Supernatural -- "Of a Feather" (Gabriel/Sam)
So, I was IMing my sister last night and she lamented the lack of winged!Sam (that wasn't wincest)... I was feeling generous and told her I'd write her a drabble of Sam with wings. This came out... I have no idea from where. I just typed and it appeared.
A fair warning... my sex-writing skills are really rusty. This is more practice than anything. (I blush in shame.) She then prodded me into posting it... I'm not expecting anyone to read it, but if you do, thanks!
If anyone spots any major oops or formatting errors, please tell me. ^_^
Title: Of a Feather
Author: wonderfoal
Obligatory disclaimer: Supernatural....me no own, please no sue?
Word count: 2,509 (wtf... this was supposed to be a drabble!)
Rating: R? NC-17? (idk) for sex.
Summary: Sam gets temporarily cursed with wings. They’re big, awkward, and heavy... and really, really, sensitive....... Gabriel/Sam
Warnings: Shameless slash smut. Wing Kink.
Notes: I can’t believe I wrote this. What the hell.
Date: Saturday, November 13, 2010
“This is the stupidest curse I have ever heard of,” Sam muttered as he walked sideways through the door. Dean was playing lookout and making sure no one saw his little brother in his current state.
“Will you shut up and get inside!” Dean huffed and shoved his brother the last few steps through the door. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to fit. Dean immediately locked the door and hurried to the windows to pull the curtains closed. He peeked outside to see if anyone was looking at their room, but the parking lot was empty.
Sam very carefully positioned himself on the bed. It was hard to do with the giant wings that were attached to his back. They were sixteen feet long from his shoulder to the tip and were surprisingly light, given their size, but heavy enough to cause Sam constant back pain. It had taken two hours to figure out how to fold them up and keep them that way. Now, they were collapsed on and above his back, heavy and awkward. “What if they don’t go away?” he worried. Visions of surgery sprang to mind, but who would be able, or even willing, to do it?
“Bobby said the other victims had all been back to normal within a week,” Dean reassured him. The info was sketchy - the last time someone had cast this curse had been at least two hundred years ago in Europe. The tales had been carried over to America and then translated, and whenever that length of time had passed, and languages had changed, details were always lost. There was no point in mentioning it to Sam yet.
Sam groaned as he imagined the wings on his back for seven whole days. He flopped backwards in exasperation, but immediately realized his error and sat up again before the discomfort had set in. “This really sucks, Dean.”
“I know,” he said.
“I mean, really, really sucks. You know that bitch was aiming for you.”
Dean winced. He did know it. It wasn’t like he’d meant to use Sam as a human shield - he’d been dodging a blow from another opponent and happened to duck at the same time the spell had been cast. It had hit Sam instead, and he hadn’t ceased moaning about it yet. Dean could sympathize, at least for now, provided Sam didn’t drive him crazy with it. He could only imagine how he would feel if he suddenly sprouted big white wings. Sam’s screams alone as they’d burst through his back...
He rubbed the back of his neck and extended a peace offering. “Do you need anything?” he asked magnanimously.
“Whiskey would be great,” Sam moaned from where he had turned on his side. One wing was pressed at an angle to the bed and Dean knew he wouldn’t be holding that position for long, either. Sam must have been feeling pretty bad to ask for whiskey at ten in the morning. He winced and remembered that he’d finished off that last bottle the previous night. “Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Sam waved him off without looking and tucked his arm to his chest. His shirt had been ruined during his transformation and he’d been forced to go bare-chested until they got back to the motel room. He’d pulled a blanket over himself but was still cold. He considered cutting up one of his old shirts to wear, but he doubted he’d be able to get it on given the sheer size of his wings. Having wings was bad enough, but he’d envisioned something more like a painting of an angel than these monstrosities hanging from his back. He always felt like he was about to tip over. The tops brushed the doorframes he walked under, and even compacted, they added more size to his width and he could barely squeeze through a doorway.
They were nice to look at, though. If they hadn’t been on him, and hadn’t been so damned big, they wouldn’t have been half bad. They were a pure white color, blinding white as fresh snow. And so soft... Each feather was delicate and smooth to the touch - like touching silk. They made a very gentle rustling sound when they moved, too, that was startling at first but he had now grown accustomed to it.
