It's All Right With Me: Steavam, for C_quinn
See, c_quinn! I finished! Yay, me!
Title: It's All Right With Me
Fandom: Reaper
Pairing: Steve/Sam
Rating: R. Strong R.
Disclaimer: Not mine now, not mine ever.
A/N: Thank god for iTunes shuffle when it comes to coming up with titles...also, the actual smut in this is, like, 1/12 of the whole thing. That's just kind of sad.
There’s light coming through his window.
He’s not quite sure what time it is, but there’s…light, coming through his window.
It’s a little weird, actually.
Because he’s pretty sure he closed the blinds, and he doesn’t want to get up, and he called out from work because he’s tired and Sock and Ben know better then to bug him, for a day at least.
Won’t be more than a day, though. Everything’s fine, Andi’s going to be all right, Sock and Ben are okay, he’s just…just tired.
But that’s not the problem right now. No, the problem is definitely the light.
That’s the problem. There shouldn’t be any.
“Oh no, no, Sam,” he hears, along with the sound of someone settling against the table that was allegedly meant to be a desk when his mom brought it over, but he hasn’t gotten a chair yet, so there’s really nothing desk-like about it, hence it being a table. “This just won’t do at all.”
“Steve?” he pokes his head out of his den of pillows and sheets he had drawn up to his neck.
“I mean, I understand the temptation, your first apartment, just shove whatever you want into your room and go from there, but if you can’t even walk without-“
“Steve?”
“Yes, Sam?” the demon gives him a vaguely curious look, and a small smile.
“What are you doing here?” and for once, he doesn’t bother to keep from sounding pissed off, not that he usually has demons dropping into his room for a quick chat (not lesser demons, anyway, usually just the kind of the One, ultimate, major demon) because really, now is not a good time.
“I’m checking up on you,” Steve raises an eyebrow, as if that were blindingly obvious.
“Checking up on…you…what? Why?”
“Well, you…seemed kind of upset, you know, when we where…” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper, as he makes quick circular motions with his fingers, “In the, you know, room, talking about…you know, the-”
“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he nodded, sitting up, and trying to clear his head a bit.
“And yes, I was concerned, and you kind of left in a hurry, so…” the demon slapped his palms down briskly on his thighs in an enthusiastic drum roll, “I thought, I should make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” he said, automatically.
“You’re in bed at three-thirty in the afternoon, Sam,” Steve said, carefully checking his watch. “That doesn’t really say fine to me.”
“Oh,” that was kind of late, even for him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Steve gave him a concerned look. “And I know American teenagers, these days-“
“I’m twenty-one.”
Steve blinked for a moment, and then shook his head.
“I mean, yes, American youths, these days, are on the…kind of slothful side, which is perfectly all right, but really, three-thirty…”
“I was tired,” he yawned, not so much to add authenticity, just because.
“Hmm,” Steve cocked his head, as if expecting more of an answer than that. As if fully prepared to remain, perched on his not-quite desk, not-quite table, for eons to come until he got one.
“I…I had to break it off with Andi.”
“Andi?” Steve frowned, jumping lightly to the floor, and stepping closer to the bed. “I thought you were with…Katie?”
“Cady,” Sam sighed. “Yeah, that…that didn’t work out so well, and then…well…then Andi got…hurt, and…”
“Oh, Sam,” the demon settled primly on the edge of the bed, and frowned. “It was a reaping thing, wasn’t it?”
“It was…kind of a lot of things, and it was…mostly my fault, or…really, all my fault, and-“
“No, Sam.”
“What?”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your parents sold your soul to the Devil, it’s not your fault that you just lost a girl you like because it’s your job to…to take escaped souls back to hell, it’s…it’s not your fault. So don’t think that it is, Sam. Don’t act like it is. Don’t let anyone tell you that it is, or get you to feel guilty about it because-”
“Steve…”
“Sorry,” the demon blushed lightly, and Sam wondered at that. “I just…I just can’t stand seeing someone as just…good as you, Sam, try and do the right thing and get so…royally screwed for it.”
