The Perfect Host
Title: The Perfect Host
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Supernatural/Heroes
Spoilers: Season 5
Characters/Pairing(s): Sam/Lucifer/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Threesome
Word Count: 3,146
Notes: This was written for devilsduplicity for vacationthon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Heroes
Author’s Notes: Thanks to ozmissage and zelda_zee for betaing!
Summary: Lucifer invites Sam on vacation during a truce. But he’s invited someone else along to relax…
“Vacation?” Sam repeated incredulously. He chuffed out a sound of sarcastic astonishment. “Why would I go on a vacation with you? The last time I checked, you were doing everything you could to try to get into my skin. I’m still not interested.”
“Sam, we’ve been at this for a while. And I can be very patient. We’re both tired, frustrated, and need a bit of a break.” Lucifer smiled, an unexpectedly warm and sincere expression on his vessel’s face. For a moment, Sam could really believe that he’d once been an angel. “How about a truce? For two weeks, I quit asking.”
“How am I supposed to trust you?” Sam asked.
“Have I ever lied to you? You don’t like what I’m doing, I get that, but have I ever lied?”
Sam opened his mouth for a second, thought about it, and shut it again. “You’re called the Prince of Lies, though.”
“I’ve never lied to you. I was cast down for pride, not a forked tongue.”
Something twisted inside Sam at the resignation and old bitterness in Lucifer’s voice. The Devil had chosen him for a reason, the same reason Michael had chosen Dean; they were alike. Sam and Lucifer were clever sons who’d defied their fathers’ plans for them. In some ways, strange as it was, Sam might prefer a vacation with the Devil over one with his own brother.
“Dean’ll go ballistic if I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tell Castiel to hide you in order to throw me off the scent. He and Dean will be happy that you’ve come up with a plan to save yourself. I’ll appear elsewhere, ostentatiously, when we’re done, and the angel can fetch you home again, feeling clever for having thwarted me.” Lucifer took a few steps forward to stand too close, the scent of blood and brimstone around him almost overwhelming. Sam felt a shudder of weakness in his knees. “Call me. I’ll come to you.”
-----
Less than three days later, Sam stood at the head of a trail heading for a backwoods cabin in the chill expanse of Montana. Lucifer appeared at his side, summoned by Sam’s call.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Lucifer asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Shouldn’t I be asking myself that?”
Even in that bravado, more Dean than him, Sam felt uncertain. Lucifer might not be lying to him, but this vacation didn’t preclude more mundane forms of intelligence-gathering. Lucifer could read minds, and knew more about Sam’s past than he did, but there had to be more to getting Sam to say yes than just that. If the past and Sam’s thoughts had been enough, Lucifer would have been able to wrangle Sam’s agreement months ago. It was only because of Heaven’s rules that Lucifer had to do this the hard way.
That gave Sam a slim advantage of his own. It was possible he could find out enough about Lucifer to help stop the Apocalypse without having to do something monumentally stupid and/or suicidal. A vacation with the Devil was really the best thing for both of them.
“I am more powerful than you, Sam, but I am not without my weaknesses. Do I dare let you so close?” Lucifer smiled, as if he’d been following Sam’s thoughts. Which, Sam realized with a wince, he may have been.
“Lead on,” Sam said quickly. If Sam had learned anything about him in their months of sparring with each other in dreams, it was that Lucifer preferred a much subtler approach than Zachariah’s heavy-handed torture. He wasn’t worried about being led into a trap. At least, not the kind of trap that was going to involve dismemberment.
Lucifer began his hike along the trail, Sam following after. He wondered if the Devil would truly relax at all on vacation. After all, Sam had been dealing with a war, in one form or another, for years. It had only been recently that Lucifer had taken the battlefield.
As soon as they were out of sight of the main road, Lucifer turned and stretched out two fingers to touch Sam’s forehead. He could have ducked out of the way, if he’d wanted. Instead, he let it happen. Perhaps even the Devil could be shaken by courtesy.
