Samifer Week 2013 #7: Saturday, October 19, 2013

The Ache of Proximity

Pairings: Samifer (SamxLucifer), DeanxMichael if you want to see it that way
Ratings: Explicit
Warnings: Getting back together after a wacky misunderstanding break up, sex
Words: 4700
Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions)
My Tumblr: talesfromperdition

Notes: I totally ran out of time on this, and I'm sorry, but I've been crazy busy this week and today. I wish I could have finished stronger, but I'm exhausted. My eternal love and thanks goes out to Bree. She is forever saving me.

Dean didn't care that Sam was dragging his feet, just like he didn't care that Sam vehemently did not want to go to the Milton's first stupid bonfire of the year. It was the first time everyone was home from college for the summer – Dean and Michael had gotten both started vacation last weekend – but the older Winchester asked his friend to hold off until his brother got home. Apparently, Dean hadn't understood the subtext behind Sam's overtly formal "I'm staying at Stanford for college so I don't have to go to the fucking Milton family's Spring Break party" email.

"Once you and Gabe start taking shots, it'll be fine," Dean said, pushing at Sam's shoulders from behind, and Sam should have not only put foot down on coming to the stupid party, he should have definitely put his foot down to pre-gaming. His head was swimming – and Sam Winchester wasn't usually an angry drunk – but with every step closer to the Milton Mansion, he felt a cold rage bubbling in his stomach. "I don't know why you're being such a bitch. Nobody's heard shit from you since Christmas break. You go to some snoody-ass law school and now you're too good for us or what?"

Sam gritted his teeth but tried shrugging Dean off his shoulders. His older brother's grip tightened, steering him into the side yard of the Milton Mansion, toward the back of the house where the thumping of Gabriel's music was already pouring onto the sidewalk and into the woods surrounding the house.

Dean moved around Sam the second he spotted Michael. The eldest Milton gave a loud, jock-like cry and opened his arms, which Dean mimicked with vigor, and the pair of them ran at each other, grasping each other beside the fire.

It would be a reasonable response for two assholes seeing each other for the first time in months after coming back home from college, but since Dean and Michael went to the same local university and were both on the fucking baseball team and Michael cooked Sam breakfast at the Winchester's small apartment that morning, he scowled at their display. Rather than watching the two of them for a second longer, Sam made his way to the glow-stick stick figures dancing by the tree line at the far end of the yard.

Along the way, he passed Raphy and her tough-as-nails biker friends. The second eldest Milton smiled at him and lifted a friendly hand – her eyelids heavy with the bottle of alcohol and joint her and her friends were passing around – and when her friends saw him, they laughed. Sam flushed and kept moving.

Gabriel, the youngest of the four, had a group of friends he and Sam graduated with covered in glow-sticks. He had taped them to their bodies, creating a stick figure dancing in the darkness, and despite Sam's fury at being dragged here against his will, he had to admit they looked pretty cool.

The Miltons had their groups. Each of them were born a year after the other, and for one terrifying year for Lawrence High, all four of them were in the high school. They rarely mingled between them; Michael was the athletic one, Raphy was the rebel clad in leather, Gabriel was the easy-going jokester, and Lucifer… well…

Lucifer, the third eldest Milton, was the reason Sam hadn't come home for Spring Break. He was the reason he hadn't talked to anyone outside Dean since Christmas break. He was the reason Sam couldn't tell if the ache in his chest was heartburn from the alcohol or from proximity.

Because Lucifer had called their little… thing off in Christmas.

Well, okay. Lucifer hadn't called it off. It had been mutual, for the most part. It happened so fast, Sam couldn't really remember the details perfectly.

He was getting ahead of himself.

It had started almost as soon as Lucifer had gotten home from his Freshman year of college – right after Sam had graduated high school – it had been a mutual love of literature and history that skipped past courtship and right into bed.

They kept it hidden, and while Sam hadn't minded all that summer – sneaking into the woods behind the Milton Mansion to exchange blowjobs feet away from the party had been thrilling – the younger Winchester found he couldn't quite deal with being in Stanford and not having a reason to text the other man. Sam secretly lived for the moments of peace with Lucifer strung out, whispering about Homer into Sam's neck, murmuring lines from Tristan and Iseult into his skin.

Sam almost skipped a midterm to drive back to Kansas early when he saw on Facebook that Lucifer had already returned home.

Anyway, Sam was aware that sometime over the summer – or maybe that fall without him – that he had fallen for Lucifer. He could almost feel the impact of it on the earth, shattering around him like a comet had struck the ground, and that night two days before they were set to go back to college, Sam realized exactly what this arrangement meant to Lucifer.