“It’s…it’s not so bad, you know?” he said, probably more for his own benefit, than Steve’s. Especially because Steve wasn’t looking like he was especially convinced. “I mean, I’ve gotten pretty good at it, and Sock and Ben help a lot, and I wasn’t really doing anything with my life before and-“
“Sam,” the demon reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked at him sadly. “I’ve…seen Reapers before. Their lives aren’t…usually good, or even, really, long ones. I didn’t want to…I don’t want to…scare you, but you just…you don’t deserve this. You didn’t choose this.”
“I know that,” he said, and shrugged. Because he did, really did, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. And dwelling on it…thinking about it…he couldn’t. One day at time, was about all he could do. “I get it, really, I do get it, but-“
“Do you, Sam?” Steve looked at him, closely, carefully, more measured than he was really comfortable with. “Do you really get that…”
“That it’s…my whole life? That even when I die I’ll…I still won’t be…yeah, I…I get it,” he swallowed. “I just…usually try not to think about it.”
“Oh, Sam,” the demon sighed again, long-suffering, sympathetic. “Come here.”
“What? ”
Steve gave a small laugh and opened his arms, waving him closer. “Come on.”
“What are you…doing…?”
“I’m not sure what you straight boys call, but in gay demon lingo, it’s a hug, kiddo,” Steve said, light and teasing, as Sam gave an embarrassed laughed. “Come on. You need one.”
“I don’t…”
“Yes, you do,” the demon smiled, before leaning over and wrapping his arms around him. Patted his back, comfortingly, and gave a soft chuckle as Sam gave in and dropped his head against his shoulder. “See? Better, right?”
And it was, even though nothing really had changed, in that moment.
He was still damned, he was still exhausted, he was still dreading tomorrow and the next day and the next year, the rest of his life, whatever, but there was a demon, from hell, dressed in the kind of pants that you probably had to dry clean and a sweater vest that felt impossibly soft against his cheek, and it was hard to feel anything aside from kind of weirded out by that, and just how comforting it was.
But he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about anything, except being soothed and comforted and just how good that felt, just that.
How…nice Steve smelled, how nice he was being, how willing he was to just be there.
“Steve?” he mumbled against the collar of Steve’s shirt, taking in the scent of what seemed like cinnamon and hot chocolate, but was probably some really expensive cologne that he’d never heard of.
“Yes, Sam?” the demon kind of whispered and kind of sighed, before giving him one last pat on the back and pulling away.
“Just…thank you,” he glanced up, and saw Steve smile, maybe a little sadly, again, as he felt the hand that had been sliding along his arm draw back.
“No problem.”
And it was like something had been lost, some part of the moment, some connection that he wanted back, something and he should’ve been thinking more clearly but didn’t really want to be.
He was still close enough, still shifting into a more comfortable position, maybe, or getting up, and all Sam really had to do was lean a little closer, before he could even notice, and drop his lips against Steve’s.
And it was strange. It was a kiss, basically, but Steve didn’t move, didn’t kiss back, didn’t pull away, just stopped.
Let Sam lean closer still, bring a hand up to the demon’s neck and let the other settle on his hip, and still didn’t move.
Didn’t even breathe, Sam realized.
He wondered, briefly, if that was a demon thing or a shock thing, but the main thing, right now, was the warm body and surprisingly cool lips he was pressing against, maybe a little desperately, to absolutely no response whatsoever.
It wasn’t exactly encouraging, and wasn’t exactly comforting, and may very well have been the opposite of both.
He pulled back once he couldn’t take it anymore, and glanced down at his sheets.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes. “So…just…really…sorry, I didn’t…”
“Sam,” he heard Steve say, as light fingers slipped under his chin and tipped his head up. “It’s okay. You need something right now, and I get that, but I don’t think I’m what you-“
He leaned forward again, and Steve didn’t quite close his mouth.
