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It was hard to get used to the sensory experience of being near Gadreel again, and it took Sam several months to refrain from unintentionally glancing towards the exits when the angel was in the same room. It took even longer to not feel the hairs on the back of his neck prick up when Gadreel met his eyes.
He did it less and less, Sam realized. Almost as though he could anticipate Sam’s anxiety, his hesitance about his character.
His apologies wore him down. Gadreel made him salad out of dandelions, arugula, and spinach, and left the room for Sam to eat. He quietly brought books that he knew Sam found interesting, including a couple of files from the bunker’s archives about serial killers operating in the midwest in the 1940’s that Sam had never heard of.
Of course Gadreel knew everything about him and what he liked. He had probably rifled through his hobbies and quietly assimilated the components of his personality that would help the angel put him at ease.
Sam hated how paranoid he felt. He loathed his instincts—they were squarely to blame for the fact that he hadn’t been able to achieve actual intimacy in years. And even when he did feel like he could let his guard down, time and again he was proven wrong.
He felt resentment coiling inside his gut whenever he laid eyes on the handsome, impossibly benign angel.
And damn him, Gadreel knew everything about it.
So when the angel knelt in front of him in the library and simply looked at him in the reflection of the shiny floor, Sam felt heat rising in his neck and flinched away.
“What the hell are you doing.” It wasn’t at all a question, even though it was phrased like one. Sam immediately felt like shit for saying a damn thing. He should have ignored this and just walked away.
When it didn’t look like Gadreel would answer, much less move, Sam left the room. Of course he knew what the angel was offering—this was somehow part of a convoluted apology.
He didn’t see Gadreel for four days. He saw evidence that the angel was still in the bunker—the laundry was inexplicably folded, the kitchen swept neatly while Dean was out, and a lightbulb fixed in the sub-basement stairwell—but the rooms were vacant.
Sam had a horrifying dream where he was the one torturing Gadreel, and it was enough to keep him awake until he just had to get out of bed and begin his day early.
Gadreel was chopping dried apricots in the kitchen. He made a soft, startled noise when Sam entered, and froze.
“You need to stop.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.
“...I’ll go.” He started to clean the knife and turned his back on Sam, shoulders hunched.
“No, I meant—you need to stop this… service you’re doing. You have to relax.”
Gadreel seemed to consider his words, and set the knife down carefully. “Sam, my presence is difficult for you, and my attempts to put you at ease haven't been effective. I'm sorry.”
Sam gulped down a lump in his throat. “Yes, we know. You're very sorry. For everything.” His anger was bubbling over. “But I can't… I can't fix what I feel about you.”
Gadreel nodded slowly. “I know. If there's anything I can do to… nullify what I've done, I'll do it.”
Sam had already spun on his heel by the time Gadreel uttered the last few words.
The stupid angel would do anything Sam asked. He toyed with the idea of commanding him to stay out of his sight, to leave the bunker forever, but the thought of abandoning Gadreel turned his stomach. Sam felt bloody responsible for him and would only have to shoulder even more guilt if heaven or hell got their hands on him.
Gadreel was under his skin, and there was no denying it.
Gadreel was still making himself scarce around him, so Sam had to either call him, or corner him. Either way, clearly it was Sam’s decision.
Dean was gone on a supply run when Sam heard the distinct sound of a locker opening—the showers had only one exit, and within twelve seconds, Sam was standing in that doorway, as Gadreel froze with his hands on the collar of his shirt, buttons still fastened.
Sam took a deep breath and walked over, around the bench, watching Gadreel’s adam's apple bob up and down above his frozen fingers. It was obvious that the angel hoped to evade Sam for an indeterminate amount of time.
“Are you afraid of me, Gadreel?”
The angel looked at Sam’s shoulder, softly replying, “No, I'm not.”
“But you should be. It turns my stomach to think about you wearing me around like… like a goddamn prom dress,” Sam spat.
Gadreel looked like he was going to say something, no doubt laced with guilt and self-deprecation, and Sam just snapped.
He shoved him back against the lockers and grabbed him around the neck, squeezing hard and bouncing his head for good measure. The metal rang and dented, not that Sam really cared.
He wanted to mutilate him. He wanted to break him and consume him and deny his existence. Sam smashed his lips against Gadreel’s gasping mouth and bit him, hard. It wasn't what he wanted, it wasn't his plan at all, but as he careened off the rails and tore Gadreel’s shirt open, the whine the angel let out egged him on, and the soft patter of buttons hitting the tiles at their feet barely registered. Sam simply had to do this.
