#muscle memory samifer

[lenoue]

biggg fan of post cage sam moaning and screaming incomprehensible stuff when dean's fucking into him. it all sounds like gibberish to dean, he's doing so good that his baby brother can't make words anymore.

6 months later they're working a case where dean's made to learn enochian and that's when he finds out that sam was screaming satan worship. he was screaming for lucifer to come and take him apart.

and sam would have no memory of doing so

[quietwingsinthesky]

for the fic writer asks!!

5, 9, 13, 15, 29?

hi hi aayo!!

[questions were here]

5. So, a while back, I was spitballing with my friends about Pokemon Black/White & the sequel, because I love those games, those are my childhood Pokemon games, and the story is so close to brilliant I can taste it. It would just need a little touching up, I swear, adjust a motivation here, add some more scenes there... But see the thing is, doing that would take. A While. and I just don't think I have the patience to do a full rewrite of a Pokemon game from 2010 so it'll probably remain an idea.

9. Yes! I do! I try to do a few hundred words a day, every day. Depending on how bad my depression is, I can be pretty consistent about it and get a lot done. And I did manage to do a little today for that nsfw lucifer/raphael fic I'm working on! Let's see here. Ahem. "Waiting, a front of perfect obedience betrayed by how hard he’s clenching his hands together behind his back to keep from touching himself." :) I am. doing things. to luci.

13. It depends on the fic. Some of them, I want to say Last Call and could have been anyone, anyone are good examples, start writing themselves in my head with absolutely no warning, and I have to jump to the nearest thing to jot down the sentences before they disappear forever. Others, like Honey, Don't Feed It, have literally been turned over in my brain for more than a year, twisted and changed until I've gotten a fic I actually like out of it.

15. Sometimes it's a song title, sometimes it's a line from the fic, sometimes it's 'it is 4am when im posting it and ive already typed up the fucking tags and the summary and i am so so tired whats the closest noun i can think of' and then i slap it on there and call it a day.

29. asjklajdksld my first thought was 'oh you know what fine i'll post what i had of that samifer fic before it gets deleted but uh It Is Literally Entirely Porn. so lets. lets go with something a little more PG, yeah? Not exactly polite of me to throw smut at you without asking.

So instead, have this bit from the original draft of my next Sarah/Lucifer/Nick fic that got cut because I switched the pov character from Sarah to Nick for. Reasons.

Sarah has had a lot more time to paint in the last few months. Enough that muscle memory she thought lost has slowly reappeared, making her hand steadier. Her art hasn’t become more neat as a result, but it has grown purpose in its mess. Her mother always wished she’d take after her grandmother and paint lush green forests and pretty meadows, but Sarah’s brushes led her down a different path. Intricate strokes litter the paper, testing to see how close she can bring the painting to the being curled around her spine before it devolves into a jumbled mess. Lucifer is not an easy muse. Sarah hasn’t managed to paint a piece that does her justice yet.

This one is barely recognizable as anything, more abstract than Sarah’s committed to in a long time. A lot of her paintings of Lucifer start somewhere she understands, with Nick’s face or her own, fragmented to better show the angel that lives inside them, openings in the skin like bloodless wounds through which eyes and feathers and teeth peek through. Someone else might find them terrifying. Nick thinks her paintings of Lucifer are beautiful. Lucifer, of course, is flattered and amused. She watches Sarah paint, enthralled the same way Nick mentioned her being the day he built Teddy’s crib. She hasn’t asked for a turn at the brushes yet, but Sarah hopes she does one day, if only so they can see what she’s capable of creating.

Sarah stretches. There’s no satisfying pop to her spine as she uncurls from her art, but in exchange, there’s also no lingering soreness from staying in one position for too long. Lucifer’s grace pulses, buried somewhere deep, utterly content. Sarah shuts her eyes as though she could listen to her.

