A/N: Yes, the title is from part of a wedding vow. I thought it'd be ironic, especially since God made sure Sam belongs to Lucifer.
WARNING: This fic contains graphic depictions of rape.
TO THE GUEST REVIEWER: I have a single question: what the fuck? I allowed your review to be shown because I want everyone to realize how horrific you are. Yes, let's totally send violent threats and evil words of vitriolic abuse to a writer for no reason. What a splendid idea. And just to piss you off, I hope you know that instead of getting flogged to death, I have a soft fluffy cat on my head who's purring. I hope you have a shit day. And another part of me hopes you have a therapist to talk to, because it seriously helps.
Sam was shocked when his first experience upon waking wasn't pain. No, no. It was cold and heat and ozone and thunder booming, and flashes of light behind his eyelids. And it was talking. It was Him talking.
"So I've been thinking, Sammy — thinkin' real hard on something."
At hearing that voice, Sam never wanted to open his eyes again. So he deepened his breathing, pretended to be asleep.
A hard kick landed right in his side, and Sam cried out as he toppled over from his seated position.
Eyes tearing up from pain, but now able to see since they were open, it was clear in the light that bathed the Cage in less than a second that Lucifer was crouched in front of him. He was all blond hair and blue eyes. And tall. Nearly as tall as Sam. And while appearing in the body of a middle-aged man he held the strength of an army.
Lucifer tilted his head at him, as Sam grunted, pain blooming in his ribs. He tried to get his breath back.
"Excuse me, I was talking. Don't be rude." Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes, and then he got up, strolling.
Though he was farther away, Sam couldn't breathe any easier. He was still trapped.
"Where was I?" He tapped his fingers against his lips, and Sam managed to push himself up to one elbow. His breaths came too fast, not giving his body the chance for oxygen to get into his bloodstream. "Ah, that's right! Thinking."
Ironically, Sam didn't think when he said, "Didn't know you could do that."
Lucifer stomped over to him, and Sam was barely able to scramble up before a hand he was all-too familiar with was squeezing his neck. The grip was so tight it hurt. That was the thing no one ever seemed to talk about or write about when it came to being strangled by something or someone. It hurt. It hurt all around his neck, digging deep into his trachea. It cut off blood flow to and from his brain, and that hurt. His lungs struggling for breath and not getting any? Well, they felt like they were going to pop. Like they were just two balloons being squeezed too hard. Essentially they were. So it hurt. It hurt, and it hurt, and it hurt. His head was going to burst, his eyes feeling like they would get pushed right out of his skull. Black filled his vision.
There was still that voice, the voice he never wanted to hear again, the voice he knew so intimately: "How many times do I have to teach you your manners? What are you, a caged animal?" Lucifer laughed, but then he drew in close, body pressed up hard against Sam.
Oh, fuck, he was hard!
No no no no no.
Lucifer breathed in, as if he wanted to inhale all that Sam was. Then, of all things, he took the time to brush Sam's hair out of his face. The action was so delicate it was unbelievable that it could come from him. Yet, somehow it did. There was no doubt that he was doing it to waste Sam's time, to make sure his head would start tingling, and his body would go numb. To make this just another way to suffer.
"You know not to sass me, right? So why'd you do it?" He pressed in tighter, all but grinding against Sam. "Why'd you do it, huh?"
Never mind talking — Sam couldn't even think of what to say. Words didn't exist to him anymore. Breathing was a fleeting, forgotten thing. All that came with it had been stripped away.
"You think it's funny? You think it's funny, Sam!"
He was released, and Sam's lungs seemed like they'd been crushed with a car tire. Holding himself up was impossible, and as Lucifer stepped away, he collapsed to the Cage, limp, breathless. It took long moments of choking, wheezing agony, before he was able to breathe again.
"So" — oh, god, Lucifer was really angry now —"I was thinking… that why should I hurt you as me? Why don't I—why don't I hurt you as you?"
Sam was still hacking, but Lucifer paced back and forth before him. He didn't need to see him to know he was being looked at like he was the next big meal, the greatest meal. Like he was perfect.
