It's not that late, but Sam's had a tough day so he's trying to sleep. Trying and failing mostly, since Gabriel considers sleep one of those irritating and unnecessary human things. One he's going to ban as soon as he works out how.
"I think you should go and bother Dean," Sam grumbles into the pillow. When the hand sliding under the sheet to drift over the curve of his ass becomes impossible to ignore.
"Dean has Castiel to bother him," Gabriel says. Fingers now trailing the bumps and hollows of Sam's spine, like he finds them endlessly fascinating. It's a sensation that never settles. Drifting between arousing and something that makes his skin shudder.
Neither are helping him sleep.
Sam groans and rolls over, through Gabriel hands. He makes a muttered noise of complaint when Gabriel simply moves his attention to the curves of each rib.
Sam twitches again.
"Why do you find my skin so fascinating? You have your own."
"It's not the same," Gabriel says, all pout and jealousy under the amusement. He slides his way up to straddle Sam's waist, thighs warm where they press in. "It's not half as responsive as yours is."
Sam's toes clench when Gabriel's fingertips catch a sensitive spot and he can't help the noise he makes. The jerky little shiver.
Gabriel's mouth stretches out, a smile that's full of amusement and mischief. A smile that really doesn't bode well for Sam's current plan to ignore him and sleep anyway.
The fingers glide more slowly, trailing over the hollows along his side.
Sam jumps and twitches away.
"Gabriel, quit it." He should know better, he really should. Gabriel can never resist the opportunity to do something he shouldn't. Or to be persistent and irritating. Sam has to wonder if that's how he gets his kicks now he can't indulge in violent and gleeful retribution.
"Hmm," Gabriel says, like he's considering it. Then promptly digs his fingers in under Sam's ribs.
"Gabriel - fuck." Sam's hands fly out to try and shove Gabriel off him, but his wrists are caught tight in a hand that's far too small to be so impossibly strong. Gabriel's other hand is still moving, sliding into every delicate, vulnerable place he has and it's impossible to squirm away from with Gabriel's weight on him.
Sam opens his mouth to protest again, but it comes out as a laugh and air.
"I hate you," he manages.
Gabriel hums agreement, like he's fully prepared to be hated for a good cause, fingers still sharp where they slide and press and occasionally catch. Sam's falling back into the pillows hissing a breath in and then losing it in strained laughter without ever meaning too. But his hands are free, so he shoves them straight into Gabriel's hair and pulls. Gabriel grunts and lets him. Because there's no way Sam could drag him up if he didn't want to come. Sam gets knees shoved into his ribs and a curve of warmth and weight over his chest.
"Not funny," Sam says breathlessly. He drops his hands, digs his fingers into Gabriel's waist, hard enough to feel the curve of his hipbones under the skin, then hauls him up until he can turn his laughter into slow, wet noises that break against his own mouth.
"So funny," Gabriel counters when they part. "So very funny."
The next time he sucks a breath it's for a different reason. The slow press of Gabriel's fingers into his skin is impatient and demanding. He's over-sensitive now, every single touch pulls a noise out of him which is half pleasure and half jittery tension and he thinks he likes it a little too much.
There are teeth curving over his jaw, biting down just a little.
"I like you when you're helpless," Gabriel says, quietly enough that Sam knows it's the truth. He thinks it should probably bother him more than it does.
"Gabriel." He's trying, he's trying so hard to be chastising but Gabriel's tongue slides between his teeth when he smiles and it's suggestive and filthy and Sam's still working out how to be immune to things like that. Or if he wants to be. He should probably know that by now, but Gabriel doesn't exactly let him stop and think very often.
Instead Gabriel shoves the pillows out of the way and pulls Sam's head back, sinking teeth into his throat just hard enough to make him hiss. Before letting him go and laughing into the wet stinging skin. He presses down, shoves them together where Sam's already as hard as he is. He's too used to Gabriel's familiar brand of mischief, unfair and so sharp it's almost vicious. Or maybe he's just too used to it always ending in sex.
Gabriel's body is soft enough to be real, soft enough to catch hold of and roll over and pin to the sheets with his hands. Sam still can't quite get used to how much bigger he is than Gabriel, the position he's left them in doesn't look anything close to fair. But he can use as much of his weight and strength as he likes. He's not going to hurt him; he couldn't if he tried. Gabriel blows hair out of his face and doesn't look concerned at all. Sam's never actually asked how strong he is in this body. Stronger than him has always been enough.
Sam lets him go, leaves the white marks from his own fingers to fade away as he slides back to his knees. He drags his palms lazily along Gabriel's bare thighs, spreads his legs in a considering sort of way.
Gabriel hums like he approves of where this is going.
Sam drags his finger up the bottom of Gabriel's foot.
It jerks out of reach in one sudden movement, and Sam's laughing, he's laughing because he can. Because the all-powerful Archangel is as deeply entrenched in the flesh as him. Whether he wants to admit it or not.
He laughs until Gabriel catches his hair and crawls up his body and steals all his breath away.