What I've Tasted of Desire (Perish Twice 2/5)
Title: What I've Tasted of Desire (2/5)
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: soft R
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1513
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all characters therein are the property of Eric Kripke and the WB/CW, I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes.
Summary: Sequel to Perish Twice. In which the Morningstar drops in for another visit, and gives Sam a taste of grace.
Author's note: I'm letting Lucifer keep the upper hand in this chapter before things get interesting; rather than jump right into the dramatic crazy angsty action, I wanted to give them a little time to bond and explore things a little more from Sam's perspective. I'm feeling a little squished under the anticipation and excitement that's been expressed about this series, so I'm stupidly anxious.
- random author's note fact: if you take the 21 letters of my first, middle, and last name and throw them all together, archangel is one of the words they can spell.
Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice;
from what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire
After that first night, Lucifer could feel the tug of Sam's mind constantly, a brilliant beacon calling to him. Lucifer distanced himself from the memory of touching that body, feeling that soul, and the relief it had brought him as best he could, biding his time. He had to wait until Sam wanted it; anticipation would be crucial to his victory.
The relentless torrent of thoughts about Lucifer in Sam's head were split. The majority of the time, they ran to the guilt that came so easily; guilt over kissing Lucifer, guilt over the way his body had reacted, guilt over the weakness it showed, and guilt about not telling Dean, who automatically knew when something was wrong with his baby brother, no matter how much distance lay between them. Sam would have given into his interrogation were it not for two important factors; the fact that Dean's tried-and-true Winchester third degree wasn't nearly what it used to be -- his brother was sliding into apathy fast, drained by the hopelessness of the impossible odds they faced -- and the fact that Sam knew he couldn't tell Dean about this under any circumstances. His brother hardly trusted him to begin with, and finding out that Sam had made out with the Devil -- to say nothing of the hand job -- would sever the few threads of faith Dean had left in Sam.
When guilt wasn't drawing his mind to Lucifer, that task was accomplished by bursts of lust Sam fought fiercely to control. Lucifer's touch was imprinted in him like the fading image of a brilliant light behind his eyes; the memory was there, and now that he'd felt those hands, he wanted more. Sam was only human, and a flesh-carved, mortal body was not made to resist once the Morningstar got under its skin.
Sam stopped masturbating, finding himself unable to think of anything else when he felt the touch of hands on his arousal. Much to his dismay, the denial of release only served to amplify his desire to the point where it was driving him mad. When Sam started waking up in the middle of the night with damp smears of precome staining his boxers and Lucifer's name on his lips, the Devil decided to make an appearance.
Sam knew it was only a matter of time before Lucifer showed up again.
He was steeling himself, expecting something dark and violent, almost willing Lucifer to take him by force with the sheer power of his anticipation.
Lucifer shook his head at the thought. For all his sins, he had never once taken a lover by force, and he never would; sooner or later, each one came to his bed willingly, begging body and soul for his touch.
When Sam's eyes fluttered open in his dream, he found himself lying on a bed with Lucifer leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.
Lucifer said nothing, allowing his movements to speak for themselves as he pushed his body away from the wall and strode across the room, removing his shirt with a fluid grace surprising in such a large form. He could have easily made the garment disappear with a simple thought, but he didn't want to startle Sam or do anything to remind him that he was... himself.
At the sight of Lucifer's naked torso, Sam gasped; a reverent intake of breath at the glory pouring into him through his eyes.
His roaming gaze took in a long, thin scar transversing the left side of Lucifer's stomach, extending up along the curve that defined his chest. Sam caught himself wondering what its texture would feel like, how the skin would taste under his tongue, whether Lucifer would stay still or arch beneath him as he...
Sam came to the sudden, horrifying realization that he was openly staring, practically eye-fucking the Devil. He turned away, heat rising to his cheeks as he hoped beyond hope that Lucifer hadn't noticed the way Sam was looking at him.