Instead, Sarah hears a cry from the other room. She lets her head tilt towards the clock on the wall. It’s been a while since she put Teddy down for a nap. Lucifer is on alert the moment the sound hits Sarah’s ears. She’s still not used to the simple fact that sometimes, babies cry, and it doesn’t mean the world is about to end. Impossible to fathom wings flex under Sarah’s skin. Sarah suppresses a chuckle into a small smile and sets her paintbrush down. It rolls to join its brethren of various sizes, the only commonality between them all the teethmarks at the tip where Sarah chewed when she got frustrated or distracted. Lucifer’s wings flap, a wave of power rolling through Sarah’s body that’s asking one question, whether they can fly to the nursery rather than take the minute long walk there. Sarah lets her consent echo back through Lucifer, bracing herself.

Flight is a cacophony. Flight is like learning what it is to be a photon and forgetting again as her body hits the ground, human toes curling against the fuzz of the nursery carpet. Lucifer recovers like they’ve taken a brisk walk up the stairs. Sarah needs a minute more, as though she’s been thrown under the waves at the beach and needs to figure out which direction is up in order to stand. In his crib, Teddy turns his head to look at them, brown eyes seeking his mother, and when he knows she’s there to hear him, he scrunches up his face and starts crying again.

It’s Lucifer that takes them the first few steps to the crib, but Sarah who reaches down and picks Teddy up.

“Hey, hey, fussy,” she says softly to him, “shh, we’re here now.” Teddy cries out one more time, like he’s making sure she’s not going to put him down and leave once he’s quiet. Sarah rocks him.

“We’re here,” comes another voice from her mouth, still hesitant but less than it has been in a few months. Lucifer raises Sarah’s hand to pet a line down Teddy’s forehead. There’s no more than the ambient hum of her grace beneath Sarah’s skin, but between being held by his mother and watched over by his guardian devil, (Sarah’s mouth curls at the thought, and she can’t tell if it’s her or Lucifer reacting.) he quiets. He keeps frowning, scrunched up eyes and a wrinkled forehead. “Hello, Theodore,” Lucifer says, and it’s at Sarah’s prodding that she finally says, “Teddy.”

He’s a baby, Sarah teases, no need to be so formal.

Names mean something, comes the quick counter.

And this one means you love him. Lucifer hums, finger still drifting in absent circles over Teddy’s face. Teddy latches onto it when it’s near his mouth, and Lucifer freezes. Sarah laughs, and with control of her body falling back to her, it comes out without a care in the world. Teddy makes a frustrated noise when she pulls her finger away.

“That’s better than you needing a diaper change,” Sarah tells him. Teddy babbles at her, sounds that are beginning to have more distinct shapes but mean nothing at all. She’s going to have to put him back down to undo her button-up, or would have to, only Lucifer proves for the hundredth time how much easier parenting is with divine power backing them up. Sarah shifts Teddy around in her arms, enduring the tiny beat of an impatient hand against her chest, until she has him comfortably settled to feed.

He seems so small in her arms. He’s growing fast and will continue to for years and years, a prospect both terrifying and exciting.

It’s a short enough walk to her and Nick’s bedroom from the nursery, and she’s careful not to jostle Teddy while he nurses. There, she can settle down comfortably against the pillows, the blankets tucking themselves up around her legs despite her not reaching for them. It doesn’t do much against the ever-present chill, but Sarah doesn’t want that to go away. Besides, they bundle Teddy up warmly enough.

She does wonder sometimes what it’ll be like as he gets older. If his first words will be ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ or something else entirely, a string of syllables that seem like gibberish to her and Nick but mimic the language that Lucifer sometimes speaks to him off-handedly, the one that makes Sarah’s ears feel like they might pop from pressure if she listens for too long, the one that Teddy reacts to with kicking feet and responsive babbling. If one day Sarah will get teachers telling her about Teddy’s imaginary angelic friend who raised him, both those impressed that he could come up with something so elaborate and those worried that the angel in question is Lucifer herself. Maybe the funniest thing Sarah can imagine is if Nick ever takes little Teddy to church and what kind of menace they might unleash with a child who loves the devil like a mother. That, if it ever happens, is a long ways off, and until then, Lucifer is still the secret held between the three of them.

“You think he’ll still like me,” Lucifer says, dipping her hand into the stream of Sarah’s thoughts, welcomed but nibbled at by the fish that think she really should have asked permission first. Maybe a little hypocritical when Sarah has already let her in, “when he grows up.”

