Reaper FF: Hell is here (wherever you're not) [Sam/Sock, PG-13]
Title: Hell is here (wherever you're not)
Fandom: Reaper
Pairing: Sam/Sock, Devil
Rating: PG-13 for sexual implication, language, and some disturbing imagery.
Length: 2,300
Disclaimer: All belongs to Michele Fazekas, Tara Butters and the CW, who will hold onto it if they have any sense.
Spoilers: Up to 1.13, Acid Queen.
Summary: And this, this was kind of the flipside of standing beside your best friend, whether the Devil owned his soul or not. You couldn’t just be there when it was all snow-globe vessels and awesomeness. You had to be there for the other stuff too.
AN: Wow, this is both less dark and way darker than I intended.
Sam disappeared sometimes. Not in a crappy, Lifetime-movie, I-was-a-teenage-drug-addict kind of way. More in a pulled from whatever he was doing, reappeared somewhere else kind of way. Sock never saw it actually happen, just the results. He heard Sam falling backwards making startled yelping noises, or woke up in the apartment knowing they were a man down.
So it was a surprise, but not much of one, when Sam stomped through the front door, two hours after he had supposedly gone to bed. Sam was muttering under his breath, and Sock picked up the usual: devil, contract, creepy sadist screwing around with me…
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” Sam answered. Sock expected him to elaborate, but Sam just slumped beside him on the couch, and closed his eyes. He was wearing sweats and a tee-shirt, and his socks were damp. The Devil hadn’t teleported him the whole way back then.
Sock bumped his side. “Got the vessel?”
“How did you…? Never mind. No, not yet.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Sock asked, even though Sam had already said that he wasn’t. Sometimes you had to push past that part and remind Sam that it was alright to talk about this junk. Which, okay, sounded incredibly girly, but he could blame that on Sam.
Sam reached across him and stole the TV remote. He flicked away from Sock’s paused game, ignoring the protests. He turned to the local news.
“-three unexplained deaths in the hospital’s paediatric ward. The hospital authorities have refused to comment but police sources indicate that the deaths are being treated as suspicious-”
Sam turned the TV off.
“Kids?” Sock asked.
“Some…” Sam waved his hand tiredly, “angel of mercy deal. She worked in a children’s home in like eighteen-seventy. Sent a lot of them back to Jesus before she was found out.”
Sock patted Sam’s shoulder. Sam froze up and turned his head to look at Sock. His eyes were red-rimmed. “We’ll get her,” Sock said. “We always do. Superheroes, remember?”
Sam nodded, not particularly looking like he meant it. He stood up, and headed back towards his bedroom. “It was just…” he said, hand on the door handle, “they were really small.”
“Huh?”
“The bodies,” Sam clarified. “They were really small.” He pushed the door open quietly, and disappeared inside without turning on the light.
Shit.
* * * *
The vessel - an old fashioned oil-lamp now flickering soul-bright - was lying sideways on the asphalt.
Sock was also lying on the asphalt.
Sam wasn’t, because was lying on top of Sock. Had been for a good twenty minutes now.
Sock tried again, “Sam? Sammy? I know it’s been a tough day and all but this is starting to look a bit…”
“Mmm?”
“And it’s not that I don’t appreciate you saving my life again and all…”
“Yeah?”
“Steve and Tony would think we were too close - that’s what I’m saying.”
Sam sighed, and moved just enough that their position shifted from uncomfortable to crotch-to-crotch uncomfortable. He said, “I… really don’t care right now.”
“Oookay. Okay, that’s cool. Whenever you’re… I’m just gonna call Ben, okay?” Sam made no move to stop Sock’s hand slipping between their bodies to get his cellphone. Sock transferred the phone to his other hand, and absently curled his right arm around Sam to stop him falling.
“Sock?!” Ben said. Yeah, he was pitching a fit over there. “Every ten minutes, man, what happened to that?”
“Ben. Benjy. Ben. All taken care of. Another evil son-of-a… evil daughter-of-a-bitch? Anyway, she’s gone. No worries.”
“Want me to come meet you guys?”
“Nah, we’ll take care of the DMV delivery tomorrow. Sam’s kind of freaking out over here, so I’ve gotta deal with that first.”
“Is he…?”
