[fic] aaaaa
Title: aaaaa
Genre: Horror
Pairing/Characters: extremely unrequited Sam/Gabriel; Sam, Gabriel
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~600
Warnings: gore, implied character death, cannibalism.
Summary: They just don't make sacrifices like they used to.
Notes: Five years ago you wouldn't have caught me dead looking sideways at Sam/Gabriel...but.....when you have friends like needsmoreyellow.......it's hard not to fall down the rabbit hole. We seem to have a mutual appreciation for Gabriel eating human flesh. <3
“Gonna be okay, kiddo.”
He can't feel his limbs anymore. Just the tension of the ropes around his wrists and ankles stretching him out spread-eagle. Naked. Freezing. Absolutely vulnerable. Just the chill of the marble underneath him, the deep, searing pain in his stomach.
“Promise.”
The hand pushing into his intestines is warm. He can feel it searching upward for-something. His mouth is open, eyelids shuttering. He can't see anything except the blurred shape of Gabriel's face, can't feel anything except the hand in his guts and the hand pushing his hair back from his sweat-soaked blood-soaked forehead. Gentle. Real gentle.
“I mean, you gotta take what they give you. You know? Man's gotta eat.”
He hears a rib snapping, sees the white flash of it being pulled out, dropped onto the altar next to him. Can feel his lungs fluttering, exposed to the air. Cold. Very cold.
“Or god. I guess.”
He knows there's a story behind it, how he got here, why he's like this, why this is happening, why this one-time ally hovering above him, picking through tendons and organs like a connoisseur searching for the best cuts of meat, isn't doing anything to help him. Knows that's all there but can't think about it. Rolls his eyes up to the top of their sockets, vaguely wondering if he could see his brain exposed. But he supposes Gabriel's not there yet.
“You get so hungry after a couple thousand years.”
Oh, God. It's his liver, or part of it, in Gabriel's hand. His nails jammed into it, raw dark meat squeezed in his fingers. He lifts it to his mouth, eats it delicately, like something special.
“They just don't make sacrifices like they used to.”
His fingers almost tickle when they run along the carved-out cut-open edges of his stomach, the flayed skin pulled back from his ribs. His breathing is ragged and horrible and tastes like blood. Everything, blood. His eyes hurt. Jaw trying to work, voice trying to come up, nothing. Gabriel's hands, perfect comfort at his temple, searching upward for his heart.
“You don't blame me, right? I mean, I couldn't say no to you. ”
Of course you couldn't. He hurts too much to be anything but shocked. Cold sharp fingernails scraping his ribs, peeling meat away, sinew, muscle, grasping, looking. The best part. Prime cut. Essence, soul.
“For the record-”
Detour: punctured lung. He feels air rushing out of him. Wheezes, coughs. Gabriel's voice, hushing him, Gabriel's hand, running a gentle finger over his lower lip, smearing blood. Smearing tears away from his face. Real gentle. Apologetic.
“-you taste fantastic, kid.”
Oh. There it is. The wrenching beneath his breastbone. Makes him gasp. He can hear muscle ripping, feel the tension in Gabriel's arm, the vice-grip of his hand around his heart, beating fast, beating horrified, like an animal struggling for escape.
“Don't worry. Just relax.”
He hadn't expected it to feel so much like a rip.
“I'll make sure you get where you're going.”
There it is. Bigger than he'd expected, and ruby-red. Gabriel's arm drenched. He leans close, lets him see it: he'd never imagined such a piece of meat, ribbed and veined, his vision is spotting, mouth gasping, lungs collapsing.
“You're doing a great job.”
Cold, real cold, real gentle.
“Doing so good, Sam.”
Maybe a kiss. Doesn't know. Going fast. Sees teeth. Eyes shuddering. Limp. Choking. Sees him: bite.
“Thank you.”
Genre: Horror
Pairing/Characters: extremely unrequited Sam/Gabriel; Sam, Gabriel
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~600
Warnings: gore, implied character death, cannibalism.
Summary: They just don't make sacrifices like they used to.
Notes: Five years ago you wouldn't have caught me dead looking sideways at Sam/Gabriel...but.....when you have friends like needsmoreyellow.......it's hard not to fall down the rabbit hole. We seem to have a mutual appreciation for Gabriel eating human flesh. <3
“Gonna be okay, kiddo.”
He can't feel his limbs anymore. Just the tension of the ropes around his wrists and ankles stretching him out spread-eagle. Naked. Freezing. Absolutely vulnerable. Just the chill of the marble underneath him, the deep, searing pain in his stomach.
“Promise.”
The hand pushing into his intestines is warm. He can feel it searching upward for-something. His mouth is open, eyelids shuttering. He can't see anything except the blurred shape of Gabriel's face, can't feel anything except the hand in his guts and the hand pushing his hair back from his sweat-soaked blood-soaked forehead. Gentle. Real gentle.
“I mean, you gotta take what they give you. You know? Man's gotta eat.”
He hears a rib snapping, sees the white flash of it being pulled out, dropped onto the altar next to him. Can feel his lungs fluttering, exposed to the air. Cold. Very cold.
“Or god. I guess.”
He knows there's a story behind it, how he got here, why he's like this, why this is happening, why this one-time ally hovering above him, picking through tendons and organs like a connoisseur searching for the best cuts of meat, isn't doing anything to help him. Knows that's all there but can't think about it. Rolls his eyes up to the top of their sockets, vaguely wondering if he could see his brain exposed. But he supposes Gabriel's not there yet.
“You get so hungry after a couple thousand years.”
Oh, God. It's his liver, or part of it, in Gabriel's hand. His nails jammed into it, raw dark meat squeezed in his fingers. He lifts it to his mouth, eats it delicately, like something special.
“They just don't make sacrifices like they used to.”
His fingers almost tickle when they run along the carved-out cut-open edges of his stomach, the flayed skin pulled back from his ribs. His breathing is ragged and horrible and tastes like blood. Everything, blood. His eyes hurt. Jaw trying to work, voice trying to come up, nothing. Gabriel's hands, perfect comfort at his temple, searching upward for his heart.
“You don't blame me, right? I mean, I couldn't say no to you. ”
Of course you couldn't. He hurts too much to be anything but shocked. Cold sharp fingernails scraping his ribs, peeling meat away, sinew, muscle, grasping, looking. The best part. Prime cut. Essence, soul.
“For the record-”
Detour: punctured lung. He feels air rushing out of him. Wheezes, coughs. Gabriel's voice, hushing him, Gabriel's hand, running a gentle finger over his lower lip, smearing blood. Smearing tears away from his face. Real gentle. Apologetic.
“-you taste fantastic, kid.”
Oh. There it is. The wrenching beneath his breastbone. Makes him gasp. He can hear muscle ripping, feel the tension in Gabriel's arm, the vice-grip of his hand around his heart, beating fast, beating horrified, like an animal struggling for escape.
“Don't worry. Just relax.”
He hadn't expected it to feel so much like a rip.
“I'll make sure you get where you're going.”
There it is. Bigger than he'd expected, and ruby-red. Gabriel's arm drenched. He leans close, lets him see it: he'd never imagined such a piece of meat, ribbed and veined, his vision is spotting, mouth gasping, lungs collapsing.
“You're doing a great job.”
Cold, real cold, real gentle.
“Doing so good, Sam.”
Maybe a kiss. Doesn't know. Going fast. Sees teeth. Eyes shuddering. Limp. Choking. Sees him: bite.
“Thank you.”