by Taylor Law
It was over far too soon, Sam pulling away to study him. The awe and wonder was back, all over his face, and it made Bran smile. The man in his arms smiled right back at him, and his breath became trapped in his lungs at the sight. Damn!
Some of the tension that had been radiating around his body left him, and he felt lighter. He knew somehow that everything would be okay. Somehow, it would all work out. Because Sammy has me, and he’s not going to let me fall.
“Let’s get out of here.” Sam said, making sure Bran was steady before stepping back and capturing Bran’s hand in his own.
The whole walk to the car, they held hands. It was probably meant to make sure he didn’t do a face plant in the parking lot, but he didn’t care. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
****
Chapter 6
Samael was possessive and protective. Who knew? The entire drive to Brandon’s Ex, he kept stewing. He did not want his Little Raven around that imbecile. Part of it was that he did not want him to get hurt again, but the other part was that Bran was his.
Chris had put his hands on Brandon, had touched him, kissed him… hurt him. Sam was seeing red. He knew he was being irrational, and jealous, but he could not control it. He’d never had anything to be jealous about before, so this was a very new feeling for him. One he didn’t completely understand, and was having a difficult time facing. By the time they reached the house, he was ready to rip the man’s arms off and beat him to death with them.
It probably wasn’t a bad way to feel. With what Bran had told him, retrieving the money was not going to be effortless. They were about to have a showdown. Therefore, the fact that he was pumped up and ready to face a legion of demons, was probably a blessing. He just hoped he didn’t get carried away and seriously injure the human.
Yes, he was human now too, but he had been a warrior and the harbinger of death for eons. It was instinct. Ingrained in him. Granted, he was weaker and slower than he had been. He was without his powers and could not use his wings as a shield or weapon, but that was not going to aid someone who did not know the first thing about battle.
He had to keep his head.
They walked together to the front door and he watched as Brandon knocked, trying to control the buzz reverberating through him; trying to cool the blood that was pounding in his ears.
After the third series of knocks, the door flew inward and a loud “What?” was shouted at them. When the man stepped into the frame, both he and Samael just gawked at each other for a moment, open mouthed.
Sam moved first, pushing Bran behind him and wedging his foot in the path of the door, while smacking it with his hand, to prevent it from closing. There was a struggle over it for a minute; until finally Samael unsheathed the Demon Dagger from the holster Brandon had purchased for him, and laid it against the demon’s neck, while caging him against the doorframe.
He could hear Brandon yelling in the background, but ignored him.
“Asmodeus? Fancy meeting you here.” Sam narrowed his eyes on the demon. “I wouldn’t move too quickly if I were you.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Samael?” His mouth was pressed into a thin line and he kept glancing at the hilt of the weapon.
“Funny, I was just wondering the same thing about you.”
Brandon had quieted and was looking back and forth between them, trying to understand. “Chris? You two know each other? Wait, Sam, what did you call him?”
“He called me Asmodeus, my tasty little morsel - for that is my name.” The demon grinned at Bran before focusing again on the danger.
“Bran, this is Asmodeus, the demon of lust. A…you know Brandon. Now that the introductions have been made, I want answers. You are going to provide them for me.” The buzz humming through Sam was getting stronger and he took strength from it, used it to focus.
Asmodeus leered at him. “You look good Sam. Why don’t you come in, and we’ll have a …hmmm… chat.” He waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips, and Samael felt sick.
“I don’t think so. I'm perfectly fine right here. What’s going on, A?”
“You know I can’t tell y….” he started, only to cut off with a hiss as Samael pushed the blade tighter against his throat.
“Not what I want to hear. What is wanted with Brandon? Why the entire pretense about money? Tell me!”
“His father. His father wants him, so he set up a situation where Brandon would have no choice.” Asmodeus was sweating, filling Sam’s nostrils with the stink of his fear. He never was one for fighting. Mental manipulation and sex were his strengths.
