A/N: Written for a prompt on tumblr by heartlesslywhumping.
Prompt: The whumper controls the whumpee via denial of a drug they were forcibly addicted to
WARNINGS: This fic contains drug abuse, withdrawal, and referenced sexual assault.
"Please..." Sam gasped out. "Lucifer, please... I need more."
Sam was pulling himself up over the ledge, closer to Lucifer. They were in Hell. The Cage had been broken and they were wandering, trying to find their way up, to the surface. Sam had tried to run, and that's when Lucifer had given him the demon blood.
And he hadn't stopped giving it to him. Every demon they came across, they were given to Sam as a present. And with Lucifer hands touching him, he drank up, fearful. And it wasn't as though he needed much coaxing. It smelled heady and hot and wonderful, and he loved the taste of power on his tongue, the electric heat of it as it filled his body.
They'd been traveling for what felt like a week now. Sam didn't need food or water in Hell, but he needed It. The Demon Blood. And he needed it bad. His body ached, and he was shaking. His head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton balls that had somehow been soaked in pain beforehand. His heartbeat felt wrong. When he'd complained about it, Lucifer had put his hand on his chest, over his heart. His fingers had been arched like claws. And he'd asked, "You want me to fix that?"
Sam knew what he wanted to do.
He wanted to take his heart out.
So he understood the threat, and he shut up.
But now he could barely walk, could barely make it to the Devil. His vision blurred.
"Lucifer..."
Lucifer came over, feet before him now. Sam craned his head up, his eyes watering.
"Please."
"Only if you do something for me."
"What?" Sam asked, the word barely coming out, lost in sickness and fear.
Lucifer crouched down by Sam, grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him up towards him. Sam cried out, tried to struggle, but then his head was swimming. Lucifer's hands were on him, seemingly everywhere, but then a hand was at his throat, a voice in his ear, "I want you to be mine."
He dropped Sam to the unforgiving stone that was the ground.
Sam was coughing, gasping, and he heaved himself up on hands and knees, body visibly shaking. Sweat ran down his chest. He licked his lips, mouth dry, just imagining the taste of demon blood. And he nodded his head.
Lucifer pat him on the head, "Good boy, Sammy. I promise you'll get your reward."
Sam met his eyes with great difficulty, but he saw the lie there. It didn't stop Sam from following him, crawling on the ground as the Devil walked. He had hope that he would be given demon blood. He just had to.
Hope. That was a funny thing to have in Hell.