There is, always, this expectation of rejection that lingers in Lucifer’s words. A surprise when she finds connection instead that breaks Sarah’s heart.

“You look after him. You sing to him. You feed him.” Sarah looks down at Teddy, who takes his fill and rests his tiny fist against her skin. This caretaking is a communal effort, after all. “Of course he’ll love you.”

[javocjovian]

Breaking Point, Ch 3 - SPN Kink/ABO Bingo

Title: Breaking Point (chapter 3) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868905/chapters/54886156 Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis (Kink Bingo), Virgin Kink (ABO Bingo) Ship: Sabriel Rating: E Warning: referenced Samifer rape and torture Tags: Trauma, Painful First Rut, Hell Angst, Confessions, Denied Feelings, Protective Gabriel, Consent Dilemma, Consensual Sex, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Healing, Acceptance Summary: Sam struggles to deal with both his trauma and his rut, and is forced to make a difficult decision regarding Gabriel. Luckily, Gabriel is the one Archangel who truly cares for Sam. Canon divergent. Set anytime between seasons 11 and 13. Word Count: 3534 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Quote:

Gabriel sat down in front of Sam and took his injured hand. "What Lucifer did to you, that wasn't your fault. The way your body reacted wasn't your fault. You chose to say no. You chose not to give in. That's what matters Sam. That's what makes you you. Not your body, not your rut, your choices."

Gabriel returned to the motel room carrying a large brown bag and an enormous pack of water bottles. He closed the door with his shoulder and looked around for Sam. He noticed the light was on behind the bathroom door and his red robe was folded on the bed. Gabriel set everything on the small table and began unpacking the bag.

“Sam?” He called out, “You hungry? I brought some food. You should eat something.”

The bathroom was quiet. Just as Gabriel was starting to worry, the door opened and Sam stepped out. He was in a long, grey, motel robe, looking disheveled and pale, but calm.

“What do you like?” Gabriel asked, lining up the tinfoil covered containers. The motel room already smelled intoxicating. “I got chinese, mexican... I even found a place that has nothing but pasta and salad. I’m also banned from buffets in three states.”

Sam laughed slightly and padded over to the table. “You know, just because the food’s sitting out, doesn’t mean it’s a buffet.”

Gabriel considered this as he gave Sam a paper plate and a water bottle. “They can prove that in court.”

Sam smiled. He opened the water bottle and drank the entire thing in one gulp. Gabriel sat across from him, watching him contently. Sam grabbed another water and took a few more sips.

Finally Sam said, “Gabriel, you didn’t have to do all this."

Gabriel shrugged. “It was no trouble. Now eat.”

So Sam ate. By his calculations he hadn’t eaten anything in months, even though he’d only been kidnapped for about a week. A calendar beside the bed told him that much.

Sam started on the pasta and salad, but ended up taking bits of everything. Gabriel kept him company, chatting to him and making him nearly choke for laughing a few times. Sam was surprised at how much they ate together, although there was still a lot of food left. The bag seemed to be bottomless. Sam suspected it actually might be.

“So, Gabriel,” Sam asked, pausing over his chow mein.

“Mmhm.” Gabriel was leaning back in his chair with a piece of fortune cookie.

“How exactly did you raise me from Hell?”

Gabriel chewed the cookie slowly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… well, when Cas raised me, there were um… complications?”

Gabriel rose a brow.

Sam didn’t want to get into that, so he went on. “I’m just wondering. Is this the same body I had before? Is it the same soul?” It was obvious Sam had been thinking about it for some time.

Gabriel swallowed as he thought about it, too, then he sat forward and said, “Your soul is your soul, Sam. That can’t be altered or rebuilt. That’s the same soul you’ve always had, and will always have. But I suppose your body is different. I’ve never thought about it before. I had to rebuild that, yeah, but it's the same molecules, the same atoms, the same… everything.”

Sam considered this deeply. It was more or less what he figured. It made sense. He still liked Chinese food. He had the same muscle memory, the same pain tolerance. But something was still on his mind. “So, you're saying I'm a virgin again,” he smiled slightly.

Gabriel smiled back and grabbed another cookie. “I won't tell Dean." He winked playfully.

That should have been a good thing. Sam’s molecules were the same but, in a way, he had a body that Lucifer had never touched. So why did that answer bother him?