“Who? Give me a name.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t. I’ve already told you too much.” Samael drew the dagger in closer, barely breaking skin, but A just closed his eyes and prepared for the deathblow. Only two things stopped him from delivering it: he didn’t want to have to explain why he killed a demon when he had been denounced - it wasn’t considered his business anymore - and Brandon was standing behind him. He didn’t want him to see that
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen very closely, Asmodeus. You will call this drug dealer and see to this problem. You will ensure his harassment of Brandon ceases immediately. Then you shall spread the word that Bran is off-limits. Inform whom you must. If I catch you, his father, or any other demons around him, I shall destroy you all. Do you understand? You know I am able, Asmodeus—and I will. This is no idle threat. You have seen me in action. I am permitting you one free pass. If there is the occasion that I see you again, it will be the last time, because you will be subsisting in the Seventh level of Hell for the whole of eternity. Understood?” By the time the last words had left Sam’s lips, his voice was a low growl and he was emitting serious pressure on the blade in his hand, practically leaning on A to do it. One movement and the demon was finished.
Asmodeus kept his eyes closed and stood there, frozen. “Yes, yes. I got it. I got it,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth.
Samael released the demon and backed away, latching onto Brandon’s arm as he went. He kept his eyes on his enemy until the door had shut, before finally turning and hustling Bran toward the car.
****
Brandon had stepped into the fucking Rabbit hole. Hell, stepped? He’d dove in headfirst. He kept waiting for a cat to materialize out of thin air, and start making smart-ass comments. He wouldn’t be surprised. Nothing could bring that emotion out of him right now. Any emotion, really.
He felt numb. Empty. His limbs were made of lead and his head filled with cotton. He was in shock.
Samael guided him around the car and into the driver’s seat, before walking around and getting in himself. When Bran just sat there staring off into space, Sam touched his arm and started talking to him. Not that he heard any of it.
Okay, the earthquake could stop anytime. Really. “Brandon, look at me.” Oh, he was the one shaking, not California. “Look at me!”
He did as he was told, and saw concern and fear in Sammy’s eyes, but he didn’t feel anything. His body was no longer his own.
“Can you drive? Hey, Bran? Can you drive the car?”
Bran stared at him moment longer before nodding.
“Okay. Drive us back to your apartment. If I could do it I would, but…”
Right. Sammy was an angel, and didn’t know how to drive. Annnnnd his ex-boyfriend was a demon, his father was coming for him, people with wings were following them….ashes, ashes. They all fall down. Wee!
“Brandon?” Sam’s voice was soft and his touch gentle on Bran’s face, petting him. “Let's get you home, okay? It’s going to be alright. I have you.”
Home. Drive home. He could do that. Yeah.
He didn’t remember the drive at all. He didn’t know which route he’d taken, if he’d stopped at all the right places, followed the speed limit, or used his blinker. He might as well have been drunk off his ass, because he was just not there. It was like trying to remember a dream the next day, but only getting fu
zzy bits and pieces. Before he knew it, he was at his front door trying to put the key in the lock, but the damn thing kept jumping away from him every time he got close. Stupid moving doorknob.
Samael pried the keys from his fingers and ushered him into the apartment, steering him by his elbow to the bedroom. He was shaking again, so hard that his teeth rattled together and he bit his tongue.
Sam calmly started to undress him, peeling away his clothing one article at a time. When he got to his shoes, the man maneuvered him gently until he was sitting on the bed, before kneeling down and taking them off. He was free balling, so after his pants were removed, he was naked and cold. Very, very cold.
Samael laid him down on the bed and covered him with the blanket up to his chin, before making short work of his own clothing and climbing in bed beside him. He pulled Bran almost on top of him, forcing his body into compliance. As Bran lay there, with his head cradled on Sam’s chest, listening to his breathing, his angel rubbed his back in slow, gentle circles, murmuring, “I’ve got you,” and “it’s okay,” over and over in his ear.
