twentysomething

Title: What I Need Is A Good Defense

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: AlwaysAGirl!Sam/Gabriel

Summary: "She supposes unto every apocalypse there must be some sacrifices made, but she wishes it wasn't always her underwear."

Length: 2700 wordsish

Warnings: Just, unrelenting banging. Boning. Etc.

Notes: I was bitching to merelyn that the internets were being recalcitrant and terrible about indulging my needs- ie, Girl!Sam and Gabriel getting it on like Donkey Kong- and I whined and whined, and then I wrote some porn and tricked her into betaing it, too. <3, kisses, baby. Title from Fiona Apple's "Criminal," which I listened to on repeat while writing this.


Sam has had it up to here with the supernatural.

This is the fifth bra this month that's been totally screwed up to hell- the first broke a strap when a witch sliced at her shoulder with a knife, the second broke an underwire when she was getting crushed under a tombstone, the third was lost to ichor, as was the fourth. And now, half the contents of her bag including her last really good bra are trapped in a time loop spell in Jackson, Mississippi, almost three states away.

Sam tucks her towel around her a little more securely, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes as she bends over her duffel. She's checking in a vain, terrible hope that she has some secret bra she's forgotten about in the very, very bottom of the bag- but nope, just the old one that's half a cup size too small and sports bras. Sam supposes she could just throw one of those on, but if she wears the regular bra she feels like a skanky whore most of the day, trying to keep her breasts where they belong, and they're in Texas. If she wears the sports bra, she'll have gross boob sweat in a matter of minutes after stepping outside.

She supposes unto every apocalypse there must be some sacrifices made, but she wishes it wasn't always her underwear.

"You know, there's a really simple solution to this," a very familiar voice whispers in her ear. Sam hates it when he doesn't even make the weird not-noise that Cas does when he pops in and out of a room. Gabriel runs a finger down her neck, trailing from right behind her ear toward her spine. "Just don't wear anything."

Sam snorts and tells herself she's not arching her neck to give him better access.

"That could cause a couple of problems," she demurs and Gabriel chuckles, low and pleased, into the freckled skin on her shoulder.

"I like problems. You should let me have them," Gabriel says, quiet, dirty encouragement she really doesn't need clear in his voice. Sam hums agreement, because Gabriel does like problems- Gabriel is a problem.

He had shown up five miles down the road from Motel Hell, asking for his porno back and telling them to drive to Louisiana to go get Cas, and he's been with them since then. Sam's not sure why she started sleeping with him, but she likes to pretend that she keeps doing it just because the sex is really, really, really good.

Dean is out coddling Cas at a diner now, probably telling him that the upside of needing to eat is pie. They won't be back for hours and Sam can already feel herself getting wet.

"I don't know, I already make this pretty easy on you. If I don't even make you take my clothes off, how can I look myself in the eye?" Sam asks, teasing, like she never was with Brady or Justin- or Ruby- and she's sort of amused and alarmed that this is what he brings out in her personality, this coyness, this eagerness. Gabriel scrapes his teeth softly against the smooth skin of her neck, just enough to make her shiver.

"Are you calling yourself easy, Sammy? This room is a no slut-shaming zone," Gabriel says, absent-sounding as he skates his fingers around a bruise on her arm that suddenly just isn't there anymore. "After all, Dean's sleeping here too." Sam huffs something that's half-laugh, half-annoyance. She finally turns her head, the tip of her nose just millimeters from his cheek.

"Do you really want to talk about Dean right now, or do you want to fuck me?" she asks. She knows she doesn't have to, but she still puts on just a little bit of a show, letting her towel slip just so, her thighs, the curve of her breasts on display as she leans back, perched on the edge of the bed. Sam took her time with the shower- shaving carefully, spending almost ten minutes rubbing lotion into every inch of her skin, using the good stuff she scrimps for and splurges on- and objectively she can say she's so smooth, so soft, that she would want to touch her, too.

Gabriel looks at her like he wants to make her scream and frankly, she's not opposed to the idea, not at all.

"Well, with an offer like that," Gabriel says. Suddenly Sam is flat on her back, head resting on the formerly cheap motel pillows, and under her palms the sheets feel like Egyptian cotton. Sam only knows what that feels like because Gabriel believes in creature comforts.

"Really, phenomenal cosmic powers and this is what you do with them," she says, something like fond and exasperated, because really, that combination is Gabriel all over. Gabriel smiles, wicked and inviting, and she's sure about the sheets now, because she's naked.

"No, this is what I do with them," Gabriel purrs, smug, and oh God, he's sitting on her hips. The denim feels rough and so good against her skin.

