What They See
Title: What They See
Pairing: Lucifer/Dean
Rating: N/C 17
Genre:Slash
Word Count: 1985
Warning: Non-con, rape, emotional abuse, violence
A/N: Written for Masquerade last year for this prompt :
Lucifer just wants to understand what makes this puny human tick. Why did his Father warm up to him enough to entrust His precious planet to him? What makes him fit to contain Lucifer’s archenemy of a brother? And most of all, how did Lucifer’s true vessel ever overcome his possession by just looking at him?
The words are hard to process. Dim in his fuzzy brain. Dean keeps his eyes closed and his muscles relaxed, waiting for some clue about what’s going on.
“I mean, I don’t get the appeal. I’ve never gotten it.” Fingers roughly grip Dean’s chin, turning his face left then right, patting his cheek gently before letting him go. “I suppose you’re attractive in an alcoholic Neanderthal sort of way, but really, who wants to be around someone like that all the time? And we all know you don’t have a sparkling personality or bon vivant type of wit going for you. Also, no offense, Dean, but word around the campfire is that you’re dumb as a post. So, what is it? What do they see in a loser like you?”
Dean wonders who they are since he can’t think of many people who see much in him at all.
“I mean, I’m the first born. The favorite. The perfect host for my perfect vessel. And yet. My father. My brother. Your brother…”
The magic word clears out some of the haze and recognition of the voice speaking it clenches the muscles of Dean’s jaw almost involuntarily. He opens his eyes and immediately flinches backwards at the view of Lucifer inches from his grill. Well, he tries to anyway. He’s not tied down and there’s nothing behind his head, but he’s wrapped up so tight in Lucifer’s power he can’t move an inch.
“Oh, hey there, pardner.” Lucifer leans in even closer to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Knew you were playing possum.”
“Where’s Sam?” Dean can’t look around but he doesn’t hear anyone else breathing.
“It’s just us this time.” The devil steps back, gaze sweeping Dean from head to toe before he begins circling him. “I’ve got a question that’s been buzzing in my brain pan for a while and I really need an answer.”
“Maybe it’s just a mosquito. Probably a big fucking echo in all that empty space between your ears.”
“Hah. Well, we already established that it’s not your wit that has everyone lusting after you.”
“Lusting?” Dean stares incredulously. “Seriously? God, an archangel and my brother and you come up with lusting?”
Lucifer returns his look with amusement. “Lusting. Seriously. Dad was always a free spirit, so to speak. And, as you should well know, archangels are not saints, who are usually no prizes themselves. And then there’s Sam. Screwed up, co-dependent little Sammy.” Lucifer leans against the wall opposite Dean, one booted foot propped against the plasterboard behind him. “I’ve been inside him you know.” There’s a faint smile at Dean’s growl of rage. “In every way possible and then some. I know alllll the things he thinks about you.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Dean says with the absolute certainly he always feels at times like this, no matter how screwed he seems to be. “Slowly. And I’m going to enjoy every damn minute.”
“Well, that’ll be a neat trick.” An offhand gesture has Dean flying across the room to slam into the wall behind him. Lucifer’s all up in his personal space before he’s got time to recover the breath forced from his body, fingertips lightly pressed against Dean’s heaving chest. Ice cold breath burns Dean’s neck as the devil looms over him, slight smile creasing his mouth at Dean’s agonized gasp. “Remember this? Who do you think taught Azazel this oh, so effective maneuver?”
“Fuck you,” Dean groans, the terror of the demon riding his father’s body looming over him flooding his memory.
“Funny you should mention that.” Lucifer runs his tongue slowly up Dean’s cheek. “Because he was gonna make Daddy kill you slow and bloody. Eventually. But he had a few other fun and games activities planned before you shuffled your bloody way off the mortal coil.” The fingers withdraw and Lucifer’s tone shifts from mocking to enraged. “But your father broke free. From Azazel. No one broke Azazel’s hold. No one. But John Winchester somehow did it. For you.”
Dean tries to meet Lucifer’s ice cold, contemptuous gaze, but his eyes keep sliding past the anger twisting the Lord of Hell’s visage. He struggles to break Lucifer’s grip but he’s pinned like a butterfly on a board.
