Work Header

Flavor: Babes like Sugar

Work Text:

There are certain feelings here.

Sam squints, with some distance to it.

"It's kind of weird, isn't it? Fucked up. People have been taking care of me all their lives."

Gabriel, face in his hand, looks tortured, despite smiling at Sam through his fingers. "Have you ever considered that maybe they wanted to, Sam? It's..."

Sam feels a compelling need to interrupt, "They don't. They die of it. Either, I'm an excuse for their redemption, or a tool for their death-wishes."

Gabriel slips a hand under layers of flannel and argyle sweater, tropic and balmy and yet cooler than Sam, who seems made out of steam.

"It's not just because you're there. Although, you are, even when no one else is." Could say the same about the eyes under every arch.

Gabriel irons out a crick in his back, and Gabriel has an unvocalized giggle at the sound Sam makes. Sam belongs to this hand.

"If they had to pick anyone to follow, to die for, they'd pick you." All of Gabriel's hands are on him, and one of them is picking flyaways out of Sam's face.

"To have your life, your trust in their hands. Fuck, baby, to have you..." Gabriel chews his own cheeks, chewing on stuff that would make Sam blush.

"It's an honor to take care of you, you don't know. The strongest, tallest, all of it-You're it. Caring for the caretaker." Gabriel exudes a passionate belief in the idea. And Sam finds Gabriel the most unbelievable, when he's at his most genuine.

Gabriel frowns, switches tacks. "Look, kid. You wouldn't be the first." Sam is intellectually aware of that, he's benefited from not being Gabriel's first, vastly. Gabriel, short as he is, is nothing short of being amused, at Sam's glare that doesn't agree with his intellectual awareness "Sam, you're mine, baby, my one and only, my sweet candy cane cuttlefish. You...Make me want," one of those hands cups the back of his neck, "So," and a thumb lands at an xx left there before, "Much."

"Trusting me, relying on me." Shrugs with a shortcut smile. Gabriel tap-dances in impatience, lightly crushing Sam's toes entirely on purpose, then rattling the floor. Like a fickle old god.

"Especially, on an old fuck-up like me? You're hot, it was hot before when hot people did it, but you doing it? Oh, our Father who art in Heaven, Sammy-Boy." It is weird, right? So much to it. The so much to it, though, is why it's it for them.

God and Father, the same brutalist primogenitor. Yes, sir, I believed in you. Amen, dear God, I believed in you. I'll do as you say, on my knees and taking your orders, silent and suffering as you please, as long as--as long as you'll be there for me. A similar song and dance for him too. The ecstasy and loyalty of Teresa and Electra.

"I... Daddy?" It just doesn't sound right in his natural baritone. Gabriel isn't any help either, gaping at Sam, gripping Sam's neck too tight-but not like drugs and guilt, since Sam likes it. It's not quite choked, but it's quavering, "I don't know how to do this--Daddy."

"Fuck you," Gabriel tells him affectionately, his biting hands pulling Sam's shoulders closer. "I'll help you as much as you want, babe, and then some." Gabriel slips free Sam's arms, from sleeves of the flannel overshirt. "But you, my handsome young boy, are already a natural." Gabriel feels up the furnace-under-argyle, and Sam shivers like cold liquor, thinking: oh, I believe in you, Daddy.

Gabriel prefers Sammy nude, excepting the sweater, "That can stay," Gabriel laughs. It's hot, he'd complain, but so is the hand in the twirls of his pubic hair.

Sam goes, "Give me more, Daddy," and Gabriel pushes his whole body, leather and linen, against Sam's, and Sam winds his hands into slicked-back gold for stability, and whines a kiss into Gabriel's aggressive mouth, although it's sugary by Gabriel's standards. That is, until Gabriel jerks him in pace with each sweet intrusion. Then it's dirty, possessive, and unwholesomely whole. Sam responds, Daddy, to each swish of the new velvet tongue in his mouth, unsure if Gabriel can hear the invisible neediness, but he's sure Gabriel feels it, how Sam is his, his to keep, his to touch.

Gabriel pulls the hem of his sweater down, the collar digging into Sam's neck, to submerge Sam's dick in thick thermostasis. Gabriel kisses a corner of Sam's chin, "So good and hot and sweet," Gabriel angles and examines his eyelashes, "Beautiful too."

