Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. I just like using them. I'm sick and twisted, what can I say?
Characters: Sam Winchester and Lucifer
Warning: Contains sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Preview: Pre-seventh season. Lucifer enjoys tormenting Sam in the worst way possible.
Rated M for language and sexy time, long time. Five dolla dolla, big boi.
The name bounced back and forth on the edges of Sam's mind like an unwanted echo. He shivered and buried his head into the pillow. "Leave me alone," he mumbled into the fabric. Dean rolled over and looked at him, sleepy eyes taking his brother's form in in the darkness.
"Sammy, you all right?" he asked, groggy.
"Yeah," came Sam's muffled voice. "Yeah, just a nightmare." He wiped at his face, watched as Dean rolled back over and fell easily back into sleep. In the back of his mind, Lucifer was cackling.
Sam tried to relax on the bed, but it was impossible. For the past two weeks, it had been the same thing. The first four days, he could hear Lucifer's voice at precisely two in the morning. Just that one word, that name: Sammy.Sam came to expect it on the fifth day and stayed up, knowing he would wake up sooner or later. The fifth and sixth days, Lucifer – at two in the morning – still whispered his name in the back of his mind. The start of the second week, he didn't. And at four in the morning, just when Sam thought he was going to get some sleep –
Then it was back to two in the morning again.
Anticipation was a game Lucifer knew like the back of his hand, and he used it to get to Sam in the worst possible ways. Lack of sleep could make him irritable if it went on for long enough, and it was starting to show. His relationship with Dean was becoming strained. Of course he couldn't tell Dean what was going on. He could picture his brother's enraged reaction. You should have told me, Sam!Yeah. Wasn't going to happen.
It was the fifteenth day of this particular kind of torture, and Sam was convinced that through his irritation, he could sleep. He'd grown used to Lucifer saying his name, repeating it like some poem, dedicated just to each letter that composed everything about him.
But, as usual, just when Sam got comfortable, Lucifer changed it up.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in." Sam didn't reply. He resisted the urge to scream into his pillow. "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin."
"Well, then I'll huff."
"And I'll puff."
"And I'll blowyour house down!"
"Sam, for fuck's sake." Dean was sitting up now, knife in hand, glaring daggers at his brother. "The fuck is going on?" Sam didn't answer. He just stood up and went to shut the door, which had been blown open. Neither brother was able to get to sleep again that night.
The following day, they were at Bobby's. The elder was pouring over an ancient book, trying to assist with their latest job. Dean kept his eye on his brother, who was trying to focus on page after page of newspaper. It wasn't long before Dean told Sam to get upstairs and get some sleep. Too exhausted to argue, the younger brother complied. Maybe sleeping while the sun was still up would help.
Sam sank into the old mattress that had been his since he was a child and visiting Bobby whenever their dad had a hunt in South Dakota. He was asleep in a matter of minutes and remained that way for four hours. It was Heaven.
The name was closer than usual. Not the far-off, distant kind of whisper he'd heard in his slumber. Then he felt the pressure – right on his hips. Without even being completely awake, Sam started thrashing. He tried to roll over, tried to punch whoever was on top of him. It felt like he was hitting a brick wall, each and every time. "Sammy, Sammy, Sam-my," said Lucifer, slowly rolling his hips.
"Oh, God," Sam said, suddenly wide awake. Being straddled by the freaking devil could do that to a guy – wake him up real fast, make him sweat, make him panic. He searched for the nearest thing he could use as a weapon. The room was bare, save for the duffel bag in the corner where the guns were kept. Lucifer's cold hand went to Sam's chin, jerking it forward so that he could stare into those pretty green eyes. "Oh, God."
"You're killing the mood, Sam," said Lucifer, hips rolling faster. Sam's body started aching – and so did his head, when he realized just how hard he was getting. "Do you like thinking about your dad when you're getting off?"
"God, God, God, God, God –." Sam repeated until Lucifer had two fingers in his mouth, forcing his tongue down and practically gagging him.
"Don't tempt me, Sam. You're in a rather compromising position. You don't want to be even more fucked than you're about to be." The hunter fell silent, and Lucifer smiled. He withdrew his wet fingers, wiping them on Sam's shirt. "Good boy."
Sam lie limp for the longest time as Lucifer rode him, hips rolling in circles. He had his chest pressed against Sam's now, lips by his ear, cold breath caressing his skin. Sam thought that if he just pretended he wasn't there – as stupid as it sounded – then it would be over.
But God, was he hard.
"Say my name," Lucifer whispered. Sam remained silent. The devil bit down on his neck, hard enough to draw blood, and hissed, "Say it."
"Lucifer," gasped out the hunter.
It was a mind game, and he knew it. Before long, the Archangel wasn't even convincing Sam to say his name – it was being repeated, over and over again, as his hips bucked up into the cold body above him. He didn't fight it when Lucifer's forked tongue forced its way into his mouth. He sucked on it – each split half individually, which made the devil chuckle in amusement. "Are your two bridesmaids downstairs?" asked Lucifer, though he already knew. It was just to remind Sam that they weren't entirely alone. And suddenly, the hunter was second-guessing his manipulated compliance. He stopped moving. Lucifer didn't. "How fast do you think they'll run upstairs if they hear you begging for mercy?"
"Fuck you, Sam. I do what I want." He sat up on his knees again and manhandled the human until Sam had his chest pressed against the mattress. "You don't even realize it, do you?" asked Lucifer, gripping the back of Sam's jeans. "How you're pressing your ass into me right now? This eager to get into Hell, Sam? Because all you have to do is ask." Sam gasped as his belt snapped and button popped. Lucifer ripped his pants off – tossed them to the side.
Did angels really have to go and display their power like that?
He heard the hiss of a zipper, and Sam arched his back.
"Beg for it."
"I'm not begging."
"Bullshit. You already are. But I want to hear it, Sam. I want to hear your sweet voice begging me to fuck you into oblivion."
"No," Sam replied with finality, muscles quivering with want and need. Lucifer scoffed.
"Then you'll be begging for me to stop."
With a suddenness that stretched Sam past his limits, Lucifer thrust into him. Sam bit into the pillow to keep from screaming at the searing pain. The Archangel didn't stop. He just kept pushing – harder and faster, whispering all sorts of dirty filth into Sam's ear.
"Scream, Sammy. Let them know that you're in pain up here. They'll come rushing in, find the devil's cock up your ass, see how hard you are for it. Scream. Come on. Scream." All Sam managed was a mangled moan. "You know what Dean will think? He'll be livid, Sammy. Fucking livid. Not because of the context, but because his baby brother's taking a cock that isn't his own."
"Oh, I'm only just beginning." He was deep inside Sam now, barely moving, and it caused the hunter to writhe in pleasure. "In his jealous rage, he's going to fuck you, Sam. And not just any kind of thing – oh, no. He's going to violate you until your throat is raw from taking his cock and cum." Sam's breath hitched. He was close. Too close. Lucifer began pounding into him again – hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall and for Sam to shout out in surprise. And once that noise escaped, so did others – like please and fuck and don't stop. He felt himself rise up to the peak of pleasure, felt Lucifer tense against his back –
Heard the door open.
Sam rolled over at the wrong time. He came violently, decorating his shirt and lap with his own seed as Dean stared, slack-jawed and unable to process what had just happened. Sam's eyes darted around. No Lucifer to be found. Panic mode initiated.
In an attempt to make the situation less awkward, Dean managed a grin and said, "I swear to God, Sam, if this whole thing was because you were too horny to sleep –."
"Shut up and get out, Dean," Sam replied breathlessly. Dean nodded once and left the room. Lucifer's laughter echoed.