Warnings for slash and um. Porny bits. Other than that, enjoy! Oh, and confusion. And spoilers for the season finale.
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It goes without saying that when you get a new car, one should take it for a test drive.
Well, Lucifer doesn't have a new car, but he does have a new shape, a new vessel, and that's pretty much the angelic equivalent anyway. It's strange, how different bodies have different sensory inputs, different ways of seeing the world.
So here he stands, looking at himself in the mirror. Well. Looking at Sam in the mirror. The boy's hands clenching and unclenching in his eternal concern, as though Lucifer's going to do something to him. He could. It would be too easy to. So he doesn't, his fingertips curling into the skin of his palm.
"Oh, Sam.." The devil wearing Sam's skin breathes, fingertips cool against the mirror. The boy behind it pounds back, smacking his hands against the glass and falling still.
Lucifer just looks, watches each elegant line of his vessel's form, the broad curve of his back into the dip of his spine, the flat plane of his chest and stomach, and smiles.
"You're beautiful." The angel says in earnest, frowning at the boy in the mirror until he returns and sits in the chair. Sam makes no response, so Lucifer explores the naked expanse of skin he dwells in, fingertips sliding down over his chest in one long indulgent push. His skin prickles at the touch, thumb sliding over one nipple with a curious attention. The boy in the mirror squirms and huffs, his eyes widening in shock.
Lucifer growls out something similar to a laugh, and presses down, shifting backwards. The angel traces fingertips up along the inside of his thigh, watching his sleeping dick stir and begin to fill with interest.
Sam's eyes are wide with a startled kind of pleasure, Lucifer can't find his interest enough to make sense to the tangle of emotions coming from the boy. Sam just curls over a little, as though he could hide himself from the devil's watching eyes.
It's odd, how Lucifer supplies him with this image, forced to watch his alternate self commit acts that he is powerless to stop. He's hard now, and he lets out a little huff of intrigue, his eyes still boring holes into the mirror.
Sam feels prompted to act, to mirror, to provide an apparent action to cause the ripple of pleasure that he feels when Lucifer traces a curious fingertip along the hard line of his cock, a soft little surprised noise escaping him. So Sam does, and if Lucifer allows him to move his limbs into a position that has fingers curling around his erection with a surety that could only be Sam's, neither of them say.
Lucifer's still watching him in the mirror, a perfect double, his hands bolder now and tugging with lazy strokes, his hips twitching upwards in something like want. He's on his knees before he realizes, in front of the mirror, forehead pressed against the cool glass as he watches, with increasing intensity, Sam match him. He shoves his hips forwards with a greedy little noise and comes with a wrecked mewl, painting the surface of the mirror in a few short thrusts.
Slowly, the devil stands and dresses, his eyes watching Sam in the mirror do the same, before they both turn and walk away.
The mirror is empty.
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