He didn’t know how long they lay together that way on the bed, but eventually he started coming back to himself again. The sky had darkened and the room was bathed in purple by the time Bran had stopped shivering. He realized at some point that he had started to cry. Runaway tears were sliding down his cheeks without his permission, bathing his face and forming a puddle on the chest he was resting on - like a faucet that wouldn’t stop dripping. He gathered his strength and pulled the blanked up to wipe is face.
He looked up at Samael, who was staring down at him in concern. “Are you alright, my Little Raven?”
Speaking was hard, but when he finally found his words all he could get out was, “I…can’t…I can’t,” and it was as if a damn crashed open. He started blubbering and gasping, sobbing like never before. He didn’t know why he was crying, except that he was so overwhelmed with everything, that his body didn’t know how to contain it. It was being expelled in a storm of emotion that he couldn’t control. It didn’t last long, and as he hiccupped and sighed out the last of his tears, he felt lighter for having let it out. He could think again.
His world had completely flipped on its axis but Sammy had caught him. He'd kept his promise to not let him fall. He’d held him and taken care of him. Nothing was what it seemed, and nothing would ever be the same again, but he wasn’t alone. He needed to be reminded of that. He needed life affirmation. He needed… just needed…
Bran lifted himself up a little, crawling higher to reach Sam’s face. His angel was studying him, eyebrows drawn together. Bran leaned over him, whispered “Samael” against his lips before capturing the man’s mouth with his own.
The kiss was not gentle or sweet. It was wild, and rough and perfect, and Sam gave as good as he got. They grabbed at each other - frantic hands searching, squeezing, pulling each other closer - attempting to climb into one another’s bodies. It wasn’t enough.
Bran had been flipped onto his back once more in the frenzy, groaning as Sam’s weight landed atop him. Yes. “Please. I need you Sammy.”
Sam pulled back and looked at him in confusion, and Brandon didn’t wait for permission before reaching between them and fisting the man’s enticing erection. Those dark blue eyes closed and he moaned deep in his throat, thrusting a few times. Bran let go and pushed him onto his back, grabbing the lube and crawling between his legs.
He slicked up one hand and brought it around behind him to his hole, relishing the burn as he unceremoniously thrust two fingers inside. Using his other hand, he balanced himself enough to lean down and drag his tongue up the shaft of his lover, watching as his balls drew up and his cock waved hello.
“Oh!” Samael, who had been watching him, reclining on his elbows, fell back on the bed and closed his eyes.
Sam was so hard, his foreskin had withdrawn and the head was almost purple with blood. Bran licked at a bead of pre-cum on the tip, dipping his tongue in the slit a few times searching for more, before using his lips to nibble at whatever skin was left around the glans. He relished the sounds that Sammy made. The man’s hands were scrambling for something to hold on to and his panting had turned into a breathy “Ha, ha, ha,” sound that Bran loved.
The whole time, Bran was fucking himself with his fingers, preparing himself for what was to come. He added a third finger before using the flat of his tongue on his lover’s frenulum, laving the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head.
Then he stopped, waiting until his Sammy looked at him. Reminding him where he was and who he was with; verifying it for himself in the process. He needed their connection right now, more than he did the act. When Sam looked up, Brandon sucked the whole cock into his mouth. The half groan, half shout made him pull back though. He didn’t want it to be over before they’d even started.
Bran was about ready anyway, and in the end, impatience won.
Removing his fingers, he turned around to dig through the bedside table, coming back with a condom. He opened the packaging with his teeth, pulled it out, and rolled it down his lover’s long, thick shaft, before coated it with more lube. When he was satisfied with his work, he crawled up his man’s body like a cat stalking its prey, taking his mouth in a feral kiss while straddling his hips.