Lucifer’s touch was wonderfully warm against Sam’s cool skin, and another jolt of weakness having nothing to do with supernatural powers shot through him. A flutter of wings, night-dark and shining, and they were in front of a cabin overlooking a lake as remote as Sam could have wanted or feared. On one hand, it was quiet, calm, and the view was amazing. On the other hand, the forest around the cabin reminded Sam of a wendigo hunt. Lucifer being at his side… Sam couldn’t classify that as a pro or con. Probably that should have scared him.
“Peaceful, yes?” Lucifer asked. Sam nodded slowly. “I can appreciate this too. Hell is not my choice of home.”
“I guess we have that in common-not having a home,” Sam said softly. Lucifer didn’t chuckle at that admission. Sam dared to think this might just work out. He went to open the door--
--And was flung back and pinned against a tree by an invisible force, Lucifer right next to him. A man emerged from the cabin, with a shock of sable hair, eyes nearly demon-dark, dressed in unrelieved black, looking like an evil villain’s henchman from a Bond film.
Another one of Azazel’s kids? Sam thought frantically. This one had clearly gone to the dark side, using his powers for whatever he wanted. How had Lucifer’s minions missed this one? Maybe he had been hiding out here for just that reason.
Lucifer idly tested his invisible bonds as the man in black stepped forward, hand outstretched to keep them pinned.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
Sam couldn’t help it, and apparently the Devil had a sense of humor, as they joined together in laughter.
The man scowled at their mirth, and brought his other hand up, fingers and thumb curving as if to span a vulnerable neck. Sam choked as invisible fingers squeezed off his air.
“Sylar, didn’t you hear me calling?” Lucifer asked.
The man, Sylar, jerked back in surprise, and the worst of the pressure eased up, letting Sam breathe again.
“You--,” Sylar whispered harshly.
“You didn’t come here on a whim, did you? No, I called you here, and you came to hear what I have to say. You wanted a rest, Sylar. Just like Sam.” Lucifer stepped away from the tree, in defiance of Sylar’s mental hold.
“Stop it.” Sylar took his hand away from Sam and focused his power on Lucifer. Snow sprayed around him and tree branches snapped, but Lucifer walked on unimpeded. Sylar’s power dropped away from Sam entirely, leaving him free.
“I said stop it!” Rocks and pinecones exploded, water froze and cracked, and Lucifer didn’t stop. In seeming desperation, Sylar pointed a finger at Lucifer and a slash opened on his forehead. He was so focused he didn’t even see Sam until he brained him with the butt of his gun. Sylar collapsed into the snow, and Sam turned his attention back to Lucifer. The slash was already gone, except for a faint red stickiness on his skin.
“Who is this?” Sam demanded.
“Another potential. He needed a break too.”
Sam sucked a heavy breath through his nose at that information.
“What you’re feeling right now? That’s jealousy,” Lucifer said.
“I thought I was your Vessel,” Sam said, not willing to admit anything. Yes, Lucifer was a potentially world-destroying problem, but he was Sam’s problem.
“You’re my perfect Vessel. But Sylar might do, if you’re intent on being so very… Winchester. Nick here will only last so long.”
“I thought I was special.”
Lucifer looked down, and Sam followed his gaze to see the bloody bump he’d given Sylar healing before his eyes.
“You both are. In your own ways.”
“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded.
Lucifer smiled. “Yes, Sam.” He bent to pick up Sylar, still not quite conscious despite his apparent ability to heal himself.
“I’m not going to let you take him,” Sam said.
“I never expected that you would let me corrupt an innocent. Come inside.”
-----
The cabin was mostly a single room with a mud room in the front and a storeroom for firewood in the back. Plushly appointed, it had been made for someone who liked his comforts, despite the isolation. Lucifer waved his hand negligently and a fire appeared in the fireplace, the air warming with a scent of sulfur. Sam swallowed hard as Lucifer let Sylar down on the sofa.
“He is no innocent,” Lucifer said calmly. “He gathers his powers from others so gifted, takes it from them after killing them to see how their abilities work. The police are looking for him, and I guided him to hiding out here. This area… holds special meaning for him.”
Sam felt a flash of self-righteous wrath, words rising to his lips to call “bullshit,” and then he recalled Lucifer’s earlier promise not to lie.
