
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2106207.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Gabriel/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Gabriel_(Supernatural)
  Additional Tags:
      Peacock!Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Omega_Sam, Alpha_Gabriel,
      Cat!Gabriel, Tomcat!Gabriel, Mating, Spiking, Mates, cross-species
      mating, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-09 Words: 3627
****** A Mating Most Fowl ******
by littlemisskiara
Summary
     Sam is an omega!peacock and Gabriel is an alpha!tomcat.
     Need I say more?
Notes
     Based off this comment: http://archiveofourown.org/comments/12315453
      
     FYI_Gabriel's_catform_looks_like_this_to_me_(in_this_fic_anyway)
See the end of the work for more notes
Sam wasn't supposed to be . . . this.
He was large, formidable. If it weren't for the color of his damn feathers.
Dean had it good. He always knew he'd be an alpha. The most gorgeous feathers
for a hundred flocks, Indian emerald and apple greens and cerulean blues and
plush pinks, matching sunny-forest eyes, blushing cheeks with high cheekbones
and striking freckles and strength of a thousand betas, didn't matter what
species they were. Could even take down alphas of other species. Yeah, Dean was
an alpha alright.
But Sam . . . Sam wasn't. And each day that passed proved that theory more and
more.
His colors were hen-like. His soft cheekbones are dusted with the glinting down
reminiscent of his african-cousin-hens. Hazel eyes and dusky browns and subtle
hints of blush and hardly any blues. A few yellow undertones, but even his
eyelets were a bright malachite instead of teal. An oddity that Sam had sussed
out when he was fourteen. Even with the largest tail span and a little more
strength than necessary, there was no doubt Sam was anything close to an alpha.
It was a trait not seen in these flocks for the last few generations.
Yeah. Sam was an omega.
A male omega.
There's no way John would be able to accept such a disgrace.
Couldn't even play off his coloring as Congolese, no where even close to it.
No matter where he went he'd always have the colors of a hen. Because
technically, he was. And John, after the initial anger and screaming match,
would no doubt sell him to make a tidy profit. He'd be a rare prize in a harem.
Most male omegas had next to no alpha traits, tails nearly non-existent and
strength the same – unless their young are threatened, then no alpha on this
good green planet would be able to stop a male hen.
In 2 weeks, John would sell him. Because in 2 weeks, there'd be no more hiding.
Sam was 14, and in 2 weeks it'll be mating season. The flocks will converge and
the mating rut will start, fighting and dancing and preening and triumphant
cooing. And Sam would chirp and slick and be drawn to the deep rumbling love
calls the alphas intone.
And John would see and he would know.
Sam's spent 14 years pretending that he's not attracted to alphas, pretending
that he doesn't want a mate to pin him and part his feathers and take him.
But in 2 weeks, all that pretending will be all for nothing.
That's why, he's leaving. Now. Tonight.
Long locks tied back with a tight wreathe of Dean's fallen plumes – Dean having
a matching one of Sam's feathers wrapped round his wrist – and tail taught to
his body, he sneaks past the guards; watching for anything coming in they are
unconcerned for those going out.
Embracing the cold night air is not hard for the soon-to-present omega, tones
of greens erupting over his pale skin like a coat, tiny feathers invisible in
all but color to the naked eye. Sam hasn't perfected shifting yet, having only
been able to move back and forth between human and fowl for four years now.
Having spent the bulk of his life as a peacock – effeminate but still a peacock
all the same – he's still a bit uncertain in his human skin. Like most of his
kind he spends the majority of his time in limbo – that's what Dean calls the
“half-shifted phase”. Lesswordy.
With the coat of down, he heads off towards town. An hour north on foot, at
least. But that's not a challenge, the challenge will be finding a place to
stay. He's got enough cash to sustain him for a good while, but the questions
are; does he settle, or move on? Does he call to reassure Dean he's alright
tomorrow, or wait till he's settled, or not at all? That last one he shakes off
because fuck that he's not gonna leave his brother without an explanation. Far
as Sam is concerned Dean was always his alpha.
Okay, no, ew. Not in that sense .
Sam cringes at the unwelcome thought, suddenly realizing that yeah he's made
the right choice in leaving because hello?! John would have either sold him or
mated him to his brother.
The practice isn't taboo, nor is Sam generally against it as a rule but . . .
ew.
His brother that raised him and treats him like his own chick, no way would he
or Dean for that matter, be down for mating with one another.
Dean was always his alpha in the sense that . . . what is it wolves call their
head alphas? Pack masters? Well, the point is that Sam deferred to Dean's rule.
Yeah, the omega grins ruefully, Sam'll call his brother as soon as possible.
40 or so minutes into his journey Sam's searching the area when he spots a
grove of fruit trees. Smiling gleefully now he turns into the orchard and spies
around the tree trunks for a meal. After a few twists and spirals he finds
himself under a sprawling, gorgeous peach tree. Even in the night, with the
moon radiating above, he can see the gorgeous fruit hanging like jewels from
the sprouting branches.
