Sam was gonna kill Dean.
“When you said you were taking me out for my birthday, I guess I should have known that it wouldn't be just burgers and beer, huh?”
“Come on, Sammy, have you met me?”
“Sadly, yeah, I have.”
Dean guffawed next to Sam at the small, circular table they were seated at, his eyes shining in the dim light of the club.
“Cheer up, little brother! It's not every day you turn 25!”
“I suppose saving this brain-breaking adventure for my 30th would be too much to ask?”
“Damn straight,” Dean leered, sipping his overpriced beer.
A whorehouse. No matter how much Dean called it a nightclub, Sam knew better. He'd never been to Wings, but he knew the place all too well by its reputation. Word was that you could get anything here for the right price, but the main attraction was in the name.
This place had angel hookers.
Sam knew that Dean had dipped his toe in winged waters before, so to speak, but Sam had never given it much thought himself. Angels were just humans with a couple of extra (and occasionally cumbersome) appendages. An evolutionary quirk, nothing to get worked up about. Although he'd sort of had to remind himself of that a few times tonight already. Something about the way the angelic hosts and hostesses held their wings, or maybe something about the flaring of their feathers, made them look slightly indecent. Which he supposed was the whole point.
Dean was still chuckling when a smarmy angel with rather small and sleek wings sauntered over to them, looking out of place amongst the scantily clad others in his smoking jacket and v-neck.
“Balthazar, you crook, how've you been?”
“Desolate without you, darling, as always,” Balthazar tittered, making Sam stare, because Dean was usually the first to flinch at the tiniest hint of non-heterosexual advances. But apparently having wings meant a free pass, because Dean just smiled and nodded towards Sam. “Meet my baby bro. Here for some feathery tail on his birthday.”
“No, I'm not,” he argued, but dutifully stuck out his hand for a surprisingly firm shake from the angel.
“Don't knock it till you try it, gorgeous,” Balthazar winked, and Sam's cheek twitched uncomfortably. Everything about this place was just too surreal. “You boys here for the show?”
“Nah, just popped in to let Sammy get a taste, you know what I mean?”
“Do I ever. But you've got prime seats, gentlemen,” Balthazar said, pointing to the stage only a few feet in front of them. “So just sit tight. You're in for a wild ride.”
“Sure thing. I always loved a good show,” Dean smirked, and Sam felt uneasy being so close to something that could quite possibly give his brother a boner.
Balthazar slipped away again, greeting other patrons like old friends, as if the entire club was just one big party for him, which all things considered might be a very real possibility. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Everyone but Sam. He'd hardly ever felt more out of place in his life.
He felt better for all of two seconds when the lights dimmed and the stage show started. At least then he wouldn't have to see all the people fondling passing wings or coaxing half-naked angels into their laps in full view of the room.
But then he was dumb enough to turn his eyes to the stage and whatever he'd been expecting... it wasn't that.
The spotlight opened on what at first looked like an egg, but was in reality several creamy-white wings closed tightly around the person sitting on the stage. Slowly they opened up, one pair after the other, until six wings were flared out, almost reaching across the entire expanse of the stage, revealing a dark-blond angel kneeling, head bowed as in prayer, arms crossed tightly around the chest. At first, Sam couldn't even tell if it was a male or female angel, although his first guess would have been female considering that she (?) was wearing a red, plaid miniskirt.
In a fluid, mesmerizing sort of movement, the angel stood up, aided briefly by strong wing-joints touching the floor, revealing further feminine attire. Shiny red pumps, stockings a shade darker white than the wings, and garters disappearing under the short skirt. The chest looked bare, but was still obscured by slender arms, hands in fists resting on the collar bones, and Sam was starting to feel sort of reluctantly interested when the music started and the angel looked up suddenly, eyes aimed directly at Sam.
The soft features and wavy locks did nothing to disguise that this angel was very much male, a fact underlined by how the arms slowly slipped away from the flat, bare chest, opening wide as if to encompass the whole room. Sam distantly wondered why he wasn't more confused by the feminine get-up, but he was frankly much more caught up in the angel's eyes.
It might have been the lighting, but they seemed to swirl gold and green, like honey dripping off pine needles in a lush forest, and Sam was only barely aware that the angel was moving, still caught by the intense eyes only a handful of feet away.
Dean snickered next to him, alerting Sam to the fact that his jaw was hanging open. He snapped it shut and yanked his eyes off the stage, but it was way too late.
“Enjoying the show, Sam? Feeling a little tingly, huh?”
“Shut it, jerk,” Sam said, but it came out weak. He was so screwed. Dean would have ammunition for years and years of taunting. But then again, maybe the time was ripe to inform Dean that Sam had known he wasn't entirely straight since his senior year in highschool.
Ignoring his brother, Sam turned his eyes back to the angel, who was now busy showing off his wings to one side of the stage, not doing a lot more than walk sensually back and forth, opening and closing his wings. Sam didn't know much about angels, but since he'd never actually seen an angel with more than two wings in real life, he supposed there might be more than enough novelty for the public just from seeing three pairs in action.
