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It’s not something that takes a long time for Sam to discover – in fact, it happens the first time they have sex.
They’ve been building to this for a while now, dancing around the words and the knowledge that they want each other this way, and when Gabriel finally kisses him, Sam is impatient for more.
They have a hotel room to themselves – an ostentatious, opulent honeymoon suite that Gabriel snapped them to the minute Sam’s fingers dug into his hips. Sam thinks it might be in Paris, somewhere (and he’s definitely going to mock Gabriel about that later), but he’s too preoccupied to stop and check. He’s busy divesting Gabriel of his shirt and figuring out how many ways he can kiss him, how many places he can put his mouth to make the archangel swear.
Gabriel likes it when Sam uses teeth, when he drags them over the muscle of his neck and shoulder, when he bites hard enough to break a human’s skin and leaves nothing but the faintest blush of a bruise behind on Gabriel. He also likes it when Sam pulls his hair – he finds this out by accident, when he grabs a fistful of it to pull Gabriel’s head back and expose the length of his neck. Gabriel makes a surprised, pleased sound like a whine and Sam tightens his hold, groaning.
Gabriel finds little things Sam likes, too, like having someone who kisses back like it’s a battle they’re both willing to lose; like the impatience and tension of being undressed the human way, piece by piece, until he’s almost-naked and Gabriel’s clever fingers are curling around his cock; like having someone’s mouth on his to swallow the hungry, strangled noises so he doesn’t have to bite his lip and hold them back on instinct.
Sam kicks his jeans off and finds the button of Gabriel’s jeans, fumbles, swears into Gabriel’s laughing mouth and breaks away to look down. The button slides free and Sam hitches the zipper down, already hooking his fingers into the waistband to tug the jeans down – and stops momentarily at the sight of Gabriel’s underwear. He’s wearing pink cotton panties, candy-striped (of course, Sam thinks) with a tiny, almost cutesy ruffle of bright blue lace around the edges.
“Seriously?” Sam asks, exasperated, even as his cock twitches involuntarily at the sight of Gabriel’s cock straining against the material, the semi-transparency of it where precome is leaking from the cockhead. “You’re going to make a joke, even now?”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow and glances down the length of his body, looking up with a sardonic expression. “Dunno about you, kiddo, but I’m not joking.”
“Gabriel, you’re wearing panties.”
“Sam,” Gabriel says, sounding exasperated himself. “Archangel, remember? Genders, gender roles, that’s a human thing – besides, d’you really think I’m gonna care about flimsy human definitions of normal?”
Gabriel gives him a pointed, impatient stare and Sam has to concede that Gabriel’s got a point – conventional isn’t exactly his style.
“Great,” Gabriel continues impatiently. “Now can we get back to the fun stuff, or are ya gonna make me wait another six months?”
Sam rolls his eyes and yanks Gabriel’s jeans the rest of the way off, accidentally dragging the archangel a few inches down the bed in his impatience. He reaches to remove the panties too, before pausing – ignoring Gabriel’s frustrated protest – and instead brushes his thumb over the line of Gabriel’s cock, fascinated despite himself.
Gabriel’s definitely not the first guy he’s wanted to fuck, and he’s also not the first guy he’s actually been with – but those were mostly rushed, all about getting off as quick as possible, and most of his fantasies have been about women. The ones he’s had about men have been pretty straightforward and this has never crossed his mind, although now that he’s got Gabriel laid out in nothing but a scrap of pink cotton, he’s got no idea why.
“Sam,” Gabriel complains, and then cuts off abruptly as Sam ducks his head to lap at the wet fabric. “- Oh- fuck, Sam.”
Gabriel’s hips roll up instinctively and Sam presses them down, more to remind Gabriel to keep still than out of any real belief he could hold Gabriel if the angel didn’t let him. Gabriel stills obediently and fists his hands in the sheets, groaning as Sam sucks the tip of his cock lightly through the fabric in reward.
