Fic: Singularity
Title: Singularity
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Lucifer never looks entirely comfortable on Sam's bed.
AN: Written for the Five Acts Meme.
Lucifer never looks entirely comfortable on Sam's bed. Not even half undressed, bare feet shifting in the sheets. He plays human almost perfectly, but it's never quite right. There's always a weight to him, as if he's always expecting something. Like he's just waiting for the opportunity to be something else.
"Is it weird?" Sam asks, where he's perched on the edge of the bed. "Being inside a human body. Spending so much time inside a human body. With our boring four limbs and our boring two eyes. One that's not the one you expected to have. It must be weird. I mean there's good weird and then there's uncomfortable weird. I know you didn't exactly have the highest opinion of us. I mean don't you want to be...something else?"
Sam stops, not entirely sure if he's even making sense, or how to phrase what he wants to say.
Lucifer frowns, head tilted. "I can look like whatever you want, Sam. If you want me to -"
"No," Sam says quickly, forehead denting in a deep frown. "No, that's not what I meant. I don't want - I don't want that." He curls his fingers round the warmth of Lucifer's bare toes and pulls until his foot is pressed into his hip. Sam can feel the devil flexing it gently. He squeezes and then crawls his way up Lucifer's body, hands pushing under his t-shirt to catch the warmth of his waist.
"But I know this isn't you. I know you're more than this."
Lucifer inhales under the glide of his fingers, bits and pieces of reaction that leave Sam always something close to awed. That he can do this, that he can make Lucifer feel - but he needs to know that it's enough.
"This is as much of me as I can give you, without hurting you," Lucifer offers.
Sam shakes his head. Because that can't be enough, it can't be fair.
"It can't be enough."
Lucifer's face goes strangely still and serious.
"When you touch me -" Lucifer's hands slide down and cover Sam's where they're still wrapped loosely round his waist. "When you touch me I can feel it in ways you can't imagine."
For a long second Sam can't speak.
"When."
Lucifer smiles like the answer is obvious. "All the time."
Sam takes a breath under the depth of Lucifer's voice, fingers digging in where they rest.
"Sam," Lucifer says quietly, low and warm like he can hear everything Sam's thinking.
Sam pushes at his thighs, coaxing them to spread around his shoulders, fingers digging into the denim stretched over his legs. He unsnaps the button on his jeans, then eases his fingers in where it's almost warm, where Lucifer's skin is soft against the back of his knuckles. One of the devil's hands slides into his hair and tightens.
"Sam." It's a growl, frayed at the edges with a flavour of careful restraint.
Sam pulls at the denim, feels the muscle in Lucifer's thighs shift.
"Sam," he says again, lower.
His cock is already a hard line when Sam eases his boxers down, it twitches under the warmth of his breath, close enough that one push will lay it against his mouth.
There's a growl, low and impatient from above him.
He lets Lucifer tip his head back, lets him drag his mouth open with a thumb. Sam groans and doesn't resist, fingers flexing quick and careless on skin. He lets Lucifer's cock slide in over his tongue, makes a noise around the weight of it. It's still almost too much, too heavy in his mouth, awkward in a way Sam isn't quite used to. But he wants it, the way it leaves Lucifer honestly breathless, leaves cracks in his perfect humanity. Under Sam's mouth he's all tension and vibration and power.
Sam wraps a hand round the base, slides his mouth down, lets Lucifer push in as deep as he can manage before pulling back. There's a low, greedy rush of air and Lucifer's fingers drift through his hair, tempted, always tempted. Even if he never grips without permission. But there's something intent about his shifting fingers today. Something that feels like it's asking for permission.
Sam lifts the hand that's still resting on Lucifer's thigh, lays it flat on the devils stomach, fingers spread.
"Sam -"
Sam hums agreement, doesn't even know what he's agreeing to.
Lucifer's fingers press against his mouth, where it's stretched open around him. He eases him back, and Sam's gasping when Lucifer hauls him up the bed and presses him down into the sheets. He's heavy and warmer than before, warm from Sam's own body heat, fingers biting into Sam's jaw. He leans down for one furious kiss after another until Sam's mouth aches. Hips shifting down into him almost hard enough to hurt.
Lucifer's hand slides up, fingers dragging through his hair, and then two of them press gently against Sam's temple.
For a fraction of a second - or maybe its not even that - the world is blinding. Like time has expanded inside him, a swirl of heat and lightning that wants to rip him into pieces. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. He feels a million miles across and every inch of him can feel. He could fucking die like this.
Sam comes back panting, head tipped back on the pillow. He's trembling, sweating, jeans tight and sticky and uncomfortable. There's a sharp aching throb in his head like it had been made to contain something too big for it, too much for it.
"Lucifer." His throat is completely raw.