Gadreel had his eyes squeezed shut, hands at his sides, still bound up in the sleeves of his shirt. Sam bit his neck and groaned at the taste of sweat and salt that he found there.
“Sam, I…”
“No. Don't talk to me. Shut up.” Sam growled and shoved him into the lockers with the full weight of his body and pinned him there, abruptly aware of how hot and tight his pants felt. They both huffed, sharing breath, mouths close and so very tempting. Sam shut his eyes and pressed against him, trying to anchor and ground himself. He couldn’t just… take him like this, with the angel refusing to resist or participate.
Sam’s stomach roiled and he squeezed his eyes shut in denial. He backed up slowly and shook his head to clear it. So what if he hadn’t been laid in months, this wasn’t something that he should just take.
Gadreel made a soft noise in the back of his throat and fell to his knees, trying to untangle himself from his shirt without unbuttoning the sleeves.
Sam looked down at him as he tried to figure out what the hell he had been thinking.
Gadreel glanced up and met his eyes briefly before they flickered away again. Then the angel cupped himself and took a deep, shaky breath.
“Do you want this?” Sam finally asked.
Gadreel looked up at him again and nodded, lips just barely parted and red from Sam’s biting.
Sam shook as he touched Gadreel’s hair, running his fingers through the short lengths, brushing his ears with his thumbs.
It wasn’t permission, but Gadreel leaned forward and pressed his face against Sam’s groin, stilling immediately.
Sam closed his eyes and gulped, heart pounding in his ears. He scraped the back of Gadreel’s neck with his fingernails and let him go to unzip his jeans and urgently pull himself out.
He didn’t look at Gadreel until he had his hand around his jaw again, holding his mouth open while Sam’s other hand cupped the back of his head and forced him down on his cock. Sam pushed his hips forward, and the angel’s tongue laved the underside, the undignified sound of his throat spasming and clutching around the head washing over the hunter’s libido like a tidal wave.
“Fuck,” Sam breathed, widening his knees and rocking his hips. His chest ached with the need to give in and fuck his throat and he tested that boundary, pulling Gadreel’s head down and holding him there as he worked deep, until the angel’s lips were twitching around the base and his lungs were silenced.
Sam backed up to let him breathe a moment before thrusting hard forward, setting an urgent and brutal rhythm that demanded Gadreel keep his throat open for him. He leaned forward until his forehead was against the locker and the angel had no room to maneuver.
Even if Gadreel wouldn’t resist him, he still felt compelled to use force to fulfil the need to utterly dominate him. The throat wrapped around him was tight and shuddering. Sam pistoned recklessly and let out a deep moan that nearly drowned out the gurgling struggle of Gadreel’s efforts.
Something hit him in waves, pulsing through his center and subsuming the tension egging him onwards with a pleasant thrumming. It took a while for Sam to realize that he wasn’t about to have a fucking aneurysm from coming too hard. He looked down to see that Gadreel’s skin was glowing golden pearlescent and gasped, pulled his hips back and let the angel draw breath.
Gadreel shook and gasped air, expression vacant and eyes glassy. His cheeks were streaked with tears.
Sam shook his head to clear it, but the thrumming was on him, hooked into him, filling every atom of his body with light.
Gadreel leaned forward, pushing himself down on Sam’s cock, throat fluttering eagerly as he bobbed, lips near the base.
Sam could hear the noises that he was making, deep groans and whines rising out of his chest, but he felt drunk, and the thought of self-censoring was far beyond him in the moment.
His peak hit him and he curled forward, head resting against the locker as Gadreel gurgled and swallowed.
Sam shivered and backed up, quickly pulling his jeans closed in shame and revulsion. He couldn’t look at Gadreel fully as the angel hunched down and gasped for air. What he’d just done… there was a word for it and he didn’t think he could look himself in a mirror without knowing it in his marrow.
He bit his lip and clenched his fists at his sides, turning away.
“Sam, please don’t go.”
Sam had only taken one step, and blamed his wobbly knees for his slow exit. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Gadreel disentangled his arms and unzipped his trousers slowly. “I am grateful, Sam.” The angel took himself in hand and stroked, shuddering as he closed his eyes. “There is nothing that you can take from me that isn’t freely given.”
Sam gulped, and watched his hand work, struggling to think rationally. He couldn't tear his eyes away. “Stop,” he eventually whispered. Gadreel obeyed, hand still on the flushed shaft. He didn’t look at Sam as he waited for a command.
Sam licked his lips. “Get in the shower. Clean up, but don’t touch your cock, understand?”
Gadreel obeyed wordlessly and quickly, while Sam just watched him.