Sam closed his eyes and relished having peace and quiet for a few minutes at least. There was no telling how long it would take Dean to realize that they were in a “dry town” and he wouldn’t find anywhere to buy the whiskey soon. Sam was glad to have a break from his constant hovering. He loved his brother, but Dean had been constantly by his side since the spell had hit and he was driving Sam nuts. He needed a break.
At some point, he must have dozed off, for he woke a little later, groggy and with his wing on pins and needles. He groaned as he sat up and tried to move it to get sensation back. Not too much time had passed. He didn’t have a clock nearby, but he didn’t think it was quite noon yet judging from the sunlight hidden behind the curtains. He yawned and brought his hand up to touch the wing, tenderly trying to rub the numbness away. He could barely feel anything through the numb wing, but it gave him a chance to touch the feathers without getting sensation in return... When he had first tried it, his own touch had elicited a strong response that was entirely inappropriate in front of his brother. The feathers were so soft, and slick, too. He traced his fingertips over the individual feathers, marveling in the sensation and the tiny sound it gave when his fingertips trailed over the tiny barbs, separating and then zipping back together.
He startled and froze with his hand in his wing when he felt a sudden presence in the room. The more experience they had with the angels, the harder it was to sneak up on them.
Gabriel was laughing as he arrived. “Hey boys, heard you got on the bad side of... a...” he trailed off as he got his first glance of Sam, eyes wide and dark. “Sam,” he breathed. “Do you have something you want to tell me?” His eyes were zeroed in on Sam’s wings, with special focus on the hand buried in the feathers behind his back.
The heat and intensity in that gaze made Sam squirm. Sure, he and Gabriel had screwed around some before, but they hadn’t done it in months. He hadn’t even seen Gabriel in weeks, and the last time they had talked, it was like the archangel had completely forgotten what they had been doing together. Sam had assumed he wasn’t interested anymore, but the passion in his eyes now told a different story.
“I, uh, got hit with a spell.” He removed his hand from his wing and brought it back to the bed. “Bobby says I’m stuck with them, a week tops.” He suddenly looked hopeful. “I don’t suppose you could...?” he asked.
Sam and Gabriel were on two completely different wavelengths. The archangel completely misread the question and in less than a second was straddling Sam’s legs and pressing his mouth tight against Sam’s. “I certainly can,” he moaned when he finally pulled away to let Sam breathe.
Sam thought about correcting his meaning, but that was stupid because this was exactly what he had been wanting for a while now. He opened his mouth again and brought his hands up to cradle Gabriel’s face. He pressed his tongue against Gabriel’s and tasted the sweet sugary taste he always had. It was cotton candy today and Sam purred into the kiss.
Gabriel slithered off of his lap and tugged him up long enough to unbutton and unzip Sam’s jeans. He had to break the kiss to get Sam out of them and then shucked his underwear down his legs at the same time. Gabriel’s own clothes vanished with a snap and soon he was kissing Sam again and pressing him down onto the bed. Sam leaned back to accommodate his lover and immediately sat up to get the pressure off of his wings. Their foreheads smacked together and Sam moaned in pain. Gabriel rubbed at the spot where Sam’s hard head had impacted his, but he wasn’t in pain, merely surprised. He actually chuckled before bringing a finger to the spot on Sam’s head and making the pain vanish.
Sam smiled sheepishly and gestured to the wings lurking over his shoulders. Seemingly by their own volition, they had unfurled and were now spread out through the length of the room. Gabriel sighed at the sight and reached up to reverently touch one. Wing no longer numb, Sam shivered all over and moaned into it. “That feel good?” Gabriel asked needlessly and pressed a kiss against Sam’s neck.
Sam groaned. “You know it does,” he said when he was able. “But I can’t lie down.”
Gabriel pulled back thoughtfully and pulled Sam up into his surprisingly strong arms. “The problem’s your back,” he said, and quickly turned Sam so that he was facing the wall. “So we’ll keep you off it.” He gently pushed Sam forward until he hit his hands and knees. Sam felt a shiver of anticipation - they’d never done it like this before. Sam’s wings stretched out on either side of him. All he could see was the pillow in front of him and the soft white feathers to his side.