He's either tall enough to pluck them easily, or the tree is that short, he has
no patience to wonder between the two, his gut is suddenly so empty and
rumbling to life he cannot pick the delicious fruit fast enough. With a pluck
and a bite Sam's got the heavenly sweetness tucked into his mouth and bathing
his tongue. White peaches, then, Sam's favorite. Wintery and chilled and
reminding him of cool water on the beach. Dean always told him that that
analogy never made sense to him, but Sam only ever smiled and replied with his
customary “Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
And now he's digging into his saving graces one after another and moaning
happily as they appease his wallowing stomach.
“You've got quite the appetite, Sasquatch.”
Sam stills, eyes flying open, breathing dampened, before he swallows the last
bite in his mouth and spins cautiously like a turning rack to meet the voice.
A whistle greets him followed by a glint of fangs in the moonlight and a
lecherous once-over. All from a white and brown tomcat leaning lazily 'gainst
an apple tree. Golden-hazel eyes stare at him with that incandescence reserved
for the feline species that makes Sam's heart speed up a notch and his need to
breathe return with a vengeance. He can feel his hands itching to do something,
either grab a weapon or latch on to the predator – he's unsure which – but
either way fingers clenching and unclenching partway into fists. Jerky
movements that send uncertain impulses to the rest of his cells.
Stop it, body, you are not being helpful.
The tomcat is leant against the apple tree. Shoulder resting there as he looks
over the fowl, light and brown tail swishing languidly around his crossed legs.
Arms crossed over his chest more for aesthetic and balance purposes than
protection. One light brown ear is flickered down and back while his right
stands at attention nearly parallel to the tree trunk. Flickered slightly
forward, Sam can see that at the base of the ear there's a patch of matching
brown, but that the rest is a creamy white.
“What's your name, kiddo?”
Sam doesn't respond, just feels his throat close tight and his eyes widen and
his feet shuffle back, tail slightly splaying in a way that has the tomcat's
eyes glinting because holy shit the cat's analpha.
“C'mon, Moose. What's your name?” A mischievous smile eclipses everything else
as the tomcat uses his second-sex to his advantage. Alpha voice layered thick
into the question this time. And, try as he might, Sam wants nothing more than
obey the alpha.
“Sam.”
“Well, Samantha – ”
Sam cries, a sound indicating distress and anger and this time there's a good
deal of both in the sound, the tomcat's eyes widening because yeah he's
probably never heard that sound before.
“Not too fond of that name, now, are ya?” The tomcat doesn't give him any time
to respond. “I'm Gabriel.”
“Gabriel.” Sam doesn't mean to repeat the name, it just kinda falls from his
lips in a caressing tone that causes a slight blush to paint his cheeks. The
tomcat stalls at the sound, lips open and fangs apparent and Sam's enthralled.
He thinks he can even see the slight dilation of the alpha's pupils, but having
almost no knowledge of those iridescent feline-eyes, he can't be sure what he
sees.
The tomcat closes his mouth. A hard task, it appears. And swallows. Hard.
“Where are you coming from, S a m?” For some reason, it seems hard for the
alpha to get his name past his lips, something that makes Sam's eye narrow
incredulously.
“My flock . . .”
“And where are you going?” Sam doesn't respond. There's not really an answer he
can give. Not an accurate one, that is, and for some reason he doesn't want to
lie or give half-truths to this alpha. Only truths. Full-truths. Court-of-law
truths. (Well, the truths that are supposed to be in courts of law.) Gabriel
seems to understand. He nods once, face composed and thinking, before pushing
off from the tree with a slight press of his tail to the bark. Now standing
with arms unfolded, he holds out a paw to the ave who stares at it
uncomprehendingly for a few minutes, before meeting those supernaturally bright
eyes with wide ones of his own. “Well, are you coming?” He doesn't know what's
happening or what to do.
His mouth opens, then closes again, and when a sound finally does come out,
after a few more times of opening and closing and nothing all that escapes is a
premature chirp.
                ______________________________________________
 
Gabriel doesn't touch him.
At least, he doesn't force him or anything. After Sam's splay and chirp in the
grove, when alpha peacocks would have taken the displayed and mated with them
then and there, Gabriel simply took Sam's hand with a raucous grin and led him
back to his house.
The tomcat lived just outside of a residential neighborhood in a bungalow that
from the outside appears run-down and out-of-use, discouraging solicitors and
generally anybody from going anywhere near it. Truth-be-told it looked slightly
haunted. But that was the desired affect, because if it weren't it would be
gorgeous. This was proven when Sam stepped into the most gorgeous home he'd
ever had the pleasure of entering – not that he'd had the privilege of being in
a lot of homes before. It was wooden and bright and airy with windows galore
and open spaces and instead of big bulky furniture there was a small coffee
table and pillows and blankets and a TV displaying the same show that Dean
cannot get enough of.
