Fic: Fire Beneath
Title: Fire Beneath
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 5x03
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Lucifer's time is running out.
AN: Written for aeon_entwined
There are burns everywhere, scything across the wide expanse of Lucifer's back, the bend of his waist and the hard slopes of his collarbones. Where he's tearing through the skin he's wearing. Burning it away, minute by minute with the furious, impossible power of him.
Sam can only hide so many of them with his hands.
It's just a matter of time.
"There's no one else," he says. Though they've been through this before. Too many times.
"Just you," Lucifer says quietly.
Sam shakes his head in protest.
Lucifer shifts in the sheets, white fabric falling away and leaving the angry red of breaking, peeling skin. He leans in, draws white cotton from where it's pooled in Sam's lap. Draws it away and leaves him naked. Sam doesn't try and pull it back.
"You were made for me, Sam. You're perfect and everything else -" Lucifer lifts his hands and catches the sides of Sam's face in burning hands. "Everything else is flawed."
He thinks Lucifer's going to kiss him, but he just holds him there, breathes against his mouth instead. He's a press and flare of heat. Everything about him burns now.
"You could have made me, you could have forced me," Sam says, low enough to crack in his throat. "You could have done."
"But, I didn't," Lucifer says simply.
Sam moves, pulls at the muscle of Lucifer's shoulder and kisses him, kisses the furnace of his mouth and shudders and presses in close like he can hold him here himself. The rough edge of the devil's jaw is a rasp of sensation that goes all the way through him.
"I still don't know why." Sam digs his fingers in, refuses to let go.
"Yes, you do," Lucifer says. Like it's not a secret, like it's something Sam is allowed to admit out loud. "I'm going to burn for you, Sam."
"I don't want you to." It comes out rough and desperate.
There's a steady, amused thrum of laughter. It should sound bitter but it doesn't.
"I think you've broken all the rules you can get away with, for one lifetime," Lucifer reminds him. Sam hates how true that is, hates everything that brought them here, everything that's going to make sure it ends here.
Lucifer moves and there's a steady hand, impossibly hot, on the bend of Sam's waist, threatening to leave the same mark on him as Castiel did on his brother. The fingers press in, like Lucifer can hear what he's thinking. It's a dig that feels greedy and instinctive.
"You can mark me, like Castiel did to Dean -"
"No," Lucifer says stiffly.
Sam's surprised by the vehemence, by the command and he's struck silent by it. He swallows and shakes his head, desperately.
"Why?"
Lucifer hand shifts but doesn't move, doesn't pull away.
"It won't just be a mark. We're already too much for that. It will be a connection. It will be - you'll be connected to me, forever, and hell is a long way away. You'd feel it like knives, Sam. You'd feel everything." Lucifer looks furious, and it's terrifying, but Sam knows that fury isn't for him. It's at the whole world.
It takes Sam a second to realise that the sick clench in his gut is at the thought of not feeling that. Of having nothing. Of never having anything of Lucifer, ever again.
"I don't care."
"Sam," The devil's voice is firm but desperate, thready. Like it's something he wants but won't give, or refuses to allow.
"I don't care." The sheets shift under Sam's knees. A tangle of white spotted with red. "You promised a long time ago to give me whatever I wanted. You promised. And I want that."
Lucifer's face goes hard.
"Don't make me do that."
Sam frowns, takes a breath.
"You don't want -"
Lucifer snatches his elbows, fingers biting in so tightly Sam gasps. He's hauled in close, head forced back, thighs aching at the position he's in.
"I want," Lucifer says furiously. "I want to mark you as mine so badly I can't breathe. I want to twist around you, and chain you, and keep you. In ways you wouldn’t even understand. But I am barely in control in this body and I want you too much. I could kill you."
Sam trembles out a breath, because he knows they don't have any more time. He relaxes and lays his forehead against Lucifer's and doesn’t say a word. Lucifer very slowly relaxes too, arms sliding around him.
Sam listens to the low thud of his own heartbeat.
Then he pulls Lucifer's hand to the curving bend of his waist, folds it into his skin. There's the faintest draw of breath, a desperate soft hitch that sound broken. That sounds pleading.
"I trust you," Sam tells him and, God help him, he does.
Lucifer's hand tightens, fingers digging in. His other hand lifts and presses down tight and hard over Sam's eyes. The hand at his waist burns, it burns all the way through.
He screams for what feels like forever -
His mind barely registers when everything stops.
Sam's shivering and staring at the ceiling and aching all the way through, not even sure he can move. There's a hand stroking through his hair, warm and heavy. Sam sighs, then sucks a breath when he remembers. He tries to sit up, only to find the weight of Lucifer's other arm holding him down.
"Be still."
Sam grunts and weakly lifts a hand, curls his fingers round Lucifer's forearm. He can feel it now. The vicious knife-sharp stab of new pain, between waist and hip. The bed shifts and the ceiling is replaced by Lucifer's face
His face is...perfect.
There are no marks, no burns, no sliced open skin. Sam's hand tightens - his skin is warm, it's warm but not feverishly hot.
"Lucifer." His voice cracks on the word, breath stolen away.