Because there was a flicker of tongue against his, and the fingers on his chin slipped down around the side of his neck, and Sam was the first one to pull away.
“Sam,” it half-sounded like a question, and he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Just…don’t…” was about all he could think of, before leaning in again, and Steve just sighed, this time.
Sighed, and shifted closer, and Sam noticed another hand wrapping around his arm, fingers light and smooth against his skin, as the lips against him parted again, a kind of stuttered, deliberate pressure that distracting and tempting and just about everything he wanted, right now.
He leaned back.
Had to, with his head swimming as much as it was, trying too hard to process this, Steve, his tongue, his lips, slick and soft, his warmth, pressing against him but just barely, and he was lying down, and Steve was leaning over him, and then looking down at him, even as he arched up, wanting the contact back.
Steve wasn’t really on top of him, not entirely. Still basically sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand under his neck, the other bracing itself on the mattress, next to his head, and that can’t have been comfortable, Sam figured. Maybe that’s what he was about to say, why he was looking at him so intensely again, dark eyes sparking and strangely sharp, that he wasn’t comfortable, that this wasn’t right, that....
“Sam,” the demon said, lower than he’d ever heard him, ducking his head and pulling his hand away from Sam’s neck.
“Ye…yeah?” he stuttered, as that hand slipped unexpectedly lower, brushing along his chest, even as Steve sat up all the way.
“This isn’t a pity fuck,” Steve glanced back up at him, and looked about ready to roll his eyes at the expression Sam was pretty sure was on his face. “I’m not…” there were two hands now, skimming under his shirt, puling gently his sweat-pants gently. “Doing this…out of…well, pity, okay?”
“Oh…okay?” was just about all he could manage, as Steve smiled, and one of his hands slid lower.
“Good,” Steve winked, and leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before shifting again. “Just so you know.”
Bowing his head and kissing down Sam’s stomach, soft and gentle and it felt good, sort off, but weird, not being able to see more of him, than his shoulders, than the shiny, perfect dark black hair.
So he shut his eyes; pictured what he wouldn’t have been able to see, as those all-too-able hands eased off his pants, as those slicked and easy lips slid along his hip, and he half-giggled at that.
Because it was odd, tickled, and he felt the demon grin against his skin before he heard him shift again.
A kiss pressed to the inside of his thigh and that was something he couldn’t giggle at as easily, something he could almost not breathe at, and he could feel his heart beating faster than it was ever really supposed to.
And Steve paused; sighed, and Sam felt that, the warm brush against his skin making him shiver a little.
Light fingers easing his legs apart and he had to mumble a “Wait a sec,” squirming out of the pants that were still around his ankles, before Steve could slip between his thighs.
Soft but sure, slow strokes massaging and warming and he felt himself relax before he realized he’d needed to.
“Okay, Sam?” the voice cut through his thoughts, through his personal refrains of breathe and easy and okay, you’re okay, this is okay and it sounded just a little bit amused, but mostly fond, so he was okay with it.
“Yeah….” He started to say, breathless, but sure, really, he was okay, before he was gasping.
Choking back a sudden moan, at the feeling of wet heat and swirling tongue and it was a lot more than he was expecting and a lot more than he can handle and if he were thinking clearly, if he were being logical, which he clearly wasn’t, he’d realize, the tongue curling and curving and…and lapping against his dick wasn’t exactly human and was doing things no one exactly human should be able to do.
Demon. Steve’s a demon. Remember that. It’s kind of important. Demon.
Not that he needed another reminder of that, but he got one; his hand, almost without him realizing it, skimming through that soft dark hair, thumb catching against the ridge of a horn, and he moans again, at the sudden, completely unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome pressure of a finger inside of him.
And then another, curving, pressing, searching, as Steve sucked, steady and slick, and then he wasn’t actually thinking of anything very important, besides the sudden, brilliant, burning rush of heat and pleasure with the third finger.
His hips bucked, thrust hard into Steve’s mouth, and he felt himself bump up, rougher than he would’ve wanted, rough enough to want to apologize, against the back of his throat.