It feels like every inch of her is hypersensitive, just waiting to see what he'll do. Maybe he'll put his hands on her, use his long, slim fingers to stroke against her breasts, slip them inside her to feel how wet she is, how tight and hot. Maybe he'll lean down and put his mouth to good use, suck ridiculous, biting kisses that will turn into hickeys on her neck, her breasts, the soft, responsive skin where her thigh meets her hip. Or maybe he'll lick her open, pressing his stupidly talented tongue where she wants him, until she's shaking and begging and promising filthy things just for a little more of anything.

Gabriel freezes.

"That's not fair," he grits out. Sam blinks, then laughs, because that serves him right for reading her mind.

"You know what they say about eavesdropping," she says cheerfully, because oh, yes, he's going to fuck her six ways from Sunday.

"That's the plan," Gabriel agrees and then he does lean down, but to devour her mouth. The feeling of him, fully clothed against her makes Sam feel kind of slutty, but in a good way- like he wants her so bad he doesn't even want to waste time getting himself undressed. It makes her feel powerful and like her body has more use, more power than just a vessel. Gabriel bites at her mouth.

"Stop thinking," he growls, his hands coming between then to roughly cup her breasts, rubbing his thumb against her nipple, hard. Sam gasps.

"Make me," she dares him, because she's only kind of in the mood for teasing. Gabriel laughs and pulls her hair out of its loose bun, running his hands into the stubbornly messy strands- tugging just enough that she arches into it. He doesn't even bother to snap, his clothes are just gone and the heat of skin on skin makes Sam feel like she's on fire.

He leaves one hand on her breast. The faint sheen of sex-related sweat she can already feel gathering beneath her collar bones, behind her knees, makes his hand skid and shift. His other hand snakes down her stomach, just this side of ticklish, until he parts her folds with a questioning finger. Sam can feel his smug smile pressed into her neck as his hand slips and slides against her pussy, pushing two fingers inside her with practiced ease. Sam wants to raise her hips, arch into it, but Gabriel's solid weight keeps her pressed into the mattress.

"You're not going anywhere," he says. He can do it- he can hold her down, make her beg for it like no one else probably could, and he's going to. That, more than anything else makes her moan, too loud, already throaty and hoarse with want. Gabriel lifts his head to grin at her, sharp and knowing. He twists her nipple almost too hard, but she likes that, the dull throb and clench of her around his fingers, giving her away. He just smiles wider and leans over to lay kiss after hot, wet kiss over the same nipple, not like an apology, because really, she likes it a little too rough, pulling a little too hard. He could break her with a thought, but that makes it better.

Sam detaches a hand from where it's threatening to claw the sheets apart, thinking that maybe it's time she got a little of her own back, but Gabriel just fixes her with a look and draws both of her hands over her head. The stretch is delicious, and the message is clear. She wraps her hands around the slats of the headboard and holds on. He leans back, eyes roaming over her body, proprietary and pleased, then frowns, bending down to suck two bruising kisses to the top of her other breast. Sam rolls her eyes; Gabriel has this thing about biting, about using his lips and teeth to leave all these tender little marks all over her body. Sometime soon Sam will accidentally knock the edge of a table with her hip and go beet red, remembering Gabriel lavishing his attention on the same spot hours, days earlier.

"And don't you forget it, babe," he mumbles and really, the extra bite to her collarbone, where Tuesday's hickey was just starting to fade, is overkill. He scissors his fingers inside her- quick and greedy- it aches and isn't enough all at the same time. Gabriel's thumb presses snugly under her clit, rubs in smooth little circles that make her feel feverish- too hot and shaky- and when he kisses her she can barely breathe.

"More," Sam rasps out. He just mutters an amused, "Pushy," into the fraction of space between them before pushing another finger deep inside her. Sam comes, sobbing out harsh hiccups of air as her body clamps down like a vice. Her body is shuddering, weak little tremors that make her feel like all her bones have turned to jelly and she doesn't think she's ever going to be able to move again. Gabriel laughs against the skin of her stomach. The vibrations make her knees clench involuntarily toward each other, like an aftershock.

"Oh, honey, I haven't even started yet," he says, and oh God, he might actually kill her with sex. Gabriel oozes down her sweaty, slick, fucked-out body. Even though she knows it's coming the first swipe of his tongue against her sopping pussy is like lightning down her spine. Sam is sort of concerned that while women are programmed for multiple orgasms- and she's thankful for that, really- they weren't programmed for orally-fixated archangels, either.