“Well, that explains one thing,” Sam tried to change the subject. “This rut is as bad as my first, because it is my first. Again.”

Gabriel's smile faded. "Well, I should be able to fix that soon. You're recovering well."

Sam was happy to hear that.

As they finished eating they talked about anything but ruts and demons. When Sam couldn’t eat anymore, he decided to lay down and take a nap. Gabriel took the opportunity to clean up, then go get Sam some clothes. Sam warned him not to get banned from another three states, but Gabriel made no promises.

 Gabriel couldn’t find any Plaid Plus outlets, so he settled on Walmart. He even went through the checkout line and paid with real (fake) money. He felt like a saint.

When he returned to the motel he tried to enter the room quietly, but he quickly realized that Sam was no longer in bed. The bathroom light was on again. Gabriel sighed. He had seen how bad human ruts and heats could be—It was partly why he was happy to have such a unique vessel.

He set the bag of clothes on the bed and was about to leave to give Sam some privacy, but then he heard a strange noise from the bathroom—And not the good kind of strange.

“Sam?” Gabriel knocked on the door. He listened and heard muffled sobs.

 For the second time that day, the bathroom door was launched open by a surge of grace. Gabriel stepped in and panic rose in his chest.

Sam was sitting on the bathroom floor with his head in his arms, heaving and shaking like he was having a seizure. His robe was undone but he was so tightly curled up that it didn’t matter.

Gabriel knelt down quickly and tried to steady him. He put his hands on Sam’s shoulders, then his face.

“Sam. Can you hear me? Sam?”

Sam lifted his head but wouldn’t look at Gabriel. His eyes were closed tight and his expression was fraught with pain. Tears stained his cheeks.

Gabriel was torn. He could try to make his rut pass, but Sam’s body was already so unstable. He risked destroying it and leaving his soul open to Lucifer.

“Sam! Come on, Sam. Snap out of it. Look at me!”

Sam took a deep breath and smelled something sweet.

“Gabe… Gabriel…”

Gabriel felt helpless. “Just tell me what you need.”

Sam looked up at him. He looked like he’d just come out of Hell. He was trying to form words, but it wasn't working. “I don’t… want… “ He took a shuddering breath.

“I don’t want to be a virgin.”

Gabriel blinked. He assumed Sam was delirious, but then Sam went on.

“Gabriel, please… I don't want it. It’s just something else… that can be taken from me. The monsters, the humans, Lucifer… I don’t want it. I don’t want to be vulnerable, Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s grip on Sam weakened. He went from holding him still to just holding him. “Sam… what are you saying?” When Sam didn't answer, Gabriel's voice became quiet and careful.

"Sam, what you're asking me… I can’t do that. Not after what you’ve been through.” Gabriel’s expression was conflicted. There was something strange in his eye, something completely at odds with his Archangel divinity. It was something human — Weak. “You’re not in your right mind, Sam.”

Sam looked more pained than ever, but he didn't ask again. He nodded and looked away.

Gabriel’s heart sank. He was torn between hatred for his brother and hatred for himself, but Sam seemed to have accepted his answer. Sam rested his head on Gabriel and Gabriel let him. He held Sam to him and covered him up with the robe a little more.

 It took a while for Sam to get control over himself enough to speak again. At last he stopped shaking, although he was still sweating and looked fatigued. The smell of cherry blossom and vanilla lotus was like a sanctuary, even as it made his rut claw hungrily at his insides.

Encouraged by Sam’s improvement, Gabriel snapped his fingers and a water bottle flew over to them. Gabriel helped Sam take a few sips. Sam was grateful.

"Gabriel… I'm sorry." Sam mustered.

Gabriel shook his head. "Don't be sorry."

Sam set the water bottle down and let it roll away. Then he pressed his thumb into his injured palm and winced. It didn't seem to help as much anymore. Sam looked resigned.

"Gabe…" he said quietly, "I think you should go."

Gabriel looked at him. "Sam, I told you, my vessel won't…"

"That's not what I..." Sam shook his head. "You don't understand…"

Gabriel's brows came together.

"It's your scent… Gabriel… it's driving me crazy."