“He was not always a killer. Never loved enough, so the first time he was betrayed, pushed beyond his limits, he had nothing to fall back on. And so he fell. He used to be called Gabriel, you know.” Lucifer reached out to touch Sylar’s hair possessively. “He’s not at all like my brother. Sylar suits him better.”
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology? A trick? You want me to make a choice? Me or him?” Sam asked. Sam, Lucifer’s perfect Vessel, sprung from the combined Campbell-Winchester bloodline, his whole life manipulated and honed to that purpose? Or Sylar, apparently possessed of powers as strong as any demon blood? What kind of havoc could Lucifer wreak with a Vessel that powerful, even if only for a while? And could Sam stand by and let that happen?
“No. I wanted this to be relaxing. For all of us. Sylar hasn’t had any of that for a while. My chosen rarely do.” Lucifer tightened his grip on Sylar’s hair as he awoke, and leaned down to whisper in his ear for several long seconds. Sylar’s dark eyes grew wider with every word, shock written plainly on his face. When Lucifer pulled away, Sylar only stared at him for a long, long time.
“You aren’t lying,” he said carefully. “I thought it was all dreams.”
“There’s no one who will find us here. No one here to judge us. No one here to kill, Sylar. Just a time of peace, here and now.” Lucifer’s fingers relaxed and Sylar stood up. He was an easy match for Lucifer in height, and with his dark hair and dramatic features, looked more devilish than the Devil. Sam had a sudden thought of what Lucifer might be like, looking out of Sylar’s eyes, and shook his head in denial.
Sylar shot a look over at Sam, a frankly appraising raking of his eyes up and down Sam’s body, and smirked slightly. “You throw a good party,” Sylar said, wonder and awe shifting into a lazy self-confidence. He wasn’t talking to Sam, and Sam blushed slightly.
“Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” Sylar said, and turned back to Lucifer. “You’re serious?”
“Try it.”
Sam’s mouth went dry as Sylar closed the gap between him and Lucifer. The kiss was heated, passionate, aggressive, just like how Sylar had fought them. The smell of brimstone was stronger now, with an undertone of musk that made Sam feel like his skin was far too tight. His heart pounded as he watched them, and he licked his lips, desperately trying to force away the feeling of possessiveness that swept him. Jealousy, as Lucifer had said.
No! Sam thought firmly, and closed his eyes. This was all a trick, a joke…
The heat next to Sam suddenly became overwhelming, and he opened his eyes to see Lucifer right in front of him. The Devil’s hands were burning warm as he touched Sam’s neck, the brimstone going straight to Sam’s brain, intoxicating him.
“I said I wouldn’t ask you,” Lucifer whispered. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t say yes to someone else.”
The kiss Lucifer laid on Sam’s shocked and unresisting mouth was softer, more thorough, made with such utter knowledge of what Sam wanted that it was hard to think. Hard to think, hard to do anything but respond in kind, to bask in the heat pouring into him, to let his body relax, and arouse. Every pulse of Lucifer’s tongue and lips against him told him what was going to happen here.
Sam didn’t really expect the Devil to lounge around in a cabin on vacation.
Lucifer ended the kiss and pulled away to give Sylar a nod. Sam could have moved, could have fled. Lucifer probably wouldn’t have stopped him. But there was a part of him, a vocally insistent part, that wanted to stay. Sylar had attacked them both out of fear, but once free of that emotion he seemed less dangerous and far more intriguing. Hadn’t Sam once been in love with a werewolf? Hadn’t he spent over a year so deeply involved with Ruby that he’d let Lucifer out in the first place? Sylar had had no one to keep him from going rogue; if Sam hadn’t had Dean, he would have gone rotten a lot faster than he had.
Loving dangerously seemed to be in his blood.
So when Sylar crossed to him and yanked him into a harsh, breathless kiss, Sam went with it. An experimental shove proved he was stronger than Sylar; a mental shove back proved Sylar wouldn’t take any shit about it. Sam smiled against Sylar’s mouth, and moaned when Lucifer’s intensely warm hand settled on his neck. From Sylar’s matching gasp, Lucifer was touching both of them.
The air seemed suddenly furnace-hot as Sam’s libido abruptly shifted into overdrive. He pulled Sylar to him, hard, and shuddered deliciously as he felt the hard bulge of Sylar’s cock against his.