"That's what you do to me," Lucifer says quietly.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 880
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Lucifer never looks entirely comfortable on Sam's bed.
AN: Written for the Five Acts Meme.
Lucifer never looks entirely comfortable on Sam's bed. Not even half undressed, bare feet shifting in the sheets. He plays human almost perfectly, but it's never quite right. There's always a weight to him, as if he's always expecting something. Like he's just waiting for the opportunity to be something else.
"Is it weird?" Sam asks, where he's perched on the edge of the bed. "Being inside a human body. Spending so much time inside a human body. With our boring four limbs and our boring two eyes. One that's not the one you expected to have. It must be weird. I mean there's good weird and then there's uncomfortable weird. I know you didn't exactly have the highest opinion of us. I mean don't you want to be...something else?"
Sam stops, not entirely sure if he's even making sense, or how to phrase what he wants to say.
Lucifer frowns, head tilted. "I can look like whatever you want, Sam. If you want me to -"
"No," Sam says quickly, forehead denting in a deep frown. "No, that's not what I meant. I don't want - I don't want that." He curls his fingers round the warmth of Lucifer's bare toes and pulls until his foot is pressed into his hip. Sam can feel the devil flexing it gently. He squeezes and then crawls his way up Lucifer's body, hands pushing under his t-shirt to catch the warmth of his waist.
"But I know this isn't you. I know you're more than this."
Lucifer inhales under the glide of his fingers, bits and pieces of reaction that leave Sam always something close to awed. That he can do this, that he can make Lucifer feel - but he needs to know that it's enough.
"This is as much of me as I can give you, without hurting you," Lucifer offers.
Sam shakes his head. Because that can't be enough, it can't be fair.
"It can't be enough."
Lucifer's face goes strangely still and serious.
"When you touch me -" Lucifer's hands slide down and cover Sam's where they're still wrapped loosely round his waist. "When you touch me I can feel it in ways you can't imagine."
For a long second Sam can't speak.
"When."
Lucifer smiles like the answer is obvious. "All the time."
Sam takes a breath under the depth of Lucifer's voice, fingers digging in where they rest.
"Sam," Lucifer says quietly, low and warm like he can hear everything Sam's thinking.
Sam pushes at his thighs, coaxing them to spread around his shoulders, fingers digging into the denim stretched over his legs. He unsnaps the button on his jeans, then eases his fingers in where it's almost warm, where Lucifer's skin is soft against the back of his knuckles. One of the devil's hands slides into his hair and tightens.
"Sam." It's a growl, frayed at the edges with a flavour of careful restraint.
Sam pulls at the denim, feels the muscle in Lucifer's thighs shift.
"Sam," he says again, lower.
His cock is already a hard line when Sam eases his boxers down, it twitches under the warmth of his breath, close enough that one push will lay it against his mouth.
There's a growl, low and impatient from above him.
He lets Lucifer tip his head back, lets him drag his mouth open with a thumb. Sam groans and doesn't resist, fingers flexing quick and careless on skin. He lets Lucifer's cock slide in over his tongue, makes a noise around the weight of it. It's still almost too much, too heavy in his mouth, awkward in a way Sam isn't quite used to. But he wants it, the way it leaves Lucifer honestly breathless, leaves cracks in his perfect humanity. Under Sam's mouth he's all tension and vibration and power.
Sam wraps a hand round the base, slides his mouth down, lets Lucifer push in as deep as he can manage before pulling back. There's a low, greedy rush of air and Lucifer's fingers drift through his hair, tempted, always tempted. Even if he never grips without permission. But there's something intent about his shifting fingers today. Something that feels like it's asking for permission.
Sam lifts the hand that's still resting on Lucifer's thigh, lays it flat on the devils stomach, fingers spread.
"Sam -"
Sam hums agreement, doesn't even know what he's agreeing to.
Lucifer's fingers press against his mouth, where it's stretched open around him. He eases him back, and Sam's gasping when Lucifer hauls him up the bed and presses him down into the sheets. He's heavy and warmer than before, warm from Sam's own body heat, fingers biting into Sam's jaw. He leans down for one furious kiss after another until Sam's mouth aches. Hips shifting down into him almost hard enough to hurt.
Lucifer's hand slides up, fingers dragging through his hair, and then two of them press gently against Sam's temple.
For a fraction of a second - or maybe its not even that - the world is blinding. Like time has expanded inside him, a swirl of heat and lightning that wants to rip him into pieces. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. He feels a million miles across and every inch of him can feel. He could fucking die like this.
Sam comes back panting, head tipped back on the pillow. He's trembling, sweating, jeans tight and sticky and uncomfortable. There's a sharp aching throb in his head like it had been made to contain something too big for it, too much for it.
"Lucifer." His throat is completely raw.
"That's what you do to me," Lucifer says quietly.