“Why?” The vicious incomprehension in the word strikes Dean to his marrow because he doesn’t get it either. “Maybe it was because of how hurt you were.” Lucifer’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Maybe they couldn’t stand how pathetic you were so they had to break you free because you were too weak to break them free.”
Dean’s eyes flick to the door but there’s no way he’s reaching it and if Sam brings himself back into Lucifer’s reach to rescue him, he’s going to kill Sam himself. “Go to hell,” he says just before a fist connects hard with his face, rearranging his nose and sending pain splintering through his skull.
“Well, that’s more like it,” Lucifer says approvingly, following up with a one two punch that cracks Dean’s ribcage. He stares in fascination at the blood running from Dean’s nose and mouth and the shocky pallor of his face then takes a step back and licks his lips. “Whoah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I see it now. It’s the blood. I mean, you wear it so beautifully. And it’s the pain, oh yes. That look in your eyes…Alastair was right.” He tilts his head to the side and his smile widens as Dean’s breath catches. “I should never have doubted him.”
The bonds holding Dean to the wall disappear and he clutches his ribs as he tries what will surely be a fruitless break toward the door. Lucifer lets him get six steps in before slamming him face down on the floor.
“No,” Dean gasps but a heavy body pins him down.
“Afraid you don’t get a say in this, Dean. I’m conducting sort of an experiment here. You know. Science. Didn’t see it myself up ‘til now, but you might just make a believer out of me.” Dean shudders as Lucifer’s cock grinds against his ass. “Azazel confirmed that dear old dad- yours, not mine-wouldn’t have been totally opposed to reaming your ass back at that cabin. And Sam. Oh, the things he’s thought about you.” Lucifer flips Dean onto his back. A flick of one hand sends Dean’s boots to one corner and his jeans to another while the other hand spreads Dean’s thighs high and wide. Lucifer’s nostrils flare and he shudders. “Blood and fear. Two things you’re usually neck deep in. The most potent aphrodisiac of all. No wonder they’re falling all over themselves to court you.”
“You’re crazy,” Dean pants, spitting out a mouth full of blood. “No one’s fucking courting me. You think Chuck left the world in my hands because he wanted to fuck me? That’s insane, dude. You’re insane. You’re not going to prove anything this way. Let me go.”
“Oh, what fun would it be to stop now?” One blink and the devil’s naked, rock hard and huge, moving in on the target he’s got positioned exactly how he wants it. “Oh, God,” Lucifer groans, tearing into Dean’s tight heat in one long, brutal thrust. He pushes himself up on one hand before he continues, raising an innocent gaze heavenward. “Sorry, Dad. Probably shouldn’t be invoking your name right now. Just wanted to see what the appeal was. Should have known not to doubt your taste in fuck toys.”
Dean’s got his head turned to the side, breath shooting out in panicked bursts he can’t control. First the reminder of the pain and terror of the cabin and now a violation he hasn’t suffered since hell. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists as Lucifer begins to pound into him.
“Okay. Yeah. This is definitely it.” Lucifer hooks behind Dean’s knees and bends him back on himself, shifting his own angle of penetration at the same time. Dean feels his head moving, turning to face Lucifer and he tries to fight it to no avail. “Let me just…yeah, that’s the spot.” Dean gasps as Lucifer begins to hammer his prostate, grin spreading impossibly wider as Dean’s cock begins to fill. “Look at little Dean there, getting into things! You being a slut for this would never have crossed my mind, Dean, but it definitely adds to the appeal.” The rhythm changes, slows, but still hits the sweet spot with every thrust. “Let’s see if we can’t- oh, yeah. Oooh, yeah, here we go.”
Dean tries to turn his head but he comes in unison with his tormentor, bent so far in half his ejaculate spatters his face as well as his chest. “No,” he mutters. “No, no.”
“Yes,” Lucifer says with a chuckle. “Yes, yes, yes.” He runs his fingers across Dean’s slick lips and then slaps his balls, sliding down to fondle his spent cock. “We both saw it champ. All that pretty, pretty white augmenting those freckles didn’t come from me. Well, only indirectly.” Lucifer’s dick is still hard, balls tight against Dean’s ass. He leans down to flick his tongue at Dean’s ear. “Let’s see if we can’t do it again.”