As stage shows went, it seemed fairly tame, despite the added crossdressing spice.
Sam looked the angel up and down. Off the bat he was nothing special. Not tall, not muscular, not all that interesting physically except for his wings. But the way he moved and the way his gaze left trails of shimmering air wherever it passed made Sam's mouth go dry, and the way the sheer fabrics of his outfit clung to him sure didn't hurt either. And then the angel caught Sam's eye again, and Sam forgot that Dean was watching, because holy crap, those eyes alone could probably make him come in his pants.
The angel noticed, and sent Sam a surprisingly lewd smirk, before turning his back and showing off the wings from that angle too. This also revealed exactly how short that skirt was. Very short. Every single step showed off quite enough ass to unveil the red satin panties underneath, and yeah, okay, Sam probably had to thank Dean for unwittingly taking him to see something that actually turned him on.
Just as Sam thought that the show was just the wing display, a metal pole slowly slid down from the ceiling, right into the angel's hand. And with a final wink at the audience over his shoulder, he swung himself around the pole, wings curling around him in graceful arcs and Sam didn't try and hide how he gasped along with the rest of the room. Because Jesus, those wings made it possible to perform some amazing moves.
Even Dean made an impressed noise at some of the more elaborate trips up and down the pole, and Sam had just enough brain power left over to spare a grateful thought that Dean was looking at the stage, because there was no way in hell he'd be able to miss Sam's massive boner if he'd looked over just then. Sam turned himself towards the table more, hoping to conceal his state, but he was just too distracted by the action on the stage to turn completely away. Eventually he decided that since Dean was the one who insisted they come here, then he could damn well deal with the effects, and then turned back to face the stage.
In truth, the entire show probably didn't last more than 15 minutes, but by the time the angel slipped down the pole for the last time, closing his wings around himself again, Sam was sweating, panting and feeling like he could get off from just a light breeze across his zipper.
As the lights went back up, Sam had a brief moment of cruel satisfaction when Dean looked over and immediately looked away again with an awkward cough. Didn't expect that, Sam thought viciously, before dragging his chair as close to the table as possible, effectively concealing his lower body. Dean busied himself with getting them both fresh beers from a very lovely red-headed angel who happened to pass just as he was feeling very uncomfortable and needing to assert his manliness or something. He definitely flirted very hard with her, and Sam willed himself to breathe and calm the fuck down while Dean worked his “magic”.
Meanwhile, Balthazar was leisurely making his way to the stage, being a complete ham about it and blowing kisses to everyone.
“Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Once again, Wings has proved to be the best show in town, am I right?” he purred into a microphone, vigorous applause following his words “That, cats and kittens, was none other than the incomparable Gabriel. The only archangel in the business, to my knowledge.”
Sam was in no doubt what “the business” was, but he found himself suddenly strangely uneasy at the thought that random strangers would get to touch those amazing wings just for money. Surely something that unique deserved more care.
“And you are all in luck, my darlings, because tonight, and tonight only, Gabriel will work the floor. Be on your best behavior, and then perhaps one lucky soul among you will have the privilege of his company tonight!”
Catcalls and whistles followed Balthazar off the stage and he was soon replaced by a very lovely lady who wasted no time getting to work on the pole. But it was obvious that hardly anyone in the room was watching her, as Gabriel suddenly appeared through a side door, still wearing the skirt and heels, but had added a white tank top to the ensemble, which should probably clash, but somehow didn't. And how the hell he got it on without messing up all those wings was a mystery to Sam, but not one feather was out of place.
He made a slow tour of the establishment, following the edge of the room and exchanging only a brief word here and there with interested clients. Sam could feel his sheer presence from across the floor, just as much as the palpable disappointment as one hopeful patron after another was turned down politely, but firmly. Eventually he completed the circuit around the edge, ending up close to the stage. Then his eyes returned to Sam. Dean was still busy chatting up the red-haired angel, and so he didn't witness Sam's minor crisis when Gabriel sent him a slow, lecherous smirk and started making his way to their table.
Dean's lady friend noticed that they had company before Dean did. “Hi Gabriel,” she said huskily, clearly fishing just as much as the paying customers, and the sudden shift of her focus finally made Dean take notice. At first he blinked, slightly confused and then when Gabriel pulled up a chair without a word, Dean leered at Sam, clearly thinking the joke was on him. But all Sam could see were those intense eyes, once again fixed on him, this time so close Sam felt the air vibrate between them.
“So. How are you doing this evening?” Gabriel asked Sam, not sparing the redhead a single glance.
“Uhm,” Sam said, and couldn't seem to muster more than that. It might have something to do with how the majority of his blood flow was going south.
“I'll bet,” Gabriel purred, as if Sam had actually said anything worth responding to.
Either the redhead was tired of getting snubbed, or she was offering some sort of professional courtesy, because she sidled up close to Gabriel and murmured at him, not quite low enough.
“Are you sure you want to sit at this table? These two might not be... quite in your league.”