If it weren't for the unmistakable note of hunger in Sam's last few words, Gabriel might not have understood. Gabriel looked troubled.

Sam was shaking again. He put his injured palm on the floor and pushed himself away from Gabriel. "I can't… I don't want to hurt you. I owe you… everything." Sam wept. "I'm so sorry."

But Gabriel's expression had become surprisingly fierce. "Sam," he said, "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

When Sam looked away from him dismissively, Gabriel put his hand on his shoulder and turned him right back around.

"Sam. You're in a rut. This is your body reacting. Not your soul. Your soul is what told me to leave. You chose to tell me to leave. That's who you are, Sam. That's what matters. You are more than your body."

Sam looked at Gabriel, even as tears continued to trickle down his face. He wanted to believe him… but he didn't.

Gabriel sat down in front of Sam and took his injured hand. "What Lucifer did to you, that wasn't your fault. The way your body reacted wasn't your fault. You chose to say no. You chose not to give in. That's what matters Sam. That's what makes you you. Not your body, not your rut, your choices."

Sam closed his eyes, grounding himself in the sensation of pain and warmth from Gabriel's hand. He seemed to calm, but when he opened his eyes, he looked defeated. Gabriel reached up and wiped a tear from his face.

"I…" It took all of Sam's strength to speak again. "I liked your scent before my rut." He confessed.

Sam had barely said it, but he knew Gabriel heard. Gabriel's expression had faltered.

"I've always liked it." Sam looked devastated. "I'm sorry, Gabriel."

Sam's brown, gleaming eyes fell over Gabriel one last time, then he turned away again, as if giving him permission to leave. Sam felt guilt unlike anything he'd felt in a long time. Maybe not since Jess. After everything Gabriel had done for him. Sam felt polluted. Impure. Too wicked to be anything but the mate of a fallen angel. He could feel the handprint on the back of his shoulder more than ever, its warmth adding to Sam's shame. But then he realized that it was Gabriel touching him. Gabriel was pulling him back.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam, gripping him tight, and Sam felt his breath leave him. He sank into Gabriel, whose embrace was so firm that Sam knew Gabriel wasn't going anywhere. Sam nearly broke down.

"I'll stay, if it's what you truly want," Gabriel murmured.

Sam heard the words, but he had to look up to make sure Gabriel had said them. Gabriel's light brown eyes looked gold in the fluorescent light. He looked like an angel. Sam nodded.

 Sam wasn't sure who kissed who first. All he knew was that Gabriel was leaning down and Sam was moving up, then that sweet, exotic smell was finally materializing into taste as their lips came together. Sam inhaled it like a drug, and it transformed the painful ache of his rut to warmth and pleasure. It was almost too much. His head spun, or maybe it was his soul.

They kissed for what felt like months, each of them never quite getting enough. The motel light buzzed and the sink dripped. The clock in the bedroom ticked away. But all of those sounds were masked by their lips.

Sam eventually began to move, craving a new angle. Gabriel let Sam lead, but he kept him steady, guiding him into a comfortable position against the bathroom wall. Gabriel sat on Sam's lap as the kiss deepened.

Gabriel's scent was nothing compared to his taste. A low moan escaped Sam as the scent melted onto his tongue. He swallowed that vanilla and cherry blossoms, then the kiss turned deep. They made out against the bathroom tile, Gabriel between Sam and the wall. He was quite happy to be there. When Sam got handsy, Gabriel could tell it was time.

"Sam…" Gabriel mumbled, not quite willing to stop kissing him, "Bed."

Sam didn't argue. He picked Gabriel right up, his rut fuelling his strength. Gabriel could safely say he'd never been lifted like that by a human, and it did all sorts of naughty things to his brain.

It was a good thing the motel room was small. Sam and Gabriel toppled over onto the bed in seconds. Gabriel's robe and Sam's new clothes fell to the floor. Gabriel snapped the curtains closed, never taking his lips off of Sam.

With Sam's help, Gabriel started getting undressed. Sam was just in an open robe, a sight Gabriel vowed to never forget. Sam shouldered the robe off and helped Gabriel with his pants.

Sam's body was glistening with sweat, and Gabriel confirmed immediately he'd gotten him the proper sized rut toy. He could see the shadow of a knot beginning to form.