Lucifer silently watched the path of Sam's eyes as they traveled over him, taking in the appreciative widening that soon turned to desire. His vessel had been beautiful by angelic standards as well as human -- not as beautiful as Sam, by any means, but still beautiful -- and his raw form had been an excellent starting point. Lucifer had kept the odd beauty of his vessel's face, but had chosen to make improvements elsewhere; lengthening spans of muscle to make them a less bulky, correcting symmetry where it was lacking, filling hollows that were too deep and flattening lines that were a little too round. When the body was sculpted to his satisfaction, Lucifer made a final improvement, accentuating the stunning V of muscle that ran along Nick's hipbones just enough to make it even more enticing.
When combined with the way Lucifer carried himself, a mix of the quiet, overwhelming confidence of an archangel with the sinuous, mesmerizing shifts and sways of an exotic dancer, the effect was devastating.
Moving like liquid silk, Lucifer reclined on the bed next to Sam, close enough to feel the edges of Sam's soul prickling over him like flakes of dancing flame, but far enough to keep Sam guessing at his next move. Sam's eyes were in constant motion, flickering towards him, then away, memorizing and drinking his body in with furtive glances.
The corner of Lucifer's mouth curved into the slightest of smiles.
"You don't have to hide from me, Sam," he said, the timbre of his voice taking on a honey-toned gentleness Sam had never heard before.
Lucifer turned his body towards Sam, reaching out an arm to curl around Sam's waist.
Sam felt a large hand splay over the small of his back before those fingers dug in, dragging him over the sheets until their bodies were flush together. Lucifer knew from brief brushes of arms against arms how soft the skin sheathing Sam's long, lovely body would be, but expectations weren't enough to prepare him for reality. It was intoxicating, it was perfection, it was Sam, and he wanted more.
Lucifer bent his head to the rise-falling place on Sam's neck where blood ran close to the surface, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin and revelling in the burn of Sam's flesh against his mouth. At the feel of Sam's erection swelling against his thigh, the Devil fought back a groan, keeping the smooth, throaty rumble of his voice low and steady as he moved his lips against Sam's flesh.
"You can have anything you want."
Lucifer left the invitation hanging on the air to worm its way into Sam's brain and weaken his resolve.
He wasn't going to bother trying to get Sam to say yes again; it was simply too soon. Sam was still tense and hesitant, fully aware of what the Devil was up to, which was nothing less than what Lucifer had expected; after all, this magnificent soul wouldn't be for him if he broke so easily. It would take time, energy, and patience, and Lucifer knew that every second he devoted to winning Sam, every iota of power he gave, would be worth it a hundred times over.
Lucifer nipped a line of faint red marks along Sam's throat, taking his time before finding those lovely lips with his own. There would be time enough for seduction later; for now, Lucifer was content to breathe in that blessed warmth, taking it into his vessel's lungs and feeling it radiate through him, sending sparks flowing along the contours of his invisible wings.
As Sam's marvelous soul poured into him, Lucifer coaxed his grace from a deep, secret place within until it hummed just beneath his skin, returning the gift of that pure, beautiful heat by sharing the closest thing he had to a soul with Sam. When the grace flowed into him, it felt like every happy memory Sam had ever had all rolled into one, like safety and comfort and warm and home and fire and lust and love. It was in the breath from the mouth sealed gently over Sam's, the fingertips that trailed along his skin and scars with a touch so light he could barely feel it, the body that pressed against his own. Sam could feel the Morningstar everywhere, and every single scrap of that impossibly bright grace found its way to his dick, setting his nerves ablaze as it set his soul alight.
With the softest grind of Lucifer's hips and the touch of a tongue to his own, every muscle in Sam's body locked as he came so hard he nearly passed out. Lucifer buried his face in the shuddering man's neck, moaning in harmony with Sam as the intense burn of the man's orgasm tore through Lucifer, pouring energy into the furthest recesses of the archangel's being and banishing every hint of the icy gusts that chilled him.
Now that he'd had a taste of what Lucifer could do, Sam's need would only grow.
and the Devil would be waiting.
