadn’t done since they were children.
Cool, isn’t it? Sam thought to him when they’d finally called a truce.
*Now that I can finally work the damn thing.* Dean grinned at Sam from where he was sprawled across the cheap carpet. *Where is that mate of yours, anyway? He pops back before you can hide that box and there goes your surprise.*
He’s checking out that town Bobby called about; the one that seems like the humans have all banded together and launched a counter-offensive against the demons. He already told me he won’t be back for a few days.
There was something like melancholy in Sam’s thoughts that had Dean reaching out, patting Sam’s knee. “He’ll be fine,” Dean said aloud, retreating from their bond. “He’s survived on his own for longer’n we’ve been alive.”
Sam sighed softly. “I know… but remember what I said about maybe not having all that long to be a family?”
Dean took in the familiar hazel eyes, so full of wishes for things they’d never had. For things they’d been denied. Wishes to undo things that could never be undone. “It’ll be okay, Sammy… promise.”
It was the same promise Dean had made to him for all of their lives. For the first time since Jess’ death, Sam believed him.
* * *
“It’s the Whore.” Gabriel flopped into a chair and snapped an elaborate-looking cocktail into existence. “She’s masquerading as the daughter of a local pastor and pretending to be a prophet with a direct line to the Host. Everybody in town’s gone hunter on her say-so; even the kids.”
“There a way to gank the bitch?” Dean asked, eyes hungry. After everything they’d been through lately, Dean was itching for a good kill.
Castiel appeared, a long, twisted wooden stake in his hands. “This: a cypress branch from Babylon… though only a true servant of God may wield it.”
“That rules out pretty much everybody in this room,” Sam groused. “None of us is exactly following marching orders here.”
“We’re doin’ what’s right,” Dean admonished. “Screw marching orders.”
“Not the point,” Gabriel replied, taking a long sip of his cocktail through a purple silly-straw. “We could debate whether the best servants simply blindly follow orders or anticipate their master’s true best interests for half a century; don’t change the fact that devotion to Dad’s at the heart of the issue, and nobody here’s got that in spades anymore.”
A bitterness undercut Gabriel’s words that none of them missed. A wave of sympathy unfurled in Dean; he knew all too well what it was like to idolize a father and then be let down over and over again.
Surprise registered on Gabriel’s face, a wary acceptance though the bond that told Dean Gabriel had felt it, acknowledged the kinship for what it was, was grateful for the understanding it signified.
Castiel slipped a hand into Dean’s as he sat beside his mate on the bed, proud of him for learning so quickly. “The pastor you spoke of… the one whose daughter the Whore has supplanted… how true is his faith?”
“Rock solid… right up until he finds out his daughter’s really a demon-bitch from one of the deepest pits in Hell.” Gabriel’s smile was tight with sarcasm. “That sort of thing tends to dampen a belief in an all-powerful being that takes a personal role in protecting your assets.”
Sam and Dean glanced at each other. “So we go in, get to the pastor, find a way to expose the girl,” Sam said softly.
“And somehow talk the good padre into ramming four feet of holy wood through the heart of something wearing his little girl’s face without destroying his faith in a God that doesn’t care if he has any,” Dean finished. “Not the toughest job we’ve ever pulled.”
“She’ll make you the minute you cross her boundary sigils,” Gabriel warned. “You’re both marked by angelic magicks three different ways; you won’t catch her by surprise.”
“She didn’t spot you,” Dean challenged.
“I’ve been shielding my true nature from every immortal for a millennium and a half,” Gabriel shot back. “The only reason the Host can’t find you is baby bro carved those shielding sigils into your ribs. The fact that you’re The Vessels makes you bright as lighthouses to anyone who isn’t blocked by them… not to mention the mating bonds to Castiel and I that warn any immortal within shouting distance to keep their hands off.”
