Title: To ashes.
Warning: Slash, Lucifer/Sam, torture.
Summary: 'This is a new form of torture.' Sam thought as he tried to keep as still as possible. Sam suffers from Stockholm syndrome as Lucifer's finds a new way to torture him. Set in Season 7. Lucifer/Sam.
Author's notes: Just a drabble that popped into my head. I'm not a big fan of Lucifer/Sam or torture in general, but I do find the idea very interesting for some reason… (please don't look at me like that).
To ashes.
'This is a new form of torture.' Sam thought as he tried to keep as still as possible. He was not going to give the bastard the satisfaction of reacting. A low chuckle reached his ears, dark and smooth. Fingers barely a whisper on Sam's naked chest. He wasn't supposed to feel good, Sam knew that. Still his muscles jumped at every feather light touch. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, willing the devil away. It doesn't work, like suspected, still it never hurt to try. His breath hitched as he felt a short cut nail flick over his left nipple. He silently cursed himself for already being hard, mornings really weren't his time of day.
Suddenly Sam feels him lap at his neck. His nostrils flare with the quick intake of breath as he tries to calm himself down. A sick feeling starts to bubble in his stomach. God this was messed up. An other chuckle and then he feels a warm body spooning him. A flat male chest presses against his back as muscled arms embrace him. He is so hot against Sam and for a moment the youngest Winchester feels hell's fire lapping at his skin once again. The panic that was threatening to crawl up into his throat abruptly vanishes as his ear is bitten. Sam groans, the devil really knew what buttons to push, he'll give him that.
"I'm not going to hurt you Sammie…" His voice is smooth as silk and it does things to Sam no on else could. His member twitches and throbs ever so slightly as those torturous fingers brush over it through the fabric of his boxers. Sam unwillingly lets out a whimper and bucks forward slightly. Warm breath hits him in the face and he can feel the other man nuzzle the dip in his neck, just before those fingers start stroking him.
By then Sam knows he's a masochist, why else would he let the devil do this to him. The sweet touches are almost ironic, because Sam remembers the pain those hands had caused him. Sam growls then, he wasn't used to being handled so gently by this man and it made him feel frustrated. A few more minutes pass before the hunter decides he can't take it anymore. He grabs that hand and forcibly pushes it into his boxers. He let's out a hiss as he feels those callous fingers wrap around him.
The devils laughter rings in his ears as the man starts to jerk him off. Sam finds that doesn't care anymore, he doesn't care if this is an illusion, if what he's doing is wrong. All he knows that he's harder than he's ever been before and his control slips away, just like that. His hips are bucking uncontrollably now. He's panting, growling, hissing, whimpering, he never wants this to stop. He can't hold it any longer, passion builds up in him and erupts hard and fast.
He feels like he's both in heaven and hell at the same time as he finally opens his eyes and sees the light of the morning sun fall through the windows of the seedy motel room. Sam doesn't bother to turn around, because he knows he'll only find and empty space and just for a moment he allows himself to miss that touch.