Gabriel straightened and then leaned over Sam’s back to kiss the space of skin between the two wings. Sam bucked underneath and pressed his chest down to get away from the too intense sensation. Gabriel laughed over him. “Be that way,” he said in amusement. Without warning, he buried his hands in Sam’s soft wings, tracing the arch of the wing and petting the smooth feathers. Sam gasped and trembled at the pleasure that raced right to his groin. His wings were the most sensitive part of his body, even more so than his cock. Sam writhed underneath him until his cock was hard and leaking. What Gabriel was doing was too much, he wouldn’t last long. It went on for what felt like hours in Sam’s mind and he showed no sign of ending his torment.
Above him, Gabriel was panting as he explored the wings as far as he could reach. He couldn’t get too far from Sam’s body, but he didn’t have any doubts that the angel would return later for the wing tips. “Stop teasing me,” he begged as his wings pushed against Gabriel’s hands even as his body trembled in strain.
Gabriel snorted and pulled away from the wings. “If you say so,” he said. Sam heard a snap of fingers and then the sound of a bottle of lube being opened. A cool, slick hand encircled his cock and set up a steady rhythm, and he yowled at the pleasure. Another slick hand teased his entrance until he bucked back against the probing fingers and one slipped inside. He huffed and thrust against the intrusion, sending it deeper. Gabriel slid another finger in alongside the first and Sam moaned deeply. His wings were flapping uselessly as he rocked his hips against the rubbing fingers.
“Hurry,” he breathed, knowing that he wouldn’t last long now. He groaned as a third finger was added and stretched him wide. “I’m good,” he promised and spread his legs farther apart. Gabriel withdrew and Sam waited impatiently to be filled again.
It didn’t take long. Gabriel placed one hand on his hip and the other steadied him as he pushed inside with one long thrust. Sam moaned the whole time and rocked back against the pressure. His wings beat up and down in the air, creating little gusts of wind that did little more than toss his hair up and down.
Gabriel found the right angle quickly and Sam grunted and groaned as the thrusts became hard and quick. He fisted one hand in the pillow and the other was pinned under his chest. He wanted to reach for his cock, needed just a little push to go over the edge---
Gabriel grabbed one of his wings at the base where it joined his back and Sam came hard. Reality flickered off for a minute and when he came to, he was still shuddering and lying in a warm wet spot. Gabriel was still hard inside of him and grinding down into him. Sam moved his knee up, let Gabriel slide in deeper, and then he was coming with a hoarse cry. He collapsed against Sam’s back, careful not to crush his wings, and breathed deeply.
Sam gradually felt his heart rate steady and his breathing return to normal. He also became aware that he was cold, despite their exertions, and lying in his own semen. Gabriel was also really heavy against his back. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but the wings were added weight, too, and he didn’t think he could take it much longer.
Luckily, Gabriel withdrew and slid off of his back. He snapped away the mess and Sam relaxed against the clean sheets, purring his approval as he lay next to him, actually under Sam’s wing, and lightly traced his fingers over the feathers. “Beautiful,” he sighed.
Sam shrugged. “They’re all right,” he said. “No flying for me, though. I’m too heavy to get off the ground.”
Gabriel looked disappointed but not surprised. “Maybe,” he mused, “if they were a little bigger...”
“No,” Sam cut that train of thought off right there. They were too big and heavy as it was. “Besides, even if I can’t fly with them, they have other perks.” That was probably one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever experienced. He didn’t normally lose consciousness during sex, and he hoped Gabriel hadn’t noticed or else he’d never hear the end of it.
Gabriel murmured his agreement and leaned in for a kiss, but that was the last thing Sam remembered before falling asleep.
Dean came back an hour later, clutching a brown paper bag. “I had to go through two counties to find -“ he stopped when he saw his brother. Sam was sleeping face down under the sheets, his giant wings spread from one end of the room to the other and still not fully extended. He looked content and relaxed for the first time since he’d sprouted wings and Dean wasn’t willing to wake him. He pulled off his jacket and reached for the magazine he’d bought when a slip of paper caught his eye. It was a white note folded neatly beside Sam’s bed and Dean had never been one for restraining his curiosity. He picked it up and puzzled over its meaning.
