You can’t really shock or hurt an archangel, but you can sure as hell try, and it’s something of a relief to Sam just how hard he can push things. When they are together Gabriel’s insatiable, which leaves Sam wondering just how much it takes to sate him — tie him up, stuff him full in the ass and mouth, and watch him still growl predatorily, demanding harder and faster, whispering into Sam’s mind, “Is that all you can give me?”
It takes Sam a while to realize Gabriel’s limits lie in the other direction, and he starts to starve him instead. The first hours-long session they spend together, Sam teasing him and never delivering, forcing Gabriel to bring him off over and over until Gabriel’s begging to come, is a revelation, and when they’re both finally done, it takes them a full day to recover from it. Now Gabriel can be left for literally days, strung up in Sam’s bedroom, just waiting for him to come back and feed him the only sustenance he’s allowed (okay, so Gabriel probably skips the restraints and pops out for ice cream when Sam’s not there, but as long as he’s begging for Sam’s cock by the fifth or sixth day the illusion is maintained).
Don’t need a blindfold or cuffs — Sam’s sight is gone in a moment and his range of mobility is gone in the next. He thinks he smells something sweet (not sweet like Gabriel’s skin, but candy-sweet) and murmurs, small smile starting to widen on his lips, “You’ve got something there for me to taste, huh?”
"Not quite," Gabriel says, but he presses one cherry-tasting kiss to Sam’s mouth and lets him swipe his tongue over the grenadine-flavored slickness of Gabriel’s lips. "Something for me to taste, big boy, and for you to enjoy me tasting."
Sam racks his brain — “Chocolate syrup on my cock again?” — but he knows Gabriel’s not likely to repeat himself, and when the intense shiver of cold stings against his chest, he knows he’s guessed wrong.
"Oh, fuck," he whispers in a weak voice, "fucking bite my nipples, Gabriel— lick and suck that fucking ice cream off my nipples, oh, God, so cold, so good—" and Gabriel palms his hard cock and murmurs, "Congratulations, you guessed right" before getting to work.
Everything about Sam’s big – and Gabriel likes big things, it’s one of the things that drew him to Sam, those hands, wide and strong, powerful fingers to curl and hold and pin and dig in – and when he says everything, he means everything. The first time he sees Sam naked, he can’t help licking his lips, dropping to his knees and pressing his cheek against the soft flesh of Sam’s thigh, breathing hotly over the thick cock between his legs. “Big boy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, nuzzling at the base of Sam’s cock, mouthing sloppily at it, wondering if he’ll be able to fit it all in his mouth. The thought makes him groan, and before Sam can saying anything he’s sucking the head of it into his mouth, trailing his tongue over it, cradling Sam’s balls in his fingers, and the hunter’s gasping in surprise. “So big,” whispers Gabriel, “so beautiful,” and before Sam can do anything other than gasp out, “Gabriel,” the archangel’s pressing forward, swallowing all of that thick, impossible length down in one gloriously hot slide and thinking that maybe spending a lifetime on his knees for Sam might not be a bad thing.
Gabriel tosses his head back and forth, his hands fisting in the sheets, and breathes in long shudders and gasps broken by swallows. He can’t do a thing, is more powerless than he’s been in ages, and he’s eating it up — Sam fingering him, slow and careful, is the most delicious kind of abandon, and he’s stopped thinking or planning or trying to prepare himself for the next deep stab or curling tease inside him. It’s only Sam who gets to do this to him or see him like this — Gabriel still has his pride, but not here, not with Sam massaging his prostate and whispering in his ear, other hand resting unmoving on his chest so close to his nipple that Gabriel’s writhing, trying to inch it up toward the hard bud of it. Sam adds another finger, fucking him faster now, and the weight and width of them drives Gabriel crazy. He shouts like something much baser and more primal than a god or an angel, and when he comes, cock pulsing untouched until he paints his stomach with sticky streams of white, he’s reduced to an animal, crawling his way back up toward humanity as he reaches for Sam and presses soft, thankful kisses to his mouth.
Gabriel nuzzles up along Sam’s thigh, wide eyed and silently pleading, lips parted and spit-slicked; and Sam runs his fingers through his angel’s hair without actually giving him what he wants. The angel knows what Sam wants, he knows that Sam isn’t going to just give in, and the longer Gabriel stays silent, the longer he refuses to voice his requests, the longer it’ll be before Sam lets him have what he wants. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to try, nuzzling closer and closer until his mouth is so close to Sam’s cock that it throbs in response to the heat of his breath. Sam tightens his fist in Gabriel’s hair and drags him back, waiting patiently for his angel to finally give in. And he does, groaning with an exasperated huff, “gotta get it in my mouth, Sam… please?”
It ain’t the size of the boat, or at least it ain’t the length, because Gabriel doesn’t have all that much in inches — but damn, is it ever the way you steer it. Gabriel’s got some serious girth, and there is nothing Sam loves like being stretched wide open; the lightning shocks up his spine at each thrust draw deep grunts from his throat and fill him with erotic desperation. The slide in and out, the shallow thrusts that are the preface to a deeper, longer plunge inside him — Sam could live and die by those rhythms, and sometimes he’s sure he is dying, especially when Gabriel fattens inside him, his balls pressed against Sam’s ass, and grunts, “Fuck, Sam, you’re gonna make me come so damn hard.”
