Written for prompt #1, violinist, on Anatopist's list (found on deviantart).
Lucifer the Violinist
Things were different in the Cage. Things were so much easier for Lucifer than on Earth. In the Cage he could do what he wanted whenever he wanted and nobody could stop him. Especially not Sam Winchester.
In the Cage Lucifer called himself a violinist, claiming only such a musician could draw forth the different notes from Sam's throat. From the high pitched screams to the low moans Lucifer played Sam like the instrument he was. The bow varied depending on his mood, a knife here, chains there, every now and then a whip to show the hunter just who was in charge.
Sam did not trust Lucifer, hated being around him. He despised those cold fingers that would probe his open wounds and that mouth that promised pain and pleasure and everything in between. He hated the way he lied and the way he told him the truth of the way things had to be between them. He loathed the devil and everything he had taken from him and for everything yet to come. It was for his brother and for the sake of the world so that had to mean something right? He tried to tell himself he was right while Lucifer told him they were all on the rack.
They built something of a routine: Lucifer doing whatever he wanted to the hunter, leaving the man broken and bare then Sam would sleep. When he woke up he would be whole and it wa=ould start all over again. Lucifer knew everything about the man, everything on the inside and out. He knew how tight he was, what made him moan and pant and scream his name. He knew how to break him physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He knew everything while Sam was hopeless to do anything against it.
He had tried fighting and it had only seemed to amuse Lucifer though his punishment was more severe than ever before. He knew nothing of Lucifer other than he loved to break him.
Lucifer was a violinist and Sam was his violin.