"I mean, you're all me, and I'm— well, I'm all you. Your body? Mine. But you know that already. You know that so well! And here we are. Thanks to you. So yeah, I'm gonna have a little fun, maybe break some bones, fuck some people — oh, excuse me… one person — on the way out."
"Yeah, 'cause that's all you know how to do. Right? That's your game." Sam had pushed himself up, and was staring at all the evil in the universe. He had no idea how he managed to say, "Why don't you try something new?"
Lucifer was crouching by Sam again, and he was caressing his face. Shudders ran through Sam, and he couldn't breathe. All the fear coursing through him, all the sheer terror and panic, and the deep, subconscious sense that this was wrong froze him. Sam couldn't move as that cold hand touched his skin, and unwanted licks of pleasure ran up along his jaw at that, and down to the upper part of his neck. Maybe one had even reached lower, making it to in between his collarbones. Maybe his nipples had begun to harden from a primal excitement, and maybe, just maybe, Sam didn't want to admit it. He wanted to pretend it wasn't there.
"That's what I'm talking about, Sammy." Lucifer began to shift, and Sam stared, utterly horrified as he stood before himself: big, muscular, skin tan, and hair long and dark, eyes a piercing hazel. Then they glowed red. "I think I will try something new."
Lucifer grabbed Sam, and Sam was astonished at how those hands felt on him. His hands. That was his last thought before he was thrown across the Cage.
Then the Prince of Darkness, Satan, the Beast, began to undress himself. He began to undress Sam's body. He moved as if he was trying to put on a fucking show. All the while the look on his face spoke of pure, otherworldly bliss. On a human face, to human eyes, it translated to the look of a thousand orgasms happening at once. Sam was too stunned to fight, to stand against this. His mouth was left dry, his lips parted, and he couldn't move. He couldn't move at all.
Flannel and T-shirt off, and belt and button and zipper undone, Lucifer began to touch what was Sam's. For some odd reason Sam felt it. He started at the cool touch of those hands, but then he had to resist stretching out, and craning his head back. Pleasure already shot through him, Lucifer expertly knowing how to touch him. A single tear trailed down Sam's cheek.
Lucifer played with his nipples, alternating between rough tugs, and his palms gently gliding across them. He ran hands over his abdomen, staring right at Sam as he bit his lip and moaned. It was a sight to give Sam nightmares for forever.
Then he palmed at himself over his jeans. Sam grit his teeth, wincing at the feeling. Unbidden, his hips pushed up, and he struggled around a groan. Lucifer's actions had his jeans lowering, exposing his pubic hair, exposing the perfect "v" shape of Sam's hips that traveled down and inward to accentuate his pelvis. Lucifer was breathing heavy, chest heaving.
"You see, Sam… you're so much bigger than me. God just had to go and entice me by giving you a large package, didn't he? I want you to feel how big you are. I want you to take it, and split open for me as I go nice, and hard. I want to be in you, so deep that it's too deep, and something you can't handle. Sammy boy, you're going to experience yourself."
Lucifer winked. Sam was left trembling from the horror of his words. The part of his mind that knew to take over when Lucifer wanted to use his body was whispering in his ear. It licked. It bit. It sucked. Sam forced himself to inhale, trying to give into that.
When Lucifer sashayed out of his jeans, Sam told himself he was ready. He knew he wasn't. The sight of his own arousal; long, and thick, and hard; sent fear lashing through his core. The gut-wrenching sensation radiated through his body with the force of a whip striking vulnerable skin. The throbbing, pulsing thing within him filled his belly before strumming down through his body to fill his pelvis. It filled all that lay in between his legs.
Sam's own clothes began to burn his skin as Lucifer approached. They fell to ash, scattering about him, and plummeting into the lightning-struck void.
Lucifer forced his legs open. Sam grunted, tense, the terrifying motion twanging sharp pain through the inner part of his thighs. There was nothing Sam could do as the Devil knelt between his legs, safe for grip the hard, unforgiving stone of the Cage.
Blue light flashed across Lucifer's face, showing a small, but nearly orgasmic smile. The thunder that followed rattled into Sam's chest.