A fourth load of come fills Dean’s ass, coats his face, wet and sloppy before Lucifer pulls out, manhandling Dean up into his lap then thrusting in again. “You are so good at this, kiddo, so fucking pretty when you’re all fucked out. Alastair and I are the only ones who’ve had it. So far. But they all want it, yes they do.”
“You’re still crazy,” Dean mutters dazedly as he bounces on Lucifer’s never flagging cock. He reaches up weakly to push the devil away, but with a thought Lucifer’s got Dean’s hands bound behind his back. “Sam would never.”
“Mmmm, keep thinking that, Dean-o.”
It’s hours before the torture stops, Dean being fucked in every orifice and every position the Devil’s eons of experience can imagine. He’s choking around Lucifer’s cock when he passes out, blessedly, finally. And wakes up to it still pounding his throat. The room’s closed in, no windows or doors so it’s not clear if it’s day or night when Lucifer dresses himself, leaving Dean a bloody, come covered mess sprawled across the floor. He crouches down beside Dean before he leaves and holds up a cell phone.
“Gave Sammy a call when you passed out a while ago. He’ll be here soon.” He smiles and hold up a hand at Dean’s panicked expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not waiting around for him. It’s going to be a Winchester brother reunion only.” Correctly reading the expression in Dean’s eyes, he outright grins. “No, no. You’re not moving from this spot until he gets here. You’ll be right here in all your glory. What will Sammy be? Horrified? Panicked? Turned on?” He pats Dean’s ass as he gets up and heads for the door. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Dean can feel liquid pooling between his thighs and drying on his face, coating his throat. His stomach wants to spew its load across the floor. He tries to move. To crawl. To get his pants on at least as if that would hide what happened. But he’s still spread wide, slick with blood and semen when Sam bursts through the door.
“Dean. God.”
Dean tries not to meet his eyes. It’s Sam. He knows his little brother. He also knows that demons lie but they will absolutely tell the truth if it causes more damage. He doesn’t look Sam in the eye, doesn’t internalize whatever emotion fills his voice and ignores the touch that might linger just a moment too long, too intimately. It’s too much. Dean loses consciousness as Sam wraps him in a blanket from the Impala’s trunk and carries him to the car. He’ll be more with it tomorrow. He’ll deal with it tomorrow.
Pairing: Lucifer/Dean
Rating: N/C 17
Genre:Slash
Word Count: 1985
Warning: Non-con, rape, emotional abuse, violence
A/N: Written for Masquerade last year for this prompt :
Lucifer just wants to understand what makes this puny human tick. Why did his Father warm up to him enough to entrust His precious planet to him? What makes him fit to contain Lucifer’s archenemy of a brother? And most of all, how did Lucifer’s true vessel ever overcome his possession by just looking at him?
- I made some additions to what was posted and edited it up a bit.
The words are hard to process. Dim in his fuzzy brain. Dean keeps his eyes closed and his muscles relaxed, waiting for some clue about what’s going on.
“I mean, I don’t get the appeal. I’ve never gotten it.” Fingers roughly grip Dean’s chin, turning his face left then right, patting his cheek gently before letting him go. “I suppose you’re attractive in an alcoholic Neanderthal sort of way, but really, who wants to be around someone like that all the time? And we all know you don’t have a sparkling personality or bon vivant type of wit going for you. Also, no offense, Dean, but word around the campfire is that you’re dumb as a post. So, what is it? What do they see in a loser like you?”
Dean wonders who they are since he can’t think of many people who see much in him at all.
“I mean, I’m the first born. The favorite. The perfect host for my perfect vessel. And yet. My father. My brother. Your brother…”
The magic word clears out some of the haze and recognition of the voice speaking it clenches the muscles of Dean’s jaw almost involuntarily. He opens his eyes and immediately flinches backwards at the view of Lucifer inches from his grill. Well, he tries to anyway. He’s not tied down and there’s nothing behind his head, but he’s wrapped up so tight in Lucifer’s power he can’t move an inch.
“Oh, hey there, pardner.” Lucifer leans in even closer to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Knew you were playing possum.”
“Where’s Sam?” Dean can’t look around but he doesn’t hear anyone else breathing.
“It’s just us this time.” The devil steps back, gaze sweeping Dean from head to toe before he begins circling him. “I’ve got a question that’s been buzzing in my brain pan for a while and I really need an answer.”
“Maybe it’s just a mosquito. Probably a big fucking echo in all that empty space between your ears.”