It took Sam a couple of long, lust-hazed seconds to realize what she meant. And while her lack of stealth was unfortunate, she was right. There was not a chance in hell Sam could ever afford whatever Gabriel was offering. Gabriel was unique, and Sam was just another guy. It was like a bucket of ice-water to the face, and Sam prepared himself to refuse an offer he would really very much like to accept.
Gabriel, on the other hand, turned his head slowly, almost lazily, to scowl at the girl. “I'm sorry, did I ask for your opinion?”
She flinched back and swallowed visibly. “Uh... no.”
“Then go be rude someplace else. And in the future, try not to shit your own bed. It seems kinda moronic.”
Evidently, this was enough to get Dean's hero-complex in full swing, because he straightened in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Gabriel. “Hey! Don't be a dick!”
Gabriel blinked slowly at Dean, before a truly terrifying smile spread on his face. “For your information, porno lips, I do what I want. What I offer isn't found anywhere else on this whole goddamn continent, so I can be as much of a dick as I want to.” He turned back to Sam, and his smile softened slightly. “Besides, I could paper my walls with hundred dollar bills and not even dent my wallet. So no, money really isn't the issue here.”
“But,” Sam blurted in disbelief. “But you're a...” he wracked his brain looking for a tactful way to phrase it, but Gabriel beat him to it.
“A whore? Oh yes.”
“If not for the money... then why?!”
Sam honestly couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would sell their bodies if not because they had no other choice, and evidently Gabriel could see it on his face.
“Lemme let you in on a little secret, kiddo. Having a rare commodity on offer means that I can pick and choose what I do with it. Being arm candy and bed warmer happens to be something I enjoy and something I'm good at. Making a profit is just icing on the cake, really.” He leaned in closer, enough so that Sam could feel Gabriel's breath on his face. “It also means that I can set the price for my goods at any level I damn well please. And you?” He let his eyes slide slowly down Sam's body and back up, licking his lips lewdly. “You can pay me in sexual favors.”
Sam hardly dared believe his luck, but then of course Dean decided to butt in. “Yeah whatever, douchebag, you're not gonna be makin' a sale here. I took my baby brother here for a birthday joke, okay? He's not into dudes.”
Gabriel's eyebrows shot towards the ceiling and Sam could have crawled under a rock. Leaning back in his chair, utterly unconcerned with how his skirt covered absolutely nothing at all, Gabriel smirked and crossed his ankles, nudging Sam's foot with his pumps. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he chuckled.
Dean scowled. “Look, wise-ass, whatever you're thinking right now, forget it.”
“I don't have to think anything, sport. I just have to look.” And with that, he lowered his eyes pointedly to Sam's crotch, which Sam had been too distracted to keep turned entirely towards the table, giving more than enough of a view for everyone at the table.
Dean countered with a pointed look of his own towards the scantily clad red-head, who was following the exchange with wide eyes. “Plenty of things to look at in here.”
“Wow, denial really is a river in Egypt for you, huh?” Gabriel grinned, before turning his eyes back to Sam. “But at least sasquatch here knows what's... up.”
Not that it was anymore. Because Sam's embarrassment was rapidly killing his boner.
“Now you listen to me, jerk-face,” Dean started, but stopped dead at Sam's quiet: “Dean...”
Something in his voice must have told Dean all he needed to know, because he stared at Sam as if he'd grown a second head.
Sam looked everywhere but at Dean. “Yeah, it's... yeah.”
Dean's face was pained and it was a long moment before he spoke again, ignoring the presence of the angels. “Dude... why didn't you tell me?”
“Because this morning you told me my shirt was gay.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything? You know I wouldn't care if you're... whatever you are.”
“No, Dean, I don't know that,” Sam said bitterly. “Because you've been using gay as an insult my entire life, and every time I've seen guys approach you or me, you've made barf noises. So no, Dean, I didn't think the news of my bisexuality would go over all that well.”
Dean looked crestfallen, but stayed silent for a long while. Gabriel spent the time tapping his shiny pointed shoes against Sam's foot in an annoying way, and if Sam hadn't been in the middle of a family crisis he would probably have retaliated.
Finally Dean took a deep breath and seemed to physically steel himself. “Okay, so... you're... whatever. No problem. But, dude...” he sent Gabriel a glare. “Going home with jerk-face? Really?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno yet.” To his delight, this made Gabriel's face go slack with surprise.
“Seriously? Did I, or did I not just offer you a freebie on the only ride in the park everyone wants to go on?”
“Yeah, you did,” Sam said, and suddenly he felt a reckless need to assert himself or something. “But from what I see, a little humility would do wonders for your personality.”
“Hey, my personality is just fine, Mr. Whatever!”
“If you ask me, it could use a little work.”
Gabriel stared at him for a long moment before barking out a loud laugh. “Hah! You got spunk, kiddo. I like you!” He turned to Dean with a flourish. “Can I keep him?”
“No,” Dean snarled.
“Can I at least borrow him and do filthy things to his body?”
Dean looked green around the gills, but had apparently made a conscious decision to be a decent human being for five minutes. “You're... gonna have to ask him. And for the love of Christ, don't say shit like that to me about my brother ever again.”