They had always been careful in the Milton Mansion – despite how far apart the rooms were, Lucifer had heard Raphy more than once – and the one thing the pair of them agreed on early on was that Michael and Dean could never ever find out about the two of them.

But one minute, Lucifer's head was on Sam's bare chest, his cool fingers tracing over the sticky mess on Sam's stomach; the pair of them were relaxed and near sleep, both comfortable in the few moments of peace they allowed themselves after fucking. The next minute, someone was pounding at Lucifer's bedroom door – thank God they remembered to lock it – and the blond boy freaked out.

He jumped up, dragging Sam with him. In seconds, Sam had his clothes shoved into his hands, and Lucifer's palm was pressing against the younger Winchester's chest, pushing him into his walk-in closet and shutting him in, hiding him. Sam started pulling his clothes on as quickly and quietly as he could.

A second later, Lucifer must have dressed himself because Sam heard the door open and Michael said, "Were you fucking jacking off in here, Luci?" The younger Winchester knew Lucifer well enough to know he would pale with embarrassment. Michael laughed. "Hey! It's about time you learned how to use that thing."

Sam heard Lucifer mutter something, stumbling over his words before he finally settled on, "What do you want?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Michael said. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm heading over to Dean's apartment for an Indiana Jones marathon in an hour if you wanted to come with."

Lucifer's voice was hard and set when he scoffed, "Why would I want to go over there?"

"I don't know," Michael laughed. "Maybe because you've been making come-hither eyes at Sam for as long as anyone can remember? Just thought you'd want to add more images to your spank bank, especially now that I know you have one of those. Seriously, did you even try to clean yourself? It smells like a middle school locker room in here."

"I don't jack off thinking about Sam Winchester," Lucifer said, and Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest. There was conviction behind his words, a bit of disgust seeping through loud and clear, and the younger Winchester felt like his blood was running cold. Lucifer hadn't ever been a good liar, but that sounded genuine.

Sam put his hand on the doorknob; his breathing was so loud, he could barely hear Michael laughing.

"Whatever," the eldest Milton said. "So are you coming with or not?"

"No," Lucifer hissed. "I've got better things to do here by myself."

"Yeah, I can smell that," Michael laughed, and when Sam heard the door shut and the lock click back over, he couldn't force his hand on the doorknob to move. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he felt like there was bile rising up his throat.

He loved Lucifer. Sam knew that, deep down, the sex had meant something. And maybe it was because his first time had been with the Milton boy, but he felt his insides were glass, shattering around him. It made him feel weak and dirty, like he had been used.

He hadn't expected Lucifer to love him back, but he never expected Lucifer to be disgusted with him, either.

When the other boy opened the closet door, Sam's finger fell from the handle. He looked in his friend's eyes, trying to get a read on the situation. He was pale, so embarrassed Sam could practically smell it, and he looked ruffled, annoyed.

"I can't believe you," Sam hissed, pushing past the other man to walk to the other side of the room. His shoes were behind the door and he sat down, pulling them on. He could feel Lucifer moving behind him, a few aborted sounds coming out of his mouth that were sputtered attempts at an apology, but he couldn't even get them out.

He was a terrible liar.

By the time Sam had his shoes on and stood back up, Lucifer was crowding into his space. His hands were reaching toward Sam, but the younger boy batted them away, the fury and shame burning hot in his stomach. "This was a mistake. We should have never started this stupid thing."

"I swear, Sam. I didn't know he was home."

"So stupid. I can't believe I ever thought this would be a good idea to do with you," Sam said again, grabbing his coat from the back of Lucifer's chair – how could Michael not have seen that? – and storming out of the door as quietly as he could, trying to avoid all the other Milton kids, knowing he smelt like shame and desperation. Thankfully, he wasn't spotted, and Lucifer never came after him.

So it had been mutual. Lucifer hadn't wanted to continue on anyway, so Sam had the common decency to stop it. And there must have been a God because in the four months Sam spent at school, he never got a single call, text, or email from Lucifer.

And as Sam walked up to Gabriel and his old friends from high school, he couldn't help but think that he would rather be getting bamboo shoots shoved up his fingernails than be at this party.

Unfortunately, the glow of the full moon wasn't enough to light the features of the glow-stick stick figures. Sam knew the shape closest to him wasn't Gabriel – this person was too tall to be the boy who graduated with Sam – but when Sam walked up to the kid and tapped him on the shoulder to ask, "Which one's Gabriel?" he hadn't expect it to be Lucifer.

None of the Miltons really hung out, but Lucifer had never really had many friends anyway.

