Claiming Sammy Chapter 3/15 - Game Time

[tfwbt]

First chapter. Previous chapter.



When Sam woke, he was on the coals; Lucifer was nowhere in sight. The coals were barely warm, which likely meant he'd been placed there recently. Unwilling to let Lucifer have a victory, Sam slipped into a memory from when their dad was on a hunt and Sam was sick. He pictured Dean rubbing his back, singing “Hey Jude,” the way he used to, when they both were young, when monsters were just in the stories Dean read to him.

When the heat picked up, Sam stood so only the bottom of his feet would burn. He went on a hunt with Dean. When the coals burned in earnest, he threw himself into their heat. He died on the hood of the Impala, watching the stars with his brother.

Next, Sam found himself in a burning building. Lucifer hadn't given him the choice of a death in a while. Normally Sam jumped in this scenario but this time, he chose fire for variety's sake.

He woke on a carpet. Lucifer was sitting at the gaming table with game pieces already spread out before him.

“Come, Sam,” he said with a jerk of his head to the other chair in an otherwise empty room. “Don't want you getting rusty.”

Sam blinked in surprise, as it was unlike Lucifer to fail to explore a torture in full detail. He'd expected another hotel room, Dean or Lucifer's hands on him. A game? That was something Sam didn’t mind, actually found himself wanting. Lucifer didn't hurt him during games, other than to beat Sam when he wasn’t trying hard enough. And even if Sam hadn’t wanted to play, refusal wasn't an option. He still got sick at the sight of Go, the first and last game he tried to refuse.

Sam stood and walked across the room, taking his seat in the chair across from Lucifer. They hadn't played this game in awhile and it was Lucifer's favorite of all the card and board games he played with Sam. It was unlike anything else Sam had ever played - a bit like poker in that it had tokens to bet, and that reading the other person was key, but there were also bones they rolled and tiles they placed. Lucifer said that it was from Atlantis, before the flood. They'd played it often enough that Sam had started to win a few of the games.

When they first started playing the games, Sam had thought Lucifer preferred to win, but he quickly came to realize that what Lucifer actually wanted was a challenge. He was a surprisingly patient teacher, and would sometimes reward Sam just for trying hard, even if Sam lost. The more mastery Sam had over a game, the more often they played, and the more liberal Lucifer was with his rewards.

Sam reorganized his pieces. He knew where he'd gone wrong the previous game, and had developed a new strategy. Lucifer rolled his set of bones and carelessly tossed some tokens in the pot before placing his tile. He was distracted. Usually this level of distraction meant that he'd had a bad fight with Michael.

Sam weighed his options and, deciding to take advantage of Lucifer's distraction. Sam carefully placed a tile and added a few of his own tokens to the pot. If he played well enough, Lucifer usually rewarded him. Ever since he'd won the poker game- and Dean's youth back, years before- he knew he was skilled at these types of games and it was only a matter of time before he would win consistently.

Lucifer set two tiles on the table. Fuck. He must have started with a strong hand. Sam eyed his own, thinking through the possible moves.

“Your brother's a real daddy's boy, isn't he?”

The tone was casual, but after what Lucifer had done, Sam didn’t want to talk about Dean at all. He really wanted to punch Lucifer in the face, he knew from experience that it wouldn’t change anything other than the amount of pain inflicted on his body. He couldn’t have revenge, but he could have a chance at earning a reward. He bit down his anger, sucked in a breath and said, “You know as much as I do.” Sam looked at his tiles, trying to figure out if he needed to place one or if two would be needed. The bones he rolled didn't help. He settled on one, trying to at least shut down one avenue of attack, and only placed one token in the pot.

“Don't pout, Sam,” said Lucifer lazily as he took his turn. “It's unbecoming.”

Pout? Sam’s blood pounded in his head as he placed a tile. He hated when Lucifer acted as though Sam was just being petulant and difficult for no reason. It happened far too often. Lucifer would yank out his guts one day and then be annoyed that Sam didn't want to chat with him about a book the next. Sam had given up trying to explain or reason with him.