The sight of Dr. Sexy brings a bright smile to Sam's face.
When he turns back to Gabriel, however, the smile falls to a more scared
expression because ohMelek Taus, Gabriel was looking at him like he wanted to
devour him – in hindsight, that realization should have frightened him, but it
didn't, only made him want to flare his plumes and chirp his need and have the
alpha mate him till he was carrying cat-fowl hybrids that would be the most
beautiful creatures on the face of this good green planet.
He doesn't devour him.
But he does kiss him, soft and sweet and tasting like white peach and sugary
green apple.
                ______________________________________________
 
Two weeks pass quickly, and Sam nearly forgets why he ran away in the first
place. He does pick up the phone every now and then and anticipates calling
Dean, but then Gabriel's there, and he gets kisses and sweets and, and he
forgets until the next time.
Sam learns quickly that Gabe's not just any alpha tomcat, but that he's a smug
tom cat who lounges around expecting humans to wait on him. And they do ! The
residential neighborhood he lives near is teeming with elderly and children and
everyday he shifts completely into a – and Sam will admit this quite readily –
gorgeous specimen of feline-icity, then go to a porch or yard of on a fence and
await the belly-rubs and catnip and cat treats that are just waiting for him.
But that's not all. Oh no. He's also a trickster. He knocks over potted plants,
tears up flowerbeds, hides things, he's also got a reputation for stealing
things from one house and putting them in another as well as leaving bloody
presents on pillows and porches and then looking so kittenishly innocent after
doing all these naughty things that everyone forgets after a small scolding and
go straight back to belly rubs and treats and catnip.
It's infuriating.
So, after two weeks of Sam learning about Gabe's life and his habits and
falling completely in love with the trickster tomcat, Sam is surprised when he
feels the change overtaking his body.
                ______________________________________________
 
Gabriel's at home today, having stocked up on food and supplies and not wishing
to leave the sanctity of his own territory for a while, feeling the need for
attention and trickery less and less since stumbling upon Sam in the grove.
Sam and him are in the backyard, enjoying the sun, the lackadaisical ambience
is nice and Sam snuggles up to the alpha's side cozily.
The day's been getting warmer and warmer steadily and Sam's getting
uncomfortable. Shifting, he clamors onto Gabriel, who lets out a soft oomphf!
Sam's head is on his chest, arm draped over his side as his body lies
comfortably on the cat's, left leg wedged between the tom's, feathers spread
wide like a fan, an airy blanket over their heated flesh. Gabe's hand naturally
travels up, stroking mindlessly through the plumes with gentle hands, tugging
softly every now and then. Sending tingles racing across the omega's skin,
nerves alight and smile giddily infectious. The cat kisses the fowl's temple
gently as his cookies'n'cream tail wraps itself around the hen, hand finding
the point where plumes meet spine easily, something they've done before.
Something that's never gotten this reaction before. When the pressure touches
the juncture of human and animal Sam mewls, a chirp erupting, body beginning to
quake as Gabriel's silent massage stops. Stillness in the cat has Sam
squirming, whines coming from somewhere deep in his gut as a deep need settles
inside. Redhot and aching. Gabriel, hesitantly, presses against the spot again
and Sam cries out, a wave of slick gushing from his unhidden hole.
Being shifters, neither feels uncomfortable or embarrassed naked, so they tend
to spend their time as such. Being aroused is just a biological reaction. But
this, this is different. This is need. And Sam needs Gabriel like a planet
needs trees, water, like he needs oxygen.
His heat is in full-swing and his alpha's here and he needs him.
With one more press to that spot, he whimpers and Gabriel's gripping his hair
and pulling his head just far enough for him to smash their mouths together in
a violent mockery of a kiss that has Sam scrambling and he most certainly does
not squeal as Gabe punishes his coccyx, leaving Sam breathless, his hole
gushing, slick running down his thighs and balls and onto the tomcat beneath
him. If it weren't for the pressure keeping him down Sam would've already been
presenting and begging his alpha to knot . . . no . . . spike him. Oh gods,
Gabriel was a tomcat. That thought should've had Sam running away, the
realization that Gabriel, his mate, his alpha was going to rake him inside and
out should've scared him but he didn't care. He's empty and he needs.
Matematematemate is the only thought in his mind.
“Mouthy, aren't ya, Samsquatch?” Gabe manages, voice dark and dangerous after a
particularly loud scream from his omega has the hazel nearly gone from his
eyes, the black pools deep and endless and Sam can't look anywhere else, can
only mewl and rock his hips against his alpha's and feel his thick cock trapped
between them, small spines plucking his skin, his own cock small in comparison
but leaking all the same.