“Fuck, yes.”
Sylar broke the kiss at Sam’s sudden aggression, and pushed into Sam’s pull, grinding to increase the friction. Lucifer’s hands swept down Sam’s back, his shirt falling away under his touch and Sam not particularly caring how. He shifted his hands up to clutch at Sylar’s shoulders, bare of the coat and shirt that had covered them a moment before, and moved to bite into the expanse of pale skin.
Sylar hissed as Sam’s teeth found their mark, and Sam felt a light touch on his ribs. Since Sylar’s hands were still firmly planted south of Sam’s belt, that made him raise an eyebrow. Sylar chuckled, and the phantom touch firmed, tickling and tormenting, trying to get Sam to squirm. Sam eased up with his teeth and then sucked hard on the dark mark he’d made in Sylar’s flesh. The resulting noise from the depths of Sylar’s throat more than made up for his teasing.
Lucifer’s hand returned, slowly dropping from Sam’s back to his ass, suddenly bare. The warm air of the cabin made things more than comfortable and Sam tried to find a way to both keep the hard contact with Sylar’s cock against his own and push back into Lucifer’s burning touch. Sylar swore fervently, caught in the same dilemma as Sam, and his mental touch became bolder. Sylar shuddered as Sam pushed his neck to the side to bite and suck at the vulnerable flesh over his pulsing jugular. Did he realize how much Sam was holding back? The brimstone in the air and the blood so close to the surface was bringing back everything Sam had thought he’d left behind when the final seal had been cracked. He wasn’t going to do anything too stupid, he hoped, but to have that feeling again, that powerful, out-of-control sensation of pure bliss pouring across his tongue…
“Fuck, fuck,” Sam muttered, a mindless, low-voiced chant whenever he could bring himself to surface for air. Sylar seemed to revel in Sam’s loss of control, showing his own with a deft display of telekinetic prowess, making Sam jerk and growl as invisible fingers teased and pinched him. Sometimes they felt like fingers, sometimes like the edges of blades, dangerously stimulating. Sylar’s body was in Sam’s physical grasp, Sam’s body in Sylar’s mental one. A fair trade.
Lucifer loomed closer, his hand sliding lower, slick now with the sweat from Sam’s body, and more. Thoughts chased and battered themselves inside Sam’s head, want and fear, desire and revulsion, somehow all boiling down to a simple plea for more. He was beyond reality now, beyond worry, on a mental vacation. And Lucifer heard him, loud and clear.
The heat pouring off Lucifer’s skin made Sam relax as he was breached, his body barely fighting the invasion. Sylar’s mental touch faltered and Sam knew he must be feeling the same. Lucifer was so close to both of them, fingers buried in each of them, making them dance. It was simply what he’d been doing all along, in dreams and whispers, for months. Sam found he preferred this physical penetration to anything Lucifer had done to him before.
“Yes…” Sylar hissed in his ear, finding his voice before Sam. Lucifer’s touch pushed them closer together, their cocks fitting alongside each other. Sylar’s touch dove southward, and Sam gasped into Sylar’s neck as mental fingers caressed them both. Sylar shuddered when Sam’s return kiss on the underside of his jaw seemed to hit a weak spot, and it was Sam’s turn to gasp as Lucifer pushed farther in. A second finger joined them both, working in with smooth, relentless pressure, then curving and hooking up just so.
Sam shattered under Lucifer’s touch, pulsing his pleasure out alongside Sylar, both of them wrapped in each other’s arms. Their hips moved in concert, drawing out their orgasms as Lucifer played them out, coaxing every erg of feeling out of them that he could. When he finally withdrew from both of them, Sam was mildly surprised to discover he was still standing. Sylar managed to recover first, lifting his head up, his eyes half-lidded. He seemed to think about pulling away, then shrugged and pulled them both over to the plush sofa. Lucifer merely watched them both, a smile playing on his lips as Sam and Sylar sprawled amongst the cushions, a picture of debauchery.
“I promised this would be a place to relax, didn’t I?” Lucifer asked, looking like a strangely benevolent god as he loomed over two men he might, one day, possess body and soul.
Sylar smiled as Sam nodded, saying yes, but only to this. Only to now.