“Your brother's a real daddy's boy, isn't he?” Lucifer repeated. He’d found a new toy - Dean. Maybe he'd read Sam's mind. Maybe he'd just guessed it through observation of how well Sam had been taking torture lately. No matter the source, Sam refused to let it happen. He didn't care what happened to him. He wouldn't let Lucifer take the one thing he had in this hell. He met Lucifer's gaze and recklessly said, “No more than your brother.”

He expected a lot, but not the laugh.

“True,” said Lucifer as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers toying with a tile as he studied Sam with bright blue eyes.

Sam shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He examined the pieces, trying to focus on his next move. Just kill me, Sam thought, for the first time during a game session. It wasn't as if he had ever been remotely friendly with Lucifer, but lately he felt as though now that he'd finally mastered the rules of the game, Lucifer had decided to play another.

“Why do you think that is?” asked Lucifer, putting five tokens in the pot and placing another tile. “Just an aspect of being an older brother?”

“I don't know,” said Sam.

Lucifer must've drawn a near perfect hand at the beginning of the game. Sam counted the tokens still left in Lucifer's pile, and considered a possible bluff. If Lucifer was bluffing, Sam needed to play more offensively. If Lucifer had drawn the hand Sam suspected, he needed to be on defense. He set down his tile to defend and added two tokens to the pot.

Lucifer set down his tile with a smirk. He'd been bluffing, and he'd backed Sam into a corner. Unable to counter, Sam folded, laying his remaining tiles flat with a sigh. It didn't look like he'd get a reward any time soon.

“Don't be dull,” Lucifer said as he set up the next round. “You're smarter than this.”

Flames roared in Sam's chest and he bit out, “If you want me to play along, then maybe you should stop torturing me.”

“Now where would be the fun in that?” Lucifer placed his starting tile on the table and looked at Sam with amusement. “You trapped me here, Sam. You knew this would happen when you jumped. I'm going to take it out on your ass until I break free, and then I'm going to - how did Dean put it? - wear you to the prom again.”

“You're never getting out of here.” Dean had promised to leave the cage alone.

“I will. It's only a matter of time. I will break free, you will say ‘yes’-”

“You think I’d say ‘yes’ again after everything-”

“You will. Do you know why?”

Sam knew but said nothing, his lips tight with fury.

“Because you know what I'll do to Dean if you don't.” It was said in a deceptively soft and even tone, as if it wasn't a promise of pain.

Sam stared at his tiles, hate and pain burning in him so strong, he could hardly breathe. He could feel Lucifer's sharp gaze and didn't need to look up to know exactly what smile was on Lucifer's face. As much as he wanted to smash the table between them, he knew that would be playing into Lucifer's hands. Lucifer wanted to goad him. Why? Just for amusement? He rolled the bones and set his tile. He had a good hand this time, so he recklessly bet six tokens. He had no other chance of winning.

“Saaaam, talk to me.” Lucifer plopped down his tile and flipped three tokens in the pot. “I'll even sweeten the deal. We'll talk about whatever you want.”

Sam wasn't fooled. “The minute I say something you dislike, you’ll just decide I can't talk about it, and punish me for it.”

“Nope!” Lucifer threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Free for all. You can ask me anything, and I won’t torture you. I may not answer, but I won’t hurt you.”

“I don't believe you.” Sam studied the game, not wanting to look at Lucifer's smug face.

“Have I ever lied to you, Sam?” Lucifer played his hand. Badly. Sam immediately saw the mistake.

“Not that I know of. Yet.” Sam put down two tiles of his own and added the remaining tokens he had to the pot.

Lucifer folded and Sam took the pot. They both set up the table for the third and final round.

“C’mon roomie. What do you want to know?”

Sam rolled the bones and set down his first tile. As much as he wanted to ignore any request from Lucifer, he was curious, and Lucifer hadn't ever lied to him. If he promised a truce, then it was probably true. Sam dropped three tokens in the pot, braced for pain and asked, “Why don't you kill Michael? You can't, or you won't?”

“Won't,” said Lucifer easily, his eyes studying his own hand. “You know I love my brother.”

For a moment, Sam just blinked in surprise. Lucifer had let him say Michael's name. Was he just going to punish him for it later? Or was this really a blank permission slip? In for a penny, in for a pound. “Love him, or find him useful?”