“Gonna mate you, breed you up, you want that Sammy?” Gabriel's hand is still
massaging his coccyx as Sam nods vigorously, but with his other he journeys
down and Sam smiles happily, thinking his mate's going to touch him, spread him
wide and make him ready, but instead he rubs once twice around his rim before
moving lower. The bypass has Sam near crying with disappointment before a
pressure has him screaming in pleasure. The combined sensations of his tailbone
and taint being massaged in tandem has him incoherent with need, babbling and
chirping and so out of control of his own body he's so close.
“Gabe, Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel!” Sam shrieks when a finger finally finally
breeches him, Gabriel's lips crashing against his and his tongue plundering his
mouth as he searches for treasure.
When he finds his prize there's not even a second between purchase and release.
As Gabriel's finger swipes over Sam's prostate, sending a shock of lightning-
bright need through the hen, thumb still massaging his taint while his other
hand works magic on his tailbone, Sam's entire body bows, back arching as he
locks up, unable to breath, tears streaming at the overwhelming sensations as
he cums, painting their chests, a stripe landing on his alpha's cheek. Sam's
lips are trembling, body quivering as he's stroked through his orgasm.
If asked to describe the sensation Sam would say it's like the exhileration
between falling and falling. Just before you've landed and you're in the air
and there's that point of fear before you land safely and that relief. That
relief.
That's the feeling.
Gabriel kisses his bared neck and Sam begins to come back to himself, wrapping
his arms back around his mate and running fingers through his hand, finding his
ears and petting them, a lethargic feeling having come over him as he looks at
his kitten. Those eyes are still staring at him like he's a delicacy he wants
to devour and Sam reaches around with shaking hands, divesting himself of his
alpha's massaging touch before maneuvering over his still straining cock. Eye-
contact never wavering, he slowly impales himself on the felid. Breath catching
at the thick girth and going slow as molasses, he sinks down millimeter by
millimeter, Gabriel's lips touching his again and again in a lingering poem of
kisses as he whispers how good he's doing. “Such a good boy,” “fuck, that's it
baby” “feels so good around me” words that have Sam mewling and happy and his
omega preening under his alpha's praise, slick practically gushing. When he's
finally fully seated, his mate's entire girth inside him, Sam is breathing deep
and there's no pain, just him savoring the pleasure of being so full of his
mate's cock.
When he looks up from where his gaze had fallen to the place their bodies meet
– the steady throb of his mate's pulse inside him having been a beacon that had
him enraptured by the sight and feel, each beat a blessed gift that had his
toes curling – Sam finds Gabriel staring at the same spot, fangs sprouted and
eyes completely overtaken by the black as he gawks at where he's buried inside
his omega. When he looks back up to meet his mate's gaze his eyes widen, seeing
the display of feathers behind. Spread and wanton and colors playing so
beautifully in the sun that Gabriel can't stop the growl that erupts from him
as he grabs his mate by the hips.
With a sharp pull up that has Sam screaming in pleasure-pain he pulls almost
all the way out, the mushroom headed tip just inside the heavenly slicked hole,
before thrusting up with a snap that has Sam screaming in nothing else but
bliss. A euphoric expression overtakes the omega's features and his smile is
breathtaking as Gabriel pounds into him endlessly, thrusts synced and sharp and
determined as his alpha roars. Those beautiful feathers swaying up and down in
golds and emeralds and dusty browns, deserts and plains and jungles mesmerizing
the tomcat, a swell of pride blooding as he takes in the sight of his dazzling
mate. His extended claws nip at the hen's hips, grip bruising as his possession
swells along his pride, but Sam only basks in his mate in limbo, moaning and
chirping with each poignant thrust that has his toes curling and his back
arching and he's so close again. The cock is hard and bouncing, slapping
against his lower belly with each and every rapturous impalement.
When the head of his cock finds Sam's prostate will pinprick precision he's
fallen,again. With a final scream Sam clenches around Gabriel, cum spurting
across his alpha's chest to mix with the first batch, and his mate is arching
beneath him, tail flicking erratically, girth going in up to the hilt and
stealing Sam's breath as he's stretch to his fullest as his mate cums deep
inside of him.
With panting breaths Sam falls onto his mate, arms heavy as he brings them
close. Gabriel's arms wrapping possessively around him and in his post-orgasmic
haze he barely feels it as Gabriel's teeth sink deep into his neck, the
sensation halting his breath and bringing tears to his eyes as it's made
official. They're mates.
They're mates.
When Gabriel pulls off, licking at the wound lovingly, Sam moves just enough to
capture his lips, a murmured “I love you” falling between them. Who says it is
anyone's guess.
 
End Notes
     I know I should be editing my other fics, but this came first. Sorry,
     baes.
     (btb this may become something more . . . but I'm not holding my
     breath)
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their work!