Chapter Three
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: soft R
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1513
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all characters therein are the property of Eric Kripke and the WB/CW, I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes.
Summary: Sequel to Perish Twice. In which the Morningstar drops in for another visit, and gives Sam a taste of grace.
Author's note: I'm letting Lucifer keep the upper hand in this chapter before things get interesting; rather than jump right into the dramatic crazy angsty action, I wanted to give them a little time to bond and explore things a little more from Sam's perspective. I'm feeling a little squished under the anticipation and excitement that's been expressed about this series, so I'm stupidly anxious.
- random author's note fact: if you take the 21 letters of my first, middle, and last name and throw them all together, archangel is one of the words they can spell.
Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice;
from what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire
After that first night, Lucifer could feel the tug of Sam's mind constantly, a brilliant beacon calling to him. Lucifer distanced himself from the memory of touching that body, feeling that soul, and the relief it had brought him as best he could, biding his time. He had to wait until Sam wanted it; anticipation would be crucial to his victory.
The relentless torrent of thoughts about Lucifer in Sam's head were split. The majority of the time, they ran to the guilt that came so easily; guilt over kissing Lucifer, guilt over the way his body had reacted, guilt over the weakness it showed, and guilt about not telling Dean, who automatically knew when something was wrong with his baby brother, no matter how much distance lay between them. Sam would have given into his interrogation were it not for two important factors; the fact that Dean's tried-and-true Winchester third degree wasn't nearly what it used to be -- his brother was sliding into apathy fast, drained by the hopelessness of the impossible odds they faced -- and the fact that Sam knew he couldn't tell Dean about this under any circumstances. His brother hardly trusted him to begin with, and finding out that Sam had made out with the Devil -- to say nothing of the hand job -- would sever the few threads of faith Dean had left in Sam.
When guilt wasn't drawing his mind to Lucifer, that task was accomplished by bursts of lust Sam fought fiercely to control. Lucifer's touch was imprinted in him like the fading image of a brilliant light behind his eyes; the memory was there, and now that he'd felt those hands, he wanted more. Sam was only human, and a flesh-carved, mortal body was not made to resist once the Morningstar got under its skin.
Sam stopped masturbating, finding himself unable to think of anything else when he felt the touch of hands on his arousal. Much to his dismay, the denial of release only served to amplify his desire to the point where it was driving him mad. When Sam started waking up in the middle of the night with damp smears of precome staining his boxers and Lucifer's name on his lips, the Devil decided to make an appearance.
Sam knew it was only a matter of time before Lucifer showed up again.
He was steeling himself, expecting something dark and violent, almost willing Lucifer to take him by force with the sheer power of his anticipation.
Lucifer shook his head at the thought. For all his sins, he had never once taken a lover by force, and he never would; sooner or later, each one came to his bed willingly, begging body and soul for his touch.
When Sam's eyes fluttered open in his dream, he found himself lying on a bed with Lucifer leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.
Lucifer said nothing, allowing his movements to speak for themselves as he pushed his body away from the wall and strode across the room, removing his shirt with a fluid grace surprising in such a large form. He could have easily made the garment disappear with a simple thought, but he didn't want to startle Sam or do anything to remind him that he was... himself.
At the sight of Lucifer's naked torso, Sam gasped; a reverent intake of breath at the glory pouring into him through his eyes.
His roaming gaze took in a long, thin scar transversing the left side of Lucifer's stomach, extending up along the curve that defined his chest. Sam caught himself wondering what its texture would feel like, how the skin would taste under his tongue, whether Lucifer would stay still or arch beneath him as he...
Sam came to the sudden, horrifying realization that he was openly staring, practically eye-fucking the Devil. He turned away, heat rising to his cheeks as he hoped beyond hope that Lucifer hadn't noticed the way Sam was looking at him.