It’s then that Sam loses it, groaning with abandon, pressing up against Gabriel’s hips with every muscle in his body tense, encouraging him to come as hard as he can. And when he does, Sam can feel it — he spurts hard, filling Sam up with heat and liquid, so he’s even more stuffed than he was before, and there’s nothing he can do but cry out and come into his own hand, utterly full of Gabriel and never wanting it to end.
Gabriel’s short, or at least shorter, and Jess is long and lanky like Sam himself, so whenever they do this Jess ends up on the bottom, with Sam riding his cock and Gabriel on his knees behind the two of them. It’s a perfect position, and they two of them feel perfect inside him; Sam can’t shut up, and Gabriel’s a fucking tease, going in an inch at a time while Jess fills him up but keeps perfectly still.
"Fuck," Sam says between panting breaths, "the two of you need to stop being cockteases and fuck me already," and Jess chuckles beneath him, his lips turning up into a smile against the blizzard of Sam’s desperate kisses. "Gabriel, come on," Sam says, "get that fucking dick of yours inside me, want to feel the two of you rubbing together, coming together deep in my ass, come on!"
That gets them going, because if it’s one thing that’s a surefire turn-on for all three, it’s the feeling of sharing Sam, rubbing their cocks together inside him and filling him with loads of come as he writhes and moans between them.
It’s not cause he wants to have kids, or has any fetish for kids or, or anything kick like that, but Sam just melts when Gabriel begs for him in that wrecked way of his, bearing his ass and begging for his Dad to put it right where Gabriel needs it. “C’mon, Dad, fuck me hard,” he murmurs in a voice that hints at centuries of his own trauma, and Sam feels powerful wearing the cloak of God instead of the devil for once, crawling on top of him and showing Gabriel more mercy and love than he thinks he deserves.
"Got you," he whispers as he slides inside, hissing softly at the intensity of the heat and tightness of him, "not letting you go again, Gabe, not ever."
"Why," Gabriel whispers as he sweats and clutches the thick trunks of Sam’s wrists to keep himself steady, "why you being so nice to me, Dad… I don’t deserve…"
"Shh," Sam whispers, kissing his face, chest sliding against his back, "shh, it’s OK, baby, just let go, I’ve got you."
The first bead slips in easy, small and blue and swallowed greedily by the tight clench of Sam’s hole as it sucks the sphere into his body – the second, and the third, and the fourth all follow in quick succession, each slightly larger than the last, disappearing until only the thin string leading to the next one is visible. Sam groans as Gabriel pushes the fifth one in, considerably larger than the fourth, but his puffy hole stretches around it all the same, welcoming it in as he shifts his hips and the beads move, pressing against that sweet spot and making him hiss.
Gabriel’s all the way to the eighth bead – there’s ten of them, the last slightly smaller than a snooker ball – before Sam gaps out, “Gabe, I need to come, please, please let me come,” hips shifting restlessly on the bed, tiny little twitches and clenches making the beads inside him sift deliciously. But the archangel just shakes his head, grinning; there’s no way Sam’s coming until all the beads are inside him, but as Gabriel pushes the eight bead in and watches Sam’s hole stretch around it, greedy and red and swollen, he wonders if they’re all going to fit – already, he can see just a hint of blue where there’s not space for the bead to sink all the way in.
By the time Gabriel’s pushing the last bead in, Sam’s gasping out incoherent noises against the sheets, the archangel’s fingers tight around the base of his cock to stop him from coming as he rocks the bead slowly back and forth against Sam’s hole until it sinks most of the way in, leaving him stretched open; Sam’s sobbing by now, desperate, and when Gabriel pulls the beads out in one long tug and lets go of Sam’s cock, the hunter comes with a scream.
Submission from sparxflame!
When Gabriel comes, it’s with a broken yell that somehow manages to escape around the edges of the ball gag splitting his mouth open; he shudders, entire body going limp, and collapses forward onto the motel bed, with no way of getting himself upright due to the way his arms are bound behind his back and his legs trussed up and held open with a spreader bar. Sam waits, counts to ten like he knows Gabriel needs, gives him enough time to feel the aftershocks of his orgasm turn to oversensitised pain as the vibrator continues pressing up against his prostate, and then turns it off with a quiet sigh, murmuring, “shh, shh,” to the archangel as he unties him and unhooks the gag.
The noises Gabriel is making break Sam’s heart as he cleans him down with a warm, damp towel, wiping away the come and a few stray beads of blood where the flogger had broken the skin – he’s still smiling, still got that glazed, peaceful look on his face that means Sam’s done everything perfectly, but hearing the one he loves whimpering as he dabs at the bruises lining his back and buttocks and the insides of his thighs is not something he’ll ever get used to. The fact that they’ll be healed and gone by the next day is irrelevant, because they’re here now, and Sam can see them, and he wishes he didn’t have to; but Gabriel needs this, in a way Sam doesn’t pretend to understand but still respects, and he’ll keep giving Gabriel what he needs for as long as he can.
And anyway, the way Gabriel presses closer to him when they lay down together and Sam winds his arms around his neck, telling him how obedient he was and that he was such a good little boy, the way Gabriel nuzzles against his neck and whispers, “thank you,” in a voice of pure adulation – in some way, that makes everything worth it.