“He’s fine. Although, hey, with the punching me! So ungrateful. Anyway, we’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”
He hung up, and looked expectantly at Sam. Who wouldn’t meet his eyes, and turned his head to rest it on Sock’s chest, facing out at the night.
Sock used his free hand to poke Sam’s side. He blew at Sam’s hair, but it was gelled into spikes, so that didn’t work. Tugging at the edge of Sam’s tee-shirt, he half-meant to tickle him, or bug him until he moved.
Sam put his hand on Sock’s shoulder, and sighed. Blew warm damp air over the exposed skin at the collar of Sock’s shirt. Sock shivered. Sam muttered something, and pulled himself up until he was looking straight down into Sock’s eyes. Between Sock closing his eyes and opening them, they were kissing.
Sam was a good kisser, and Sock made a mental note to mock Andi for not getting some of that. Then he remembered that he couldn’t tell her this. That Sam was straight. That Sock was straight, for Christ’s sake, and that this was just the worst plan ever. For them, that really meant something.
He pushed Sam away, but gently. Sam was clearly having some kind of breakdown, and Sock was here for him in every way but this. He gave Sam his best WTF look, and waited.
Sam’s voice was quiet and desperate. “I’m going to hell, Sock.”
“Which sucks, it really does, but it doesn’t mean you should-”
“Why the fuck not? This is it.” He clenched his fist tighter in Sock’s jacket. “This, for however long I get before I screw it up too. Dead little kids because he never lets me know anything worthwhile in time for it to matter. Andi nearly getting killed, or Ben. And I can’t do a goddamn thing about it because any time I try someone gets hurt. I should never have got you guys involved.”
Sock really hated to bring the conversation back to the sticking point, but he couldn’t help it. “But making out with me’s fine?”
Sam sighed. “You’re already involved. And he keeps…”
“Keeps what?”
“Saying things. About you, and Ben, and my parents. How easy it would be for him to just… And I can’t, okay? I just can’t right now.”
“Yeah. It’s okay. No, Sammy, it’s okay. We can just stay here for a while.”
And this, this was kind of the flipside of standing beside your best friend, whether the Devil owned his soul or not. You couldn’t just be there when it was all snow-globe vessels and awesomeness. You had to be there for the other stuff too.
Sam said, “I love you, you know that?”
Sock held onto Sam a little tighter. “Yeah, man, me too.” It was probably the crappiest declaration of love there’d ever been, but Sock figured he said the actual words often enough that Sam knew anyway. Even if he maybe suspected that Sock didn’t always mean it. Which was dumb - Sam was a really easy guy to love.
* * * *
Sam finally made up his mind to get up and go home somewhere around eleven pm. The lamp swung in his hand when they walked into the apartment, casting his face in weird shadows.
“Okay?” Sock asked, for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about… I’m sorry, anyway.”
“No problem. Night.”
Sam nodded, still looking sad and lost, and a whole bunch of things Sock couldn’t do a thing to fix. He had a long and mostly profitable career of heterosexuality, and Sam was still pining over Andi, and best friends didn’t suddenly turn into make-out buddies.
If Sock was the kind of guy who stayed up angsting (like Sam, for example), he would have tossed and turned all night. But he wasn’t, so he got into his bed and closed his eyes.
He’d expected a flash or a bang or something. Instead, one minute Sock was lying in bed, and the next he was lying on a cold bench, being watched by a guy with an expensive suit and a permatan. “Satan,” Sock acknowledged with a nod.
“Bert Wysocki,” the Devil said. “Sock to his friends. I think we should be friends, Sock, don’t you?”
“Uh, sure, dude, cool. We’re cool? Please don’t eat me?”
“Now, Sock, why would I do a thing like that? We’re on the same side here. You’re part of team-Sam!”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean…” Sock waved a hand between himself and the Devil to indicate that while he was all over watching Sam’s back, he wasn’t in favour of soul contracts.
“No, no, of course not! My happy arrangement with Sam is exactly that. But I appreciate the help you and Ben offer my young associate.” He bowed his head a little in a show of gratitude. “Although, I have to be honest, Sock, I really didn’t see tonight’s little misadventure coming.”
Sock fought the urge to say 'you’re telling me'. “Yeah? Aren’t you, like, all-knowing or whatever?”