Gabriel just hums happily, fucking sighs against her, like he could do this all day- and she doesn't put it past him, not at all- licking her clean like any number of his gooey, caramel-covered desserts and she's sort of freaking herself out with her analogies here.

"I can hear you thinking up there, Sam," Gabriel sing-songs, like a threat, like he's going to have to fuck that out of her and she shivers all over, eyelids fluttering closed.

She keeps them closed, tossing her head back and forth in the pillows, blindly wrapping her hands back around the headboard rail more tightly. He's relentless, running his tongue over her in precise top-to-bottom stripes, again and again. There's just so much sensation that she tries to focus on her breathing to hang on, to ride it out. Her shaky gasps turn into hitching moans that Gabriel rewards with the press of his mouth to her clit, sucking and licking against it. Even with her eyes shut, rainbow-colored spots scatter across the darkness.

It doesn't help that the noises coming from between her legs are wet and obscene and her mind is filling in the blanks for her: Gabriel, soft brown hair sticking into sweaty sections, his mouth shiny and red and seriously, he doesn't even come up for air. Her climax sneaks up on her, and all of a sudden her eyes fly open, her heart stops and she screams like she's in cheap porn. Gabriel just keeps going. Luckily for him, he's already holding her legs open with an iron grip, because it's like a double whammy and she would have concussed him, boxed his ears with the force of the orgasm ripping through her body.

After what seems like an hour of just shaking apart under Gabriel's familiar weight, he slides up to face her, mouth just as ruined and slick as she imagined. When he kisses her she can taste herself on his lips. Sam cries out, soft and sudden with surprise, as he presses a still-wet finger against her neck, where she presumes a bruise is already turning pale purple. And really, she's maybe 15 minutes from passing the fuck out, but she hasn't even touched him yet, and that's not fair.

"What do you," Sam manages, her chest heaving still, pressing her tender breasts against Gabriel's chest. "What do you need?" Gabriel frowns, like maybe he was just going to let her fall asleep while he took care of himself or goddamn willed it away, but she can feel his dick, hot and desperate against her. She snorts inelegantly.

"Such a martyr," she mumbles, and before he can say anything, rolls herself on top of him, grabbing and pushing at his shoulders to keep herself upright. Gabriel smirks.

"For a good cause," he says, but it trails off into a groan as she guides him into her pussy. Really, after two- and like, a half- of the best orgasms she's had in her life, it's the least she can do. And anyway, as good as the rest of it felt- and it felt good- there's something about having him inside her, the way she stretches and aches around him, that's finally enough. As tired as Sam is, the way Gabriel's eyes roll back in his head as she rocks her hips against him makes her feel her feel just as helplessly aroused as when they started. It maybe makes her just a little bit crazy, because she rakes her nails over his chest, hard enough to make him hiss.

"That all you got, babe?" she shoots back and oh, she's going to walk funny for a week, but it's worth it when his eyes narrow and he flips them roughly. The effortless, supernatural strength that pins her down to the mattress makes her breathe a little harder. Gabriel doesn't even answer, he just growls and slams into her, hard enough to make the bed frame shriek in protest and make Sam moan and beg for it. She wraps her arms under his, stretching her hands along Gabriel's shoulder blades. Sam feels the muscles move under his skin as he holds himself up, hands splayed on either side of her head. She's clutching at him, stretching so she can get a hand in his hair. Sam tugs his head back so she can rise up and suck one of Gabriel's greedy, sharp kisses into his neck. Maybe there won't even be a mark or it'll fade before anyone else can see it, but she'll know she tried.

Gabriel's hips stutter in their fierce rhythm and Sam smiles, because she's got him now.

When Sam realizes she's on the cusp of another orgasm she's almost incredulous, but Sam's not one to look a gift orgasm in the mouth. Her chest feels tense, too tight, and she exhales a breath she didn't realize she was holding and comes again, whispering filthy promises she didn't even know she wanted to keep against the side of Gabriel's face, pulling him tight to her as she tells him to just come inside her, to come in her pussy. Gabriel chokes and sags against her as his body shakes over Sam's, finally- well, she hopes- sated.

"For now," he agrees, voice totally shot to hell and so pleased against her neck, smirking as he runs a hand up Sam's side. When he finally pulls out Sam can already feel how bad she's going ache tomorrow. The smile that creeps across her face can probably best be described as “satisfied.“




The next morning when Sam reaches into her bag for a clean pair of underwear she finds several bras folded neatly on top with an orange post-it note under them. Written in terrible, predictable, huge chicken-scratch is: "If you feel you must."

Sam laughs and laughs.