In flowing handwriting, someone had written: Next time I’ll bring mine out to play.
A fair warning... my sex-writing skills are really rusty. This is more practice than anything. (I blush in shame.) She then prodded me into posting it... I'm not expecting anyone to read it, but if you do, thanks!
If anyone spots any major oops or formatting errors, please tell me. ^_^
Title: Of a Feather
Author: wonderfoal
Obligatory disclaimer: Supernatural....me no own, please no sue?
Word count: 2,509 (wtf... this was supposed to be a drabble!)
Rating: R? NC-17? (idk) for sex.
Summary: Sam gets temporarily cursed with wings. They’re big, awkward, and heavy... and really, really, sensitive....... Gabriel/Sam
Warnings: Shameless slash smut. Wing Kink.
Notes: I can’t believe I wrote this. What the hell.
Date: Saturday, November 13, 2010
“This is the stupidest curse I have ever heard of,” Sam muttered as he walked sideways through the door. Dean was playing lookout and making sure no one saw his little brother in his current state.
“Will you shut up and get inside!” Dean huffed and shoved his brother the last few steps through the door. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to fit. Dean immediately locked the door and hurried to the windows to pull the curtains closed. He peeked outside to see if anyone was looking at their room, but the parking lot was empty.
Sam very carefully positioned himself on the bed. It was hard to do with the giant wings that were attached to his back. They were sixteen feet long from his shoulder to the tip and were surprisingly light, given their size, but heavy enough to cause Sam constant back pain. It had taken two hours to figure out how to fold them up and keep them that way. Now, they were collapsed on and above his back, heavy and awkward. “What if they don’t go away?” he worried. Visions of surgery sprang to mind, but who would be able, or even willing, to do it?
“Bobby said the other victims had all been back to normal within a week,” Dean reassured him. The info was sketchy - the last time someone had cast this curse had been at least two hundred years ago in Europe. The tales had been carried over to America and then translated, and whenever that length of time had passed, and languages had changed, details were always lost. There was no point in mentioning it to Sam yet.
Sam groaned as he imagined the wings on his back for seven whole days. He flopped backwards in exasperation, but immediately realized his error and sat up again before the discomfort had set in. “This really sucks, Dean.”
“I know,” he said.
“I mean, really, really sucks. You know that bitch was aiming for you.”
Dean winced. He did know it. It wasn’t like he’d meant to use Sam as a human shield - he’d been dodging a blow from another opponent and happened to duck at the same time the spell had been cast. It had hit Sam instead, and he hadn’t ceased moaning about it yet. Dean could sympathize, at least for now, provided Sam didn’t drive him crazy with it. He could only imagine how he would feel if he suddenly sprouted big white wings. Sam’s screams alone as they’d burst through his back...
He rubbed the back of his neck and extended a peace offering. “Do you need anything?” he asked magnanimously.
“Whiskey would be great,” Sam moaned from where he had turned on his side. One wing was pressed at an angle to the bed and Dean knew he wouldn’t be holding that position for long, either. Sam must have been feeling pretty bad to ask for whiskey at ten in the morning. He winced and remembered that he’d finished off that last bottle the previous night. “Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Sam waved him off without looking and tucked his arm to his chest. His shirt had been ruined during his transformation and he’d been forced to go bare-chested until they got back to the motel room. He’d pulled a blanket over himself but was still cold. He considered cutting up one of his old shirts to wear, but he doubted he’d be able to get it on given the sheer size of his wings. Having wings was bad enough, but he’d envisioned something more like a painting of an angel than these monstrosities hanging from his back. He always felt like he was about to tip over. The tops brushed the doorframes he walked under, and even compacted, they added more size to his width and he could barely squeeze through a doorway.
They were nice to look at, though. If they hadn’t been on him, and hadn’t been so damned big, they wouldn’t have been half bad. They were a pure white color, blinding white as fresh snow. And so soft... Each feather was delicate and smooth to the touch - like touching silk. They made a very gentle rustling sound when they moved, too, that was startling at first but he had now grown accustomed to it.