He leaned back, high on his knees, and reached under himself to place the cock where he wanted it. As it touched his hole, he looked directly at Samael. The man’s pupils were so dilated that they almost took over his irises completely, making them look black. He saw confusion and desire in their depths. Continuing to hold Sam’s gaze, he sat back, relaxing to take him inside. As the first ring of muscles released, Sammy grunted and jerked his hips, pushing a few more inches in and causing Bran to moan.
“Brandon?” Samael panted out, eyes wide.
“Feels so good... Oh god… You feel so good.”
Bran rocked himself onto the shaft, slowly taking it in, until his balls rested on his lover’s pelvis Samael was magnificent, head thrown back, muscles bulging. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more awesome sight.
Sam was not small by any means, so he stilled for a moment, giving his body a chance adjust. Once he felt ready, he held his palms out to the man. “Give me your hands.”
Samael complied, and Brandon threaded their fingers together, using it as leverage to help him move. And move he did. He rode Sammy hard, lifting and falling, taking him as deep as he could. After a few minutes, Sam began to thrust in tandem with his movements, their breaths and moans filling the room. Bran had never been a quiet lover, and he was whimpering and groaning with each delicious sweep of that fat cock across his prostate. His own penis was weeping, and he could barely catch his breath.
“Oh, God... Sammy. Yes!” It felt wonderful. It felt right. His blood was coursing through his veins, adrenaline and endorphins were flooding his system, making him feel more alive than ever. The connection with Sam was right there too, linking them together the whole time. This was what he’d needed.
Unexpectedly, Samael sat up, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Their gazes locked, and Bran still saw the desire there, but it was joined with affection and a deep yearning that pulled at his soul. Sam threaded a hand into his hair and then they were kissing, locked in a passionate embrace while their bodies undulated together searching for release. The new position put even more friction on Brandon’s prostate, and trapped his erection against Sam’s washboard stomach, where it rubbed with every motion.
Their mouths broke apart in an attempt to find air, but they continued to hold each other close as they rocked faster, their orgasms building toward that magnificent peak.
Sam tensed in his arms. “Bran… I'm…I …Oh…”
Bran understood, because he was right there with him.
Then they were both flying over the cliff together, clinging to each other. Not alone.
Never alone.
****
Chapter 7
Samael lay in bed, staring up at the nothingness above him. Darkness had fallen quite some time ago, and the room was encased in shadow. Brandon was sleeping peacefully, curled atop him; the midnight hair at his crown tickling Sam’s chin, while he absently stroke the man’s back.
He was too unsettled to find his own rest. His Little Raven’s distress had troubled him so. He didn’t blame Bran for reacting the way he did. He knew better than most how it was when everything you knew was ripped away from you, to be replaced with the unfathomable. Only, when Brandon had let go, his tears had broken Samael’s heart. He had required the release. Sam hoped that when he awoke, he would have renewed strength.
Unfortunately, Sam did not believe one thing Asmodeus said. He was a demon after all, and they were not renowned for their good word. A confrontation was approaching, and not the kind that he appreciated. There were too many unknowns in the situation. There was no way to prepare. Who was Bran’s father that he was in league with demons? Why was the man coming for his long lost son now, and why in such a perplexing way? What did he have to do with the whole situation? Was it only because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was there more to it than that? He had no doubt at this point that the twenty thousand dollars was some kind of set up, but he did not know why.
He sighed and rubbed his free hand down his face. There was just no way of knowing, until the trouble met them head on. For the first time, though, he was truly glad he was here; no matter the situation that brought him. He would stand by Brandon, come what may, and they would fight together.
Samael and Brandon together was a good thing.
Sam thought back over the last few hours and the astonishing things that had taken place. With how horribly upset Bran was, he'd not expected affection of any kind, never mind what had actually happened. He had wanted only to hold him and give him comfort. When Brandon had kissed him so fiercely, the protectiveness in him mixed with the adrenaline and endorphins still flooding his body, from the confrontation with the demon, to create an explosion of which Sam had never known.