And then Steve pressed just right, and swallowed, or something, and the last thing Sam remembered thinking, with any kind of clarity, was about how nice it must be not to, apparently, have a gag reflex.
He’d wanted to forget, for a minute, even, and he did; forgot everything, except for warm and good and Steve.
Steve smiling (sadly, and that didn’t seem right, he’d have to ask…) and kissing the side of his thigh, again, soft and careful and whispering a, “Good boy, Sam,” which he’d find really condescending, most of the time, but somehow…somehow he didn’t.
It was a compliment, really; it made him feel loose, and good, and warm, and happy.
And he liked happy.
Love it, really; loved the quiet, tangled in sweaty sheets, with a warm body pressing against him, feeling.
Except that there wasn’t a warm body pressing against him, at the moment, which was easily enough to fix.
“Sam,” the demon sighed, not sounding especially pleased at being pulled up against him, and he tried to frown in response.
Tried to do something other than grin, which is all he felt like doing, because that didn’t really seem appropriate.
“What?” he tried not to whine, but might have failed. Skimmed a hand down the soft wool of a dark vest. “Don’t you want me to-“
“No,” and Steve pulled his hand away. Kissed his wrist, though, and that was kind of…weird. But good weird. He thought. “Not right now.”
“But-“
“But, nothing,” Steve smiled at him, but his voice was stern. “This wasn’t about that, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, chastised, not sure why, but willing to let it pass.
Slide a careful arm around Steve’s waist, and took a breath. Felt his eyes struggle to stay open, and his body war against the instinct to melt against the sheets.
“Steven?” he murmured, after a moment, and he saw the demon wince.
“Sam?” Steve smiled anyway, careful.
“You’ll stay, right?”
“Of course,” Steve chuckled, quiet, almost soundless. Leaned closer, as if to press his forehead to Sam’s but…stopped. Kissed him instead, simple, sweet. A hand stroking lightly at his cheek and that’s what he fell asleep to, a soft touch and a whispered. “As long as you need me to.”
Title: It's All Right With Me
Fandom: Reaper
Pairing: Steve/Sam
Rating: R. Strong R.
Disclaimer: Not mine now, not mine ever.
A/N: Thank god for iTunes shuffle when it comes to coming up with titles...also, the actual smut in this is, like, 1/12 of the whole thing. That's just kind of sad.
There’s light coming through his window.
He’s not quite sure what time it is, but there’s…light, coming through his window.
It’s a little weird, actually.
Because he’s pretty sure he closed the blinds, and he doesn’t want to get up, and he called out from work because he’s tired and Sock and Ben know better then to bug him, for a day at least.
Won’t be more than a day, though. Everything’s fine, Andi’s going to be all right, Sock and Ben are okay, he’s just…just tired.
But that’s not the problem right now. No, the problem is definitely the light.
That’s the problem. There shouldn’t be any.
“Oh no, no, Sam,” he hears, along with the sound of someone settling against the table that was allegedly meant to be a desk when his mom brought it over, but he hasn’t gotten a chair yet, so there’s really nothing desk-like about it, hence it being a table. “This just won’t do at all.”
“Steve?” he pokes his head out of his den of pillows and sheets he had drawn up to his neck.
“I mean, I understand the temptation, your first apartment, just shove whatever you want into your room and go from there, but if you can’t even walk without-“
“Steve?”
“Yes, Sam?” the demon gives him a vaguely curious look, and a small smile.
“What are you doing here?” and for once, he doesn’t bother to keep from sounding pissed off, not that he usually has demons dropping into his room for a quick chat (not lesser demons, anyway, usually just the kind of the One, ultimate, major demon) because really, now is not a good time.
“I’m checking up on you,” Steve raises an eyebrow, as if that were blindingly obvious.
“Checking up on…you…what? Why?”
“Well, you…seemed kind of upset, you know, when we where…” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper, as he makes quick circular motions with his fingers, “In the, you know, room, talking about…you know, the-”
“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he nodded, sitting up, and trying to clear his head a bit.