The Devil laughed, and that was just about the scariest thing Sock had ever seen, in a recent catalogue of terror. The Devil asked, “Now where would be the fun in that?”
He clicked his fingers.
Another non-flash-bang.
A desert. Huge and grey and stretching on as far as Sock could see. He was too hot all of a sudden. When he spun around, the only point on the horizon was rising flames, miles away.
Sock yelled. He stopped to listen (his mom had taught him well) and eventually heard the other noises. More yelling, far away, towards the flames. Sam. Sock turned, not thinking about it, walking towards the sound of Sam screaming. He could walk forever and never get there.
The Devil’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “Different when you actually see it, hmm?”
“Why would you-”
“Oh, I just thought it might put things into perspective. You’re all such fragile creatures - I often wonder what he was thinking when he… well, that’s another story. Anyway, compared to this, what’s a little heavy petting between friends?”
“You could just-”
“Sorry, no dice. Legal gets really pissy about broken contracts. No, I’m afraid this part’s set in stone. Brimstone, to be precise.” He laughed again, and this time Sock was too mad to be scared. The Devil said, “The other part, though… well, no one can say I’m not willing to turn a blind eye now and then. As long as the job gets done. It’s the strangest thing, the way people forget.”
“Forget what?”
“To do whatever they can get away with in the parts they can change. Funny.”
The Devil disappeared. Or, Sock disappeared. Either way, Sock was downtown and nowhere near the apartment. In a faded Pac-Man tee-shirt and boxer shorts. God, being Sam was just no fun at all. He needed to get to a payphone.
* * * *
Sam frowned all the way home, throwing Sock freaked apologetic looks. He closed the door behind them, locking it firmly like that might help. He checked on Ben, standing for a moment in the doorway, listening to make sure he was breathing. Sam would have been a good Dad, many years and screw-ups from now.
Sock walked towards him.
Sam turned around at his touch and asked, “Are you okay? I can’t believe he would- I’ve told him not to pull that kind of thing! Maybe we should… how do you feel about New Mexico? Mimi’s doing fine, and if you got far enough away he’d probably lose int-”
“Sam.”
“Sorry?”
“C’mere.” Sock kissed him, aiming for reassuring but missing somewhere between hellfire and tiny corpses. Sam’s arms flailed for a second and then they were suddenly tight around Sock’s back. Sock clocked what he knew about Sam: skinny, and shorter than him, and there was still gel in his hair where Sock put his hands. Sam wrapped one leg around him, climbing up and tighter. “Wait.”
Sam’s breath was jumpy. “What?”
“This is… are you okay?”
“No,” Sam said again, “but I was going to be better.”
“This isn’t just… you’re not still all soul-punchy, right? ‘Cause I don’t want to take… And the Devil said-”
Sam pulled away like Sock had slapped him. Mood gone. “The Devil told you to do this?”
“No! Well. Kind of. Yes. But not like that!”
“So: like what, Sock?”
“I don’t want you to go to hell.”
That one should have been the final mood-killer, but Sam just nodded. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So we need to figure that one out. Because, just, no. Not happening. Not letting it.”
“Okay.”
“But until we…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Sam stepped close again. This time the kiss was less crazy, more like something Sock could fit into him-and-Sam. Sam had a little burn on his finger from lighting the vessel, and he pushed Sock into the wall. He pressed tight up against Sock, but allowed himself to be turned around. The Devil would find it a lot harder to steal Sam away if Sock had him pinned. He would have to take them both, or make do with neither. Sam grinned, lips moving on Sock’s neck. Sock just slipped his hands down Sam’s arms until they were holding hands, squashed into the wall. Sam shifted, and crotch-to-crotch wasn’t uncomfortable this time. This might not have been a bad idea after all.
Sam pulled back, smiling at him a little nervously. “Okay?”
“Awesome.” Sock didn’t let go of him all the way to the bedroom. They kissed again, falling onto the bed in a clumsy effort to remove clothes and rub off on each other all at the same time. Sock didn’t know if it was better or worse to know that the Devil sort of approved. He just hoped that he wasn’t watching. At least they both knew for sure that out of everything they did, it wasn’t the gay sex that would send them to hell. Sock kept his eyes open to kiss Sam, running his hands down Sam’s now bare chest. As long as he kept looking, held on tight, he could chase away the taste of sand and smoke.