"Sam," the other boy whispered like a prayer, voice soft and sad, even though his breath smelled strongly of tequila. The younger boy looked down; the blond had a bottle of the stuff held tightly in by the neck of the bottle. For a second, the pair of them just looked at each other – the bags under Lucifer's eyes, the scruff on his normally clean-shaven face – before Lucifer shook his head and said, "Uh, Gabriel's the only one who broke the glow sticks and poured the toxic shit all over him." He pointed to the art project closer to the woods, before taking the blue glow-glow sticks off from his eyes, the red one framing his face following.

When he looked up at Sam one last time, he looked ashamed.

The blond dropped the three glow-sticks in the grass before turning and walking back toward the fire. Sam walked closer to the woods to find Gabriel. His friend greeted him with a bottle of rum, and Sam accepted.

Two hours later, Sam was too drunk to be allowed to be alone where his ex-fuck buddy was walking around just as hammered, but it wasn't like anyone knew why Sam and Lucifer were dancing around each other. It wasn't like anyone was sober enough to notice that whenever Sam moved toward the fire, Lucifer would stumble to the porch with his tequila in tow. If Sam went to the porch, Lucifer ran back to Gabriel, helping the drunken freshman set off lanterns into the sky. If Sam went back to Gabriel, Lucifer went back to the fire.

It pissed Sam off. He was the one made a fool of. He was the one who had been hurt and used. He should be running away from Lucifer, not the other way around.

So when he finally cornered Lucifer on the porch, bottle of Rum to his shoulder and Sam's other hand pressing Lucifer's hip against the side of the mansion, the familiar rage was bubbling to the surface. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"Because I hate you," Lucifer spit, but he didn't try to move out of Sam's grasp. When the younger Winchester pushed the blond's shirt up enough to rub the bare skin at his side, he flinched, but otherwise didn't respond. He didn't try to yank away, but he did close his eyes, resting his head against the wall and whispered with much less venom, "I fucking hate you."

"The feeling's mutual," Sam murmured, ducking his head to press his face against Lucifer's throat, breathing in the familiar scent of him. The feeling of skin-on-skin contact after four months of nothing made Sam's heart flutter in his chest, recognizing the terrible choice it was, but unable to stop either way. "I was the only person in my entire building during Spring Break. Ended up marathoning stupid movies and eating pizza and ice cream in bed all week."

"I didn't come home either," Lucifer said, hands clinging to the front of Sam's shirt, keeping him close. "But I ended up blackout drunk alone every night."

"Why?" Sam asked, lips pressing against the side of Lucifer's neck.

"Because I hate you."

"Me too," Sam said, pulling away from his neck enough to press his lips against the blond man's. One of Lucifer's hands left Sam's shirt and wrapped around Sam's shoulders, keeping him close, opening his mouth, letting the taste of tequila and rum mix in their mouths. Sam felt hands in his hair, felt Lucifer's hips arch off to find Sam's, and he had no idea how long they kissed against the side of the house when he finally drew back, pressing his forehead against Lucifer's shoulder.

The anger melted away, and Sam was just left with the disappointment that Lucifer hadn't wanted him, that he had been disgusted by the thought of him. Lucifer's arms were around him, holding them together, rubbing at Sam's back with a surprising amount of tenderness. And Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Why did you lead me on?"

Lucifer placed a kiss against the side of Sam's head. "What do you mean?"

"If you hated me and hated it so much, why did you just tell me to fuck off earlier? You made me… I thought you liked me more than just the, you know, sex part. But then you shoved me in the closet rather than have your brother find us and…"

Sam was pushed back, held at arm's length, and when he looked at the blond boy, there was fury and confusion on his face. "No," Lucifer said. "I hid you because you made it very clear early on that nobody could ever find out about us. When Michael almost caught us… I thought you were mad at me because I almost let us get caught."

"I was mad because you were ashamed of me," Sam said, narrowing his eyes.

"I wasn't ashamed," Lucifer hissed. "I loved you, Sam. I still love you, but you didn't want anyone to know and…"

Sam surged forward again, pressing his lips against Lucifer's, and kissing him like he meant it, how he used to. For another long moment they kissed against the side of the house until Lucifer pushed Sam's shoulders back. Sam grabbed Lucifer's wrist and forced his way through the back door of the mansion.

It took forever to climb the steps to Lucifer's room. The pair of them abandoned the alcohol in the kitchen, but they stopped to paw at each other against every surface, murmurs of "Always loved you," "Lost without you," and "Could have been really dating," pressed against lips and skin. Sam's jacket was thrown onto the couch, their shoes kicked off haphazardly on the stairs for whichever drunken Milton to trip across that night. By the time Lucifer slammed the door to his bedroom shut, Sam had already dropped his shirt on Lucifer's floor and his hands were fumbling with the button of his pants.