Just to the Devil, playing host to his hosts.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Supernatural/Heroes
Spoilers: Season 5
Characters/Pairing(s): Sam/Lucifer/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Threesome
Word Count: 3,146
Notes: This was written for devilsduplicity for vacationthon.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Heroes
Author’s Notes: Thanks to ozmissage and zelda_zee for betaing!
Summary: Lucifer invites Sam on vacation during a truce. But he’s invited someone else along to relax…
“Vacation?” Sam repeated incredulously. He chuffed out a sound of sarcastic astonishment. “Why would I go on a vacation with you? The last time I checked, you were doing everything you could to try to get into my skin. I’m still not interested.”
“Sam, we’ve been at this for a while. And I can be very patient. We’re both tired, frustrated, and need a bit of a break.” Lucifer smiled, an unexpectedly warm and sincere expression on his vessel’s face. For a moment, Sam could really believe that he’d once been an angel. “How about a truce? For two weeks, I quit asking.”
“How am I supposed to trust you?” Sam asked.
“Have I ever lied to you? You don’t like what I’m doing, I get that, but have I ever lied?”
Sam opened his mouth for a second, thought about it, and shut it again. “You’re called the Prince of Lies, though.”
“I’ve never lied to you. I was cast down for pride, not a forked tongue.”
Something twisted inside Sam at the resignation and old bitterness in Lucifer’s voice. The Devil had chosen him for a reason, the same reason Michael had chosen Dean; they were alike. Sam and Lucifer were clever sons who’d defied their fathers’ plans for them. In some ways, strange as it was, Sam might prefer a vacation with the Devil over one with his own brother.
“Dean’ll go ballistic if I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tell Castiel to hide you in order to throw me off the scent. He and Dean will be happy that you’ve come up with a plan to save yourself. I’ll appear elsewhere, ostentatiously, when we’re done, and the angel can fetch you home again, feeling clever for having thwarted me.” Lucifer took a few steps forward to stand too close, the scent of blood and brimstone around him almost overwhelming. Sam felt a shudder of weakness in his knees. “Call me. I’ll come to you.”
-----
Less than three days later, Sam stood at the head of a trail heading for a backwoods cabin in the chill expanse of Montana. Lucifer appeared at his side, summoned by Sam’s call.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Lucifer asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Shouldn’t I be asking myself that?”
Even in that bravado, more Dean than him, Sam felt uncertain. Lucifer might not be lying to him, but this vacation didn’t preclude more mundane forms of intelligence-gathering. Lucifer could read minds, and knew more about Sam’s past than he did, but there had to be more to getting Sam to say yes than just that. If the past and Sam’s thoughts had been enough, Lucifer would have been able to wrangle Sam’s agreement months ago. It was only because of Heaven’s rules that Lucifer had to do this the hard way.
That gave Sam a slim advantage of his own. It was possible he could find out enough about Lucifer to help stop the Apocalypse without having to do something monumentally stupid and/or suicidal. A vacation with the Devil was really the best thing for both of them.
“I am more powerful than you, Sam, but I am not without my weaknesses. Do I dare let you so close?” Lucifer smiled, as if he’d been following Sam’s thoughts. Which, Sam realized with a wince, he may have been.
“Lead on,” Sam said quickly. If Sam had learned anything about him in their months of sparring with each other in dreams, it was that Lucifer preferred a much subtler approach than Zachariah’s heavy-handed torture. He wasn’t worried about being led into a trap. At least, not the kind of trap that was going to involve dismemberment.
Lucifer began his hike along the trail, Sam following after. He wondered if the Devil would truly relax at all on vacation. After all, Sam had been dealing with a war, in one form or another, for years. It had only been recently that Lucifer had taken the battlefield.
As soon as they were out of sight of the main road, Lucifer turned and stretched out two fingers to touch Sam’s forehead. He could have ducked out of the way, if he’d wanted. Instead, he let it happen. Perhaps even the Devil could be shaken by courtesy.
Lucifer’s touch was wonderfully warm against Sam’s cool skin, and another jolt of weakness having nothing to do with supernatural powers shot through him. A flutter of wings, night-dark and shining, and they were in front of a cabin overlooking a lake as remote as Sam could have wanted or feared. On one hand, it was quiet, calm, and the view was amazing. On the other hand, the forest around the cabin reminded Sam of a wendigo hunt. Lucifer being at his side… Sam couldn’t classify that as a pro or con. Probably that should have scared him.
