Cotton Candy
Title: Cotton Candy
Author: bballgirl3022
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Dean
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or make money from this fanfiction.
Summary: Gabriel makes a mess, of Sam.
Word Count: 384
Notes: Written for Porn Battle XII. Prompt: Sam/Gabriel, Candy
Thanks to moonofblindness of the beta work. All other mistakes are my own.
Cotton Candy
The giant bag of cotton candy was half gone when Sam took his first break from researching. Gabriel was lounging on the bed watching some silly television show that to Sam held no value whatsoever. He was alternating between stuffing his mouth full of the sweet fluff and licking sticky residue from his fingers. Gabriel was, first and foremost, a tease. He knew exactly what to do to push Sam’s buttons and distract him from whatever he was doing.
This was one of those times. Dean had left hours ago for some seedy bar to down his sorrows in booze and women, leaving Sam to do all the work. Again.
“You can stop staring anytime now Sammy. Unless,” he said before snapping himself into Sam’s lap, “there’s something you want.” Gabriel didn’t give Sam a chance to tell him he was busy and wasn’t in the mood for the archangel’s shenanigans before Gabriel’s mouth was hot and insistent on Sam’s.
Gabriel’s mouth tasted of a mixture of cherry and blueberry. It was overly sweet and befitted an archangel who ate his weight in sugary substances on a daily basis. Sam didn’t indulge on stuff that was bound to rot his teeth, but he splurged on his saccharine flavored angel.
Their clothes were zapped away. Sam spent a moment relishing in the feel of Gabriel’s smooth, warm skin, teasing all the spots that made the archangel moan and arch against him before Sam was buried deep in the tight heat that was his lover. Gabriel’s sticky fingers were everywhere; in his hair matting the strands together, which was going to be bother in the morning, and roving over his skin leaving sticky smears as marks of possession.
It seemed like they’d been at it for hours before the hunter grunted and filled the archangel astride him, who promptly stilled and broke a lamp prior to muffling his pleasured sounds against the sweat, slicked skin of Sam’s shoulder. Sam made a sound, but he wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a chuckle or a protest to Gabriel’s weight pressing him into the couch.
Hours later Dean returned, complained the room reeks of sex, and passed out on the bed. Sam merely rolled his eyes and continued reading the dusty tome Gabriel, quite helpfully, provided.