“And yes, I was concerned, and you kind of left in a hurry, so…” the demon slapped his palms down briskly on his thighs in an enthusiastic drum roll, “I thought, I should make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” he said, automatically.
“You’re in bed at three-thirty in the afternoon, Sam,” Steve said, carefully checking his watch. “That doesn’t really say fine to me.”
“Oh,” that was kind of late, even for him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Steve gave him a concerned look. “And I know American teenagers, these days-“
“I’m twenty-one.”
Steve blinked for a moment, and then shook his head.
“I mean, yes, American youths, these days, are on the…kind of slothful side, which is perfectly all right, but really, three-thirty…”
“I was tired,” he yawned, not so much to add authenticity, just because.
“Hmm,” Steve cocked his head, as if expecting more of an answer than that. As if fully prepared to remain, perched on his not-quite desk, not-quite table, for eons to come until he got one.
“I…I had to break it off with Andi.”
“Andi?” Steve frowned, jumping lightly to the floor, and stepping closer to the bed. “I thought you were with…Katie?”
“Cady,” Sam sighed. “Yeah, that…that didn’t work out so well, and then…well…then Andi got…hurt, and…”
“Oh, Sam,” the demon settled primly on the edge of the bed, and frowned. “It was a reaping thing, wasn’t it?”
“It was…kind of a lot of things, and it was…mostly my fault, or…really, all my fault, and-“
“No, Sam.”
“What?”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your parents sold your soul to the Devil, it’s not your fault that you just lost a girl you like because it’s your job to…to take escaped souls back to hell, it’s…it’s not your fault. So don’t think that it is, Sam. Don’t act like it is. Don’t let anyone tell you that it is, or get you to feel guilty about it because-”
“Steve…”
“Sorry,” the demon blushed lightly, and Sam wondered at that. “I just…I just can’t stand seeing someone as just…good as you, Sam, try and do the right thing and get so…royally screwed for it.”
“It’s…it’s not so bad, you know?” he said, probably more for his own benefit, than Steve’s. Especially because Steve wasn’t looking like he was especially convinced. “I mean, I’ve gotten pretty good at it, and Sock and Ben help a lot, and I wasn’t really doing anything with my life before and-“
“Sam,” the demon reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked at him sadly. “I’ve…seen Reapers before. Their lives aren’t…usually good, or even, really, long ones. I didn’t want to…I don’t want to…scare you, but you just…you don’t deserve this. You didn’t choose this.”
“I know that,” he said, and shrugged. Because he did, really did, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. And dwelling on it…thinking about it…he couldn’t. One day at time, was about all he could do. “I get it, really, I do get it, but-“
“Do you, Sam?” Steve looked at him, closely, carefully, more measured than he was really comfortable with. “Do you really get that…”
“That it’s…my whole life? That even when I die I’ll…I still won’t be…yeah, I…I get it,” he swallowed. “I just…usually try not to think about it.”
“Oh, Sam,” the demon sighed again, long-suffering, sympathetic. “Come here.”
“What? ”
Steve gave a small laugh and opened his arms, waving him closer. “Come on.”
“What are you…doing…?”
“I’m not sure what you straight boys call, but in gay demon lingo, it’s a hug, kiddo,” Steve said, light and teasing, as Sam gave an embarrassed laughed. “Come on. You need one.”
“I don’t…”
“Yes, you do,” the demon smiled, before leaning over and wrapping his arms around him. Patted his back, comfortingly, and gave a soft chuckle as Sam gave in and dropped his head against his shoulder. “See? Better, right?”
And it was, even though nothing really had changed, in that moment.
He was still damned, he was still exhausted, he was still dreading tomorrow and the next day and the next year, the rest of his life, whatever, but there was a demon, from hell, dressed in the kind of pants that you probably had to dry clean and a sweater vest that felt impossibly soft against his cheek, and it was hard to feel anything aside from kind of weirded out by that, and just how comforting it was.