“Peaceful, yes?” Lucifer asked. Sam nodded slowly. “I can appreciate this too. Hell is not my choice of home.”
“I guess we have that in common-not having a home,” Sam said softly. Lucifer didn’t chuckle at that admission. Sam dared to think this might just work out. He went to open the door--
--And was flung back and pinned against a tree by an invisible force, Lucifer right next to him. A man emerged from the cabin, with a shock of sable hair, eyes nearly demon-dark, dressed in unrelieved black, looking like an evil villain’s henchman from a Bond film.
Another one of Azazel’s kids? Sam thought frantically. This one had clearly gone to the dark side, using his powers for whatever he wanted. How had Lucifer’s minions missed this one? Maybe he had been hiding out here for just that reason.
Lucifer idly tested his invisible bonds as the man in black stepped forward, hand outstretched to keep them pinned.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
Sam couldn’t help it, and apparently the Devil had a sense of humor, as they joined together in laughter.
The man scowled at their mirth, and brought his other hand up, fingers and thumb curving as if to span a vulnerable neck. Sam choked as invisible fingers squeezed off his air.
“Sylar, didn’t you hear me calling?” Lucifer asked.
The man, Sylar, jerked back in surprise, and the worst of the pressure eased up, letting Sam breathe again.
“You--,” Sylar whispered harshly.
“You didn’t come here on a whim, did you? No, I called you here, and you came to hear what I have to say. You wanted a rest, Sylar. Just like Sam.” Lucifer stepped away from the tree, in defiance of Sylar’s mental hold.
“Stop it.” Sylar took his hand away from Sam and focused his power on Lucifer. Snow sprayed around him and tree branches snapped, but Lucifer walked on unimpeded. Sylar’s power dropped away from Sam entirely, leaving him free.
“I said stop it!” Rocks and pinecones exploded, water froze and cracked, and Lucifer didn’t stop. In seeming desperation, Sylar pointed a finger at Lucifer and a slash opened on his forehead. He was so focused he didn’t even see Sam until he brained him with the butt of his gun. Sylar collapsed into the snow, and Sam turned his attention back to Lucifer. The slash was already gone, except for a faint red stickiness on his skin.
“Who is this?” Sam demanded.
“Another potential. He needed a break too.”
Sam sucked a heavy breath through his nose at that information.
“What you’re feeling right now? That’s jealousy,” Lucifer said.
“I thought I was your Vessel,” Sam said, not willing to admit anything. Yes, Lucifer was a potentially world-destroying problem, but he was Sam’s problem.
“You’re my perfect Vessel. But Sylar might do, if you’re intent on being so very… Winchester. Nick here will only last so long.”
“I thought I was special.”
Lucifer looked down, and Sam followed his gaze to see the bloody bump he’d given Sylar healing before his eyes.
“You both are. In your own ways.”
“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded.
Lucifer smiled. “Yes, Sam.” He bent to pick up Sylar, still not quite conscious despite his apparent ability to heal himself.
“I’m not going to let you take him,” Sam said.
“I never expected that you would let me corrupt an innocent. Come inside.”
-----
The cabin was mostly a single room with a mud room in the front and a storeroom for firewood in the back. Plushly appointed, it had been made for someone who liked his comforts, despite the isolation. Lucifer waved his hand negligently and a fire appeared in the fireplace, the air warming with a scent of sulfur. Sam swallowed hard as Lucifer let Sylar down on the sofa.
“He is no innocent,” Lucifer said calmly. “He gathers his powers from others so gifted, takes it from them after killing them to see how their abilities work. The police are looking for him, and I guided him to hiding out here. This area… holds special meaning for him.”
Sam felt a flash of self-righteous wrath, words rising to his lips to call “bullshit,” and then he recalled Lucifer’s earlier promise not to lie.
“He was not always a killer. Never loved enough, so the first time he was betrayed, pushed beyond his limits, he had nothing to fall back on. And so he fell. He used to be called Gabriel, you know.” Lucifer reached out to touch Sylar’s hair possessively. “He’s not at all like my brother. Sylar suits him better.”
