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Gabriel hadn’t expected much to happen after his brother killed him – to him, anyway. He would go to Hell or Purgatory or wherever not-quite-fallen archangels went, and the Winchester boys would save the world. Somewhere along the line, their stubborn determination had convinced even the Trickster.
It had made seeing Sam for the first time since Lucifer had put his blade through Gabriel’s chest that much more painful.
Gabriel had been given a first-class ticket to Hell. He’d been too busy running for his life from further injury by fire and the nameless, shadowy thing hunting him to notice the shift in power until he suddenly found himself away from the lake of fire. One minute, lava and hellbeasts; the next, some sort of library, dark-paneled and full of fat leatherbound books and squashy armchairs.
He’s bare-chested and filthy, his wings bedraggled, but the other man in the library is immaculate, paging through a book with a manicured hand. His white suit glows in the dim light. Gabriel doesn’t recognize him until the man turns to face him. What he sees on that familiar face tells him which path the world has taken, which of the many realities he can see has come to pass. That it’s clearly Sam and not Lucifer in the body standing before Gabriel means Sam had said yes, but the Croatoan virus was never unleashed. Castiel never died in Dean’s suicide mission. Michael and Lucifer have been imprisoned in the cage to bicker for all eternity.
But Sam had said yes, and what Gabriel sees in his eyes makes the archangel shudder. This man isn’t Sam Winchester, loyal brother and warrior.
This is Sam, Boy King of Hell.
Gabriel doesn’t find out he’s been named consort until he’s summoned to Sam’s bed one night.
Sam had kept Hell’s architecture as Lucifer had created it, making only a few minor changes. Crowley had been promoted, of course – that had been practically inevitable according to this reality. But Alistair had been left to his work; despite Sam’s loathing of the creature who had once tortured and defiled Dean, Alistair is good at what he does. There are still souls screaming for mercy in every corner, still fire and ice and bloody, brutal torment. There is still day, pale and sickly, and night, dark and fearsomely feral.
There is still the house. It’s more of a castle, its foundations situated at the center of hell though its walls of dark, volcanic rock are visible from every level. The huge, lavish rooms have also been left much as Lucifer designed.
Sam slides out of bed when Gabriel is shoved into the room, his demon guard shutting the door quietly when he leaves. Gabriel waits, body tensed and wings barely still against his bare back. He’s cleaner than before – he’d been allowed a nice long soak, at least – but not much more clothed in a pair of loose, light-colored pants, and a thin golden collar with matching cuffs and chain that mark him as property. Gabriel has been his own being far too long for that to sit well, but there isn’t much he can do. His wings remain, but most of his archangel abilities are somehow inhibited by the collar and by Hell itself.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Sam murmurs as he steps closer, eyes shining dark and liquid in the dim, flickering light from the fireplace. He studies the bound archangel before him. Gabriel stays silent, because this isn’t the Sam he knew – the Sam he knew wouldn’t have him in chains before him.
When Sam brushes fingertips against the gold links, dissolving them into smoke and leaving only the collar remaining, Gabriel doesn’t know how to react.
“Sam, kiddo, look-” he starts, but Sam silences him with a look and a gentle caress of fingertips along his shoulder, trailing his hand down across Gabriel’s collarbone, across a peaked, hardened nipple, as he walks around the archangel, studying him from every angle as his hands brush Gabriel’s exposed skin.
“Undress,” Sam commands when he’s back in front of Gabriel, only inches away, looming.
“What- ” he chokes out, indignant and wary. But as he pulls away, Sam hooks a finger under the collar and yanks him back hard enough that Gabriel yelps. He can feel the warmth of Sam’s breath on his cheek as Sam murmurs into his ear.
“I put your brothers away. I saved you from the lake, Gabriel. Do as I command.”
Sam is soft-spoken, but the warning in his voice is plain. Gabriel unties his pants and lets them fall.
Sam’s fingertips continue their feather-light exploration, drifting down to brush Gabriel’s cock in a touch that jolts a gasp out of the angel. As his fingers stroke up Gabriel’s length and back down, Sam nips at his ear. The words he whispers make Gabriel shiver in fear and arousal.
“I had imagined how you would look, naked and trembling for me to fuck you. Now I’ll get to find out.”
His hand moves in quick twists that make Gabriel arch into his touch against his will. This isn’t Sam, he tries to remind himself, not really. This boy king could snap his neck, eviscerate him with a thought, spill his blood in thick, sticky pools and not think twice. But Gabriel’s body doesn’t care if this version of Sam is dangerous and cruel.
He’s guided backwards until he falls onto the deliciously soft bed. Sam’s hand leaves his cock long enough for the taller man to shed his own pants and clamber onto him, then he’s jerking Gabriel in fast, brutal strokes, smirking at the groan the angel can’t keep back.