Sam closed his eyes and relished having peace and quiet for a few minutes at least. There was no telling how long it would take Dean to realize that they were in a “dry town” and he wouldn’t find anywhere to buy the whiskey soon. Sam was glad to have a break from his constant hovering. He loved his brother, but Dean had been constantly by his side since the spell had hit and he was driving Sam nuts. He needed a break.
At some point, he must have dozed off, for he woke a little later, groggy and with his wing on pins and needles. He groaned as he sat up and tried to move it to get sensation back. Not too much time had passed. He didn’t have a clock nearby, but he didn’t think it was quite noon yet judging from the sunlight hidden behind the curtains. He yawned and brought his hand up to touch the wing, tenderly trying to rub the numbness away. He could barely feel anything through the numb wing, but it gave him a chance to touch the feathers without getting sensation in return... When he had first tried it, his own touch had elicited a strong response that was entirely inappropriate in front of his brother. The feathers were so soft, and slick, too. He traced his fingertips over the individual feathers, marveling in the sensation and the tiny sound it gave when his fingertips trailed over the tiny barbs, separating and then zipping back together.
He startled and froze with his hand in his wing when he felt a sudden presence in the room. The more experience they had with the angels, the harder it was to sneak up on them.
Gabriel was laughing as he arrived. “Hey boys, heard you got on the bad side of... a...” he trailed off as he got his first glance of Sam, eyes wide and dark. “Sam,” he breathed. “Do you have something you want to tell me?” His eyes were zeroed in on Sam’s wings, with special focus on the hand buried in the feathers behind his back.
The heat and intensity in that gaze made Sam squirm. Sure, he and Gabriel had screwed around some before, but they hadn’t done it in months. He hadn’t even seen Gabriel in weeks, and the last time they had talked, it was like the archangel had completely forgotten what they had been doing together. Sam had assumed he wasn’t interested anymore, but the passion in his eyes now told a different story.
“I, uh, got hit with a spell.” He removed his hand from his wing and brought it back to the bed. “Bobby says I’m stuck with them, a week tops.” He suddenly looked hopeful. “I don’t suppose you could...?” he asked.
Sam and Gabriel were on two completely different wavelengths. The archangel completely misread the question and in less than a second was straddling Sam’s legs and pressing his mouth tight against Sam’s. “I certainly can,” he moaned when he finally pulled away to let Sam breathe.
Sam thought about correcting his meaning, but that was stupid because this was exactly what he had been wanting for a while now. He opened his mouth again and brought his hands up to cradle Gabriel’s face. He pressed his tongue against Gabriel’s and tasted the sweet sugary taste he always had. It was cotton candy today and Sam purred into the kiss.
Gabriel slithered off of his lap and tugged him up long enough to unbutton and unzip Sam’s jeans. He had to break the kiss to get Sam out of them and then shucked his underwear down his legs at the same time. Gabriel’s own clothes vanished with a snap and soon he was kissing Sam again and pressing him down onto the bed. Sam leaned back to accommodate his lover and immediately sat up to get the pressure off of his wings. Their foreheads smacked together and Sam moaned in pain. Gabriel rubbed at the spot where Sam’s hard head had impacted his, but he wasn’t in pain, merely surprised. He actually chuckled before bringing a finger to the spot on Sam’s head and making the pain vanish.
Sam smiled sheepishly and gestured to the wings lurking over his shoulders. Seemingly by their own volition, they had unfurled and were now spread out through the length of the room. Gabriel sighed at the sight and reached up to reverently touch one. Wing no longer numb, Sam shivered all over and moaned into it. “That feel good?” Gabriel asked needlessly and pressed a kiss against Sam’s neck.
Sam groaned. “You know it does,” he said when he was able. “But I can’t lie down.”
Gabriel pulled back thoughtfully and pulled Sam up into his surprisingly strong arms. “The problem’s your back,” he said, and quickly turned Sam so that he was facing the wall. “So we’ll keep you off it.” He gently pushed Sam forward until he hit his hands and knees. Sam felt a shiver of anticipation - they’d never done it like this before. Sam’s wings stretched out on either side of him. All he could see was the pillow in front of him and the soft white feathers to his side.