The blond batted Sam's hand away, undressing him far more efficiently than Sam had undressed himself, but Lucifer struggled with his own pants, and Sam was able to help out.

Once they were both naked, standing next to each other in the pale light of the moon shining in through the open window, things slowed down in a way they hadn't, not in the months when they were having sex before. Lucifer reached his hand out, brushing his fingertips against Sam's abdominal muscles. He drew his fingers up, palm resting flat over Sam's heart while his thumb brushed over the other boy's nipple. His other hand started at Sam's ribs, trailing down over his side, over his hips, resting against his thigh for a minute before gliding back up. It took Sam a couple of minutes to realize Lucifer was mapping out his body, taking stock of every difference that four months had created.

Sam wondered how his body had changed, but Lucifer didn't share his findings. Instead, he lowered his hands to Sam's hips, ignoring the younger boy's erection in favor or pressing this thumbs against Sam's hipbones.

"I love you, Sam," Lucifer said, his eyes spanning over the body until they met Sam's once again. "But I can't do that again. If we do this, I want… I want to be official. I want to be able to tell people. I don't want to feel like a dirty secret."

"I want that too," Sam promised. "I want you."

Lucifer smiled, and it was light and easy in a way Sam hadn't remembered seeing in a long time. "How do you want me?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam whispered, pulling Lucifer to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the blond's head and said, "Anyway, every way you're willing to give me."

Lucifer laughed, "Well if you don't care, then I want you inside me. I think I missed that the most."

Sam nodded, but Lucifer didn't wait for Sam to take charge. Instead, he started pushing at the taller boy's hips until Sam's legs hit the frame of the bed. He sat down and crawled backwards, letting Lucifer fit get on his knees on the side of the bed, moving toward Sam.

They kissed for a long moment, fingers dancing over skin. Lucifer rolled his hips from the top, letting their cocks slide against each other lazily as they kissed. The younger Winchester tried to thrust up against him, but Lucifer wouldn't allow him enough space, too busy setting the pace and the rhythm. And Sam didn't mind; he liked when Lucifer took control.

After several long minutes, Lucifer's hips slowed then stopped, pushing the heels of his palms into the mattress on either side of Sam's head and pushing himself up and off the body. Sam's hands found Lucifer's hips, trying to pull him back down. The blond grinned and said, "Don't want to wait any longer," before crawling to the side of the bed, grabbing the lubricant and condoms Sam knew he kept in there.

When he pushed the tube of lubricant into Sam's hand, the taller boy looked at the bottle. He couldn't help but smile. It was the same one that they had used before; he knew because after one of their last times together in January, they had taken the sticker off the bottle and drawn in sharpie over the plastic.

"Sam + Lucifer" was still written there in Sam's handwriting. He was about to grin up at Lucifer but he felt the boy's mouth around his cock and his eyes slid shut with his surprised groan.

Lucifer had always been better at this than Sam, and he offered to do it three times as often because of it. The blond was on his side, propped up on his elbow between Sam's legs. After letting him have a few seconds of pleasure at his boyfriend's talented mouth, Sam pushed himself up on one elbow, twisting in the middle. Unlike Lucifer who went right for the main event, Sam took it slower, kissing and nipping at Lucifer's hip before giving the blond's cock a tentative lick.

At the feel of his tongue, Lucifer gave groan that seemed disproportionate to the little licks, but Lucifer was always vocal, especially so when he was drunk. Sam gained confidence at the sound, popping open the cap of lubricant and pouring it on his fingers. When he took Lucifer's cock in his mouth, he pressed one of his slick fingers against his boyfriend's hole. He didn't press in at first – he just ran his finger back and forth over the opening – but Lucifer hummed his appreciate, his desire for more, and so Sam obliged and pushed a finger in.

Sam's cock slipped free of Lucifer's mouth as he shuttered, a loud moan pushing out of his lungs. Sam spared a look, and his boyfriend's cheeks were tinged pink and he pressed his forehead against Sam's thigh, tugging at Sam's cock slowly with his hand while his back heaved with labored breaths.

Sam waited until the blond calmed down and got used to the finger, until his breathing returned to normal and he put his mouth back on his cock, before Sam pulled his finger out and pushed two in, grinning as Lucifer fell apart yet again.