“He finds me useful.” Lucifer set down a tile and bet three tokens. “It's why he hasn't tried to kill me in the cage - not that he could. That's the problem with our brothers. They fight because that's what they’re told to do. You and I, we fight for what we want to do, not because daddy said so.”

“Don’t compare us. I'm not like you.”

“In denial still? We do differ in one key point. You don't love your dad as much as I love mine.”

Sam scoffed at Lucifer’s remark. He had a much better hand this time, so Sam placed his tile and bet five tokens.

“I've been inside your grapefruit, Sam.” Lucifer tapped his own temple. “I know. Your dad begged you to kill him, but you didn't because Dean begged you not to. Because you loved Dean more. Admit it, you're glad your dad traded his life for Dean's. You would rather have Dean.” Lucifer set down his tile and tossed two tokens in the pot.

As much as he wanted to, Sam couldn't marshal a strong argument against it. He loved his dad, but he didn't need him the way he needed Dean. His dad hadn't raised him - Dean had. Besides, if Dean had died in that hospital, his dad would've never recovered. It's what dad would've wanted. Silently, Sam set down his tile and tossed three tokens in.

“I did everything my dad asked of me.” Lucifer absently rubbed his forearm as if tracing over an old wound but Sam couldn't see any scar or mark. “Everything but put humans before him. Why should I have? Disgusting creatures full of filth and shit. They don't love him. They don't respect him. I knew they'd betray him. It was a matter of time. I didn't force them to eat the apple - merely pointed it out. The same way no one forced you to drink demon blood.” Lucifer turned his cold eyes to Sam’s. “You chose it. Freely. So tell me, Sam, who's to blame for the demon blood? Who set me free despite every warning sign, despite Dean begging you to stop?”

Dean’s angry face appeared in Sam’s memory. “Do you even know how far off the reservation you’ve gone? How far from normal? From human?” Sam's heart ached and his breath caught in his throat. “It's my fault.” He'd been so sure. So sure and so stupid. The path to hell is paved with good intentions. But his intentions weren't always good. Castiel and Chuck had both warned him. He could see Chuck’s worried face, “Come on, Sam! I mean, sucking blood? You've got to know that's wrong.”

“If you humans had been worthy, it wouldn't have mattered what I said or did. And look what you've done. You've destroyed the planet even though you know you were meant to be its stewards. How many species have your slaughtered for your own egos? You accuse me of pride while you carve your faces into mountainsides. You blame me for everything wrong in your world.” Lucifer barely looked at the bones before he took his turn.

“You made demons,” Sam pointed out as he took his own turn, surprised to find himself winning. It wasn't the first time he'd heard this type of rant from Lucifer.

“And what are they?” Lucifer didn’t seem to notice or care how he’d lost his advantage as he put down his next tile.

“Corrupted human souls.”

“No, not corrupted. I merely magnified what was already in your hearts.” Lucifer watched as Sam pressed his advantage. “You humans... “ He shook his head in disgust. “You see my brother as a savior, but Michael doesn't respect you any more than I do. He just blindly obeys dad. If dad told him to destroy you lot, he wouldn't hesitate. I wanted to walk away from the battlefield. I was willing to let your disease fester. That's how much I love my brother. Unlike you, I’ve never left my loved ones willingly. I've never betrayed my family.”

Sam scoffed. “You killed your brother, Gabriel.”

“Out of necessity. Self defense. Besides,” he shrugged. “Dad can bring him back if he wants to.” He folded, laying out his hand on the table. He'd had poor luck, but still, he could’ve won had he been trying hard enough. “You won. I think you've earned a reward.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and Sam found himself standing upright, looking at himself kissing Madison against the wall in her bedroom.

He whirled around, but Lucifer was nowhere in sight.

“Is this a joke?” Lucifer had never given him a memory as a reward. Was he giving it now as a punishment? While thinking of killing her still made Sam's heart ache, she was, in a way, a happy memory. Especially this part. Sam couldn't help but watch with interest as Memory Sam pulled off Madison’s shirt.