“Fair enough,” Gabriel shrugged, and turned back to Sam, his eyes warm. “So whaddya say, hot stuff? Wanna make a night of it? Work on my... personality?”
Sam snickered at the accompanying eyebrow waggle, but that didn't stop the hot curl of arousal in his gut. Gabriel's crude words did nothing to diminish the effect of his eyes, his wings and his sheer presence.
Casting a glance across the table, Sam silently gauged if Dean was okay with it. It took Dean a moment to catch on, but then he flinched and held up his hands. “Oh, uh, whatever you feel like Sammy, it's your birthday, just... don't tell me. Hell, I'll pay for the cab home, just don't tell me anything about any of this, ever, okay?”
“Unless of course you're being a jerk.”
“Shut it, bitch” Dean sniped without heat. “Just be glad I'm not already giving you The Talk, B-side. You got rubbers, right?”
“Christ, Dean,” Sam groaned, while Gabriel laughed his ass off and the redhead giggled.
Dean just leaned back, beaming. “I may not be a boyscout, but I'm always prepared.”
“You're also always a pain in my ass.”
“Comes with the big brother title, Sam. Nothing I can do about it.”
“I hate to break up this adorable moment of brotherly bonding, but am I getting lucky tonight or not?” Gabriel interjected.
Sam smiled, feeling almost giddy from how Dean was if not accepting it yet, then at least willing to work on it. “That depends on your definition of lucky, I guess.”
“You're not gonna make this easy for me, are you, kiddo?”
“Nope,” Sam said, feeling strangely bold. It might very well have something to do with the promise of orgasms in his near future, but Gabriel didn't seem to mind. If anything it made him dial up whatever it was that made the air quiver around him to full tilt. Sam had to swallow really hard at the smoldering look Gabriel sent him.
“I'm gonna go slip into something just a little bit more comfortable. There's a limo parked outside, and when I'm done I expect to find you in it. All right?”
The whole thing sounded like typical arrogant bullshit, but the question at the end softened the whole thing, and convinced Sam that as much as Gabriel put on an air of douchebag he would accept it with at least an attempt at good grace if Sam turned him down. It was really kind of intoxicating that someone like Gabriel actually cared if a nobody like Sam wanted him or not. Because holy hells, did Sam want.
“All right,” he croaked, and with a final wink, Gabriel got up and slipped back behind the stage, leaving Sam really fucking hot under the collar and Dean rolling his eyes.
“Oh my God, it's like I'm trapped in a cheap gay porno.”
“You'd know, wouldn't you?” Sam said, and grinned smugly when Dean's jaw snapped shut.
They sat for a moment without talking, the redhead angel apparently having retreated to the bar for more drinks at some point, but after only a couple of minutes Dean cleared his throat, as if gearing up to say something. Sam looked over at him, and Dean evidently decided that the big emotional shit was just not his gig.
“Oh, get in the goddamn limo!”
Sam shot him a grateful smile and dashed away, leaving Dean to most likely find his fun with their waitress.
* * *
Gabriel led the way into his apartment, which was so luxurious it probably would have had Sam dropping his jaw if he hadn't been so distracted. The limo ride had been short. Or... Sam assumed it had been short. He honestly couldn't remember, because he'd spent the entire ride torn between chuckling at Gabriel's bantering with the driver, and staring shamelessly. When Gabriel said he was going to slip into something more comfortable, Sam had sort of vaguely assumed it would be in the jeans and t-shirt category. But Gabriel's idea of comfortable was obviously somewhat different from Sam's, because the only changes he'd made to his attire was the addition of a pair of loose slacks over his stockings, and a really rather loud-patterned shirt, which Sam would be willing to bet money was pure silk.
The first few minutes Sam found himself intrigued by the design of the shirt, closing with soft knots in the back under the multiple slits for the wings. He hadn't had much direct contact with angels, and so hadn't given their clothing all that much thought. Sam knew that a lot of angels used the same clothes as humans with only minor changes, but Gabriel's additional limbs apparently required more than the average angel modifications to certain items of his wardrobe. The tank top he'd worn earlier hadn't been modified at all beyond the long slits in the back, as far as Sam had been able to tell, but Gabriel's shirt looked as unique as the man himself, and he'd sent Sam a warm quirk of a smile when he'd caught him looking.
The rest of the journey Sam's eyes had been drawn to the hem of the slacks where the stockings were visible below the cuff. He spent quite a lot of time wondering if Gabriel was still wearing the garter underneath... perhaps also the skirt? However long the ride was, Sam had been tenting his jeans magnificently for at least half of it. Gabriel had been remarkably calm about everything, and mostly chatted with the driver, giving Sam ample opportunity to look. So he did.
As soon as the door to his home slammed shut behind them, though, Gabriel was right up in Sam's space, a heated smirk on his face, hands hot as brands on Sam's hips.
“So,” Gabriel purred up at him. “You were pretty confident about your coming out back there, Sammy... but I'm willing to bet all of my money that you're not basing that on an awful lot of personal experience. Am I right?”
