Sam was covered in blood. Some of it was probably his own, but it was clear that the majority belonged to the pile of corpses at his feet. One man's skull was cracked open, split wide and spilling all sorts of substances. Another to his left was ripped almost entirely in half, intestines and bile pooling thickly around Sam's ankles. A bullet wound was slowly leaking blood from Sam's right shoulder. There was spray on the wall behind him along with a little hole where the bullet left him. The hole in his flesh would close soon enough.
The tips of Sam's fingers were still clawed, joints more knobby, fingers stubbier and thicker than usual as he contorted them into a partial shift. His face was still human, though, still so very Sam, and it was breathtaking. Perhaps Lucifer should have been upset that he came home to find his living room drenched in death, but there was something beautiful about how feral Sam looked here.
The young wolf looked up at him, finally, hazel eyes clear. "They were in your territory."
It was so simple, so matter-of-fact and almost innocent. Lucifer could just see the wolf under human skin back in that concrete room so long ago, his ears perked forward, tail thumping on the floor, excited. That was a different Sam then, a more tame one.
"Did they say what they wanted, Sam?" Lucifer closed the door behind himself and hung his keys on the hook beside the coat rack.
"No, but they panicked when I showed up." Sam turned his head and looked behind himself, to the splash of his own blood dripping down the matte white paint. "They shot me."
Sam was so calm about everything, so steady that he almost seemed detached. Lucifer smiled to himself, imagining the looks on the intruders faces when Sam came in. He could so easily picture Sam growling and barking at them, just like a good little guard dog, then the gun going off. There was likely a suppressor on the barrel, being that cop cars weren't swarming his front lawn. Maybe they recoiled when Sam didn't stagger, or maybe they raised their weapons to try and slow him down. Obviously they didn't make it far.
Sam looked back at him, then down to a body directly in front of him. "He's still mostly alive, you should be able to question him."
A small chuckle escaped Lucifer's throat and Sam smiled in response. "Where do you think they came from?"
"They're Crowley's, I can smell the sulfur." Which made sense. The Hounds were trying their best to make it up from the underground to the mainstream among the area's crime syndicates. If this was the best they had, they wouldn't be making it far.
"Why don't we go get you cleaned up, Sam? Go ahead and finish off that last one." Sam whined and tilted his head, but still crouched down to slit the last one's throat regardless.
Lucifer wasn't even half way up the stairs before Sam thumped up behind him. As always, Sam kept two steps behind him, carefully pacing himself so as not to crowd his master. There would be a trail of bloody steps leading right to the master bathroom, but he could call Uriel after Sam's bath and have him send a cleaning crew. When they reached the door Lucifer stepped to the side and allowed Sam to enter first. The light clicked on and he could see more clearly than in the dark of the living room. There was blood up to Sam's knees and elbows, chunks of skin and fat stuck in his claws and clinging to his skin. His fingers were back to something more closely resembling human, long and almost elegant. The claws that tipped them weren't as thick or curved, more like very thick fingernails.
Sam stepped out of his boxers and slid open the glass door to the shower stall. It was then that Lucifer realized Sam must have been about to head for bed, maybe feeling restless so close to the full moon. Had he been curled up in the basement den when he smelled the trespassers? One bloodied hand reached out to close the stall door, but Lucifer snapped his fingers, drawing Sam's attention to him.
"Leave it open, I want to watch." Sam's eyes flashed for just a second, something almost like copper glowing in them before he nodded and turned the water on, his broad back blocking most of the view from the shower door.
The spray beat down onto his skin, sending diluted splatters of blood flying onto the pristine white and blue tile. Sam tipped his head into it and growled so lowly Lucifer almost wondered if he was just imagining it over the rushing water. A thick curtain of hair was plastered to Sam's skull in seconds. His fingers combed through it to tuck it behind his ears, in the process spreading more blood into it that rinsed away slowly. He turned around, eyes closed as he exhaled slowly and relaxed. Steam was building up in the air, climbing to the ceiling above them in a dense cloud.
Lucifer was reminded of the first time he'd ever seen Sam covered in blood. It was a camping trip, Dean and Castiel coming along for the week-long excursion. Sometime around six thirty on the third morning, Lucifer and Castiel both woke up alone. A quick walk into the woods around their cabin found them face to face with their boys in wolf form, the limp body of a stag between them. They were growling and playing tug of war with it. He could distinctly remember Castiel's breath catching, his younger brother's eyes stuck to the matted mess of Dean's dark auburn fur. Sam's golden brown was in much the same state, dirt, sticks and blood tangling it into a mess.