Gabriel was used to having sex with demi gods, but this proved to be much, much sexier. Still, Gabriel focused on Sam and took it slow.

Sam was the kind of Alpha to go hard and fast in a rut, but Gabriel's constant stream of kisses and gentle touches kept him in the moment. Gabriel coaxed Sam beneath him and, even as Sam's rut roared in him like a beast, he submitted to Gabriel.

"Sam, you still with me?" Gabriel mumbled between kisses.

Sam nodded, despite his eyes darkening with lust. Sam watched hungrily as Gabriel sat up. Gabriel rarely bottomed, but he never turned down the opportunity. Tonight it seemed especially appropriate. Gabriel barely had to grip Sam's virgin cock to angle it into himself. It was ready for him. So he just lined up and sank down.

Sam tried to calm his breathing, but failed a quarter of the way in. He moaned shamelessly, raking his hands up Gabriel's thighs. He was shaking with the effort not to buck, and it was making him tense.

"Relax, Sam," Gabriel breathed. Then a thought occurred to him and Gabriel caused his body to start producing slick. It dripped down Gabriel's thighs and coated Sam's cock as he slid down.

Sam shook with pleasure and held onto Gabriel's hips. The smell was intoxicating.

"Gabe… are you… is that slick?"

"Yeah. How's it feel?"

Sam looked windswept. "Amazing."

Gabriel grinned. The cocky look was so like Gabriel that Sam smiled. It was such a genuine smile that any doubts Gabriel had about taking his virginity vanished. He sank all the way down, sitting flush on Sam's lap and stealing the smile right off of his face. Sam's lips parted and his hips rose, burying himself in Gabriel, who signed in pleasure at the depth.

They both caught their breath as their bodies got used to one another, but soon Sam's body was shaking with the effort of staying still. So Gabriel reared up and sank back down. Sam gasped and thrust up, unable to control it. Then Gabriel did it again, and again.

Within seconds Gabriel was riding Sam's cock and Sam was rocking his hips in absolute relief.

"Gabe… Gabriel…" He groaned, his expression screwed up.

His hands found Gabriel's and Gabriel pressed them onto the bed, then leaned over and kissed him. The angle allowed them to fuck each other, and soon they were panting and groaning, half making love, half fucking in the dark motel room.

Whenever Sam started losing himself, his rut taking over and making him unresponsive, Gabriel would sit up again and slow things down. After only a few minutes Gabriel's body was producing slick freely and Sam's knot was beginning to swell.

"Gabe…" Sam warned. "Gabe… gonna knot…"

Gabriel could feel it. He sat up, still holding Sam's hands, and fucked him into the bed. Sam moaned and came, his knot swollen inside Gabriel's body. He nearly lifted Gabriel off the bed.

Gabriel froze, unable to move, but the sensation was so powerful in his slick coated body that he didn't want to go anywhere. He let himself come as Sam filled him up, moaning in encouragement. He'd never experienced such pleasure as an Omega.

Soon Sam's hips stopped and he lay there, sweating and heaving with his eyes closed, his fingers intertwined with Gabriel's.

"Gabriel… oh…oh shit..." Sam breathed, his voice weak with satisfaction.

Gabriel grinned at him. He pushed hair out of Sam's face and kissed him. Sam rubbed his freed hand up Gabriel's arm.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Mm...that's an understatement."

Sam smiled sheepishly. It was the second genuine smile Gabriel had seen since that day.

"I uh… You might be stuck there for a while."

"Oh, no…"

Sam chuckled, rumbling beneath Gabriel. "Sorry. It's just… first time and all."

Gabriel couldn't help but notice the difference between how Sam looked when he talked about his virginity before and how he looked now. Gabriel smiled at him. "You can make it up to me with dinner and a movie."

Sam hummed in amusement. He wrapped his arms around Gabriel and kissed him. It was a slow, languid kiss. They didn't pull away until Sam's knot deflated.

Sam could have fallen asleep like that. He must have looked tired, because once Gabriel got up he pulled Sam into his arms and said, "Get some sleep. I'll stay with you."