"Guess that's because I'm your Daddy." Gabriel quickens, tightens, enjoying Sam's whimpers, but it only encourages Gabriel to further erratic grips-"You're unbelievably good for me, baby. So beautiful, your happy face, all I ever wanna see-" Sam can't stand anymore and Gabriel lowers him, to have a Sam in only a stretched and sticky sweater, and stretched lips. Stretched into a painless, pleased grin. Gabriel, a clothed man, clothing wrecked, and standing like a tipsy victor over the young and handsome man.

Sam pulls back, tipping like cold liquor. "I want to blow you."

Gabriel's eyes are brown as midnight, though he steps closer to a table, smacking it loudly, and says to Sam, "That what you really want, baby boy?"

"I really want your dick, Daddy. I want it so badly, please, Daddy," A partial deadpanning, because it's easier to say the words he means, even if it makes him sound like some sort of sultry cynic.

Gabriel's back. And Daddy's hard as rock candy, "Whatever you want, Sammy-Boy."

Sam clarifies, tapping his lips upon the sight of Gabriel discarding his pants, "I want your come in my mouth. I want to taste it all day, and think, my Daddy put it there."

Gabriel breathes a release of effort, and smiles, "Go on. Do your Daddy proud."

Sam pops around the head, just as he takes the whole lollipop into his mouth, without touching the stick. Sam instead supports himself on Gabriel's hard thighs, finds more strength when the thighs tremor, "Do you have a license to do this to me?" Sam absolutely does.

Smooth-ish as rock candy is, it attracts Sam to the areas of rougher, imperfect tissue, to wetly love at it until it melts in his mouth. To stick to veins, and follow it down, to swallowing the vibrating groans.

He retreats, a breathy, kissy hopscotch. And somehow, there aren't hairs sticking to his forehead-groomed back by the heavy hand in his hair, finger-combing it down into brown sugar divisions. Sam hums to the hard-pulsing femoral artery of Gabriel, rests his hungry-eyed head for a moment. Sam slides a series of finger-and-mouth examinations and licks it, trying to memorize the taste of a tasteless sensation, but it does taste, "I love you so much, you love my cock, don't you?" Must be all the sugar Daddy eats, because it's so good, "My sweet boy-Savoring my dick. You say you don't want to forget the taste, but, Babe, I'm the one going to remember the feeling of you worshiping my cock. Every time I look at your mouth-I'm going to remember I had the best man in all of history's lips around my cock." Sam notices the serious crack to Gabriel's eyes, and it burns in Sam as he sucks in a few more inches, "-That, Jesus, no one else will take those lips, that no one else will abuse you. Daddy loves you so fucking much."

Driving into his throat, by Sam's pulling, and tightening around his hair. "You know I'll always take care of you, sweetheart." Sam trusts him, knows he means it. That's why he lets Daddy have his entire mouth, all the way, saliva and precome melting around Daddy's cock, and Sam feels it hard, feels hard that this is all he wants, to be here being the best for Daddy, this space of being on his knees, with his sweater barely stretching to cover his ass, with Gabriel's fingers in his sex-damp hair, pulling and flowing and twisting, the taste of Gabriel having him.

It goes down his throat, the elusive taste, more refreshing than cold liquor, and Gabriel and his full-body occupation of Sam recedes physically, except the taste he left, of fullness, watery white syrup spilling from the head dragging off his tongue and past his lips. Sam could wipe his mouth off with his sleeve, but he doesn't.

Gabriel joins Sam on the floor, evidently tired of standing. He still strokes through Sam's hair.

Gabriel kisses Sam's mouth, alerting Sam to just how bruised his lips are, sips of love and groans for its taste.

"Looking at you, I could go again." Sam laughs, he doesn't doubt that. "You're just.. Thank you-For, I don't know, fuck words," Gabriel stares. "For letting me be that for you."

Sam tries to say the same thing, but more. "You're here, and you love me. And I trust you, believe in you, Gabriel. Only man that could be, and will be, and is." Gabriel's hair is a golden muss, it hangs handsomely half-serious over his handsome half-serious face.

"Only you, sweetheart." On the tongue Gabriel sticks out is, 'Would be that wordy and mushy.'

Gabriel's leather jacket is so nice on him. Sam snuggles into Gabriel, checking in under Gabriel's arm-which resumes brushing through Sam's hair. Gabriel whispers something about Sam being gorgeous, and stuff, which is-projecting. Gabriel's got him all. Has hands in Sam's hair, has his arm around Sam, the man who cares for him, about him, the man he can call "Daddy."