A wet ripping noise and the cracking of bones signalled the end of the fight, the deer torn in two between them. They turned back to their human selves and plopped down in the mud, naked and blood-covered, to eat the prize they'd won. That was also the first time either he or Castiel had been exposed to a werewolf's blood lust. The smell of carnage, the slick feel of blood on their skin, they were made for it, lived for it. To the point that during their entire meal both of them were half-hard, casting glances to the humans standing there awestruck. Gore wasn't anything either Milton had an issue handling. Which was fortunate, because if they did then they wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing Dean and Sam acting so wild.
Even here, now, Sam was wild. In a cocoon of suburbia, surrounded by tiles and man-made everything, he was still a werewolf. The evidence could be found in the way Sam's cock swelled, the thick scent of blood probably overloading every other sense he had. Lucifer toed off his shoes and socks, then removed his belt. The jeans he was wearing had cost nearly two hundred dollars, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Sam's eyes opened when Lucifer began stepping toward the shower, pupils dilating as he tracked his master's movements.
The space was cramped, but Lucifer slipped in easily, sliding the glass door shut behind him. Sam's skin was hotter than the water flowing over it, Lucifer's touch probably felt clammy, but Sam never said anything. The light dusting of hair on his chest and stomach condensed around his cock, dark curls framing the thick shaft. A slight bulge near the base drew his attention, as it always did. His index finger traced around the knot, feeling the blood pumping hard through the muscle, Sam growing thicker and harder under his touch.
"I never cease to be amazed by your reaction to blood and violence." Lucifer wrapped his hand around Sam's dick, squeezing the shaft until the wolf was fully erect.
Sam's arms shot out sideways, one hand on the tile and the other gripping the top rail of the doors as he braced himself. There was still blood on his fingers and claws, thick swipes of it smearing sickly on everything he touched. His claws were also digging into the grout and the tiles themselves, chipping the glaze and stone beneath.
A hard throb pounded against Lucifer's palm, making him smile as he started stroking Sam slowly. "You are so driven by violence, so bloodthirsty, aren't you?"
Sam whined, more wolf than man in the sound, and gave a stilted thrust up into his hand. He didn't speak, simply started panting, lips pulling back from his sharp teeth. Ironically, those were the only things clean on him. Lucifer reached down to cup his balls, gently massaging them as he kept his pace steady. More chips came away from the tile, deep tracks gouged in them as Sam's fingers flexed. A faint cracking came from the glass, the metal rail bending under his grip. For a moment Lucifer wondered if the door would even open, or if Sam would have to rip it from the walls.
When Sam started growling again Lucifer knew he wasn't hearing things, the trails of water around his throat and chest shaking with it. His jaws snapped, lips open in a wide snarl. Lucifer leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sam's collarbone, just next to the dark lines of ink on his chest. A sunburst around a star, a wild werewolf myth. The symbol was meant to keep evil spirits from the new moon from entering a wolf's body and possessing them.
Whatever may have possessed Sam, Lucifer couldn't imagine it being any more ruthless than his sweet little hunter. He tightened his fingers and kept his focus on the head, curling his hand over it as he rubbed over and over until Sam was shaking. The wolf's teeth were still clenched shut tightly, claws doing any amount of property damage. It was wondrous to see him lose control.
Lucifer put the slightest amount of pressure on Sam's balls, pressing upward as he rubbed and fondled them. Sam whined again, entirely canine as his hips stuttered into Lucifer's hands. It wouldn't take much more to have him coming. A grin parted Lucifer's lips at the thought. He squeezed under the head, thumb rubbing just under the slit in a small circle. Sam's claws dug in and tore entire tiles off the walls, his head tipping back as he came with a deep growl. Hot splashes of come landed on his clothing, ruining what was a rather expensive outfit. He knew Sam would take the clothes from him and throw them into the mess of fabric and fur that made his den in the basement, always able to smell his master and himself on them.
Sam's legs buckled under his weight, knees crashing hard into the shower floor. A lazy grin lifted his features, thick arms wrapping around Lucifer's hips as he pulled the smaller man into a tight embrace. His nose was buried in the soft gray cotton of a ruined designer tee shirt, happy yips huffing out of his lips as he nuzzled and scent marked it. Lucifer chuckled and rubbed Sam's head with one hand, using the other to tilt the spray of water down to rinse away the last bits of carnage still stuck to Sam's lower body.
Maybe sometime soon he and Sam would take another camping trip.