FIN. Feedback always appreciated.
Fandom: Reaper
Pairing: Sam/Sock, Devil
Rating: PG-13 for sexual implication, language, and some disturbing imagery.
Length: 2,300
Disclaimer: All belongs to Michele Fazekas, Tara Butters and the CW, who will hold onto it if they have any sense.
Spoilers: Up to 1.13, Acid Queen.
Summary: And this, this was kind of the flipside of standing beside your best friend, whether the Devil owned his soul or not. You couldn’t just be there when it was all snow-globe vessels and awesomeness. You had to be there for the other stuff too.
AN: Wow, this is both less dark and way darker than I intended.
Sam disappeared sometimes. Not in a crappy, Lifetime-movie, I-was-a-teenage-drug-addict kind of way. More in a pulled from whatever he was doing, reappeared somewhere else kind of way. Sock never saw it actually happen, just the results. He heard Sam falling backwards making startled yelping noises, or woke up in the apartment knowing they were a man down.
So it was a surprise, but not much of one, when Sam stomped through the front door, two hours after he had supposedly gone to bed. Sam was muttering under his breath, and Sock picked up the usual: devil, contract, creepy sadist screwing around with me…
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” Sam answered. Sock expected him to elaborate, but Sam just slumped beside him on the couch, and closed his eyes. He was wearing sweats and a tee-shirt, and his socks were damp. The Devil hadn’t teleported him the whole way back then.
Sock bumped his side. “Got the vessel?”
“How did you…? Never mind. No, not yet.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Sock asked, even though Sam had already said that he wasn’t. Sometimes you had to push past that part and remind Sam that it was alright to talk about this junk. Which, okay, sounded incredibly girly, but he could blame that on Sam.
Sam reached across him and stole the TV remote. He flicked away from Sock’s paused game, ignoring the protests. He turned to the local news.
“-three unexplained deaths in the hospital’s paediatric ward. The hospital authorities have refused to comment but police sources indicate that the deaths are being treated as suspicious-”
Sam turned the TV off.
“Kids?” Sock asked.
“Some…” Sam waved his hand tiredly, “angel of mercy deal. She worked in a children’s home in like eighteen-seventy. Sent a lot of them back to Jesus before she was found out.”
Sock patted Sam’s shoulder. Sam froze up and turned his head to look at Sock. His eyes were red-rimmed. “We’ll get her,” Sock said. “We always do. Superheroes, remember?”
Sam nodded, not particularly looking like he meant it. He stood up, and headed back towards his bedroom. “It was just…” he said, hand on the door handle, “they were really small.”
“Huh?”
“The bodies,” Sam clarified. “They were really small.” He pushed the door open quietly, and disappeared inside without turning on the light.
Shit.
* * * *
The vessel - an old fashioned oil-lamp now flickering soul-bright - was lying sideways on the asphalt.
Sock was also lying on the asphalt.
Sam wasn’t, because was lying on top of Sock. Had been for a good twenty minutes now.
Sock tried again, “Sam? Sammy? I know it’s been a tough day and all but this is starting to look a bit…”
“Mmm?”
“And it’s not that I don’t appreciate you saving my life again and all…”
“Yeah?”
“Steve and Tony would think we were too close - that’s what I’m saying.”
Sam sighed, and moved just enough that their position shifted from uncomfortable to crotch-to-crotch uncomfortable. He said, “I… really don’t care right now.”
“Oookay. Okay, that’s cool. Whenever you’re… I’m just gonna call Ben, okay?” Sam made no move to stop Sock’s hand slipping between their bodies to get his cellphone. Sock transferred the phone to his other hand, and absently curled his right arm around Sam to stop him falling.
“Sock?!” Ben said. Yeah, he was pitching a fit over there. “Every ten minutes, man, what happened to that?”
“Ben. Benjy. Ben. All taken care of. Another evil son-of-a… evil daughter-of-a-bitch? Anyway, she’s gone. No worries.”
“Want me to come meet you guys?”
“Nah, we’ll take care of the DMV delivery tomorrow. Sam’s kind of freaking out over here, so I’ve gotta deal with that first.”
“Is he…?”
