Gabriel was in Heaven, figuratively speaking. Sam knew because of the expression of pure bliss on the angel’s face and the fact that he hadn’t uttered a single word in the last one and a half minutes. Gabriel always talked. Even when his mouth was full, he either spoke around the obstruction or talked mind to mind with Sam.
“So,” Sam said finally, biting back a grin, “who said I can’t pick a nice spot for a date?”
“Buy me some cotton candy,” Gabriel demanded as if he hadn’t heard the question or took it to be rhetorical, which, okay, it was.
“Jerk,” Sam replied, but he did spring for the cotton candy, and roasted almonds, and a taffy apple or three. And some popcorn.
“Okay,” Gabriel announced magnanimously, as they made their way past several attractions, laden down with a rapidly diminishing pile of candy. “You might not be totally hopeless.”
Sam huffed but leaned down to steal a kiss from Gabriel, just as the angel popped an almond into his mouth. After a brief battle of tongues, Sam had not only stolen the kiss but the piece of candy as well. Gabriel glared at him. “That was mine.”
“No one ever taught you that 'sharing is caring'?” It was entirely possible that Sam was smirking, slightly.
“Is it?” Gabriel asked innocently, tilting his head to the side and, uh-oh, Sam knew that smile; it was the smile the Trickster wore when he’d just thought of something delightfully wicked (delightful for Gabriel, that was).
The angel raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
“You‘re really quite ungrateful, you know that,” Gabriel commented, pulling out a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, and yeah, of course, it was Sam’s wallet. He handed a bill to the girl in the booth and curiously examined the chip he received in return.
Sam chose not to deign that with an answer.
“I mean, here I am, sharing my body with you, and what do you do? You sulk.”
“This whole literal-mindedness is an angelic thing, isn’t it?”
Instead of saying something in return, Gabriel pulled the taffy apple out of wherever he had stashed it when he snapped Sam into his mind and took a bite. The sweet-sour-sweet flavour burst across Sam’s -- Gabriel’s -- Sam’s senses, blowing his mind. It was the most delicious thing Sam had ever tasted, and now he was kind of glad that he wasn’t in control of this body because he couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t, have stifled a pornographic moan. “God!”
“Mmm,” Gabriel replied, chewing slowly, as he walked towards the nearest free passenger car of the Ferris Wheel and settled into it. Sam was a little too busy with experiencing food via an archangel’s vessel’s taste buds to notice Gabriel handing back the chip or the Ferris Wheel starting to turn. It wasn’t until Gabriel flicked the apple core away that Sam became capable of coherency once more.
“That’s not normal, that level of intensity, is it? Castiel doesn’t-”
“Castiel, like most of my brothers, chooses to block the sensory input he gets from his vessel,” Gabriel answered. “I like to enhance it.” He stuck a caramel-coated finger into his mouth and began sucking on it. And licking. Then he moved on to the next one. By the time he tongued at his third finger, Sam orgasmed with his mind, inside Gabriel’s head; he wouldn‘t have thought it possible -- if he’d ever even thought of such a thing at all.
“Guh,” Sam said, finding he had reached an entirely new level of respect for Gabriel’s self-control.
Gabriel looked down at his lap, drawing Sam’s attention to the feel of a desperate hard-on. “What do you say, Sammy? Wanna take care of that for me?” The archangel didn’t wait for a reply, handing the reins over to Sam the next moment. It was strange being in control again, stranger even being in control of a body that was not his, though Sam did have some prior experience with that. He took a moment to look around, taking in the breath-stealing view of a world bathed in the light of the setting sun and seen through the eyes of an angel. Even though Gabriel had to be curbing his purely angelic senses -- there was no way Sam’s mind would be able to handle perceiving the world that way; he was having enough trouble coping with the enhanced human ones -- Sam was stunned by the sheer beauty of it. He breathed in deep, losing himself in the feel of the wind on his face and the smell of -- okay, the smell of gasoline sucked.
“You done?” Gabriel asked, drawing his attention back to the feel of his, Gabriel’s, arousal. “I mean, I can keep us up here indefinitely, but sooner or later, they’re gonna stop trying to repair the controls and just call the rescue squad. And I’d like to have gotten off before that.”
“You jammed the...” Yeah, of course, he would have. Sam sighed. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Your hand. My dick. Now.”
Sam chose not argue semantics or appropriate usage of possessive pronouns; he had a feeling he’d just confuse himself, and he couldn’t really give a damn at the moment anyway. Reaching for the buttons, he freed Gabriel’s, their, cock from the constriction of the jeans they were wearing -- Gabriel, as always, was going commando -- and rubbed a thumb over the head, and whoops, yep, that was most definitely Gabriel keeping this body from coming right then and there. Sam moaned. “You’re a sadist.”
“Hey, I’m along for the ride here. That totally makes me a masochist.”
“Shuddup.” He tightened his grip, meaning to move his hand up and down, but his hips had other ideas and started to jerk almost immediately. His left hand shot towards the metal bar, gripping it tight, an anchor to the world beyond the slew of sensations. Sam’s hips kept jerking, and he lost himself in the motion, in the feeling; in the sheer fucking agony of it because Gabriel was still keeping them from coming, son of a bitch. But then the wind changed direction and blew over the head that was slick and wet with precome, and even Gabriel didn’t have that much self-control. Sam? Was gone.
It was a good thing, he thought later, that he was sharing this body with someone else because that way it didn’t slump over, cock exposed, when he lost consciousness. Gabriel had taken over once more and was cleaning them up, licking come off his hand, instead of just snapping his fingers, of course, because if he had to name one Gabriel-specific kink, Sam would say ‘oral fixation’. Now he kind of understood why, though. When his fingers were squeaky-clean, Gabriel snapped them, fixing his clothes. Sam, who was still sort of groggy, finally noticed that he didn’t seem to be getting as much sensory input as he should. He was kind of grateful for that since he felt like his brain, mind, was going to fry -- if it hadn’t already.
The gondula gave a sudden jerk and started moving again resulting in a cheer from somewhere below, and Sam had to fight down his embarrassment.
“You’re cute,” Gabriel said, flicking his eyes towards the bar in front of them, “and enthusiastic. I like it.” Sam took in the deformed metal, as Gabriel helpfully wrapped his left hand around it. It fit perfectly. Shit.
The gondula was halfway down already, Sam noticed, feeling flustered but also strangely giddy. “Fix it,” he hissed urgently, forgetting for a moment that a) no one else could hear him, and b) that no one would suspect, or even believe, how this had happened.
Gabriel’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Nope,” he said, sticking a lollipop into his mouth and leaning back. A moment later, Sam was sitting beside him in his own body, blinking. Gabriel briefly patted his knee, then his crotch. “It’s a sign of how much we both enjoyed ourselves, big boy.”
The brief pressure of Gabriel’s hand turned out to be enough to rouse his interest apparently, and Sam’s cock let him know that, while Sam’s mind had been sated, his body certainly hadn’t had any release; oh, and Sam should rectify this asap, thank you very much. Sam cursed quietly as the gondula came to a sudden halt.
“Everything alright with you?” The girl from the booth appeared before them, giving them a concerned look. Then she noticed the bar and frowned in confusion before pushing it up. Sam blushed bright red.
“Yep,” Gabriel grinned at her, hopping down and sauntering towards the exit. He turned back around, letting his gaze drop towards...well. “You coming, Sambo?”
Son of a bitch.