Sam cleared his throat, awkward at being caught out. “Well... yeah. But if you're afraid I'll chicken out–”
“Oh, no, I'd say I've got more than enough evidence that you like being here, kiddo,” Gabriel replied, glancing down with anoter lewd smirk to where Sam's jeans were still feeling way too tight and only getting tighter.
“Ah... right. But I'm totally new to this whole angel thing, though, so you're gonna have to tell me if I fuck something up with your uhm... feathers.”
“Wow, never?” Gabriel raised a single, challenging eyebrow. “You sure you can handle this much plumage for your first time?”
It was probably an effect of growing up with Dean, but nothing got Sam combat ready like a challenge, so Gabriel's words were like flipping a switch, and just like that, Sam was prepared to blow Gabriel's goddamn mind, no matter how much more experience he doubtlessly had.
“Try me,” he growled, and yanked Gabriel in for a kiss.
Gabriel let out a surprised oomph, but even while Sam licked his way inside, Gabriel never quite lost that superior smirk. It made Sam even more determined to wipe it off his face, hopefully replacing it with slack-jawed pleasure. Sam knew he was a good kisser, although perhaps a little forceful. One girl had told him once that he kissed “ferociously”, so just in case Gabriel preferred some finesse, Sam gentled the kiss. But Gabriel wasn't having that, because he pulled Sam down further by the scruff of his neck with a groan, and bit Sam's lip in obvious provocation. And okay, so Sam was perhaps a bit of a caveman sometimes when it came to sex, but Gabriel sure made a very happy noise when Sam hooked an arm under Gabriel's thigh and hoisted him up.
The wings flapped briefly while he scrabbled for purchase on Sam's hips, but then his legs locked tight, and he used his wings instead to curl over Sam's shoulders, holding himself up with them while using his hands for all kinds of other interesting things. Sam was seriously a fan of that.
Sam staggered slightly where he stood, holding Gabriel up with both hands under his ass. For someone so much shorter, Gabriel was really quite heavy, but considering the sheer power of the wings pressing down hard on his shoulders, Sam could only assume there was a lot of extra weight there. And while Sam had never cared one way or another about wings, he would be the first to admit that there were some amazing perks about them. Like how Gabriel was steadily unbuttoning Sam's shirt while hanging on him like a 200 pound burr. Whatever else the night had to offer, Sam was already impressed.
He'd had some vague idea when they first arrived that maybe Gabriel would show him around, if nothing else just to give him an idea of where the bedroom was. But for someone who presumably got as much sex as he could ever want, Gabriel was eager, almost hungry for it. Sam tried to pull his face away once or twice for some air, but Gabriel only ever let him catch the briefest of breaths before surging back in, so Sam decided to sit down instead as a way of dealing with the dizziness from lack of oxygen. Stumbling back a couple of steps, by coincidence he bumped into the edge of the couch and promptly let himself fall back flat on it.
What air he had left in his lungs was immediately lost when Gabriel landed heavily on top of him, but luckily for Sam it would seem that Gabriel took being horizontal as an invitation to mouth his way down Sam's now bared chest. So there was plenty of opportunity for breathing, although Sam almost forgot how when Gabriel's tongue reached his nipples. There was absolutely no finesse there, and if Sam had the brain cells to spare he probably would have wondered about that. But as it was, all he could do was moan when Gabriel sealed his open mouth over Sam's entire nipple and part of his pectoral muscle and sucked hard enough for blood to rush painfully to the surface.
“Fuck!” Sam yelled, and by reflex tried to move his hands from Gabriel's ass up his back, only to bump fairly hard into the wing joints half-way up. Gabriel twitched, but then unfurled his wings until they stood up straight, reaching for the enormously high ceiling which now made sense. This gave Sam access to the rest of Gabriel's back, and he happily slid his hands up past the wings, tickling along the joints curiously. It was sort of an odd experience for Sam, but what Gabriel was doing to his chest was distracting him so much he only gave it a cursory thought before going back to what he usually did at times like this. So he started pulling at Gabriel's shirt, picking at the complicated fastenings in the back.
Because motor control was somewhat beyond him at this point, Sam soon got frustrated and pulled hard, only to hear the delicate fabric tear. He froze, because there was no doubt at all that the shirt was expensive, but Gabriel didn't seem angry or even annoyed. Instead he slipped slightly lower until his hard cock lined up with Sam's and pushed them together, groaning hotly. “God, yes. Rip it off.”
Sam was not about to refuse an invitation like that, and the burst of sensation from his groin didn't exactly promote self-restraint. So one desperate pull later, the thin shirt tore to shreds and Gabriel shook off the rags as if he was shedding skin, revealing that he'd forgone the tank top when changing. And it might have been a few years since Sam's last time with a guy, but he wasted no time putting his hands on Gabriel's smooth skin. Very smooth skin, in fact. Sam found himself wondering if Gabriel was normally so hairless or if it was a choice. Considering the stage show, it may well be a business strategy.