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology? A trick? You want me to make a choice? Me or him?” Sam asked. Sam, Lucifer’s perfect Vessel, sprung from the combined Campbell-Winchester bloodline, his whole life manipulated and honed to that purpose? Or Sylar, apparently possessed of powers as strong as any demon blood? What kind of havoc could Lucifer wreak with a Vessel that powerful, even if only for a while? And could Sam stand by and let that happen?
“No. I wanted this to be relaxing. For all of us. Sylar hasn’t had any of that for a while. My chosen rarely do.” Lucifer tightened his grip on Sylar’s hair as he awoke, and leaned down to whisper in his ear for several long seconds. Sylar’s dark eyes grew wider with every word, shock written plainly on his face. When Lucifer pulled away, Sylar only stared at him for a long, long time.
“You aren’t lying,” he said carefully. “I thought it was all dreams.”
“There’s no one who will find us here. No one here to judge us. No one here to kill, Sylar. Just a time of peace, here and now.” Lucifer’s fingers relaxed and Sylar stood up. He was an easy match for Lucifer in height, and with his dark hair and dramatic features, looked more devilish than the Devil. Sam had a sudden thought of what Lucifer might be like, looking out of Sylar’s eyes, and shook his head in denial.
Sylar shot a look over at Sam, a frankly appraising raking of his eyes up and down Sam’s body, and smirked slightly. “You throw a good party,” Sylar said, wonder and awe shifting into a lazy self-confidence. He wasn’t talking to Sam, and Sam blushed slightly.
“Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” Sylar said, and turned back to Lucifer. “You’re serious?”
“Try it.”
Sam’s mouth went dry as Sylar closed the gap between him and Lucifer. The kiss was heated, passionate, aggressive, just like how Sylar had fought them. The smell of brimstone was stronger now, with an undertone of musk that made Sam feel like his skin was far too tight. His heart pounded as he watched them, and he licked his lips, desperately trying to force away the feeling of possessiveness that swept him. Jealousy, as Lucifer had said.
No! Sam thought firmly, and closed his eyes. This was all a trick, a joke…
The heat next to Sam suddenly became overwhelming, and he opened his eyes to see Lucifer right in front of him. The Devil’s hands were burning warm as he touched Sam’s neck, the brimstone going straight to Sam’s brain, intoxicating him.
“I said I wouldn’t ask you,” Lucifer whispered. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t say yes to someone else.”
The kiss Lucifer laid on Sam’s shocked and unresisting mouth was softer, more thorough, made with such utter knowledge of what Sam wanted that it was hard to think. Hard to think, hard to do anything but respond in kind, to bask in the heat pouring into him, to let his body relax, and arouse. Every pulse of Lucifer’s tongue and lips against him told him what was going to happen here.
Sam didn’t really expect the Devil to lounge around in a cabin on vacation.
Lucifer ended the kiss and pulled away to give Sylar a nod. Sam could have moved, could have fled. Lucifer probably wouldn’t have stopped him. But there was a part of him, a vocally insistent part, that wanted to stay. Sylar had attacked them both out of fear, but once free of that emotion he seemed less dangerous and far more intriguing. Hadn’t Sam once been in love with a werewolf? Hadn’t he spent over a year so deeply involved with Ruby that he’d let Lucifer out in the first place? Sylar had had no one to keep him from going rogue; if Sam hadn’t had Dean, he would have gone rotten a lot faster than he had.
Loving dangerously seemed to be in his blood.
So when Sylar crossed to him and yanked him into a harsh, breathless kiss, Sam went with it. An experimental shove proved he was stronger than Sylar; a mental shove back proved Sylar wouldn’t take any shit about it. Sam smiled against Sylar’s mouth, and moaned when Lucifer’s intensely warm hand settled on his neck. From Sylar’s matching gasp, Lucifer was touching both of them.
The air seemed suddenly furnace-hot as Sam’s libido abruptly shifted into overdrive. He pulled Sylar to him, hard, and shuddered deliciously as he felt the hard bulge of Sylar’s cock against his.
“Fuck, yes.”
