Chapter Text
Sam hadn't expected this.
All right, sure, part of going to a fetish club was challenging his own boundaries, and Sam was used to leaving there feeling like he didn't quite know himself anymore and needing a little time to re-adjust to his new sexual limits. So he'd expected to feel a little off-center when he finally left Gabriel's apartment Saturday morning.
But, to Sam's complete surprise, the only thing that felt off was that nothing felt off.
Sam felt... good. Better than good.
He felt as if something he hadn't even known was off balance was suddenly aligned, and he was breathing properly for the first time in ages. It was worrying, and frankly more than a little sad, that feeling great was cause for alarm.
It only got worse when he made it home and Dean noticed.
“All right, out with it. What've you been up to?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, trying his best to sound like his usual self.
“Bullshit. You got into something last night. You look...” Dean narrowed his eyes. “I don't even know, man. There's something, though, that's for damn sure. Now spill!”
“I thought you said you never ever wanted to know what the hell I get up to at – and I quote – that place?”
“I don't need the details!” Dean rushed. “Just... you sure you're okay?”
“Yeah, Dean. I'm good, I swear.”
Dean gave Sam a long look, but by some miracle he then apparently decided to drop the issue. Maybe Dean had finally decided to stop poking his nose in all of Sam's business.
And maybe pigs would fly.
Sam had showered earlier that morning, but considering that he was still wearing his day-old clothes, and the fact that he hadn't exactly been alone in Gabriel's huge, luxurious shower, Sam went straight to the bathroom. He rinsed off briefly, and then impulsively decided to shave, despite having no plans for the day, other than maybe a good long nap at some point. Because he'd sure done a lot of things through the night, but sleep hadn't featured much.
About half way through shaving, Sam freaked out. Because all of a sudden he realized why he was pointlessly shaving, when he normally wouldn't have bothered.
The memory was clear as crystal as he thought back to roughly six hours prior. He'd been on his knees, panting, Gabriel stroking his own cock teasingly a mere inch from Sam's open mouth, not letting him actually do anything. Just had him sit there, still as stone, slowly going mad from the object of his desire being so close and yet so untouchable.
“Next time,” Gabriel had purred. “Next time I want you shaved smooth. Then I'll let you show me what you can do. But I don't like stubble burn, pet. So not this time.”
And then he'd proceeded to pick Sam apart until he was a quivering mess. But Gabriel had faithfully put all the pieces together afterwards, making Sam a person again, just as surely as Dean transformed hundreds of metal parts into a smoothly running car. And just like a car taken apart, cleaned, and put together again to run better than ever, Sam also felt like he'd somehow been scrubbed inside and out. Like all his joints and screws had been greased and tightened. As if he was constantly ready to spring to life at the first hint of Gabriel putting the key in the ignition.
Because Gabriel had the key, no doubt about that. Sam stared at himself in the mirror, razor slowly dripping shaving creme into the sink as he went through his sudden identity crisis.
He was shaving. Because Gabriel had asked him to. Hours earlier, when they'd only barely touched the subject of “next time” beyond that night. Sam had chosen to shave over the possibility that he might end up in Gabriel's bed again at some point, which would definitely not be today, because Sam did need to sleep sometime this weekend, thank you.
Sam was shaving for no other reason than the thought that Gabriel would like it. For a guy Sam had met barely twelve hours earlier to have so much sway over his thoughts and wishes was just plain terrifying, and Sam finished shaving with swift, shaky movements.
He put off contacting Gabriel again for several days. Sam hadn't made any promises beyond a vague “I'll call you,” and to his relief, Gabriel waited for Sam to come to him. Because Sam had a sneaking suspicion that if Gabriel called, Sam would come running. Which did not help his freak-out at all.
Almost all of Sam's free hours were spent wondering how Gabriel could have so much power over him so quickly, and just how far it went. Dean got pissed off the third time he had to call Sam's name more than once to get his attention, which in turn prompted a loud, angry fight.
The fighting wasn't unusual. It was simply a direct consequence of sharing an apartment with your brother. But at least it proved to Sam that his willingness to serve had nothing to do with him being a spineless doormat, because he sure had no problem telling Dean where to shove his demands that Sam come clean about something Dean had no business meddling in.
Dean had an annoying tendency to forget that Sam wasn't actually a ten-year old anymore, and Sam was so very tempted to “accidentally” let his shirt unbutton at the neck, so Dean could get a good, long look at the plentiful evidence that Sam was really not a kid.
Gabriel had been diligent about leaving his marks.