“He’s fine. Although, hey, with the punching me! So ungrateful. Anyway, we’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”
He hung up, and looked expectantly at Sam. Who wouldn’t meet his eyes, and turned his head to rest it on Sock’s chest, facing out at the night.
Sock used his free hand to poke Sam’s side. He blew at Sam’s hair, but it was gelled into spikes, so that didn’t work. Tugging at the edge of Sam’s tee-shirt, he half-meant to tickle him, or bug him until he moved.
Sam put his hand on Sock’s shoulder, and sighed. Blew warm damp air over the exposed skin at the collar of Sock’s shirt. Sock shivered. Sam muttered something, and pulled himself up until he was looking straight down into Sock’s eyes. Between Sock closing his eyes and opening them, they were kissing.
Sam was a good kisser, and Sock made a mental note to mock Andi for not getting some of that. Then he remembered that he couldn’t tell her this. That Sam was straight. That Sock was straight, for Christ’s sake, and that this was just the worst plan ever. For them, that really meant something.
He pushed Sam away, but gently. Sam was clearly having some kind of breakdown, and Sock was here for him in every way but this. He gave Sam his best WTF look, and waited.
Sam’s voice was quiet and desperate. “I’m going to hell, Sock.”
“Which sucks, it really does, but it doesn’t mean you should-”
“Why the fuck not? This is it.” He clenched his fist tighter in Sock’s jacket. “This, for however long I get before I screw it up too. Dead little kids because he never lets me know anything worthwhile in time for it to matter. Andi nearly getting killed, or Ben. And I can’t do a goddamn thing about it because any time I try someone gets hurt. I should never have got you guys involved.”
Sock really hated to bring the conversation back to the sticking point, but he couldn’t help it. “But making out with me’s fine?”
Sam sighed. “You’re already involved. And he keeps…”
“Keeps what?”
“Saying things. About you, and Ben, and my parents. How easy it would be for him to just… And I can’t, okay? I just can’t right now.”
“Yeah. It’s okay. No, Sammy, it’s okay. We can just stay here for a while.”
And this, this was kind of the flipside of standing beside your best friend, whether the Devil owned his soul or not. You couldn’t just be there when it was all snow-globe vessels and awesomeness. You had to be there for the other stuff too.
Sam said, “I love you, you know that?”
Sock held onto Sam a little tighter. “Yeah, man, me too.” It was probably the crappiest declaration of love there’d ever been, but Sock figured he said the actual words often enough that Sam knew anyway. Even if he maybe suspected that Sock didn’t always mean it. Which was dumb - Sam was a really easy guy to love.
* * * *
Sam finally made up his mind to get up and go home somewhere around eleven pm. The lamp swung in his hand when they walked into the apartment, casting his face in weird shadows.
“Okay?” Sock asked, for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about… I’m sorry, anyway.”
“No problem. Night.”
Sam nodded, still looking sad and lost, and a whole bunch of things Sock couldn’t do a thing to fix. He had a long and mostly profitable career of heterosexuality, and Sam was still pining over Andi, and best friends didn’t suddenly turn into make-out buddies.
If Sock was the kind of guy who stayed up angsting (like Sam, for example), he would have tossed and turned all night. But he wasn’t, so he got into his bed and closed his eyes.
He’d expected a flash or a bang or something. Instead, one minute Sock was lying in bed, and the next he was lying on a cold bench, being watched by a guy with an expensive suit and a permatan. “Satan,” Sock acknowledged with a nod.
“Bert Wysocki,” the Devil said. “Sock to his friends. I think we should be friends, Sock, don’t you?”
“Uh, sure, dude, cool. We’re cool? Please don’t eat me?”
“Now, Sock, why would I do a thing like that? We’re on the same side here. You’re part of team-Sam!”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean…” Sock waved a hand between himself and the Devil to indicate that while he was all over watching Sam’s back, he wasn’t in favour of soul contracts.
“No, no, of course not! My happy arrangement with Sam is exactly that. But I appreciate the help you and Ben offer my young associate.” He bowed his head a little in a show of gratitude. “Although, I have to be honest, Sock, I really didn’t see tonight’s little misadventure coming.”
Sock fought the urge to say 'you’re telling me'. “Yeah? Aren’t you, like, all-knowing or whatever?”
The Devil laughed, and that was just about the scariest thing Sock had ever seen, in a recent catalogue of terror. The Devil asked, “Now where would be the fun in that?”
