Chapter 10: Can't Get no Satisfaction

Warnings: Sexuality. We've gotten to the beginnings of smut. Rating has gone up!

Pairings: Lucifer/Sam

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you guys' reviews lately? Because the comments for the last chapter were super flattering 0.0 Thank you so so so much!

They were still laying low from the leviathans. Dean insisted on doing so 'because they had no way to kill the ugly bastards.' Sam complied because as far as he could tell Lucifer wasn't back up to full strength. It was a tense string of days in which Dean would stare at him like he was a monster, Sam would get irritated and call him out on it, and Dean would say that nothing was wrong in that tone he used when something was very wrong.

Sam knew better than to call Lucifer to their room, especially so soon. Still, everything the devil had told him so far seemed true and reasonable. In particular, he believed that their soul and grace were intertwined, and not only because Castiel seemed to believe it so thoroughly.

The tiny little spark of optimism Sam had felt inching its way into existence was even stronger after Dean finally admitted that he'd shot Lucifer in the face, again, and the angel had done nothing but mock him in return. He wasn't so naïve as to think that the devil was suddenly following his orders, as there was no reason for it. Instead, he understood that Lucifer really couldn't lie to him. Really did want his trust. Really believed that they were meant to equally share something.

Sam was truly beginning to feel the same way. It was like the default emotion from his soul was just named 'Lucifer.' He knew part of this feeling well, the part where his control would start slipping though his grip like sand. What he wasn't used to was the sense that if he just let go of the rest, he'd finally have the feeling of completion every other human seemed to have.

Therefore, it shouldn't have surprised anyone—Sam least of all—that he found himself calling for the devil in his dreams.

"It's good to see you, Sam," the devil said as he joined the hunter on a park bench in the hunter's memory of a sunny afternoon in Connersville, Indiana.

Sam didn't reply, and instead stared off into the distance in thought.

"Did you just want me to watch you brood, or…?" Lucifer asked, leaning forward so he could see the Winchester's face.

"What? No," Sam responded, shaking his head to clear it. "I just…you and Dean will always be at each others' throats if you're in the same room. It's like a law of nature. But when it's just him and me, I feel…like I'm not quite whole." The Winchester stood and began to pace a little circle, hand running through his hair in the way it tended to when he was frustrated. Lucifer stood as well, watching him.

The devil nodded, an eyebrow raised to silently say this was what he had been telling the hunter all along.

"But right now, with you here, I feel like that piece is whole, but another one is missing."

The devil's expression dropped into a frown.

"What do you want, Sam? Lucifer asked him, his expression of concern and frustration as honest as Sam had ever seen on him.

"For Dean to be happy," Sam replied without hesitation.

Lucifer nodded. "And then what?"

Sam had to pause to think. "To save people," he said, deciding that was next on the list.

Another nod. "And?"

"To feel…right," he answered diplomatically, still not wanting to tell the devil how very close to slipping he actually was.

"I feel so sad for you, Sam," Lucifer told him, a look of regret in his eyes.

"What, why?" Sam asked defensively. He didn't need the devil's pity, and didn't want it either.

"Because you can't have all of those things. You can't be complete and make your brother happy. And you can't save everyone," he said, stepping forward. "You and I need each other. You can hide it from Dean for a while. You could even hide it from Castiel. But eventually, he'll know. It seems like you need to choose."

"Then I choose family. I made that mistake before, but I won't ever again. I choose Dean," Sam replied firmly.

"I see," Lucifer said pensively. "That's what you said in the pit, too."

Sam's eyebrows snapped into a betrayed frown. "What? What did you ask me in Hell?"

"I asked you a lot, Sammy. We were there for decades. But the most important thing was what you wanted. You haven't changed, after years and years of torture," he said, taking another step forward. "You'll choose your brother before you choose me." He slipped his hands behind Sam's waist, holding him.

"What are you—"

"I guess I'll have to be on my best behavior," the devil said. Contrary to that statement—at least in Sam's mind—Lucifer then proceeded to kiss him. Just like before, his skin had a cool edge to it, like he'd just come in from the snow. The unexpected feeling sent tingles right through Sam. He refused to think about how much of that sensation went straight to his crotch.