Gabriel straightened and then leaned over Sam’s back to kiss the space of skin between the two wings. Sam bucked underneath and pressed his chest down to get away from the too intense sensation. Gabriel laughed over him. “Be that way,” he said in amusement. Without warning, he buried his hands in Sam’s soft wings, tracing the arch of the wing and petting the smooth feathers. Sam gasped and trembled at the pleasure that raced right to his groin. His wings were the most sensitive part of his body, even more so than his cock. Sam writhed underneath him until his cock was hard and leaking. What Gabriel was doing was too much, he wouldn’t last long. It went on for what felt like hours in Sam’s mind and he showed no sign of ending his torment.
Above him, Gabriel was panting as he explored the wings as far as he could reach. He couldn’t get too far from Sam’s body, but he didn’t have any doubts that the angel would return later for the wing tips. “Stop teasing me,” he begged as his wings pushed against Gabriel’s hands even as his body trembled in strain.
Gabriel snorted and pulled away from the wings. “If you say so,” he said. Sam heard a snap of fingers and then the sound of a bottle of lube being opened. A cool, slick hand encircled his cock and set up a steady rhythm, and he yowled at the pleasure. Another slick hand teased his entrance until he bucked back against the probing fingers and one slipped inside. He huffed and thrust against the intrusion, sending it deeper. Gabriel slid another finger in alongside the first and Sam moaned deeply. His wings were flapping uselessly as he rocked his hips against the rubbing fingers.
“Hurry,” he breathed, knowing that he wouldn’t last long now. He groaned as a third finger was added and stretched him wide. “I’m good,” he promised and spread his legs farther apart. Gabriel withdrew and Sam waited impatiently to be filled again.
It didn’t take long. Gabriel placed one hand on his hip and the other steadied him as he pushed inside with one long thrust. Sam moaned the whole time and rocked back against the pressure. His wings beat up and down in the air, creating little gusts of wind that did little more than toss his hair up and down.
Gabriel found the right angle quickly and Sam grunted and groaned as the thrusts became hard and quick. He fisted one hand in the pillow and the other was pinned under his chest. He wanted to reach for his cock, needed just a little push to go over the edge---
Gabriel grabbed one of his wings at the base where it joined his back and Sam came hard. Reality flickered off for a minute and when he came to, he was still shuddering and lying in a warm wet spot. Gabriel was still hard inside of him and grinding down into him. Sam moved his knee up, let Gabriel slide in deeper, and then he was coming with a hoarse cry. He collapsed against Sam’s back, careful not to crush his wings, and breathed deeply.
Sam gradually felt his heart rate steady and his breathing return to normal. He also became aware that he was cold, despite their exertions, and lying in his own semen. Gabriel was also really heavy against his back. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but the wings were added weight, too, and he didn’t think he could take it much longer.
Luckily, Gabriel withdrew and slid off of his back. He snapped away the mess and Sam relaxed against the clean sheets, purring his approval as he lay next to him, actually under Sam’s wing, and lightly traced his fingers over the feathers. “Beautiful,” he sighed.
Sam shrugged. “They’re all right,” he said. “No flying for me, though. I’m too heavy to get off the ground.”
Gabriel looked disappointed but not surprised. “Maybe,” he mused, “if they were a little bigger...”
“No,” Sam cut that train of thought off right there. They were too big and heavy as it was. “Besides, even if I can’t fly with them, they have other perks.” That was probably one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever experienced. He didn’t normally lose consciousness during sex, and he hoped Gabriel hadn’t noticed or else he’d never hear the end of it.
Gabriel murmured his agreement and leaned in for a kiss, but that was the last thing Sam remembered before falling asleep.
Dean came back an hour later, clutching a brown paper bag. “I had to go through two counties to find -“ he stopped when he saw his brother. Sam was sleeping face down under the sheets, his giant wings spread from one end of the room to the other and still not fully extended. He looked content and relaxed for the first time since he’d sprouted wings and Dean wasn’t willing to wake him. He pulled off his jacket and reached for the magazine he’d bought when a slip of paper caught his eye. It was a white note folded neatly beside Sam’s bed and Dean had never been one for restraining his curiosity. He picked it up and puzzled over its meaning.
In flowing handwriting, someone had written: Next time I’ll bring mine out to play.