Lucifer silently watched the path of Sam's eyes as they traveled over him, taking in the appreciative widening that soon turned to desire. His vessel had been beautiful by angelic standards as well as human -- not as beautiful as Sam, by any means, but still beautiful -- and his raw form had been an excellent starting point. Lucifer had kept the odd beauty of his vessel's face, but had chosen to make improvements elsewhere; lengthening spans of muscle to make them a less bulky, correcting symmetry where it was lacking, filling hollows that were too deep and flattening lines that were a little too round. When the body was sculpted to his satisfaction, Lucifer made a final improvement, accentuating the stunning V of muscle that ran along Nick's hipbones just enough to make it even more enticing.
When combined with the way Lucifer carried himself, a mix of the quiet, overwhelming confidence of an archangel with the sinuous, mesmerizing shifts and sways of an exotic dancer, the effect was devastating.
Moving like liquid silk, Lucifer reclined on the bed next to Sam, close enough to feel the edges of Sam's soul prickling over him like flakes of dancing flame, but far enough to keep Sam guessing at his next move. Sam's eyes were in constant motion, flickering towards him, then away, memorizing and drinking his body in with furtive glances.
The corner of Lucifer's mouth curved into the slightest of smiles.
"You don't have to hide from me, Sam," he said, the timbre of his voice taking on a honey-toned gentleness Sam had never heard before.
Lucifer turned his body towards Sam, reaching out an arm to curl around Sam's waist.
Sam felt a large hand splay over the small of his back before those fingers dug in, dragging him over the sheets until their bodies were flush together. Lucifer knew from brief brushes of arms against arms how soft the skin sheathing Sam's long, lovely body would be, but expectations weren't enough to prepare him for reality. It was intoxicating, it was perfection, it was Sam, and he wanted more.
Lucifer bent his head to the rise-falling place on Sam's neck where blood ran close to the surface, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin and revelling in the burn of Sam's flesh against his mouth. At the feel of Sam's erection swelling against his thigh, the Devil fought back a groan, keeping the smooth, throaty rumble of his voice low and steady as he moved his lips against Sam's flesh.
"You can have anything you want."
Lucifer left the invitation hanging on the air to worm its way into Sam's brain and weaken his resolve.
He wasn't going to bother trying to get Sam to say yes again; it was simply too soon. Sam was still tense and hesitant, fully aware of what the Devil was up to, which was nothing less than what Lucifer had expected; after all, this magnificent soul wouldn't be for him if he broke so easily. It would take time, energy, and patience, and Lucifer knew that every second he devoted to winning Sam, every iota of power he gave, would be worth it a hundred times over.
Lucifer nipped a line of faint red marks along Sam's throat, taking his time before finding those lovely lips with his own. There would be time enough for seduction later; for now, Lucifer was content to breathe in that blessed warmth, taking it into his vessel's lungs and feeling it radiate through him, sending sparks flowing along the contours of his invisible wings.
As Sam's marvelous soul poured into him, Lucifer coaxed his grace from a deep, secret place within until it hummed just beneath his skin, returning the gift of that pure, beautiful heat by sharing the closest thing he had to a soul with Sam. When the grace flowed into him, it felt like every happy memory Sam had ever had all rolled into one, like safety and comfort and warm and home and fire and lust and love. It was in the breath from the mouth sealed gently over Sam's, the fingertips that trailed along his skin and scars with a touch so light he could barely feel it, the body that pressed against his own. Sam could feel the Morningstar everywhere, and every single scrap of that impossibly bright grace found its way to his dick, setting his nerves ablaze as it set his soul alight.
With the softest grind of Lucifer's hips and the touch of a tongue to his own, every muscle in Sam's body locked as he came so hard he nearly passed out. Lucifer buried his face in the shuddering man's neck, moaning in harmony with Sam as the intense burn of the man's orgasm tore through Lucifer, pouring energy into the furthest recesses of the archangel's being and banishing every hint of the icy gusts that chilled him.
Now that he'd had a taste of what Lucifer could do, Sam's need would only grow.
and the Devil would be waiting.
Chapter Three