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Just What The Doctor Ordered

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Sam felt absolutely boneless. Fucked out, tired, and completely content to lie in Gabriel’s bed for the rest of the day. The familiar click and hiss of Gabriel opening the can burst his bubble, and he groaned loudly.

“Seriously?” he asked from where he was sprawled face down on the bed.

It was a really fucking soft bed. God he loved Gabriel’s house. And bed. And sex. But he didn’t love the archangel’s habit of drinking fucking Dr Pepper directly after sex. That was taking the sweet tooth way too far.

“America’s most misunderstood drink.” Gabriel laughed in answer to Sam’s half-hearted grumpy thoughts. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. And to try it is to love it.”

Sam just muttered discontentedly into the pillow, and snuggled in for a nap.

 

The bouncy ball of afterglow plonked back onto the bed, snuggling up to Sam with can in hand.

“Really,” Sam protested half-heartedly. “It makes you taste weird,” he complained, throwing an arm over Gabriel’s stomach.

“I taste out of the ordinary, like you,” the angel replied with a giggle.

 

“Holy shit,” Sam huffed a surprised laugh, staring at his reflection.

He was fucking shocked. Sure, he’d given the go-ahead, but this was fucking ridiculous. When he finally looked up from the bruises marking his neck and shoulder he caught the Gabriel’s smug grin in the mirror. The archangel was leaning casually against the doorframe, watching him possessively. God knows how someone could look possessive while opening a can of Dr fucking Pepper, but he managed.

“Just what the doctor ordered.”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly. Dick.

 

“Trust me, I’m a doctor,” Gabriel purred in his ear.

And suddenly Sam felt stupid.

Of course. It literally wasn’t until Gabriel had him tied to the headboard, blind folded, stuffed full of a vibrator and ordered not to come, that Sam realised what his boyfriend had been doing. The doctor comment was the last straw, the last puzzle piece clicking into place as he recognised the words. His little exclamation of surprise was punctured by a pained, drawn out moan. He’d been there for hours, it wasn’t time for annoying revelations like exactly what all the weird comments about his boyfriend’s terrible taste in drinks actually meant.

“You’ve been quoting fucking Dr Pepper slogans this whole time?” he asked, with a voice too shaky to manage irritation.

Gabriel burst out laughing, hands pausing where they’d been teasing up and down Sam’s sides for the past ten minutes.

“You realised!” he said in delight, something akin to pride in his voice. “Finally! I think this deserves a reward, eh, Sammy?”

A light click in the background was all the warning Sam got before the vibrator came into direct contact with his prostate for the first time all night, switching up from ‘painfully almost there’ to ‘holy fucking god.’ His head slammed into a pillow as he was seized by the most sudden, glorious orgasm he’d ever had in his life.

Holy fucking hell.

He had no idea how long he’d been lying face down on the bed this time. Gabriel’s hands were tracing light patterns on his back, the archangel patiently waiting for him to come to.

“I think you killed me,” Sam mumbled.

Gabriel’s little snicker conveyed his smug smirk just as if Sam could see it.

“The Dr knows the right touch,” he said, and again Sam recognised the slogan.

He just groaned.

“You’re fucking weird,” he muttered.

“You love it,” Gabriel replied cheerfully, deciding that Sam clearly wasn’t going to get up, and slumping forward to snuggle into Sam’s back.

Sam kind of definitely did.