“I won’t even have to force you, will I? You’ll be begging to have me inside you.”
Sam’s arrogant confidence provokes Gabriel into responding.
“So sure about that, kiddo?” he snaps, gritting his teeth as he tries to keep from panting.
The hand on him squeezes tight enough to wring another yelp out of Gabriel before he’s released.
“Turn over,” Sam snarls, eyes dark with fury. Gabriel glares back at him in defiance before Sam flips him roughly. The golden chains and cuffs reappear, binding his hands and feet to the bedposts.
His wings flutter in panic. A caress to the pinion feather has him fighting his bonds, livid. The touch is a violation, even more than being chained for Sam’s amusement, a perversion of angelic mating rituals and bonds. Sam only laughs at his attempts to free himself, burying his fingers deeper into golden feathers. His touch is repulsive…but, Gabriel can barely allow himself to think, arousing, sending jolts of lust straight to his cock that make him thrust into sheets damp with precome.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” he growls.
His head is yanked back as Sam pulls his hair hard enough to make Gabriel hiss in pain.
“You’re mine, Gabriel, what part of this don’t you understand? Don’t make me gag you, I’d rather hear you.”
He’s released as Sam continues petting his wings, moving and flexing them as he pleases and wringing more bitten-back whimpers from Gabriel as he does. But when his wings are finally left alone, Gabriel tries to crane his neck to look back at Sam, only to be restricted by his bonds.
Suddenly, Sam’s hands are shoving his legs farther apart. Sam’s thumb moves between them, sliding over his hole, pressing gently. The touch makes Gabriel freeze, and before he can react, those hands are gripping and spreading his ass, and Sam’s warm, wet tongue replaces his hand.
Gabriel jerks and cries out, thrusting forward to grind his dick into the sheets and backward towards Sam’s hot, slick mouth. His attempts to resist are quickly failing as Sam laps at his hole in long, languid strokes. The need to touch himself is almost unbearable, but the chains hold fast. When Sam’s tongue presses inside, Gabriel’s soon reduced to a sobbing, writhing mess.
One finger, then two, joins Sam’s tongue, and it’s all Gabriel can do to moan wordlessly, biting back the words Sam wants to hear. He won’t beg, he won’t, even as his traitorous mind imagines how they look, Gabriel tied down and spread open, Sam kneeling between his thighs, working him loose and slick.
When Sam pulls his mouth away to crook his fingers deeper, the sensation lets loose the torrent of words that Gabriel had tried his hardest to keep himself from saying.
“Fuck, fuck, Sam, touch me, please, fuck me.”
He gasps as Sam’s fingers slide out of him, realizing what he’s just said. Sam groans behind him, and when his cock nudges between Gabriel’s spread legs, he realizes that Hell’s new leader is just as hard as he is. The tip of Sam’s cock traces wet trails of precome along Gabriel’s skin as Sam bites at the crook of the angel’s neck, sucking a dark bruise onto the pale skin. Without warning, his cockhead pushes into Gabriel’s loose, slick hole as his hand reaches around to grasp Gabriel’s dick.
“Sam, Sam, fuck-” Gabriel bites his lip hard enough to split the skin, trying to stop himself from babbling, trying to keep Sam from having too much to gloat about. But as he thrusts in, burying himself completely, Sam wrings more gasps, moans, and cries from the angel. His wings tremble and flutter as Sam fucks him, slow and deep.
“Such a slut, letting me defile you, begging me to fuck you, just like I said you would…” Sam says softly, his lips brushing the shell of Gabriel’s ear.
Gabriel’s too gone to care that he’s being fucked into the mattress by someone he should be trying to slaughter instead. He’s too distracted by the haze of lust - the feeling of being filled by Sam’s dick, rubbing just right against the spot that makes him see stars - to care that he’s fallen this far, chained and owned. He doesn’t care what his brothers would think, what Dean would think, what anyone would think, to see him used like this, only wantonly fucks himself with Sam’s tight fist and thick cock as he aches to come.
Sam’s teeth nip sharply at the nape of his neck as he growls, “Only for me, Gabriel, only for me,” and Gabriel comes with a shout that’s torn from him as his come coats the sheets and Sam’s hand. His orgasm sends Sam over the edge, and moments later, he tenses and spills into Gabriel with a cry.
They collapse in a panting, sweaty heap to the bed, Gabriel’s chains vanishing once again, leaving only the collar. Gabriel turns away from Sam, but the ruler of Hell presses against his back in the space between his wings, wrapping his arms around him.
“I meant it, Gabriel. You’re mine now.”
Gabriel doesn’t answer, too spent to argue.