This time, it was the devil who led the way. He bit at Sam's lower lip, a wicked smile on his own. His hands searched and pressed and lingered possessively under Sam's clothes, sending those contrasting waves of heat and cold that kept the hunter's skin maddeningly sensitive to his every movement.

"What I want most, Sam, is to show my father the error of his actions," Lucifer breathed in his ear. Sam didn't respond, since his breath hitched when icy fingers plunged just a little below the waistline of his jeans. "But I have all the time in the world. What I want right now is you."

Despite the connection between Satan and his vessel, despite the way his grace was wrapped comfortably around Sam's soul, the hunter felt a rush of adrenaline-tainted panic at the thought that the devil was so very focused on him, and him alone. He seemed to lose control of his life, and even his own actions, so easily. But a lack of control was something he feared more than anything. So even as the intoxicating—and unnecessarily pleasurable—surges of anxiety flared under Lucifer's touch, he decided he wanted to be the one calling the shots.

Sam's tongue pushed its way into Lucifer's mouth, earning a surprised laugh from the angel. He was more convincingly human than Castiel—far more casual, more at ease in human skin. At least, that was true at a distance. Sam had never asked Dean what getting hot and heavy with an angel was like. He really didn't want to have that conversation, and he doubted Dean would want to either.

In any case, he wasn't prepared for the little things. The tingling chill dancing along his skin, the lack of any taste other than frost in the devil's mouth, the way his hands were just a little too strong as they forced Sam closer.

Sam came up gasping, and was quickly pulled back down by a rough hand in his hair. Sam began to walk them slowly backward to the bench, letting Lucifer drop down to sit on it and planting a knee on either side of the devil so that he straddled him. He was directly above Lucifer, staring down into grey-blue eyes that watched with an inhuman balance of focus and hunger. It was as if those eyes were the hole into the pit itself. Sam was poised over them, hovering on the edge of one of the most important decisions of his life—and one of the most important ever made by a human being. No pressure or anything.

Sam dove in.

He bit at Lucifer's lips, his ear, his neck. The angel arched himself off the bench and into Sam's hips, that satisfied but hungry grin returning. There was a demanding, uncomfortable pressure in the front of his jeans at the contact that he needed to alleviate. He placed a hand on the back of the bench, and used the other to fumble at his fly. Lucifer slid his own hands along Sam's chest. He began working on the buttons of the hunter's shirt, undoing several before Sam realized what was happening.

While the devil was busy, Sam decided to undo his jeans as well. He put a hand down the resultant opening, noting with interest that the devil was wearing boxers, and that he'd finally managed to find a warm spot on Lucifer's body. He squeezed, and received a long, satisfied groan in response. Sam brought his head back down to claim Lucifer's lips. He grunted as a cold hand slipped to the front of his own boxers, finding the single button and popping them open.

"Please," he breathed, the word barely intelligible. "Lucifer."

The devil laughed and ran his hand down along the bottom of Sam's erection, then gripped and pulled hard back up its length. Sam tried to gasp, but couldn't even breathe, the feeling was so overpowering. He got the feeling Lucifer was using some kind of angel mojo to do that, because one touch anywhere, and Sam was feeling it everywhere. It was very much appreciated.

Lucifer slid his other hand to the back of Sam's neck, and—

Sam woke up.

To be precise, he was jolted awake as Dean shook his shoulders. "Sam, wake the Hell up," he demanded, not quite yelling in Sam's face.

The younger brother groaned, closing his eyes again to block out the harsh motel light glaring at him from the ceiling.

"What is it?" Sam demanded with a groan.

"You…you were having a wet dream, man," Dean growled.

Sam's heart rate increased again, if that was even possible. "Okay," Sam replied noncommittally.

"You said a name," he continued.

"Oh," Sam replied. There was no further need to clarify. Every unspoken word hanging between them was well understood. They were both in perfect comprehension of the fact that Dean had just performed the most monumental cock-block in human history.

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Okay, that was more fun than it should have been. Hope you guys enjoyed!