He clicked his fingers.
Another non-flash-bang.
A desert. Huge and grey and stretching on as far as Sock could see. He was too hot all of a sudden. When he spun around, the only point on the horizon was rising flames, miles away.
Sock yelled. He stopped to listen (his mom had taught him well) and eventually heard the other noises. More yelling, far away, towards the flames. Sam. Sock turned, not thinking about it, walking towards the sound of Sam screaming. He could walk forever and never get there.
The Devil’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “Different when you actually see it, hmm?”
“Why would you-”
“Oh, I just thought it might put things into perspective. You’re all such fragile creatures - I often wonder what he was thinking when he… well, that’s another story. Anyway, compared to this, what’s a little heavy petting between friends?”
“You could just-”
“Sorry, no dice. Legal gets really pissy about broken contracts. No, I’m afraid this part’s set in stone. Brimstone, to be precise.” He laughed again, and this time Sock was too mad to be scared. The Devil said, “The other part, though… well, no one can say I’m not willing to turn a blind eye now and then. As long as the job gets done. It’s the strangest thing, the way people forget.”
“Forget what?”
“To do whatever they can get away with in the parts they can change. Funny.”
The Devil disappeared. Or, Sock disappeared. Either way, Sock was downtown and nowhere near the apartment. In a faded Pac-Man tee-shirt and boxer shorts. God, being Sam was just no fun at all. He needed to get to a payphone.
* * * *
Sam frowned all the way home, throwing Sock freaked apologetic looks. He closed the door behind them, locking it firmly like that might help. He checked on Ben, standing for a moment in the doorway, listening to make sure he was breathing. Sam would have been a good Dad, many years and screw-ups from now.
Sock walked towards him.
Sam turned around at his touch and asked, “Are you okay? I can’t believe he would- I’ve told him not to pull that kind of thing! Maybe we should… how do you feel about New Mexico? Mimi’s doing fine, and if you got far enough away he’d probably lose int-”
“Sam.”
“Sorry?”
“C’mere.” Sock kissed him, aiming for reassuring but missing somewhere between hellfire and tiny corpses. Sam’s arms flailed for a second and then they were suddenly tight around Sock’s back. Sock clocked what he knew about Sam: skinny, and shorter than him, and there was still gel in his hair where Sock put his hands. Sam wrapped one leg around him, climbing up and tighter. “Wait.”
Sam’s breath was jumpy. “What?”
“This is… are you okay?”
“No,” Sam said again, “but I was going to be better.”
“This isn’t just… you’re not still all soul-punchy, right? ‘Cause I don’t want to take… And the Devil said-”
Sam pulled away like Sock had slapped him. Mood gone. “The Devil told you to do this?”
“No! Well. Kind of. Yes. But not like that!”
“So: like what, Sock?”
“I don’t want you to go to hell.”
That one should have been the final mood-killer, but Sam just nodded. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So we need to figure that one out. Because, just, no. Not happening. Not letting it.”
“Okay.”
“But until we…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Sam stepped close again. This time the kiss was less crazy, more like something Sock could fit into him-and-Sam. Sam had a little burn on his finger from lighting the vessel, and he pushed Sock into the wall. He pressed tight up against Sock, but allowed himself to be turned around. The Devil would find it a lot harder to steal Sam away if Sock had him pinned. He would have to take them both, or make do with neither. Sam grinned, lips moving on Sock’s neck. Sock just slipped his hands down Sam’s arms until they were holding hands, squashed into the wall. Sam shifted, and crotch-to-crotch wasn’t uncomfortable this time. This might not have been a bad idea after all.
Sam pulled back, smiling at him a little nervously. “Okay?”
“Awesome.” Sock didn’t let go of him all the way to the bedroom. They kissed again, falling onto the bed in a clumsy effort to remove clothes and rub off on each other all at the same time. Sock didn’t know if it was better or worse to know that the Devil sort of approved. He just hoped that he wasn’t watching. At least they both knew for sure that out of everything they did, it wasn’t the gay sex that would send them to hell. Sock kept his eyes open to kiss Sam, running his hands down Sam’s now bare chest. As long as he kept looking, held on tight, he could chase away the taste of sand and smoke.
FIN. Feedback always appreciated.