For the moment, though, Gabriel did not seem to give much thought to any kind of business other than getting himself off. He was rubbing himself roughly against Sam, his hard cock meeting Sam's through way too many layers and thankfully it was less than a minute before Gabriel sat up, tearing at his own zipper. His wings kept him balanced and Sam watched their movements with fascination until a glimpse of red down below caught his eye. Gabriel's pants slipped open, revealing the same fiery red panties, stretched taut over his eager cock and contrasted by the off-white garter. Without even thinking about it, Sam sat up, slapped Gabriel's hands away and surged forward until Gabriel landed on his back on the other end of the couch, wings pushed crookedly into the armrest. But all Sam could see was that flash of shiny red, the darker hue in the front making it clear that Sam wasn't the only one going a little crazy.
He inched back until he could release Gabriel's legs enough to rip the pants off. One of his pumps had already disappeared at some point and the other flew away with the pants as Sam tossed them aside and bent his head to rub against Gabriel's hardness. The feeling of the sheer stockings sliding against his cheeks as Gabriel caught him between his thighs made Sam dizzy, and his hands stroked feverishly up and down the quivering lace-covered muscles as he started licking the damp satin in front of him.
Gabriel made a punched-out sound and clenched his fists in Sam's messy hair, pulling him closer. Sam happily obliged, pushing his face into the groove between thigh and groin, nosing the gap of the leg-hole, the panties clearly not made to accommodate that level of excitement.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Gabriel panted, jerking against Sam's face and almost cutting off his air supply from the pressure of his thighs. His wings shuddered behind him with a noise like crumbling paper, and Sam looked up, worried that he was squashing them.
“Wings okay?” he managed, before he was forced back down by Gabriel's strong hands.
“They're fine. My dick, though...”
“Mmpphff!” was all Sam could really say at that point, but he decided to trust that Gabriel would let him know if he was screwing things up and went back to the body part he was more acquainted with. Considering how much Gabriel was writhing and gasping, Sam assumed he was doing fine there. With trembling fingers he pulled the crotch of the panties aside, licking his lips, but remembering himself at the last moment. He cast a glance up at Gabriel who glared at him for stopping.
“Ugh, fine,” Gabriel huffed and with a frankly impressive example of fine motor control stretched out a wing and fished up his pants from the floor by a belt loop, bringing them to his hand. A quick rummage in a pocket produced a small handful of foil packets and he thrust one under Sam's nose. “My size,” he winked. “Not sure if I got something big enough for yours, though,” he added, eyes twinkling.
“Oh, don't worry, I got my own,” Sam smirked, half-relieved that the moment hadn't gotten awkward. He tore open the packet and wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Apple? Really?”
“Less talk, more blow.”
“Pushy,” Sam huffed, but he had to admit he was enormously gratified by how Gabriel shoved into his hand as he rolled the rubber on, not to mention the heartfelt groan when Sam's lips closed around the chemically taste-enhanced condom.
“Yes, Jesus fuck, yes,” Gabriel hissed, humping against Sam's mouth as much as he could, trapped as he was in the couch.
Had Sam's mouth not been currently occupied, he would have asked how Gabriel could possibly be so desperate when surely he got all the sex he could handle, but as it was, Sam was much more concerned with how his tongue fit just right under the plump head of Gabriel's dick. Sam didn't have all that much experience in this particular exercise, but he'd never gotten any complaints either, so he went at it with enthusiasm, ignoring how he would much rather be tasting the real thing rather than the horrifically fake apple.
Gabriel was shaking under Sam, and there was a slightly painful throb from his cock against denim every time Gabriel moaned. Which was all the time. Sam was going a little crazy from it, and finally had to reach down and undo his jeans. He groaned around Gabriel's cock when he got the zipper open and the pressure lessened, and Gabriel choked on a moan and yanked Sam's hair.
“Holy crap, kiddo,” Gabriel said shakily. “Unless you wanna end things right here and now, we gotta switch it up.”
“Hm?” Sam replied eloquently before he was pulled right off Gabriel's cock and shoved backwards.
“Not that my couch isn't totally awesome, but I really need you in my bed,” Gabriel purred, jumping up and pulling Sam along by his wrist, pants sliding off his hips as he stumbled along. Gabriel's stocking-clad feet made no sound on the carpeted floor and Sam felt like a lumbering oaf in comparison, boots clomping heavily. But the view of Gabriel's legs in the sheer lace topped by the somewhat crumpled panties was enough to distract Sam completely from the vaguely awkward situation of being led half-dressed through an unfamiliar apartment. And it didn't exactly get more classy when Gabriel popped off the condom and unceremoniously dropped it in a vase they passed in the hall, before turning left into an enormous bedroom.
With surprising strength, Gabriel swung Sam around by his arm until he landed on the corner of the bed and nudged at his foot until he moved further upwards.
“You'd better start stripping and getting those rubbers out, or I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands,” Gabriel said, his hands already busy undoing the garter clips. “Because I plan on getting fucked in the next five minutes or so, with or without you.”
Sam had to just stare for a moment, the mental images provided by Gabriel's words almost short-circuiting his brain. Then he went into a frenzy of movement, kicking off his boots and scrambling out of his pants and boxers, only barely remembering to pluck the rubbers from his wallet before tossing everything off the edge of the bed. Gabriel spent the time removing the garter and getting rid of the panties, but he kept the stockings on. As he stood there, his hard cock jutting shamelessly forward, all six wings spread wide and shuddering behind him, Sam was in awe of how sexy he looked.