“Hah. Well, we already established that it’s not your wit that has everyone lusting after you.”
“Lusting?” Dean stares incredulously. “Seriously? God, an archangel and my brother and you come up with lusting?”
Lucifer returns his look with amusement. “Lusting. Seriously. Dad was always a free spirit, so to speak. And, as you should well know, archangels are not saints, who are usually no prizes themselves. And then there’s Sam. Screwed up, co-dependent little Sammy.” Lucifer leans against the wall opposite Dean, one booted foot propped against the plasterboard behind him. “I’ve been inside him you know.” There’s a faint smile at Dean’s growl of rage. “In every way possible and then some. I know alllll the things he thinks about you.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Dean says with the absolute certainly he always feels at times like this, no matter how screwed he seems to be. “Slowly. And I’m going to enjoy every damn minute.”
“Well, that’ll be a neat trick.” An offhand gesture has Dean flying across the room to slam into the wall behind him. Lucifer’s all up in his personal space before he’s got time to recover the breath forced from his body, fingertips lightly pressed against Dean’s heaving chest. Ice cold breath burns Dean’s neck as the devil looms over him, slight smile creasing his mouth at Dean’s agonized gasp. “Remember this? Who do you think taught Azazel this oh, so effective maneuver?”
“Fuck you,” Dean groans, the terror of the demon riding his father’s body looming over him flooding his memory.
“Funny you should mention that.” Lucifer runs his tongue slowly up Dean’s cheek. “Because he was gonna make Daddy kill you slow and bloody. Eventually. But he had a few other fun and games activities planned before you shuffled your bloody way off the mortal coil.” The fingers withdraw and Lucifer’s tone shifts from mocking to enraged. “But your father broke free. From Azazel. No one broke Azazel’s hold. No one. But John Winchester somehow did it. For you.”
Dean tries to meet Lucifer’s ice cold, contemptuous gaze, but his eyes keep sliding past the anger twisting the Lord of Hell’s visage. He struggles to break Lucifer’s grip but he’s pinned like a butterfly on a board.
“Why?” The vicious incomprehension in the word strikes Dean to his marrow because he doesn’t get it either. “Maybe it was because of how hurt you were.” Lucifer’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Maybe they couldn’t stand how pathetic you were so they had to break you free because you were too weak to break them free.”
Dean’s eyes flick to the door but there’s no way he’s reaching it and if Sam brings himself back into Lucifer’s reach to rescue him, he’s going to kill Sam himself. “Go to hell,” he says just before a fist connects hard with his face, rearranging his nose and sending pain splintering through his skull.
“Well, that’s more like it,” Lucifer says approvingly, following up with a one two punch that cracks Dean’s ribcage. He stares in fascination at the blood running from Dean’s nose and mouth and the shocky pallor of his face then takes a step back and licks his lips. “Whoah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I see it now. It’s the blood. I mean, you wear it so beautifully. And it’s the pain, oh yes. That look in your eyes…Alastair was right.” He tilts his head to the side and his smile widens as Dean’s breath catches. “I should never have doubted him.”
The bonds holding Dean to the wall disappear and he clutches his ribs as he tries what will surely be a fruitless break toward the door. Lucifer lets him get six steps in before slamming him face down on the floor.
“No,” Dean gasps but a heavy body pins him down.
“Afraid you don’t get a say in this, Dean. I’m conducting sort of an experiment here. You know. Science. Didn’t see it myself up ‘til now, but you might just make a believer out of me.” Dean shudders as Lucifer’s cock grinds against his ass. “Azazel confirmed that dear old dad- yours, not mine-wouldn’t have been totally opposed to reaming your ass back at that cabin. And Sam. Oh, the things he’s thought about you.” Lucifer flips Dean onto his back. A flick of one hand sends Dean’s boots to one corner and his jeans to another while the other hand spreads Dean’s thighs high and wide. Lucifer’s nostrils flare and he shudders. “Blood and fear. Two things you’re usually neck deep in. The most potent aphrodisiac of all. No wonder they’re falling all over themselves to court you.”
“You’re crazy,” Dean pants, spitting out a mouth full of blood. “No one’s fucking courting me. You think Chuck left the world in my hands because he wanted to fuck me? That’s insane, dude. You’re insane. You’re not going to prove anything this way. Let me go.”