“But she won’t know we know it’s her,” Sam cut in, smoothly heading off a round of Dean and Gabriel squabbling. “If she thinks her cover’s still intact, like you did in Wellington before we trapped you in the holy fire, then she won’t anticipate our strategy. It’s not much, but if it keeps her guard down even for a little while…”
“Misdirection is a valid strategy,” Castiel added, backing Sam up. “If the Whore believes her identity to still be secret, it will allow for better surveillance and may expose an otherwise guarded weakness.”
Dean and Gabriel exchanged a long glance. “This is what happens when you teach little brothers to talk,” Dean snarked glumly.
“Don’t look at me, Winchester,” Gabriel replied gamely. “I wasn’t the archangel assigned to his garrison.”
Sam threw a bitchface at both of them. Gabriel doubled over in laughter when Castiel actually echoed it, his expression sour as he focused on his archangelic brother. Dean couldn’t repress a snicker as he leaned in, pressing a kiss beneath Cas’ ear. “You really don’t wanna imitate Princess Samantha over there, Cas. One of these days, his face’ll freeze that way, and I like yours the way it is.”
A blink, a blush, and then Castiel was brushing a shy, sweet kiss to Dean’s lips. Sam figured Dean had sent Cas some faintly dirty images through their bond, especially with how Gabriel rolled his eyes at them. “You two do have your own room, y’know.”
Castiel took the hint, whisking Dean away with a faint rustle of wings. Gabriel was in Sam’s lap in a heartbeat, fisting his hands in Sam’s hair and dragging Sam’s mouth up into his own. “I thought they’d never leave.”
Sam groaned deep in his throat, and his hands splayed across the width of Gabriel’s back as he stood, lurching blindly to the bed, absorbed in the Gabriel-shaped attachment avidly devouring his mouth. They crashed awkwardly, jolting their lips apart, and Gabriel let out a low feral growl before pushing Sam’s shirt up and yanking it over his head, exposing Sam’s skin to tongue and lips and teeth.
“Gabriel…” Sam rolled into him, pushed his mate onto his back, battling with the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt until it was finally free to shove from Gabriel’s shoulders. Gabriel’s breath hitched as Sam’s mouth latched onto the hollow at the base of his collarbone, sharp teeth worrying a bright red mark in the sensitive flesh.
“Close your eyes, Sammy.” Gabriel was prodding him back as he said it, grace trickling heat through his fingertips. Sam moaned as he obeyed, heavy-lidded eyes flickering open before sliding closed again.
A shimmer of will in the back of his mind. Sam thought he was starting to differentiate the sounds, the feel of Gabriel’s grace as it flowed when he used it. He wanted to understand how it worked… wanted to somehow find a way to unlock his own abilities without the need for demon blood.
He wanted to be useful again for more than just skill with a blade and doing research.
Soft fabric slid across his closed eyes, derailing his thoughts. “Gabriel?”
“Trust me,” Gabriel murmured. His fingers tied a brief knot behind Sam’s head, settling the silk sash gently behind Sam’s ears. “Not too tight?”
Sam’s breath seemed to stutter in his throat; his fingers reflexively brushed the edge of the silk where it rested against his cheek beneath his eye, but he made no move to remove it. “No… it’s… it’s good.”
“You look so gorgeous like this.” Gabriel’s voice was a caress, washing over Sam’s senses and cascading pleasant shivers down his spine. “I love your eyes, but this is so damn hot, Sammy…”
“Planning on going full angel on me?” Sam asked, teasing as his heartbeat triphammered in his chest. He’d set up his own surprise for Gabriel tonight… he hadn’t counted on Gabriel having plans of his own…
“Nope.” Gabriel’s lips brushed Sam’s jaw. “Can’t have nearly as much fun that way. No… I just don’t want you peeking ‘til I’m done. Big reveal an’ all that.”
Everything inside Sam seemed to flip over and turn to butterflies. Gabriel was going to pierce him. Tonight. Right now.
