The feel of those skilled fingers against his skin was one thing, so was the press of Michael’s body against his back as he kept fucking into him. Opening his eyes to actually watch as Michael laced their fingers together and squeezed was something else entirely. Holding hands during sex wasn’t something he did often. He usually caved to his own nature, letting them wander wherever the moment took them or if not that then allowed himself to be bound to better focus his attention. The world seemed to stop for him for a breath or two, caught in the profound intimacy that the gesture offered even if it was tight and claiming in its own right. His body rocked with Michael’s movements, countering his thrusts when the world started back up again. “Wanna feel you fill me up,” he gasped, finding his way somehow back to English. He didn’t want to let any of them go. Not Michael. Not Lucifer. Not Castiel. All the angels who had meant the world to him in their way, who had demanded his loyalty, who he had been made for, and who was the first to truly suggest their kind had choice respectively. “Please,” he gasped, curling the fingers of his right hand to press against Michael’s instead of his own palm. “Come for me. I need you.”
Michael couldn’t resist that pleading, not that he would have wanted to. In that moment he likely would have done anything Samandriel asked of him, no matter what it was. He was only too happy to be lost in that lustful haze when the only thing that mattered was making Samandriel and himself feel good. He could only moan in response to his request, hands tightening around the angel’s as he held him, his thrusts suddenly as rough as his breath, driving himself to that cliff he could feel coming soon. He bit a little harder at his shoulder, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to sate that little hint of possessiveness that ran through him. But he still owed Samandriel a mark that matched the one he had given him earlier, so as he felt himself fall over the edge he gave that perfect skin a mark just like the one on his own neck before he lifted his lips and let out a deep cry of pleasure.
Samandriel had wanted to wait, to avoid coming until it could truly be Michael’s Will for it. He couldn’t manage it. His body trembled as he came, tensing around Michael’s length like some deep part of him thought the other man might be holding out. He didn’t have the focus to spare to leave the mark made on his shoulder (but god did that feel good,) for Michael’s pleasure.
The angel’s breath came in hot, heavy puffs against his own shoulder and Michael’s hair. He kept hold of those hands, not quite ready to let him go just yet. They could lay just like this for a little while, and maybe Michael wouldn’t mind indulging him in a proper cuddle once they finally did get around to moving.
He hadn’t wanted to move either. He was feeling far too warm and complete and satisfied lying atop Samandriel. Perhaps he wasn’t being as kind as he ought to have been, after all Michael had his full weight resting on him now, even if it didn’t bother the angel to be crushed he may have wanted to move out from under him. Still, it took a lot of effort to even consider moving off him. Eventually he managed enough to start moving, pressing a kiss to that angelic cheek before he came to rest close beside him.
“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly after a moment, reaching out a hand to keep in contact with his flawless skin. “If I hurt you at all, I…” he trailed off knowing how silly he was probably being. Aside from the fact that he was a divine being and it probably took more to harm him than Michael’s roughness, it had essentially been what he asked for. But still, he was no monster, hurting something so beautiful and wonderful did nothing for him. He wanted Samandriel as happy as he was.