By the time Sam had prepared Lucifer enough to take three fingers, the blond had retaliated to the onslaught by taking the brunet into his throat, and Sam had to stop him twice in fear of coming too soon. After a few more moments of preparation – Lucifer was biting and licking at Sam's thigh – the blond decided enough was enough and he sat himself up, turning Sam onto his back and straddling his legs. He reached over and grabbed the condom they got out earlier, ripping open the packet and rolling the latex over Sam's cock. He waited while the brunet poured pour lubricant onto the condom, slicking himself up. Then Lucifer crawled up the bed. Sam held his cock steady while Lucifer leaned back. The brunet dug his heels into the mattress, holding himself back from thrusting up into his boyfriend's body.

After a few moments, Lucifer was seated down in Sam's lap, his hands on Sam's chest. The brunet watched the blond breathing, a soft smile on his face despite his discomfort, and he waited for him to adjust. Sam spread his hands over Lucifer's thighs, thumbs rubbing in small circles, and after what felt like no time, Lucifer shifted, lifting himself back up and getting his feet underneath him.

The blond set a slow place to start, but he quickly lost the tempo. After a few minutes, Sam knew his quad muscles would be throbbing, and he was moving quicker, dominating the pace, breathing out soft moans, encouraging Sam to rock up into him.

Sometimes, they could go for what seemed like forever. Other times, they could get each other off in record time. It wasn't a record, but it was damn close. Before long, Lucifer was pulling at his own cock and Sam had a grip on Lucifer's hips, thrusting up off the bed to meet him.

The blond came first, painting Sam's chest, and when he clenched around the brunet, Sam soon followed. Lucifer swung his leg back over Sam's hip, collapsing at his boyfriend's side. The brunet pulled the condom off with care, not wanting to spill anything and make a mess, and he walked over to the trash can to throw it away.

It was a rule they had from the summer: whoever wore the condom had to clean up the mess. Sam wanted nothing more than to pass out beside Lucifer, but he walked to the en suite bathroom, grabbed one of Lucifer's washcloths, and ran it under warm water. After ringing it out, he cleaned himself off. He ran it under water again to wash off his own mess before taking it to Lucifer. He climbed onto the full bed, guiding Lucifer where he needed him to be so he could clean him off.

When he threw the washcloth into hamper near the bed, Lucifer finally rolled over to face him. He was grinning, but he still said, "Sorry. Next time will be better. I just… I missed you. I missed this. I got excited."

Sam wrapped his arm around Lucifer's body, grinning as the blond yawned. "I was pretty excited, too, you know?"

"Yeah?" Lucifer asked sleepily, rolling to face the other way, letting Sam be the big soon.

"Of course," Sam said. The brunet wanted to say something more, something about how he meant what he'd said about loving him, about how much he had missed him. But the alcohol and the sex took hold quickly, and he heard Lucifer's breathing even out in no time.

But it was alright. He could tell him in the morning.

Sam awoke to the sound of pounding. The sunlight was shining through the window and he rolled onto his side, trying to put his arm over his eyes. His head was killing him – damn the fucking alcohol he drank last night – and the light and the noise were doing nothing to help.

He was pretty sure he was groaning, but he felt the rumble of it externally. When Sam opened his eyes, and turned to look behind him, he saw Lucifer curling toward him, pressing a kiss to the back of Sam's neck as he draped his arm over Sam's middle, effectively making the boy the smaller spoon.

Sam settled back down and shut his eyes, determined to fall back asleep.

And that was when the door burst in.

"Luci, rise and shine," Michael sang, stomping into the room. After three steps, the eldest Milton froze. He was silent for a moment before he asked, "Uh… dude, our brothers are fucking."

"They aren't," Dean said, walking into the room after them. "They're totally done with that part, obviously."

"Gross," Michael said, but it was said without conviction and he quickly went on. "We're making breakfast. You two up and at 'em yet?"

"Does it look like we're up yet?" Lucifer asked, his voice hoarse.

"If we were up, we'd be doing something more interesting than this," Sam said. "Do us a favor and shut the blinds then get the fuck out."

Dean laughed, but Sam heard one of them moving, and then the room was thrown into darkness. Their older brothers left, humming a lullaby. They shut the door, and then there was silence.

Sam was almost lulled back to sleep by the sound of Lucifer's soft breathing, but then he heard the soft murmur against his shoulder, "Well, they know. No hiding now."

The younger boy turned around, facing Lucifer. He wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his nose against the blond's throat. They smelled like alcohol and sex, but that was alright for now. "I don't want to hide anymore."

"Me either," Lucifer said, squeezing his fingers against Sam's side for a second. Lucifer must not have wanted to sleep, because he started talking about his classes, how he took an Early Shakespeare class and they had read a ton of the man's works. Sam listened to the careful cadence of his voice – he had forgotten how much he loved listening to Lucifer talk – and he quickly succumbed to sleep to Lucifer reciting a sonnet.