But he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about anything, except being soothed and comforted and just how good that felt, just that.
How…nice Steve smelled, how nice he was being, how willing he was to just be there.
“Steve?” he mumbled against the collar of Steve’s shirt, taking in the scent of what seemed like cinnamon and hot chocolate, but was probably some really expensive cologne that he’d never heard of.
“Yes, Sam?” the demon kind of whispered and kind of sighed, before giving him one last pat on the back and pulling away.
“Just…thank you,” he glanced up, and saw Steve smile, maybe a little sadly, again, as he felt the hand that had been sliding along his arm draw back.
“No problem.”
And it was like something had been lost, some part of the moment, some connection that he wanted back, something and he should’ve been thinking more clearly but didn’t really want to be.
He was still close enough, still shifting into a more comfortable position, maybe, or getting up, and all Sam really had to do was lean a little closer, before he could even notice, and drop his lips against Steve’s.
And it was strange. It was a kiss, basically, but Steve didn’t move, didn’t kiss back, didn’t pull away, just stopped.
Let Sam lean closer still, bring a hand up to the demon’s neck and let the other settle on his hip, and still didn’t move.
Didn’t even breathe, Sam realized.
He wondered, briefly, if that was a demon thing or a shock thing, but the main thing, right now, was the warm body and surprisingly cool lips he was pressing against, maybe a little desperately, to absolutely no response whatsoever.
It wasn’t exactly encouraging, and wasn’t exactly comforting, and may very well have been the opposite of both.
He pulled back once he couldn’t take it anymore, and glanced down at his sheets.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes. “So…just…really…sorry, I didn’t…”
“Sam,” he heard Steve say, as light fingers slipped under his chin and tipped his head up. “It’s okay. You need something right now, and I get that, but I don’t think I’m what you-“
He leaned forward again, and Steve didn’t quite close his mouth.
Because there was a flicker of tongue against his, and the fingers on his chin slipped down around the side of his neck, and Sam was the first one to pull away.
“Sam,” it half-sounded like a question, and he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Just…don’t…” was about all he could think of, before leaning in again, and Steve just sighed, this time.
Sighed, and shifted closer, and Sam noticed another hand wrapping around his arm, fingers light and smooth against his skin, as the lips against him parted again, a kind of stuttered, deliberate pressure that distracting and tempting and just about everything he wanted, right now.
He leaned back.
Had to, with his head swimming as much as it was, trying too hard to process this, Steve, his tongue, his lips, slick and soft, his warmth, pressing against him but just barely, and he was lying down, and Steve was leaning over him, and then looking down at him, even as he arched up, wanting the contact back.
Steve wasn’t really on top of him, not entirely. Still basically sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand under his neck, the other bracing itself on the mattress, next to his head, and that can’t have been comfortable, Sam figured. Maybe that’s what he was about to say, why he was looking at him so intensely again, dark eyes sparking and strangely sharp, that he wasn’t comfortable, that this wasn’t right, that....
“Sam,” the demon said, lower than he’d ever heard him, ducking his head and pulling his hand away from Sam’s neck.
“Ye…yeah?” he stuttered, as that hand slipped unexpectedly lower, brushing along his chest, even as Steve sat up all the way.
“This isn’t a pity fuck,” Steve glanced back up at him, and looked about ready to roll his eyes at the expression Sam was pretty sure was on his face. “I’m not…” there were two hands now, skimming under his shirt, puling gently his sweat-pants gently. “Doing this…out of…well, pity, okay?”
“Oh…okay?” was just about all he could manage, as Steve smiled, and one of his hands slid lower.
“Good,” Steve winked, and leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before shifting again. “Just so you know.”
Bowing his head and kissing down Sam’s stomach, soft and gentle and it felt good, sort off, but weird, not being able to see more of him, than his shoulders, than the shiny, perfect dark black hair.
So he shut his eyes; pictured what he wouldn’t have been able to see, as those all-too-able hands eased off his pants, as those slicked and easy lips slid along his hip, and he half-giggled at that.