Sam didn't know how to express his gratitude. After he got back from Hell the first time, he barely slept for years, but this time, he fell asleep in seconds.

 Gabriel let Sam sleep for hours. Every so often he'd start dreaming (Gabriel could tell they weren't good dreams) and he'd wake him just enough so he could fall back asleep. A few times he had to wake Sam completely. Gabriel knew those dreams weren't caused by his rut. Anger doused Gabriel's post coital bliss like cold water, but he just let it fuel his determination to protect Sam.

It was dawn when Sam woke properly. He lay in Gabriel's arms for a while, trying to replace the after image of his dreams with the sight of Gabriel. Part of him still couldn't believe it was real.

Gabriel must have sensed it, because he took Sam's hand and massaged it. "Good morning."

Sam smiled weakly. Pale sunlight was filtering in through the blinds. "Morning."

Sam seemed to have recovered well enough, so finally Gabriel asked. "Want me to heal you again? Take care of the rest of your rut?"

Sam nodded appreciatively. "Yes, please."

Gabriel brought his fingers to Sam's forehead. "Close your eyes." A light brighter than the sun shone between them, and Sam felt his body cool considerably. The rumblings of discomfort and need faded away. When he was finished, Sam looked up at him in relief.

"Thanks, Gabriel."

 While Sam showered and changed, Gabriel cleaned up the room. Dean would appreciate the leftover food, even if there were no burgers or beer. But after his shower, Sam was being strangely quiet. He towelled off his hair in the mirror, wearing his new plaid jacket and denim jeans, and looking lost in thought.

Gabriel stood in the doorway behind him. "Sam? You okay?"

Sam turned abruptly. "Yeah. Of course."

Gabriel rose a brow.

Sam's false smile faded.

"Is it Dean?"

"No… Dean, he… This isn't our first Hell rescue. He won't ask too many questions." Sam was grateful for that. But still… He examined his healing hand. Now that the distraction of his rut was gone, he could feel the ache deep inside him, not in his body, but in his soul. "I just thought this was over. I mean, I knew this pain would never go away, but… to start over again?" Sam looked troubled.

"Sam, you're not starting over again. You're ten times as prepared as you were last time. You know all the tricks," Gabriel said.

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"And you have your brother, and an Archangel, on your side."

Sam looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," Gabriel grinned.

Sam smiled, but when he spoke his voice was anything but lighthearted. "You'd really stick around for a human with a soul as damaged as mine?"

"Sam,” Gabriel said, “Your soul is the only one I'd stick around for."

Sam's smile warmed.

Gabriel winked at him.

In the distance they heard the roar of a familiar engine. Sam felt an obligation to say something before Dean arrived—Or maybe to kiss Gabriel—But Gabriel was smiling contently at him, and Sam realized that Gabriel had been telling the truth. He really was willing to stick around, even if he had to wait for someone as damaged as Sam to heal.

The Impala roared to a stop outside the motel room and a car door slammed.

"Well, you ready?" Gabriel asked.

Sam took a deep breath and smiled. "Oh yeah."

[veliseraptor]

I know you've stopped writing in the fandom, but I am in love with your Samifer fics (Best. Ship. Ever)! Like, I have absolutely no words to describe the perfection that is "Say a Prayer for Recognition". Keep on with the good work, from the creepy ao3 reader who keeps on keaving kudos!

I may have stopped writing in Supernatural fandom but Sam/Lucifer is a pairing that is still near and dear to my black heart. Seriously, that ship was candy for me in so many ways - the manipulation, the twisted forms of affection, the awful destructiveness of all of it, the way Lucifer and Sam mirrored and contrasted with each other. 

Is “Say a Prayer for Recognition” the one with the waltzing? Cause I do remember that one. --ah yes, just went and checked, it has the tags Lucifer's Cage, now with more waltzing. I’m still pretty proud of that one. Though I can’t believe I didn’t warn for gore, whoops. 

And long after Dean was a fading memory (of pain, of harsh words and promises made and partings not sweet at all), Lucifer remained. “I will never leave you,” he said, flaying skin from muscle with meticulous care. “Everyone else comes and goes and will leave you, Sam, but I never will. I keep my promises, and I promised you you would never be alone. You are mine.”

This pairing was such a good time.