“Jesus,” he breathed, forgetting all about how he'd been about to shrug off his open shirt, in favor of just staring.
“Ready or not...” Gabriel trailed off and Sam let the shirt be in favor of frantically ripping open the condom and rolling it on. Gabriel stepped up on the bed, hardly even out of balance as he walked on the soft mattress, his wings steadying him until he could plant his feet on either side of Sam's hips, looking down on him like a vision of erotic promise. At that moment Sam had no trouble at all understanding why people would pay an arm and a leg for the chance to be right where he was.
Bending forwards, Gabriel reached into a drawer in the headboard, leaving Sam to go almost cross-eyed from how Gabriel's cock bobbed just above him, as he rummaged around. Noticing the look on Sam's face, Gabriel winked at him before straightening up again, only to collapse gracefully onto his knees to straddle Sam's thighs, a tube of lube in his hand and a lustful smirk on his face.
“Hold onto your hat, cowboy,” Gabriel said, his voice husky, while squeezing out a dollop of lube and smearing it messily over Sam's cock, making him jump slightly from the cold.
No matter how much Sam had wondered about Gabriel's lack of finesse so far, there was no doubt at all that the easy, unhurried way Gabriel raised himself up and promptly sunk down onto Sam's cock in one smooth slide was the product of lots and lots of experience. With no need for prep or any sort of adjustment period, Gabriel started a gut-punching rhythm of thrusting, seating himself with a firm smack on every downward pass. Sam really did go cross-eyed at that, and grasped Gabriel's hips with shaking hands, desperately trying to keep himself grounded as he was being fucked. As much as he was supposedly the top in this, there was no question of exactly who was fucking who just then.
And Sam was so very okay with that state of affairs.
“Fuck!” he cried, and Gabriel chuckled low and hot as he upped the pace, wings flapping behind him, helping his thrusts along. Sam forgot all his earlier ideas about wiping the smirk off Gabriel's face, the steady blasts of pleasure from his groin rapidly wiping his brain clean of everything except the white noise of fucking. For all Sam cared, Gabriel could smirk his goddamn face off, as long as he kept riding him like that.
He pulled Gabriel down by his hips on every drop, and eventually started thrusting upwards to meet him, faster and faster, tumbling towards the edge in a desperate race to the peak. Gabriel started letting out little whimpering grunts on every exhale, but they were mostly drowned out by Sam's own louder moans. The air in the bedroom was thick with the smell of sweat and sex, sounds of flesh slapping obscenely together, all overlaid with increasingly loud noises of appreciation. Which basically meant that Sam was mindlessly chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” answered by Gabriel's indecipherable encouragement as they climbed higher together.
As he felt himself nearing the edge, Sam reached for Gabriel's cock, wanting him along with him, only to find that Gabriel's own hand was already there, and they stroked together, fingers interlacing as their eyes met.
“Yes, Sam, yes,” Gabriel panted and squeezed tight around Sam's cock.
Sam was sucked in by Gabriel's golden-swirling eyes, the soft lighting of the bedroom making it look like they were shining with some kind of internal light, and despite everything Sam knew about angels, at that moment he could so easily have believed that Gabriel really was a holy messenger from Heaven. His hair fell across his forehead, shadowing his luminous eyes, but the wings only reached up higher until the tips met, feathers shuddering with the spasms of his climax as he came in hot spurts over Sam's fingers. It might have been Sam almost blacking out from pleasure, but for a second he could have sworn there was a light behind Gabriel, forming a halo between the magnificent wings, before he had to scrunch his eyes shut and give himself over to orgasm.
He clutched Gabriel to him by the hips, arms straining as he locked them together and came hard into the condom, distantly regretful of the barrier between them.
Sam had never been with a hooker before, so he didn't exactly have a manual for post-coital behavior, but as soon as he could breathe again he reached up, pulled Gabriel down onto his chest and hugged him close. His arms caught on the wings briefly, until he figured out how to navigate around them, and Gabriel allowed him to get comfortable with an indulgent smile on his face.
“Oh, so you're a cuddler, huh?”
“Yep,” he said, not having the breath for more talking than that.
Eventually, though, Gabriel squirmed his way off and provided a few tissues for them to clean up a bit, depositing everything in a conveniently placed trash can by the bed. To Sam's surprise Gabriel scooted right back up against his side when they were done, and at his staring, Gabriel pouted at him.
“So I'm a cuddler too, shut up,” he grumbled good-naturedly and Sam felt no need to argue the point. He was feeling really comfortable in Gabriel's huge, soft bed, and a nap sounded like an awesome idea just then. But even though his eyelids were very heavy, and it didn't seem like he was about to get kicked out anytime soon, Sam's brain started picking at all the little things he'd wondered about through the evening.
“Stop that,” Gabriel said against his chest, words slightly muffled.
“Solving the problems of the universe or whatever it is that's making that gerbil of yours run so fucking fast in its wheel. You've just shot your brains out through your dick, kiddo. This is no time for thinking deep thinky thoughts.”
