It had been a really bad day. It started off with a battle with a band of demons that turned into a fight with angels determined to drag Dean to Michael. Castiel had been injured and was still bleeding as Dean tended to him. Sam worried about the angel's waxy complexion and pinched lips and worried more about the fear on his brother's face.
As he slumped in a chair, too tired to tend to the series of shallow cuts across his chest, his phone vibrated.
He wanted to scream, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Gabriel had helped them today--the only reason they'd gotten away was because he'd arrived in time.
And now Gabriel wanted him to show his appreciation.
Taking out his phone, Sam read the text and forced himself to his feet. "Gabriel," was all he said, as he shuffled across the room and out the door.
As he closed the door behind him, his next step found him in an elegant bedroom. A fire roared in the fireplace and the room smelled of roses. Gabriel stood in the middle of the room, at the end of the bed, and he looked...
Angry.
Sam felt his stomach clench but he refused to drop his eyes from the archangel's face.
"Get undressed. Get in the bed. Now," Gabriel demanded, his voice clipped and sharp.
"Why are you mad? I'm here." It wasn't really a protest, but he was unsettled by the unexpected anger that had the archangel's lips in a tight line and his eyes snapping.
"Why am I mad? Why am I mad, Sam?" his voice escalated and his nostrils flared as he stepped into Sam's space. "I killed three off my brothers to save your idiot of a brother, and the only sibling who I have any interest in speaking to is bleeding because he's fallen so damn far for a pathetic human." His fingers wrapped in the folds of Sam's shirt and he jerked him hard and down, so that they were face to face. "I've committed fratricide!"
"I'm...I'm sorry. We needed, you, though, Gabriel. Without you..."
"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted snidely. "You're all pathetic without me. You're so damn close to saying yes, both of you, and Castiel is basically ruined and...Get in the fucking bed, Sam."
Fear shivered through him, but he'd agreed...agreed to do anything the archangel wanted, and, today, without him, Dean would have been lost. He was grateful, but...
Gabriel shoved him back and Sam stumbled, nearly falling. His chest ached from the cuts that Gabriel had unwittingly pushed against, and he gasped for breath. When he was able to look up, he found Gabriel naked and hard and glaring at him. Before Sam could begin to undress, Gabriel grabbed him and threw him onto the bed on his stomach.
Sam bit back a cry as his chest landed on one hand, and as he wriggled it free and the cuts throbbed, he felt Gabriel yanking at his belt and then pulling down his jeans and boxers. Sprawled across the bed, still mostly dressed, he felt the fear mingle with humiliation and buried his face in his crooked arm.
The only prep he got was three slick fingers jabbed into him and then Gabriel was on him, dragging him to his knees and pushing his cock into him.
It burned. He wasn't ready, wasn't feeling anything pleasurable at all, and unwilling tears stung his eyes as he squeezed them shut and tried to breathe through the pain.
Gabriel's fingers dug into his hips and his pelvis smacked hard and loudly against Sam's ass, and he took it because there was nothing else he could do.
It didn't last long, about ten thrusts total, and then Sam felt a tiny bit of relief against the raw pain as warm semen flooded him. As Gabriel left him, Sam collapsed and fought the desire to cry. He wasn't a girl. He wasn't weak. He'd agreed to this.
He hadn't felt anything but pain.
And fear.
He never forgot just what Gabriel was, but he rarely was so blatant about it.
When he felt hands on his calves, tugging away the jeans, he startled and gasped, but lay still, waiting to see what came next, his eyes still tightly closed. A soft wet cloth was gently pushed between his buttocks and he held his breath.
Gabriel had never cleaned him up before.
"Get undressed, Sam," Gabriel said, sounding as tired as Sam felt. "I'll run you a bath."
Sam heard the footsteps leave the bed and a door open before he opened his eyes and found himself alone. Slowly, carefully, he rolled off the bed, wincing at the burning pain in his ass, and pulled off the rest of his clothes. A glance down showed him that the cuts were red and one was oozing fresh blood. He took a step and his legs nearly buckled at the pain. As he shifted, he felt something slip down the back of his leg and he reddened in humiliation, then gasped when he saw that it was blood.