“Trust me,” Gabriel whispered. “Please, Sam…”
Edges of images. A chainsaw angling down. Pianos dropping from tethers. Electrical shorts. A broken neck. An axe in the chest. Months… years of rage and despair. Torment no less painful even in an illusion.
Gabriel was asking for trust. Not forgiveness. Only faith that he would never visit pain like that on Sam again.
It wasn’t until Sam felt his body relax, a physical affirmation that he would give Gabriel anything he wanted, that Sam realized he’d gone taut as razor wire at the thought of being pierced.
Fingers stroked over his skin, gentling caresses, as if Sam was a nervous colt. Sam had been shot, stabbed, tortured, knife-slashed. He’d had fingernails ripped out, taken leaps and falls that left him feeling like a six-foot bruise, strained tendons that spasmed for weeks. His tattoo wasn’t on a particularly thick muscle, and he never got through a fill without a stress ball.
This was something different. This was going to hurt. It would be Gabriel’s hands causing him pain. And Sam wanted him to do it. Wanted to feel it. Something deep yearned to belong to someone that would never hurt him just to watch him in pain. Someone who wasn’t manipulating him, waiting for the right moment to rip his world apart.
Not even Lucifer, who offered Sam the world in exchange for a single syllable, could ever promise Sam that. Only Gabriel could.
“Yes.” Sam wished he could see Gabriel’s face, even as he felt the warmth of Gabriel’s grace blossom under Gabriel’s hands, a pure chord ringing like a bell in his mind. He couldn’t imagine doing as Dean feared, saying yes to Lucifer. He didn’t want to, felt no compulsion to. Saying it to Gabriel felt natural as breathing. “Yes…”
Kisses. Soft lips whispering over his skin, washing tendrils of grace through every muscle, deep into his bones, until Sam was almost floating in his own body, detached from everything but Gabriel’s touch.
“Be still.” It was an order. Spoken softly, but a ring of ancient authority that sundered any will to refuse. In the absence of sight, Sam slid into the power of that voice, yearned into touch and grace and sound like a sunflower tracking daylight.
“Gorgeous.” An endearment. A benediction. Sam moaned, his hips aching to press up into the warm weight settling across him as Gabriel straddled them. But Gabriel wanted him still, and he wouldn’t move, couldn’t… wanted only to float on the currents of that unearthly voice. “So gorgeous… mine, Sam. You’re mine.”
“Yes.” Sam’s fingers curled into the sheet, the need to move pressing on every nerve, fighting the need to obey… “Yours.”
Gabriel kissed him, slow and loving, unhurried as his fingers splayed against the skin of Sam’s left pectoral, just beside the sensitive nub that seemed almost to ache for want of more direct attention… which made it all the more noticeable when a sharp metallic point nudged the opposite side from Gabriel’s fingers. It set Sam’s pulse galloping reflexively, his breath catching in his throat.
“Easy, mate.” The needle never moved, warm against his skin from Gabriel’s grace. “You can take this for me… I know you can…”
That voice washed over him, and Sam let go…
It was less than a pinprick at first, a hint of pressure that mounted, smooth and sure…
A flash-flare of pain, like glass shattering unexpectedly. A cry wrenched out of Sam’s throat before he could brace for it, his hips trying to shift beneath Gabriel’s immoveable weight. That weight steadied him as a warm circlet was placed around his nipple and the flare died back, soft heat kindling briefly when something was pressed through the newly-opened flesh. “Got it,” Gabriel assured him, resting a hand over his heart. “It’s beautiful, Sam… perfect…”
Sam’s hands unclenched, his breath shallowing unexpectedly. The satisfaction in that voice… the edge of passion… the half-arousal Sam had been sporting had died off, driven back by a flash of pain not intended to be erotic.