His body wouldn't let him move as Lucifer ran his hands up the inner parts of his thighs, and then back down. His only response was to shudder, and he bit his lip against a terrified whimper. That touch was soft, but wanting. Lucifer's need was electrifying against Sam's skin, and soon he was digging his thumbs in, kneading. His hands worked lower, going to his ass.
"You're being surprisingly good," Lucifer commented.
"Fuck you."
Lucifer just rolled his eyes, and then grabbed Sam, pulling him closer. He dragged his hips up, and Lucifer thrust forward to meet him. His arousal was hard against Sam's thigh.
The fact that it was Sam's…
He felt sick, but still, that want lived and breathed in him without his consent. Lucifer felt it, so he was feeling it.
"Don't tempt me," he growled, suddenly leaning in, leaning over him.
Sam swallowed back the nausea that roiled in him as he looked into his eyes, his own eyes. It was the same hazel, the same shape, yet they were dark with want, and some sadistic evil he couldn't understand, would never understand.
Sam inhaled a shuddering breath, and Lucifer reached out and bit at his nose, then his lips.
The sensation of his own lips against himself was odd, nightmare-inducing. Sam did try to fight then, as if his body was finally starting to realize how wrong this was. He cringed, tried pulling back, and shoved at Lucifer. Lucifer just straddled him, and held onto his jaw. The fingers digging into the sides of his face were his own. Oh, god, they were his own.
Sam cried out, growled, and he tried to reach out, get an arm against his collarbone. If he could shove hard enough, maybe unbalance him…
He had to win this, he couldn't let this happen to him.
It was happening to him. It would only get worse.
Lucifer reached in between them, biting at his bottom lip. Sam grunted, breathing hard, and tried pulling his head away. His lip tore and bled as he got it free of Lucifer. Yet it was no use. Because Lucifer wasn't touching Sam, but himself, and the sensations were twinned in Sam's own body. That hand that felt so familiar was touching him in ways he wouldn't touch himself. He was using more force, going harder than he'd ever dare. Surely he would bruise.
Tears burned at the corners of Sam's eyes, and he lay his head back, groaning loudly.
Lucifer only growled, and then repositioned himself. He lifted one of Sam's legs, and his mouth traveled over his cock, spitting onto him, making him throb, all hot and aching. Then his mouth went lower, over his balls, his lips kissing at his perineum. Lower, lower…
Another groan left Sam as that greedy tongue, without any preamble, tongued at his rim, slicking up the tight muscle. The desperate, wet sensations soon had Sam's body pulling Lucifer closer, and all the while, his cock leaked precum, Lucifer still touching himself.
Lucifer's mouth was ravenous on him, as if he was trying to tell him that all of this was his. Sam could understand that need for ownership ever so slightly. He'd felt it before, but not as dark, not as sick. He'd felt it with Jess, with Ruby. He'd been so intoxicated with them that putting his mouth everywhere on them was sometimes the only thing that had taken over his brain. There were moments where he hadn't needed anything else. They'd try to reciprocate after, but Sam was just happy to taste them. Lucifer was happy to do just that.
Then, his hand left himself, and Sam was left aching, his sick, delusional body wanting more.
It's just trying to survive, he told himself.
But what was the point?
This was all there was for Sam. Torture, rape. The Cage. Lucifer.
A finger was inserted into him, and his body bucked up into it, and seemed to open for it, wanting that touch. Sam hated himself. He hated himself so much as Lucifer used his body for this. Sam's fingers were longer and thicker than Lucifer's, hands bigger. He made sure to use those hands.
Lucifer delighted in seeing how many fingers he could fit in Sam, continuously spitting on him to keep him nice and wet. Soon, he had almost all of them in him, and he was thrusting quick and hard. The pressure it jolted up through Sam had wet heat flooding his stomach. His prostate was throbbing, begging, begging, begging….
Those fingers were so deep in him, and the touch was so rough. Then he fit in his thumb.
"No. No," Sam begged.
Lucifer shoved his hand in as a response.
Sam threw his head back, crying out, as the Devil began to fist him.