Which was just more fuel for his freak-out, because Sam had never consciously let anyone mark him like that before. Sure, he'd gotten plenty of bite-marks, hickeys and bruises, but they'd only ever been left as a result of passion, never as deliberate marks of possession. But when Gabriel had murmured: “Gonna mark you, my sweet. Make sure the whole world knows you belong to me,” Sam had just laid right back and begged for it. Gabriel had even called a halt to everything briefly, to ask if there was anywhere he would like to keep hickey-free, which had pissed Sam off, because of all the times to re-affirm boundaries, did Gabriel really have to pick the moment where he was finally going to touch Sam properly after driving him mad with barely-there stimulation for fucking hours?!
So yeah, Sam had welcomed it. And even now, as the marks were fading, seeing them in the mirror still thrilled him, and gave him an weird urge to go shirtless everywhere to show them off. Which wasn't normally like him. At all.
But eventually Sam had to remind himself that just because he'd been begging Gabriel for orders, like a starved dog for bacon, for the sake of a few brain-melting orgasms, that didn't mean that Gabriel could tell Sam what to do outside of their... games. He considered what he might do if Gabriel asked him to do anything harmful to himself or Dean. If he asked for money, or tried to get Sam hooked on something. Sam had already been down that road once, so he was all too aware of the risk of letting himself get carried away.
Breathing a sigh of relief, convinced that he would balk at orders unrelated to sex, Sam finally called Gabriel almost a week later.
“M'yello, Gabriel speaking! Which means this is your lucky day, snookums! Lay it on me!”
Sam had to take moment to just digest that greeting.
“Uhm... hi. It's me. Sam.”
“Oh, hey there, stranger! I was starting to worry you might not call me back. Thought I'd scared you off.”
“Nah, you didn't. Just... it was a bit... much, you know?”
Sam could almost hear Gabriel smile into the phone. “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I do. And that's a good thing! Unless of course you're calling to tell me to keep myself and my filthy, deviant ways away from you forever...”
“Not much chance of that,” Sam huffed. “I'm hardly one to talk.”
“Weeeell...” Gabriel drawled. “I seem to recall a certain someone calling me a pervert the night we met.”
Sam winced at the memory. “Yeah, okay, not my proudest moment. You just caught me off guard.”
“Never underestimate the power of the element of surprise, m'boy,” Gabriel crowed.
“You know, I was about to apologize for it, but since it's apparently some kinda notch in your bedpost, I'm just gonna assume it would be pointless.”
“Not pointless. Just not necessary.”
“Right.”
There was an awkward pause before Gabriel spoke. “So... if you're not calling to tell me to fuck off, then what are you calling for? Don't make me do all the work here, Sam!”
“Ah, right... I was just wondering if all that talk about next time was just talk or if you'd wanna get together next weekend?”
“I thought I made it clear that I mean what I say,” Gabriel said warmly, but there was just a tiny edge to his voice which made Sam shiver from delicious anticipation, and they hadn't even set a time or place yet. “Maybe you need another lesson, hmm?”
Sam had to swallow thickly before finding his voice again. “Maybe. And maybe this time you'll let me show you a thing or two. Let me touch you. I'll be sure to shave... ”
There was another pause which gave Sam just enough time to start worrying that he'd somehow stepped in it. But then Gabriel groaned on the other end. “Fuck, you're a cruel man. I'm at work and I'm supposed to be giving a goddamn presentation in like ten minutes. And I'm not sure the board of directors are gonna buy my excuse that profit margins gave me this boner.”
“You started it,” Sam chuckled, feeling almost giddy at the thought that he was affecting Gabriel just as much in return.
“Yeah, because clearly I'm not too old to turn stupid over sex, and goddammit, now I have to imagine Jar Jar Binks in a thong to cool off and it's all your fault!”
“I'm not sure I agree with that, but lemme make it up to you anyway. How about next Friday? Your place again?”
“Sure thing. And bring your toothbrush, because I'm not letting you leave until I'm done with you,” Gabriel said, sounding like he was just stating a casual fact, not like he was making a heated promise. That didn't stop Sam's knees from going a little gooey.
“Great,” he said weakly. “Eight-ish?”
“Whenever you feel like dropping by. I'll be home around four, so anytime after that.”
“Eight it is,” Sam declared, trying to sound like he did not in fact feel an insane urge to drop everything and rush to wherever Gabriel was right this minute.
“Awesome. See you then, pet,” Gabriel said, and Sam could have sworn that those words came with a wink.
He managed to end the call without embarrassing himself, and spent a happy few minutes picturing Gabriel strategically holding a clip-board to hide a massive hard-on, in a room full of stuffy old board members. All because of Sam.