“Can't help it,” Sam muttered.
Gabriel sighed as it was all a great inconvenience to him. “Okay fine. Ask me then. I know everything, don't be shy.”
The opportunity for mocking that followed that statement was almost too good, but before he could stop himself Sam simply blurted out: “why me?”
“Why you, what?”
“I mean... why did you pick me? There were at least fifty people in the club who would have been better.”
“Better how?” Gabriel asked, sounding genuinely baffled.
“Richer. More experienced. Not having a jerk for a brother...”
Gabriel sat up, and Sam caught himself smiling, because Gabriel looked sort of adorable with his mockingly quirked eyebrow, his disheveled hair, and his wings crooked sideways as if they couldn't help but mimic the movement of his face.
“I see we've got a bit of a communication failure going on here. First of all, you're not a client.”
“No. I might be a whore, but even whores can pick up a one-night-stand just for kicks, you know.”
“Okay,” Sam frowned. “But you happened to be working when you picked me up. How would I know the difference?”
“Maybe because I said you didn't have to pay?”
“Technically you said I could pay with sex,” Sam pointed out.
“Hmm. Good point. And you paid in full. In fact,” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows, “I think I still need to give you your change.” He leaned in for a kiss and Sam just lay there baffled for a second before sputtering out a laugh.
“Wow, that was really cheesy,” he snorted.
“Yeah, it was, and you totally loved it.”
Sam shrugged. “Well... maybe a little bit,” he admitted and pulled Gabriel in for a better kiss. Just as he was sort of getting into it, Gabriel sighed against his lips.
“You're still doing it.”
“The thinky thing. If you're still confused about the whole not-being-a-client issue, then for the record I give your performance a solid eight. And your dear brother was fucking hilarious, so it was really no skin off my nose.”
“An eight, huh?”
“Don't get too cocky, sport. At least two of those points were for sheer enthusiasm.”
“Still an eight. From a professional bed warmer,” Sam crowed, making Gabriel roll his eyes. “Speaking of which... can I ask you something?” Sam continued.
“Sure,” Gabriel shrugged. “This is already post-coitus 20 questions, so lay it on me!”
“I was just wondering... you have sex for a living... why would you even want one-night-stands? I mean, don't you already get all the action you could possibly want?”
Gabriel pursed his lips, apparently thinking it over. But before offering an answer, he smoothly swung a leg over Sam and planted himself on top of him, squirming in an increasingly interesting way to get his naked self comfortable. As deflections went, Sam thought it was excellent. But eventually Gabriel did settle down and fixed Sam with a complex sort of look.
“I haven't had sex in almost a year,” he said bluntly, not sounding very regretful.
“You've... been out of the business?” Sam asked, baffled.
“Hah, no. No, I've just scaled down on the bed warming and dialed up the stage shows. Add a bit of escort service and the occasional web cam session and I'm still bringing home the bacon. Oh and wing modeling, too.”
“Yep. Even for an archangel, I have got some high end plumage,” Gabriel nodded seriously, although there was a glint in his eye.
“Are you messing with me?” Sam laughed.
“Nope. Swear to God. That weird-ass Pepsi Max commercial from last month with the faceless angel chorus? That was me at the top of the angel pile.”
“Oh yeah. And you wouldn't believe the crapload of merchandise they threw at me during filming. If you need any office supplies or bobble heads or fucking beach balls with Pepsi Max logos on them, I can set you up for life.”
Sam laughed and Gabriel's smile softened into something with more warmth. Something that made Sam's stomach do flip-flops until Gabriel looked away.
“So yeah, I've been selling my ass, but not the way I used to. Besides, these days people are more likely to pay for the wings than the body attached to them. But that's just about what anyone in this business can expect on this side of thirty,” he concluded lightly. “Once your looks start to go, you start looking for other avenues of income.”
“If it's any consolation,” Sam said quietly, “I don't think your looks have gone anywhere.”
Gabriel smiled again crookedly, as his eyes drifted back to Sam's. “I'll let you in on a little secret, kiddo. The fact that you looked at my ass instead of my wings was pretty much the main reason I picked you. Plenty of people in that room would have been jizzing themselves to pay for a good wing grope, but you... you seemed to forget they were there half the time. It's been a while since someone saw... well... me.”
Gnawing his lip, Sam thought back on the night. The way the air had been heavy between them, Gabriel's captivating eyes, the oddly desperate sex and now surprisingly intimate sharing. Urged on by the swooping feeling in his gut, Sam decided to go out on a limb. “Would I be breaking some kind of unwritten rule of one-night-stands if I said I'd like to see you some more?”
“Other than making it not-a-one-night-stand? No, don't think so,” Gabriel chuckled. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well...” Sam trailed off, but then decided to lay his cards on the table. “I don't have any plans for tomorrow...”
Gabriel's smile widened, transforming his entire face with unmasked joy. “Well, would you look at that. You do now!”
“Awesome,” Sam said happily before rolling them over, squashing Gabriel's wings into the bed and kissing the smile off his face.