Oh god, he was going to cum. He was going to cum, and he didn't want to. He didn't know if he'd survive if he did. There would be more past his orgasm, more touching, more torture, more of Lucifer using him like his was only meant for fucking.
You are, a deceptive voice whispered in his head, breath curling around his ear, nipping.
Sam breathed out a long moan, and gave into it.
"There we go, Sammy. That's it."
Sam whimpered, and Lucifer eased his hand out of him.
"Here, I've got something better for you."
He knew what it was. Lucifer was handling himself, and therefore Sam felt it, felt that strong grasp.
"All nice and hard," he panted.
Sam was utterly helpless as Lucifer crouched over him, grabbed him and twisted him hard so that he was on his stomach, and then forced his legs open wide. He trembled, and then soon, he felt his own hard, hot cock against his sore, and throbbing opening. Lucifer began to push in, a hand at the back of Sam's neck to hold him down.
Sam screamed. He wasn't sure if he knew how to stop screaming. Because that was his own cock in himself. That was what he was feeling inside, and outside. Lucifer's penetration passed to Sam as if he was penetrating his own body. He was tight, and hot, and Sam cried. He cried because he could feel how good his insides were, how much he might even enjoy fucking himself.
When Lucifer started to move his hips, Sam started begging. He didn't know what he was begging for. Whether it was for him to stop, for him to keep going… He just didn't know.
Go harder, his mind began to plead. Harder.
Sam's screams stopped as he accepted his fate, as he got lost in it, as Lucifer went so hard it was incomprehensible. He was spreading Sam open, going so deep into him that Sam couldn't think, could barely breathe.
Lucifer was gasping out obscene things, as if the sound of their bodies coming together wasn't torture enough. He told Sam how good he felt, how he liked using his cock, and he asked him if he liked it too.
Sam's body screamed that, yes, it did.
Even as it didn't.
Sam was much bigger than Lucifer, and he began to wonder how anyone could handle being fucked by him. Did it hurt? Did he go this hard? Did it feel like they were being ripped apart by him?
Did they want that feeling?
Sam wanted it.
He didn't want it.
Lucifer went at him hard, till those feelings were all he was. Sam was in himself, and he was being penetrated by himself, and the sensations of being wrapped up in all that this was never ended. It pounded, and pounded. The hand at the back of his neck hurt, and he was groaning and grunting.
His legs began to twitch and tremble, and his body shoved back and up, hard, as if begging to be beaten with his own cock. Lucifer obliged. He so happily obliged. He grabbed onto Sam's hair, and he was yelling his name, yelling all the sick things he wanted to do to him.
He wanted to do things Sam hadn't even thought about, things he couldn't comprehend.
Fuck, he was still driving into him, hips fast and relentless. He was sore around him, his prostate aching, pleading…
Please. Please, Sam thought, not even knowing what he was begging for.
Then he felt it, the tight heat in him that let him know he was close to orgasm. His body yielded to it, and it pushed and moved against Lucifer's, as Lucifer buried himself deep, claiming. They were both moaning and grunting, and their voices grew louder. Lucifer held Sam down as his cock throbbed, as both their cocks throbbed, and he was cumming in him.
Sam's voice cut off, the pleasure choking him, stealing the very air from his lungs. A strangled sound left him, Lucifer driving relentlessly, Sam's own cock emptying itself. That pressure beneath his balls pushed and pushed and pushed.
Sam cried.
Lucifer finished in him.
As he pulled out of him, the only sound Sam could let out was a sob. He pressed his face against the stone of the Cage, not wanting to see where he was. Lightning flashed, the light blinding against his eyelids. He didn't want to see that, didn't want to see the Cage, didn't want to see his skin slick with sweat, didn't want to see any of it. He didn't want to see Lucifer, didn't want to see himself. That sick, sexual satisfaction that he felt radiating from him was enough. If he actually saw it he wasn't sure how he'd not end up dry-heaving.
Lucifer just pushed against him, straddling him, kneading his ass.
Sam cried.
Sam hated himself.
Lucifer had made sure of that.