That voice, power and adoration and desire, had Sam’s body reframing the sensation. Rekindling the need Gabriel always drew out of him. Yearning to hear that approval again…
“Perfect,” Gabriel purred. Sam wanted to see his face, to know if the expression in those amber eyes matched the tones in that voice… fingers spread against the right pectoral and Sam heard a tiny cry escape his throat, an odd combination of dread and want and desire…
Gabriel didn’t question the sound, or the thick throb of arousal pressing against him through Sam’s jeans. Sam nodded, responding to the pause as the needle touched the edge of vulnerable flesh, not bothering to try and hold back the half-ragged shout that tore free as it was smoothly driven through. His hands snapped up to clamp onto Gabriel’s thighs, his hips pushing hard up into his mate’s as another metal circlet was slipped into place and the new decoration was tugged through the wound.
Sam couldn’t be sure what he was feeling from his mate as Gabriel seemed suspended above him, unmoving; he could almost feel those honey-gold eyes taking him in, devouring the sight of his newly-pierced flesh… signs of Sam’s trust… The moment seemed to stretch out, measured by his thundering heartbeat, slowing as the weight of that image, the potency of that truth sank in. Gabriel had claimed him. Again. Gabriel wasn’t going to hurt him just to watch him bleed.
The dull throb around his new piercings matched the rhythm of his heart, heightened his awareness of them. The metal itself was just warmer than his own body: soft heat, like Gabriel’s grace when it wrapped around him. They were an unfamiliar weight, even as light as they were, but it was far from uncomfortable… already they felt like they belonged in him, a part of him… as much a part of him as Gabriel was…
His mate’s weight shifted, a long, hard press against his trapped erection. A gasping groan dragged out of Sam, stuttering into something that Sam refused to consider a whine as that mouth… that glorious, sinful mouth… brushed the skin beneath the lower curve of the shield on his left… nerves lit, sensation driving down Sam’s spine, his breath hitching in his throat…
The first gentle, wet brush of Gabriel’s tongue over his left nipple had Sam writhing, fingers digging hard into whatever part of Gabriel he could reach. Grace coiled in the wake of each soft lap, that long, cat-rough tongue laving almost daintily, healing the wound around the metal barbell and sending waves of need crashing through Sam until Sam was sure his body was shaking apart… the only thing keeping him together was Gabriel’s weight… Gabriel’s touch…
“Please, mate…” Sam heard himself begging and didn’t care… he just needed… “Gabriel, please… please…”
A chuckle, and then Gabriel’s hands were between them as he switched nipples, lavishing grace and attention in equal measure as he opened Sam’s jeans and slid a hand down into Sam’s boxers. Sam arched up into the warm shell of Gabriel’s grip, the same deft touch that had pierced him, a sob breaking in his throat because it wasn’t enough… nothing was enough… he needed more…
Gabriel finally obliged him, his shorter stature forcing him to leave off his tender bathing of the piercings as he tugged at Sam’s jeans and boxers. Sam couldn’t help the way his back arched, lifting his hips and letting Gabriel pull away clothing that felt corset-tight. He panted as the restriction finally peeled away, Gabriel dropping kisses over his stomach, whispering them across his thighs… gentle fingers skimmed up his legs after the clothing was cast aside and Sam keened as a waterfall of sensation rushed through him, just ahead of that feather-light touch…
“Sam?” The pronunciation of his name throbbed, questioning and desire and surprise commingled to create a husky catch in that voice… a voice built to proclaim the glory of God…
Fingers brushed between his legs, under his hips, and Sam suddenly understood… blushed furiously… he’d nearly forgotten, lost in the moment…
“Oh, Sam…” Something almost like a chuckle ebbed on the edge of the words, making Sam blush harder. “You missed me that bad, gorgeous? You could have just said.”
“No.” Sam’s voice felt unsteady, his fingers flexing, needing to feel Gabriel under them… needing the connection to something besides that voice, now suspended somewhere below his waist… Gabriel’s body braced his legs apart, but the contact wasn’t enough… wasn’t anywhere close to enough… “I wanted to surprise you…”
A flicker of something over the bond… if it had been anyone else, Sam would have described it as overwhelmed… awe-struck… “So you went shopping… picked this beauty out…” Gabriel’s fingers brushed against the base of the plug still tightly gripped in Sam’s entrance, pressing ever so lightly against it. “Because you wanted to be ready for me the moment I came home? Stay open and stretched… so I could just slide right in whenever I wanted to?”