He'd never bled before.
Hurrying as quickly as he could, he moved across the room to the open door. Stepping inside he found himself in a marble and gold bathroom containing the largest sunken bathtub he'd ever seen. It was filling with steaming hot water and flowery scented bubbles. Wearing a short silk robe, Gabriel was on one knee checking the temperature of the water. He glanced over at Sam, then back at the water, before shutting off the tap and rising to his feet.
"Go on, get in. Stay as long as you like, the water will stay hot." He made to leave the bathroom and Sam stepped in front of him. Gabriel gently brushed a finger over the bleeding cut and it healed. "You should have taken care of these," he chided, but no longer sounded angry.
"I'll heal. I...Gabriel..." Sam wasn't sure what he wanted to say and he felt uncomfortable in his own skin and blatant nudity. Gabriel's finger healed the remainder of the cuts, then brushed up over his throat.
"Bathe," he said gently, then slipped past Sam and out of the bathroom.
Confused, Sam sank into the bath, carefully sitting on one hip, and tried to relax in the hot, fragrant water. There was a soft pop and he opened his eyes to see a frosty mug of beer and a plate of cheese and crackers and grapes sitting on the wide lip of the tongue.
The pain had faded and at the sight of the food a sudden hunger hit him, and he took a sip of beer then a bite of cheese, trying not to wonder what Gabriel was up to now.
And what he'd have to do to repay him for this bit of pampering.
After eating his fill and bathing away blood, dirt and semen--and determining that he was no longer bleeding--Sam climbed out of the tub and dried off. He still ached from both the battle and the rough sex, but he felt somewhat rejuvenated. Wrapping the towel around his waist he padded out into the bedroom , running his eyes quickly around the room until he spotted Gabriel wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans, standing in front of a set of open French doors. His hands were jammed into the front pockets of his jeans and his shoulders were slumped.
He looked...small.
"Gabriel?" Sam called softly.
"You want to go home, kiddo?" the archangel asked without looking back or moving at all.
"Um...no," Sam lied because, yeah, he wanted to leave, but..."I think we should talk." He found a robe in his size draped over a chair and exchanged it for the towel, tying the belt tightly around his waist.
Surprised, Gabriel turned and stared at Sam. "What on earth do you want to talk about?"
"Um..." Unable to meet his eyes, Sam shuffled his feet and rubbed one hand over the back of his neck.
"You want to back out of our deal?"
Sam remained silent in the face of Gabriel's bitterness, because, yeah, he did, but, again, he couldn't.
"I never said it would be all hearts and flowers. I never promised you anything but that I'd be there to help you idiots."
"You sound like you're trying to make excuses," slipped out before Sam could censor himself, and he froze, scared again.
"Why would I have to do that?" Gabriel snapped, crossing the room and getting in Sam's face. "I own that ass. I can do anything I want to it."
Sam felt himself reddening, but it was as much from anger as embarrassment. He didn't snap back, though. Gabriel was pushing. "Yeah, you can," he quietly admitted, finally meeting the archangel's eyes before shifting them away and over his shoulder. "You've never been so angry, though. I guess I'll adjust." Glancing back at Gabriel he wasn't surprised to see the frustration on the archangel's face.
"Stop sounding like an abused housewife. I help you, I get your ass in my bed. I'm not going to feel guilty for either end of our bargain."
But, Sam thought he did feel guilty, and that's why he was lashing out. This time he kept his mouth shut and Gabriel continued to rant.
"If I hurt you, you'll survive. I thought you preferred that over coming, any how. Playing the martyr is the Winchester way, after all."
Sam was surprised to feel the remnants of the anger at what had happened tonight disappear leaving him empty. Neither one was a pleasant feeling and he shifted on his feet, then took a step back.
"Don't run from me," Gabriel snarled, then grabbed Sam's arms and jerked their bodies together. A hand curled around the back of his neck yanked him into a heated, hungry kiss.