"It seems you were not done breaking the rules after all," Lucifer says quietly.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 5x03
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Lucifer's time is running out.
AN: Written for aeon_entwined
There are burns everywhere, scything across the wide expanse of Lucifer's back, the bend of his waist and the hard slopes of his collarbones. Where he's tearing through the skin he's wearing. Burning it away, minute by minute with the furious, impossible power of him.
Sam can only hide so many of them with his hands.
It's just a matter of time.
"There's no one else," he says. Though they've been through this before. Too many times.
"Just you," Lucifer says quietly.
Sam shakes his head in protest.
Lucifer shifts in the sheets, white fabric falling away and leaving the angry red of breaking, peeling skin. He leans in, draws white cotton from where it's pooled in Sam's lap. Draws it away and leaves him naked. Sam doesn't try and pull it back.
"You were made for me, Sam. You're perfect and everything else -" Lucifer lifts his hands and catches the sides of Sam's face in burning hands. "Everything else is flawed."
He thinks Lucifer's going to kiss him, but he just holds him there, breathes against his mouth instead. He's a press and flare of heat. Everything about him burns now.
"You could have made me, you could have forced me," Sam says, low enough to crack in his throat. "You could have done."
"But, I didn't," Lucifer says simply.
Sam moves, pulls at the muscle of Lucifer's shoulder and kisses him, kisses the furnace of his mouth and shudders and presses in close like he can hold him here himself. The rough edge of the devil's jaw is a rasp of sensation that goes all the way through him.
"I still don't know why." Sam digs his fingers in, refuses to let go.
"Yes, you do," Lucifer says. Like it's not a secret, like it's something Sam is allowed to admit out loud. "I'm going to burn for you, Sam."
"I don't want you to." It comes out rough and desperate.
There's a steady, amused thrum of laughter. It should sound bitter but it doesn't.
"I think you've broken all the rules you can get away with, for one lifetime," Lucifer reminds him. Sam hates how true that is, hates everything that brought them here, everything that's going to make sure it ends here.
Lucifer moves and there's a steady hand, impossibly hot, on the bend of Sam's waist, threatening to leave the same mark on him as Castiel did on his brother. The fingers press in, like Lucifer can hear what he's thinking. It's a dig that feels greedy and instinctive.
"You can mark me, like Castiel did to Dean -"
"No," Lucifer says stiffly.
Sam's surprised by the vehemence, by the command and he's struck silent by it. He swallows and shakes his head, desperately.
"Why?"
Lucifer hand shifts but doesn't move, doesn't pull away.
"It won't just be a mark. We're already too much for that. It will be a connection. It will be - you'll be connected to me, forever, and hell is a long way away. You'd feel it like knives, Sam. You'd feel everything." Lucifer looks furious, and it's terrifying, but Sam knows that fury isn't for him. It's at the whole world.
It takes Sam a second to realise that the sick clench in his gut is at the thought of not feeling that. Of having nothing. Of never having anything of Lucifer, ever again.
"I don't care."
"Sam," The devil's voice is firm but desperate, thready. Like it's something he wants but won't give, or refuses to allow.
"I don't care." The sheets shift under Sam's knees. A tangle of white spotted with red. "You promised a long time ago to give me whatever I wanted. You promised. And I want that."
Lucifer's face goes hard.
"Don't make me do that."
Sam frowns, takes a breath.
"You don't want -"
Lucifer snatches his elbows, fingers biting in so tightly Sam gasps. He's hauled in close, head forced back, thighs aching at the position he's in.
"I want," Lucifer says furiously. "I want to mark you as mine so badly I can't breathe. I want to twist around you, and chain you, and keep you. In ways you wouldn’t even understand. But I am barely in control in this body and I want you too much. I could kill you."
Sam trembles out a breath, because he knows they don't have any more time. He relaxes and lays his forehead against Lucifer's and doesn’t say a word. Lucifer very slowly relaxes too, arms sliding around him.
Sam listens to the low thud of his own heartbeat.
Then he pulls Lucifer's hand to the curving bend of his waist, folds it into his skin. There's the faintest draw of breath, a desperate soft hitch that sound broken. That sounds pleading.
"I trust you," Sam tells him and, God help him, he does.
Lucifer's hand tightens, fingers digging in. His other hand lifts and presses down tight and hard over Sam's eyes. The hand at his waist burns, it burns all the way through.
He screams for what feels like forever -
His mind barely registers when everything stops.
Sam's shivering and staring at the ceiling and aching all the way through, not even sure he can move. There's a hand stroking through his hair, warm and heavy. Sam sighs, then sucks a breath when he remembers. He tries to sit up, only to find the weight of Lucifer's other arm holding him down.
"Be still."
Sam grunts and weakly lifts a hand, curls his fingers round Lucifer's forearm. He can feel it now. The vicious knife-sharp stab of new pain, between waist and hip. The bed shifts and the ceiling is replaced by Lucifer's face
His face is...perfect.
There are no marks, no burns, no sliced open skin. Sam's hand tightens - his skin is warm, it's warm but not feverishly hot.
"Lucifer." His voice cracks on the word, breath stolen away.
"It seems you were not done breaking the rules after all," Lucifer says quietly.