Curious, he approached them and poked them both. As with the other memories Lucifer conjured, they both felt real. But neither reacted to him, instead focused on kissing and undressing each other. Ignoring the activities for a moment, he explored the room, testing out the limits. The doors leading into the bathroom and out of the bedroom were shut and the windows were opaque and sealed. No escape and nowhere else to go.

He knew better than to try to make a weapon. He’d tried several times, years ago, but since nothing in the memory was real, he couldn't harm Lucifer or himself unless Lucifer wanted him to.

Suspecting a trick, he tried to ignore the activities on the bed. But it was hard to look away, especially with Madison fully naked and stretched out, Memory Sam's head buried between her legs. His cock swelled, both at the sight of her and the memory of her taste. He couldn't see Memory Sam's erection from where he stood on the other side of the bed, but he remembered how hard he'd been. How he'd been so turned on by eating her out that he'd come in her twice that night.

Sam wanted to stroke away that delicious ache, but instead he sat down, trying to figure out Lucifer's newest game. He didn't understand why Lucifer hadn't tried to touch him or rape him since that moment when Sam had strangled himself on the chain. The scene in the hotel room with Ruby and fake Dean seemed to have been designed to make Sam fear rape, but it hadn't happened. It had just been a power play, Lucifer showing Sam what he could do to him if he wanted. Was that what this was? Another power play?

Sam couldn't figure out what Lucifer had to gain, so he did nothing. He ignored his aching need, which burned more and more as Memory Sam started fucking Madison. He watched, of course. He watched with hungry eyes, his breath quickening and his cock twitching as he saw himself plunge into her again and again.

His libido- unused for so many years- seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep himself calm, as his thick cock begged for attention, for release.

Maybe this actually was a reward. Lucifer had been almost… friendly during the game. On a few occasions, Lucifer did allow Sam to have what he wanted. So it was possible this was given as an actual gift. It just seemed too much of a coincidence for a sexual memory to be so close to a rape threat. There had to be a purpose.

Sam adjusted himself, trying to ignore how tight and heavy his balls felt. Precum glistened on the tip of his cock and he bit his lip, not sure how much longer he could last without grabbing his dick and finishing himself off.

As much as it pained him to watch with ignored desired, it hurt more when he and Madison finally finished, their frantic movements fading to gentle caresses. Now that he really missed - having someone who treated him tenderly and wasn't always looking for a way to hurt him. It had been years (decades?) since he'd been hugged. During the torture sessions, as a way to ground himself, he used to try to bring up the memory of the last hug he had with Dean and Bobby. But it was too painful, especially when time and pain wore the memories down and he couldn't remember the exact color of the shirt Dean wore or how tall Bobby had been.

“Enjoy the show?”

“Jesus!” Sam jumped up and spun around to find Lucifer leaning against the wall.

“Not quite,” said Lucifer with a lazy smile. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pushed him back towards the wall. His other hand squeezed around Sam's cock.

“Wha-” Caught off guard, Sam froze for a second, blinking stupidly at Lucifer, whose hand started a quick slide. Sam grabbed at Lucifer's wrist, trying to pull his hand away.

He'd been so turned on, and Lucifer's hands worked so expertly, that in a few strokes he was over the edge. Sam gasped, his knees going weak as he came in Lucifer's hand.

Lucifer smirked as he released Sam's cock and wiped Sam's come on his abdomen. He took a step back, his eyes trailing over Sam's messy torso as if admiring a painting.

For a moment, Sam could only just blink in shock, trying to catch his breath. Then he pushed past Lucifer to the bed, grabbed a sheet, and hurriedly cleaned himself. “What the hell?”

Lucifer shrugged. “You looked like you could use a hand.”

“I don't want anything from you.” Sam pulled the bed sheet tightly around his waist. “Stop touching me.”

Lucifer strode over to sit down on the bed near the headboard. He patted the spot next to him as if Sam were a puppy. “C’mon Sam, you're my prison bitch. You know I'm going to fuck you.”

He'd suspected it for awhile, but hearing those words still made his blood run cold and his heart jump into his throat. No! He looked around for a weapon.

“You ready to say yes, or do you need some more foreplay first?”

“Say yes?” He had to have misheard.

“Oh, I'm not going to rape you, Sam,” said Lucifer, smiling from where he sat on the bed. “I mean, I could. I could inflict such delicious, perfect pain…”

Sam swallowed hard at the glint in Lucifer’s eyes.

