The one thing that Sam hated about being with Gabe was that he was never 100% sure if Gabe was being serious. There had been too many examples of Gabriel taking Sam right to the edge of ecstasy and then pulling back over and over until Sam felt like he was going insane; or the time where he stood Sam’s homecooked meal up just to show up three hours later with two girls and a guy for them to share in some kind of dessert apology-joke. That why Sam blurted out an emphatic and very loud “no” when Gabriel asked him to get married.
Proposal after proposal followed: down on one knee, in the middle of a fuck with Gabriel riding him until he wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, with flowers, with weapons, with a diamond that Sam suspected was still supposed to be in the Queen’s jewelry box. And Sam always said no, until the time that Gabriel revealed the ring… pierced through the head of his cock.
“I did it for you, so now will you marry me?”
A/N: Under a cut for season finale spoilers, gunkink.
Dean’s brother was the one around whom vampires needed to exercise caution; but here Dean was, eyes stroking along the line of Godric’s neck and tongue wetting his lips.
“I feel your gaze,” Godric said softly, “and it speaks to my blood.”
He was upon Dean then, moving Dean’s clothes aside and dragging his fangs down the gently rippling expanse of his torso; a quick motion opened his jeans, and another abandoned them beside the bed. Godric’s tongue was not as gentle as his lips though, thrusting immediately inside of his hole and loosening him in seconds. Dean’s hands grasped, pulling at Godric’s back and then his waist, grappling to turn him and bending to push his own tongue across Godric’s ass; he trembled and convulsed with pleasure as Godric’s fangs slid into the flesh of his inner thigh, and Godric’s tender body went rigid when Dean’s blunt teeth did the same.
"I can’t imagine the trouble you’re going to get into when Daddy finds out about this, Gabriel." The sad fact was that Gabriel didn’t care, because this was what he wanted: not approval, or love, just the thrill of being pinned under something forbidden and dark and vile. Crowley leaned over him and bit his neck again, lapping at the swollen, bruised skin there; to be honest, Crowley was enjoying himself nearly as much as Gabriel was, never expecting an angel to be quite so much fun.
"Crowley, p-please…fuck me." Crowley put a hand to his ear, pretending not to have heard Gabriel, and the angel whined piteously.
"Oh, very well. You look so uncomfortable there, and yet…I think I’ve never seen any angel so suited to his position as you." With that, he slid his damp, damned hand over his cock, moistening it before pressing inside of Gabriel, giving him precisely what he wanted. Gabriel took it, too, even when Crowley humiliated him in ways he could not have imagined; so wrong it was right, so filthy it was pure.
Michael is on his back, papers and books scattered under his shoulders on the surface of the desk, sticking uncomfortably to his skin as he grips Gabriel’s hips just that much tighter and moans as he pumps up into him. This is Gabriel’s favorite position, and Lucifer’s too, for that matter – they both like watching Michael’s normally expressionless face blossom in his ecstasy, those full lips parting on every gasp and soft cry, brow creased, long lashes fluttering when he closes his eyes, everything open and on display as Gabriel moves, the smaller archangel stretched wide as both Michael and Lucifer fuck him.
This position also affords him the luxury of being the first to notice Chuck standing in the doorway to his office, openly staring, and by the low snicker and sudden press of teeth against the curve between his shoulder and neck, Gabriel’s sure Lucifer noticed too, but not Michael, and that’s fine; Michael would freeze up, humiliated, if he noticed. Chuck doesn’t look away, just stares at them, gape-mouthed, while Gabriel uses spit-slick fingers to stroke himself, moaning with his head tilted back against Lucifer’s chest. Chuck only stops staring at Gabriel and Lucifer to look down when Michael cants his head back and moans his name, surprising all three of them and bringing both of his younger brothers to shuddering climax.
The first time Michael forced himself to keep walking past the open bedroom even when Gabriel’s deliberate, pornographic moans threatened to draw him back into their clutches. The second time he clenched his fists and teeth and watched without touching as Lucifer pulled Gabriel’s head back and sucked a livid mark upon his neck while he drove into him, Michael’s cock throbbing in time safely in his trousers.
Three, however, was one time too many, and Michael would not stand this intentional provocation of his jealousy. Lucifer had Gabe bent over Michael’s desk, atop his records of the Winchesters’ every move, generations of surveillance and they were defiling it right in his face with their lascivious looks in his direction, taunting him, angling to break him.
“That is enough,” Michael snarled, and both of them felt the thrust of his cock, both of them came in looping gouts of come upon his length before the night was through.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean says, seriously tempted to roll his eyes at the pink scrap of fabric hanging from Lucifer’s fingertip.
“I never kid, Dean. You know that,” Lucifer replied with his slow smirk. “Tonight, however, these aren’t for you.”
Dean’s eyes went wide as Lucifer slid the panties onto himself, the lace straining around his cock, dark blond curls spilling over the low waistband. Lucifer spun in a slow circle so Dean could see how the tight back seam of the lingerie had slid into the cleft of his ass making the panties a second skin — a friggin’ weird as hell second skin, and one that had Dean’s cock throbbing in his jeans — and he looked at Dean over his shoulder as he popped his hip.
“Or perhaps they really are for you,” Lucifer said, and he climbed onto the bed, rubbing and squeezing his cock through the thin lace as Dean watched a wet spot darken them to a deep red.
“You are an evil fucker,” Gabriel said, squirming against the handcuffs that held him face down and spread-eagle on the bed. “Fine, gimme your best shot, Winchester.”
And Sam did… in spades. He started small, just a slicked finger across the rim of Gabe’s hole until Gabe started rocking his hips for a little friction and pushing back to get a little depth, but Sam pulled away to stroke himself about an inch from Gabe’s eager, petulant mouth. Then Sam rubbed the head of his cock over Gabe’s entrance giving him a little of the pressure he wanted, just the crown pushing inside, stretching him for a meager second before Sam pulled away to rub the taste of his precome across Gabe’s lips, drawing back before Gabe could get a mouthful.
When the first spank landed, Gabriel cried out and rutted against the sheets frantically, forcing his legs wider and ordering Sam to fuck him now; but Sam just smiled and started the whole sequence over again with a single fingertip.
Those huge, hazel eyes stared him down until Chuck was backed up against the living room wall; he stumbled over a pile of unread mail and his bathrobe slipped open to reveal boxer shorts with a huge smiley face across the crotch. He blushed as Michael smirked at him with those lips… Chuck started thinking he should write some about those lips doing things, anything really, talking, smiling, sucking cock.
“I thought I’d stop by, Chuck,” Michael said, letting those lips wrap around the sound of Chuck’s name in a way that was utterly profane and had Chuck’s smiley face looking like it was trying to stick out its tongue. “And remind you that you belong to Heaven, and that means that you very clearly belong to me.”
Chuck’s head nodded loosely on his neck and his own tongue felt like it had grown three sizes. “I… I do?” He stuttered his question as Michael’s warm hand slid inside Chuck’s boxers to meet the real Mr. Happy. “I do,” Chuck moaned.