Sylar broke the kiss at Sam’s sudden aggression, and pushed into Sam’s pull, grinding to increase the friction. Lucifer’s hands swept down Sam’s back, his shirt falling away under his touch and Sam not particularly caring how. He shifted his hands up to clutch at Sylar’s shoulders, bare of the coat and shirt that had covered them a moment before, and moved to bite into the expanse of pale skin.
Sylar hissed as Sam’s teeth found their mark, and Sam felt a light touch on his ribs. Since Sylar’s hands were still firmly planted south of Sam’s belt, that made him raise an eyebrow. Sylar chuckled, and the phantom touch firmed, tickling and tormenting, trying to get Sam to squirm. Sam eased up with his teeth and then sucked hard on the dark mark he’d made in Sylar’s flesh. The resulting noise from the depths of Sylar’s throat more than made up for his teasing.
Lucifer’s hand returned, slowly dropping from Sam’s back to his ass, suddenly bare. The warm air of the cabin made things more than comfortable and Sam tried to find a way to both keep the hard contact with Sylar’s cock against his own and push back into Lucifer’s burning touch. Sylar swore fervently, caught in the same dilemma as Sam, and his mental touch became bolder. Sylar shuddered as Sam pushed his neck to the side to bite and suck at the vulnerable flesh over his pulsing jugular. Did he realize how much Sam was holding back? The brimstone in the air and the blood so close to the surface was bringing back everything Sam had thought he’d left behind when the final seal had been cracked. He wasn’t going to do anything too stupid, he hoped, but to have that feeling again, that powerful, out-of-control sensation of pure bliss pouring across his tongue…
“Fuck, fuck,” Sam muttered, a mindless, low-voiced chant whenever he could bring himself to surface for air. Sylar seemed to revel in Sam’s loss of control, showing his own with a deft display of telekinetic prowess, making Sam jerk and growl as invisible fingers teased and pinched him. Sometimes they felt like fingers, sometimes like the edges of blades, dangerously stimulating. Sylar’s body was in Sam’s physical grasp, Sam’s body in Sylar’s mental one. A fair trade.
Lucifer loomed closer, his hand sliding lower, slick now with the sweat from Sam’s body, and more. Thoughts chased and battered themselves inside Sam’s head, want and fear, desire and revulsion, somehow all boiling down to a simple plea for more. He was beyond reality now, beyond worry, on a mental vacation. And Lucifer heard him, loud and clear.
The heat pouring off Lucifer’s skin made Sam relax as he was breached, his body barely fighting the invasion. Sylar’s mental touch faltered and Sam knew he must be feeling the same. Lucifer was so close to both of them, fingers buried in each of them, making them dance. It was simply what he’d been doing all along, in dreams and whispers, for months. Sam found he preferred this physical penetration to anything Lucifer had done to him before.
“Yes…” Sylar hissed in his ear, finding his voice before Sam. Lucifer’s touch pushed them closer together, their cocks fitting alongside each other. Sylar’s touch dove southward, and Sam gasped into Sylar’s neck as mental fingers caressed them both. Sylar shuddered when Sam’s return kiss on the underside of his jaw seemed to hit a weak spot, and it was Sam’s turn to gasp as Lucifer pushed farther in. A second finger joined them both, working in with smooth, relentless pressure, then curving and hooking up just so.
Sam shattered under Lucifer’s touch, pulsing his pleasure out alongside Sylar, both of them wrapped in each other’s arms. Their hips moved in concert, drawing out their orgasms as Lucifer played them out, coaxing every erg of feeling out of them that he could. When he finally withdrew from both of them, Sam was mildly surprised to discover he was still standing. Sylar managed to recover first, lifting his head up, his eyes half-lidded. He seemed to think about pulling away, then shrugged and pulled them both over to the plush sofa. Lucifer merely watched them both, a smile playing on his lips as Sam and Sylar sprawled amongst the cushions, a picture of debauchery.
“I promised this would be a place to relax, didn’t I?” Lucifer asked, looking like a strangely benevolent god as he loomed over two men he might, one day, possess body and soul.
Sylar smiled as Sam nodded, saying yes, but only to this. Only to now.
Just to the Devil, playing host to his hosts.