“Yes…” The admission pulled out, almost held back, inhibitions of a lifetime warring with unbridled desire. “Need you… mate, please…”
Those fingers pressed against it again, shifting it. The already-sensitive nerves surrounding the neck flared, sending white-hot spikes up Sam’s spine without the need for added grace. He didn’t hear the shape of the sound that left his mouth, couldn’t be sure it even had a name; he only knew that Gabriel kept toying with the supple silicone implement, teasing him with pressure and angles that weren’t deep enough… and then that mouth was back, tongue flicking across nipples that were pulsing hard nubs around the new metal inserts and Sam was close… so close and it almost hurt how much he needed his mate inside him right now…
The plug slid free and Sam let out a half-swallowed gasp of shock; the emptiness felt like his whole body had dropped back into that frozen river, sharp and fierce, an ache that demanded redress, and Gabriel’s fingers were sliding against just the edges of that tight ring of muscle… just teasing slickness against nerves shot through like overtaxed wires and sending jolts through Sam like serpent-tongues of flame…
He didn’t hear himself beg; didn’t know what language he was speaking. Only that he was damned near weeping and clawing at Gabriel’s skin, desperate… needing…
Snubbing in. Pressing forward, slow and steady, and Sam let out something close to a snarl as his tightly clenching muscles yielded to turgid, implacable flesh… restraining the urge to sink his teeth into Gabriel’s shoulder to make him hurry… the clear, bright-edged burning recalled the high flare of being pierced, and Sam’s legs were wrapping around Gabriel’s waist and drawing tight as a noose, rock-hard muscle trying to force an obdurate archangel to accede to his will and just take him already…
But Gabriel wouldn’t be deterred. Wouldn’t be dominated. His arms looped under Sam’s knees and pressed back, up, until Sam’s thighs were trapped against his own chest and Sam was pinioned beneath his mate, helpless to do anything but take it… take the slow drag of Gabriel’s arousal across the bundle of nerves deep within, take the tight flex that made it seem like Gabriel was suffused through every part of him… like there was no boundary, no line that separated where he ended and Gabriel began… just the heavy slip-slide of flesh and a cloak of warmth and wings… the urgency bled away and Sam yielded…
Yielded in the way his calves wrapped around Gabriel’s shoulders, giving him the leverage he needed to arch up into Gabriel whenever he stroked down to the hilt…
Yielded in the way his fingers wrapped around Gabriel’s upper arms, caressing the muscles where they flexed with every thrust, reveling in the way Gabriel was braced above him, taking him… reaffirming his claim…
Yielded up everything he was, everything he could be, into the hands of the one person whose promise to never hurt him again Sam actually believed…
Gabriel shifted… his legs bracing wider as his hands came up from the mattress to slide up Sam’s chest… Sam panted out a whimper as the change drove Gabriel impossibly deeper, and then two thumbs were pressing against the new piercings as Gabriel drew back and thrust in hard… hitting the perfect angle…
Sensation punched through Sam above and below, and Sam’s world dissolved into raw Creation fire… surging through his blood… singing along his veins… flinging him impossibly high and letting him fall… fall… fall…
Down into Gabriel’s arms, there to catch him in the gathering dark.
Sam vaguely knew Gabriel had come with him. Was barely conscious of the tender kiss that brushed over his temple before he surrendered to the blissful blackness that beckoned.
* * *
When consciousness returned, Sam had no idea how much time had passed. He was still blindfolded. Still tender enough to know he’d been well-sexed before the world slid away. Gabriel was still holding him, fingers not touching the metal now adorning Sam’s flesh but lingering close, stroking lightly near the hypersensitive skin.