Lust flared in Sam, filling that empty hole, and he wrapped his arms around Gabriel's waist, kissing him back, nearly biting at the archangel's lips and tongue as he fought for dominance. For nearly two months he'd been submissive to this creature, and he wasn't a natural submissive, and he was tired of it. The bastard had practically raped him and...
Before Sam could react, the robe was gone along with Gabriel's jeans and they were on the bed, still kissing with hard, bruising lips, still fondling with needy hands. Sam's cock was hard and throbbing and Gabriel was grinding against him, rocking his own cock in to the crease of his pelvis, and it felt so damn good.
"This is mine, mine, mine," Gabriel growled, highlighting each possessive with a hungry kiss, then he slithered down Sam's body and buried his cock down his throat.
Sam yelled in shocked pleasure and bucked his hips wildly. Gabriel's throat muscles squeezed around the sensitive head and that was all it took. With another shocked cry, Sam came, thrusting and shaking, and helpless as Gabriel drank him down.
He'd never done that. A handjob had been the most Gabriel had ever given him. As Sam fell back onto the bed, trying to breathe, he watched in a daze as Gabriel gently parted his legs and lay between them, then lifted his limp, sticky cock out of the way and pressed his tongue...
Oh God...
Sam's vision went white, then dark as that amazing tongue healed the tears in his anus and sent such wild pleasure through him he blacked out for a moment. When he finally opened his eyes again, he found Gabriel kneeling between his legs, a soft smirk on his face, the anger gone. He was pumping his cock in his fist and, as Sam watched, his face twisted in pleasure and he came, spilling over his hand and Sam's stomach.
With a snap of his fingers they were both clean and Gabriel curled up against Sam, pulling his head onto his shoulder. "Sorry about that, kiddo," he said softly, his voice tired. "I was pissed and I hurt you. I didn't realize I tore you."
"Would have healed," Sam mumbled into his neck, squeezing his eyes shut because this talk was going to embarrassing places.
"Yeah, but you were scared, weren't you." When Sam didn't answer, Gabriel stroked his fingers through his hair, lightly rubbing his scalp. "You never forget what I am, do you?" That didn't seem to need a response, as he continued, "Your brother does. He forgets what I am, what Cas is, but you know."
"Angels are dicks with wings." Sam was half-asleep but when he mumbled that, his eyes opened wide and he held his breath.
Gabriel snorted in amusement. "True." Sam relaxed but kept his eyes open this time. "But we're also warriors. We're dangerous and we're brutal."
"You can kill me with a thought."
"Yeah, but that wouldn't be fun for either of us." A gentle tug on his hair and Sam lifted his head to meet Gabriel's lips in a soft kiss.
"I'm sorry you had to kill your brothers, and I'm sorry Cas got hurt."
Gabriel sighed. "Neither is your fault, Sammy. I knew what I was getting into and Castiel did, too. But, I have a temper, I think that's pretty obvious by now, and I can either take it out on the world or..."
"I'm your whipping boy." Sam felt his heart thud dully at that thought and his stomach began to tighten into a knot. The deal was to do whatever Gabriel wanted, to be whatever the archangel needed, and that meant...anything.
"Sorry, Sam," Gabriel said softly, and sounded like he meant it, and then his fingers snapped.
Dressed again and tired, but no longer sore, Sam opened the door to his motel room and found Cas swathed in bandages asleep on the far bed, Dean, fully dressed and on top of the covers next to him.
"That you, Sam?" Dean blinked into the darkness.
Quietly closing the door, Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"What did the dick want?"
"To talk, just to talk," Sam lied.
"Sammy."
"He was worried about Cas." That wasn't a lie and, as he stripped off his clothes to climb into his own bed, he heard Dean sigh in acceptance.
"Yeah, me, too. He's not healing anymore."
"Let's hope tomorrow's a better day."
"'Night, Sam."
Sighing silently in relief, Sam tugged the blanket over his shoulders and let himself sink into sleep, his last thought a concern about how long he could keep lying to Dean before he called him on it for real.
End