Because it was odd, tickled, and he felt the demon grin against his skin before he heard him shift again.
A kiss pressed to the inside of his thigh and that was something he couldn’t giggle at as easily, something he could almost not breathe at, and he could feel his heart beating faster than it was ever really supposed to.
And Steve paused; sighed, and Sam felt that, the warm brush against his skin making him shiver a little.
Light fingers easing his legs apart and he had to mumble a “Wait a sec,” squirming out of the pants that were still around his ankles, before Steve could slip between his thighs.
Soft but sure, slow strokes massaging and warming and he felt himself relax before he realized he’d needed to.
“Okay, Sam?” the voice cut through his thoughts, through his personal refrains of breathe and easy and okay, you’re okay, this is okay and it sounded just a little bit amused, but mostly fond, so he was okay with it.
“Yeah….” He started to say, breathless, but sure, really, he was okay, before he was gasping.
Choking back a sudden moan, at the feeling of wet heat and swirling tongue and it was a lot more than he was expecting and a lot more than he can handle and if he were thinking clearly, if he were being logical, which he clearly wasn’t, he’d realize, the tongue curling and curving and…and lapping against his dick wasn’t exactly human and was doing things no one exactly human should be able to do.
Demon. Steve’s a demon. Remember that. It’s kind of important. Demon.
Not that he needed another reminder of that, but he got one; his hand, almost without him realizing it, skimming through that soft dark hair, thumb catching against the ridge of a horn, and he moans again, at the sudden, completely unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome pressure of a finger inside of him.
And then another, curving, pressing, searching, as Steve sucked, steady and slick, and then he wasn’t actually thinking of anything very important, besides the sudden, brilliant, burning rush of heat and pleasure with the third finger.
His hips bucked, thrust hard into Steve’s mouth, and he felt himself bump up, rougher than he would’ve wanted, rough enough to want to apologize, against the back of his throat.
And then Steve pressed just right, and swallowed, or something, and the last thing Sam remembered thinking, with any kind of clarity, was about how nice it must be not to, apparently, have a gag reflex.
He’d wanted to forget, for a minute, even, and he did; forgot everything, except for warm and good and Steve.
Steve smiling (sadly, and that didn’t seem right, he’d have to ask…) and kissing the side of his thigh, again, soft and careful and whispering a, “Good boy, Sam,” which he’d find really condescending, most of the time, but somehow…somehow he didn’t.
It was a compliment, really; it made him feel loose, and good, and warm, and happy.
And he liked happy.
Love it, really; loved the quiet, tangled in sweaty sheets, with a warm body pressing against him, feeling.
Except that there wasn’t a warm body pressing against him, at the moment, which was easily enough to fix.
“Sam,” the demon sighed, not sounding especially pleased at being pulled up against him, and he tried to frown in response.
Tried to do something other than grin, which is all he felt like doing, because that didn’t really seem appropriate.
“What?” he tried not to whine, but might have failed. Skimmed a hand down the soft wool of a dark vest. “Don’t you want me to-“
“No,” and Steve pulled his hand away. Kissed his wrist, though, and that was kind of…weird. But good weird. He thought. “Not right now.”
“But-“
“But, nothing,” Steve smiled at him, but his voice was stern. “This wasn’t about that, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, chastised, not sure why, but willing to let it pass.
Slide a careful arm around Steve’s waist, and took a breath. Felt his eyes struggle to stay open, and his body war against the instinct to melt against the sheets.
“Steven?” he murmured, after a moment, and he saw the demon wince.
“Sam?” Steve smiled anyway, careful.
“You’ll stay, right?”
“Of course,” Steve chuckled, quiet, almost soundless. Leaned closer, as if to press his forehead to Sam’s but…stopped. Kissed him instead, simple, sweet. A hand stroking lightly at his cheek and that’s what he fell asleep to, a soft touch and a whispered. “As long as you need me to.”