They didn’t hurt. Gabriel had healed them; Sam knew that much. He’d read up on body piercings in anticipation of this, and hadn’t been overly thrilled about the fact that normal nipple piercings can take up to six months to heal properly even if every precaution is taken. Gabriel had shortcut that process.
It spoke volumes to Sam of the silent promise they’d exchanged.
“Was starting to wonder if you were gonna wake before morning,” Gabriel observed quietly. There was a gentle amusement in his tone; not mockery that Sam had blacked out from how good the ride had been, though it was obvious that had stroked the archangel’s ego into full plume.
“That was…” Sam searched for a word, needing to find some way to sum up what had passed between them. Words were inadequate. All of Sam’s experience felt inadequate to even remotely provide a frame of reference or comparison. “Intense.”
“Yeah.” A kiss brushed over his temple, just at the edge of the silk still bound across his eyes.
Sam shifted a little, pressing a kiss of his own to the hollow of Gabriel’s shoulder. “You planning on keeping me blindfolded for a while? Or can I see them?”
Gabriel chuckled, a warm throaty sound, before pressing Sam back flat onto the bed. “Coming right up, gorgeous.”
The silk blindfold slid away, unfastened by gentle fingers. Sam shivered a little, a soft, sated smile refusing to leave his face, and opened his eyes to see Gabriel fairly glowing down at him. “Can I look now?”
Gabriel grinned, grace dancing in amber eyes. “Anytime you want.”
Shifting, biting his lip almost eagerly, Sam inched up so that his back rested against the headboard. A hand-mirror popped into existence under Sam’s hand, and he picked it up, angling it for a better view.
Silver barbells, tipped with small stones that were tumbled and polished to gleaming white. Not large enough to be obtrusive, but they would definitely catch inside his shirt if he moved right, tugging just a little and reminding him rather sharply of Gabriel. The idea appealed to Sam more than he’d expected: a reminder at unexpected moments that he belonged to someone… and that someone belonged to him. Loved him enough to mark it indelibly in his flesh.
Each barbell braced across a small round nipple shield of the same bright, gleaming silver. Inset in each perfect circle were more stones: light blue and white and clear, and all so perfectly smooth that Sam could hardly believe they were real. He had no doubt they were, whatever they might be. An elaborate sigil was inscribed across the top arc, longer than Sam had seen before, and other single sigils and moon signs were interspersed between the stones.
“They’re…” Sam couldn’t find words. His vocabulary had a decent range, and he prided himself on his education. But there were no words to describe the piercings that now shone so brightly against his dusky tan flesh. Pouring the tangle of awe and wonder and love across the bond, Sam continued to stare. “Gabriel…”
“Sculpted ‘em myself,” Gabriel confided proudly. “The same metal our swords and armor are forged from. Moonstone for the barbell tips, selenite, clear quartz and aquamarine on the circlets; I charged the stones with my grace before I set them.”
Sam looked up, hating to tear his eyes away, needing to see Gabriel’s face. “And the sigils?”
One talented finger trailed across the upper arc, over the longest of the Enochian symbols. “Mine. My name. My sigils. For my Sam.” Sam’s eyes went wide, and Gabriel’s grin belied the tenderness in his eyes. “Property of Gabriel: return unharmed or be smited into oblivion.”
A stuttery little laugh escaped. “You… Gabriel… I…”
“Do you like them, gorgeous?”
Sam’s mouth dropped open, and then he was dragging Gabriel’s lips down across it, his tongue driving through Gabriel’s lips and tangling with Gabriel’s tongue and thoroughly mapping every contour of Gabriel’s mouth. His mate’s warm, solid chest pressed against his, shifting the new piercings, and a low groan of pure want echoed from one to the other and back again.
“I love them,” Sam answered fervently, staring up into Gabriel’s bright, lust-blown golden eyes. “I love you.”
“You, too, Sam.” Gabriel brushed another soft kiss over Sam’s mouth. “You, too.”