“Oh, what fun would it be to stop now?” One blink and the devil’s naked, rock hard and huge, moving in on the target he’s got positioned exactly how he wants it. “Oh, God,” Lucifer groans, tearing into Dean’s tight heat in one long, brutal thrust. He pushes himself up on one hand before he continues, raising an innocent gaze heavenward. “Sorry, Dad. Probably shouldn’t be invoking your name right now. Just wanted to see what the appeal was. Should have known not to doubt your taste in fuck toys.”
Dean’s got his head turned to the side, breath shooting out in panicked bursts he can’t control. First the reminder of the pain and terror of the cabin and now a violation he hasn’t suffered since hell. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists as Lucifer begins to pound into him.
“Okay. Yeah. This is definitely it.” Lucifer hooks behind Dean’s knees and bends him back on himself, shifting his own angle of penetration at the same time. Dean feels his head moving, turning to face Lucifer and he tries to fight it to no avail. “Let me just…yeah, that’s the spot.” Dean gasps as Lucifer begins to hammer his prostate, grin spreading impossibly wider as Dean’s cock begins to fill. “Look at little Dean there, getting into things! You being a slut for this would never have crossed my mind, Dean, but it definitely adds to the appeal.” The rhythm changes, slows, but still hits the sweet spot with every thrust. “Let’s see if we can’t- oh, yeah. Oooh, yeah, here we go.”
Dean tries to turn his head but he comes in unison with his tormentor, bent so far in half his ejaculate spatters his face as well as his chest. “No,” he mutters. “No, no.”
“Yes,” Lucifer says with a chuckle. “Yes, yes, yes.” He runs his fingers across Dean’s slick lips and then slaps his balls, sliding down to fondle his spent cock. “We both saw it champ. All that pretty, pretty white augmenting those freckles didn’t come from me. Well, only indirectly.” Lucifer’s dick is still hard, balls tight against Dean’s ass. He leans down to flick his tongue at Dean’s ear. “Let’s see if we can’t do it again.”
A fourth load of come fills Dean’s ass, coats his face, wet and sloppy before Lucifer pulls out, manhandling Dean up into his lap then thrusting in again. “You are so good at this, kiddo, so fucking pretty when you’re all fucked out. Alastair and I are the only ones who’ve had it. So far. But they all want it, yes they do.”
“You’re still crazy,” Dean mutters dazedly as he bounces on Lucifer’s never flagging cock. He reaches up weakly to push the devil away, but with a thought Lucifer’s got Dean’s hands bound behind his back. “Sam would never.”
“Mmmm, keep thinking that, Dean-o.”
It’s hours before the torture stops, Dean being fucked in every orifice and every position the Devil’s eons of experience can imagine. He’s choking around Lucifer’s cock when he passes out, blessedly, finally. And wakes up to it still pounding his throat. The room’s closed in, no windows or doors so it’s not clear if it’s day or night when Lucifer dresses himself, leaving Dean a bloody, come covered mess sprawled across the floor. He crouches down beside Dean before he leaves and holds up a cell phone.
“Gave Sammy a call when you passed out a while ago. He’ll be here soon.” He smiles and hold up a hand at Dean’s panicked expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not waiting around for him. It’s going to be a Winchester brother reunion only.” Correctly reading the expression in Dean’s eyes, he outright grins. “No, no. You’re not moving from this spot until he gets here. You’ll be right here in all your glory. What will Sammy be? Horrified? Panicked? Turned on?” He pats Dean’s ass as he gets up and heads for the door. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Dean can feel liquid pooling between his thighs and drying on his face, coating his throat. His stomach wants to spew its load across the floor. He tries to move. To crawl. To get his pants on at least as if that would hide what happened. But he’s still spread wide, slick with blood and semen when Sam bursts through the door.
“Dean. God.”
Dean tries not to meet his eyes. It’s Sam. He knows his little brother. He also knows that demons lie but they will absolutely tell the truth if it causes more damage. He doesn’t look Sam in the eye, doesn’t internalize whatever emotion fills his voice and ignores the touch that might linger just a moment too long, too intimately. It’s too much. Dean loses consciousness as Sam wraps him in a blanket from the Impala’s trunk and carries him to the car. He’ll be more with it tomorrow. He’ll deal with it tomorrow.