Creature prompt with Samandriel and Sam with some size kink and praise kink. Top!Sam :)
((This is probably nothing like you wanted oops.))
"So, a little bit of clover..."
Samandriel reached over for one of the many vials littering his cluttered spice rack, only to frown when, upon tipping it over to add it to the bubbling mixture, nothing came out. It was empty.
Right, of course. He'd sent Sam out for more just an hour ago.
"Lose my own head next," Samandriel muttered, only for his head to snap up at the sound of hooves clopping down the little stone path that led from the back of his small woodland cottage into the great, wild wood that lay beyond.
The stag bent his head to enter Samandriel's home, and within his mouth were three thick bunches of clovers. Samandriel grinned and came over, taking the plants carefully from the stag's mouth and planting a kiss to his wide, black nose.
"Thank you, Sam," he said sweetly, before he returned to his cauldron and added the clover to the mixture. It went in with a satisfying little 'plop' and Samandriel covered it quickly, reducing the heat to a simmer. "Half an hour and it should be done!"
"What should we do to pass the time?" Sam asked. Samandriel turned to regard his familiar, back in his chosen human form. Sam was huge in both forms, but his floppy hair and dimpled smile gave him a childish, easy air when compared to the noble stag of his animal form.
Samandriel grinned, sucking on the inside of one cheek. "I dunno," he said with a shrug of one shoulder. Sam smiled right back at him, arms crossing over his chest. "Do you have any ideas?"
Sam's eyes raked him up and down, golden-grass. "One," he replied plainly, before straightening.
Samandriel blushed, his cheeks turning a pretty pink as he walked over and into Sam's arms. "I missed you," Samandriel murmured, burying his face in Sam's shoulder. It was true - their bond was young but very strong and the house seemed gaping wide without Sam there to fill it.
Sam didn't argue, or mock him. His arms simply tightened and he rubbed his nose against Samandriel's temple. "I'm here now," he murmured, before he walked Samandriel back to an unoccupied part of the counter and lifted him onto it, stepping between his spread legs. Samandriel liked to wear loose-fitting robes and Sam easily ran his big hands up Samandriel's thighs, pushing the clothes out of the way.
Sam wore no clothes as a man unless Samandriel was having guests over, so for a while they simply rutted together, Sam's big cock rubbing sticky and hot between Samandriel's thighs until the witch squirmed, whining with impatience.
"Sam," he hissed, voice tight with the order. Sam blinked, attentive. "On your knees. You're gonna lick me open for that big cock."
Sam nodded, licking his lips eagerly and dropped to his knees without needing to be asked twice. Samandriel sighed, both hands threading through Sam's thick mop of hair, and hooked his legs over Sam's shoulders so that he was spread open for Sam's tongue, fingers, and eventually his cock.
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Samandriel's hands ghosted over Dean's heavily bruised skin, a small frown pulling his lips when he felt the fever radiating from the other man's body. For his part, Dean didn't seem that bothered. Then again, Dean was the kind of person who could lose a limb and apologize for bleeding on someone when they helped him.
"How long ago was the accident?" Samandriel almost didn't want to ask.
Dean shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "Two days ago."
"Dean—"
"It wasn't that bad at first! I swear. I called you when it got bad."
A weary sigh passed Samandriel's lips, his shoulders sagging. He looked up at Dean sadly. "You should have called me sooner, the day it happened would have been best. You fell on this from almost six feet in the air onto a stone floor. If it had been your head you landed on—"
"It wasn't, Alfie. It was just my shoulder." Dean looked at Samandriel from under his lashes, a timidness in his actions and tone that Samandriel didn't think he'd ever seen before. "I know you've probably got better things to do, but I really can't afford to miss another day of work. You're the only witch I know."
That wasn't strictly true, but Samandriel was the just about the only one Dean trusted. After so many years of living in the city, it was easy to forget that the Coven used to be a force for good, instead of letting their power get to them as it had.
Samandriel laid his palm flat over the ball of Dean's injured shoulder. The skin was nearly black, and the flesh beneath was too soft. "I'll heal it, but promise me that if anything like this happens again, you'll call me the day it happens."
Dean nodded. "Of course."
The spell was simple to prepare, banal work that he could do without thinking. It gave him enough time to decide that he was going to smuggle Dean out of the city. If he had to find a way of getting Dean's entire family out of the walls, he would.
He loved Dean too much to let them all rot under the eyes of the Coven.