“...but I'm a lover, not a fighter. So I'm not going to rape you unless that's what you want. I mean, it would be fun. For me, at least.” He chuckled to himself. “Do you want to be raped, Sammy?”

“No,” said Sam quickly, his head spinning. This was a trick. It had to be. Lucifer was just trying to lure him into a trap. “So you're just going to torture me until I give in?”

Lucifer shook his head, smiling. “No. Well… I am going to torture you. That's too much fun to give up entirely, but not in the bedroom.” He snapped his fingers, and the room shifted into a massive, new one. Candles floated in the air above their heads while a fire roared in an ornately carved, white, marble fireplace that took up nearly half of a wall. In front of the fireplace, a polar bear rug was ringed by two wine-red, plush chairs flanking a matching couch large and comfortable looking enough to be a bed in and of itself. The actual bed, bigger than a California king, had four black wood posts and white sheets. Red throw pillows dotted the sheets, which had been sprinkled with-

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Rose petals?” He could smell them now, under the heavier scent of the smoke from the crackling fireplace.

“Not your style of romance?” Lucifer shrugged. “You didn't give me much to work with, Sam. Not a lot of romantic memories in there. I'm game. Tell me what you want and I'll make it for you. Maybe this is more your style.” He waved his fingers and a motel room appeared.

“There's nothing I want from you, other than for you to leave me the hell alone.” Sam pulled the bed sheet tighter around his body, backing up until he hit the wall.

Lucifer leaned back against the headboard lazily, one finger running over the pillow next to him. “That's my body. I’ll do what I want with it, and you know it. You will say yes. It's only a matter of time.”

“No,” said Sam automatically, recognizing the trap, but unable to tear himself away. “That'll never happen.”

“Mmm… this seems a little familiar, don't you think?” Lucifer snapped his fingers and the room shifted to the room where he had first approached Sam in a dream.

“No,” said Memory Sam, tears in his eyes. “That’ll never happen.”

“I’m sorry, but it will. I will find you.” Memory Lucifer walked towards Memory Sam, who dodged away. “And when I do, you will let me in. I’m sure of it.”

Lucifer waved his hand and Memory Sam and Lucifer vanished. “We've done this dance before, Sam.” His voice was patient and soft, but firm, as if speaking to a small child. “You say no, I say yes and then, in the end, you let me in. Maybe in 6 months you’ll say yes, Sam. Should I fuck you in that house in Detroit? Not a very romantic location, but maybe that's what you're used to.”

Sam couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything but stand there, feeling as though his guts were being pulled out hand over hand. As much as he wanted to spit out his refusal, Lucifer was right. He'd refused before with utter certainty, absolutely convinced there was no way he'd say yes.

He had said yes though. The circumstances were different. But was that really true? He'd been sure then too; so full of pride he thought that taking control from Lucifer would be easy. He'd been sure when he'd killed Lilith and set Lucifer free. Jo, Ellen, Castiel, and Bobby had died due to that false pride. He was here, trapped in hell for eternity, because of his pride. Because he'd been certain.

It took thirty years for Dean to break and Dean was stubborn, more stubborn than Sam. How long could he last with Lucifer slowly pulling him apart, chipping him away bit by bit?

“C’mon bunk buddy.” Lucifer rubbed the bed beside him. “I won't bite unless you want me to.”

Sam shook his head, holding tight to the bed sheet, even though he knew Lucifer could rip it away at any second. “Leave me alone.”

Lucifer’s smile never wavered. “I did say I'd do what you wanted in the bedroom.” He vanished.

Sam crumpled to the floor with relief tainted by grief. I won't give into him again. I won't. Could he refuse Lucifer for an eternity though?

“So tell me, Sam who's to blame for the demon blood? Who set me free despite every warning sign, despite Dean begging you to stop?”

“It’s gonna get darker and darker,” said Dean, his face etched with worry. “And God knows where it ends.”

He would never be free. If Lucifer got out, he would head straight to Dean and Sam couldn't let that happen. He had to endure hell to keep Dean safe. It wasn't as if he had a choice. He had to hold out as long as he could.

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