Sam mouths and nuzzles, pulls away to nip sharply at his inner thighs and suck pink marks into the skin, touches the soft weight of Gabriel’s balls teasingly, listens to Gabriel swear and mutter encouragement – “God, yeah, Sam. Your mouth’s fuckin’ gorgeous, kiddo – you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Look at you, on your knees like- like- fuck, oh God.”
It really shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow the sound of blasphemy from an archangel’s mouth is absolutely, beautifully filthy in a way that has Sam fisting his own cock, breath hitching as he uses his teeth to peel the thin, strained waistband down just enough to expose the tip of Gabriel’s erection. The weak elastic rests against the underside, little lacy ruffles just barely brushing the slick head in a way that Sam knows must feel like the worst tease.
“Sam, c’mon,” Gabriel pants, uncurling one hand from the bed sheets to tangle his fingers in Sam’s hair, tugging encouragingly. “You’re killin’ me here.”
By now, Sam is too impatient to tease anymore – there’ll be time for teasing later, the next time they do this or the time after that – so he lets Gabriel pull his head down and tugs the waistband down as he slides his mouth onto the archangel’s cock. Gabriel makes a filthy sound, half relief and half new desperation, and his fingers tighten painfully in Sam’s hair for a split second before relaxing.
It’s not the first time Sam’s done this, but it’s been years and it takes him a while to get used to the taste and the feel of it again, to learn how far he can take Gabriel in before his gag reflex triggers, to learn what Gabriel likes. Gabriel, thankfully, is keeping as still as is inhumanly possible, though he is running his hands almost frantically though Sam’s hair, pushing it back from his face as he finds a rhythm, cheeks hollowing, tongue sliding flat along the underside of Gabriel’s dick and swirling around the head experimentally.
It’s messy, and Sam is mostly aware of Gabriel’s hands in his hair, gripping and releasing on reflex when Sam does something he particularly likes; Gabriel’s hands touching his jaw, the corner of his mouth where his lips are stretched tight and slick with spit and precome; Gabriel’s voice starting low and not-quite steady, telling him things he half-hears about how perfect his mouth is, how hot and wet and filthy, how he could’ve been made for this, and then just Sam’s name, voice thick and shuddering and needy.
He’s aware, too, of the way it seems to make Gabriel a little more human for just a moment, the way he loses control in increments until his thighs are shaking and he’s making aborted little thrusts into Sam’s mouth, completely unashamed. The thought that Gabriel is like this for him makes something low in his belly curl and tighten almost to the point of pain, dick surging in his hand as he groans around Gabriel.
Gabriel’s voice takes on a warning note at that, and Sam pulls back, breathing ragged, shifting up to slot his hips against Gabriel’s. The hot, easy slide of Gabriel’s spit-slicked cock against his, combined with the faint tease of cotton and lacy ruffles against his skin, is one of the best things he’s felt in a long time. He finds himself groaning almost desperately against Gabriel’s mouth as the archangel spreads his legs and ruts against him.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Gabriel mutters, panting into Sam’s open mouth as his muscles tense and shake, skating the edge of that sheer drop into orgasm. “Come on, kiddo.”
Sam bites down hard on Gabriel’s lip, too far gone for words, and the archangel makes a sound that’s barely human – a sound that makes Sam’s ears ring and his entire body seize in the grip of mixed pain and pleasure – and comes, fingers digging bruises Sam’s shoulders. Sam’s not far behind – thrusting once, twice, through the slick of Gabriel’s come on their bellies, before he’s pressing his face into Gabriel’s neck and coming with a silent shudder.
They stay like that for a moment, caught in the surreal post-orgasm haze, before Gabriel makes a token complaint about Sam being too heavy and manhandles him into a different position. Sam huffs out an irritated laugh but lets him, too loose-limbed with pleasure to really be annoyed, and hopes, vaguely, that Gabriel wearing the panties is a regular thing.