Sam is on his knees, pressing butterfly kisses to the bottom of Jess's stomach. She laughs. "Sam, baby, that tickles! It- Stop!" She draws it out into a whine that becomes another giggle when he kisses her again. "Jesus," she breathes, and he looks up to meet her eyes, widening his with faux innocence. She smirks. "Put that mouth of yours to better use," she orders, and Sam bows his head to comply.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and it's mostly a joke until he's parting her legs and she slides a hand into his hair.

"Oh, I like that," she murmurs, and Sam's cock gets harder. He licks his lips and kisses her through the fabric of her panties. They were a light blue, but she's soaked them a darker shade. He can taste her when he runs his tongue over them. She rocks up towards his mouth. He traces the outline of her labia with his tongue, presses in where he knows her clit is until he can feel the little nub of it. Jess runs her fingers through his hair and lets him play, sighing with pleasure, getting even wetter for him, until he can't tease either of them any longer.

He pulls her panties down, and Jess hooks them around one ankle and kicks until they've gone flying into some corner of the room, to be forgotten about until morning. She settles again, and Sam sucks a hickey on the inside of her thigh while he takes in the pretty, pink sight of her. She's framed by soft blonde hair, where Sam can press his nose in and always smell the lingering scent of her arousal. He runs his fingers through it now, over Jess's pubic mound. The fingers in his hair retreat a moment, and she leans back on one hand, idly thumbing her nipple with the other, her eyes closed. Sam takes the opportunity to bend his head and lick up her folds. Jess's hips jolt forward against his mouth, but he puts his hands on her thighs and keeps her still.

"Fuck, Sam," she says, and there's still the echo of a laugh in it. She strains to move under his hands, but they both know he's stronger than her. That doesn't make him the one in control here, though. Not at all. "Come on, lick me open, baby. You don't get to fuck me till I'm nice and relaxed from coming."

"How many times?" he asks. Jess bites her lip.

"For me to know, and you to find out. Get to it." Sam wants to press a hand against himself for some kind of relief, but he absolutely won't come before Jess tells him he can. Right now he's just got to focus on that tight heat, the squeeze of her around his tongue, the slick- He can feel himself getting wet, too, and he takes a deep breath, trying to focus.

Sam has never been able to pinpoint how Jess tastes. It's not sweet, but it's strong and he loves it. He would eat her out for days if that was a possibility, make her come until she's begging him to stop, never getting tired of the taste of her. He slides his tongue up over her pussy again, letting the tip of it press against her hole without going any further in. She's so soft and hot under his tongue. The rest of him feels a little cold, but he doesn't notice, not with her wetness sliding over his mouth and down his chin. He uses his fingers to pull the hood of her clitoris back, just a little, enough that he can purse his lips and kiss the nub. Jess moans, rubbing herself against his mouth with little circles of her hips. He catches her thighs before they clench around him again, letting her clitoris try and hide back under its hood, but now, all swollen for his attention as it is, it pokes out a little. He leans forward and flicks it with his tongue.

Jess moans again, and he keeps his tongue out for her to grind against. He can hear her saying his name, cut in with curses and pet names and the occasional "Oh, god," that lets him know he's doing exactly what she wants. He purses his lips and kisses her clit again, barely sucking on it. His hold on her thighs must falter because they jump, pressing closer to his head. He pushes her legs apart again. Her skin is strangely cold the farther from her core he touches her. The same temperature as the room. Sam shivers.

"Sam, please," Jess begs, and he ducks his head again to lap at her clit, more direct pressure now as he drives her higher and higher. All he can hear are her moans and the wet sounds of his tongue and the shift of her hand in the sheets. The other one comes back to his hair, carding through it twice before settling on the back of his head possessively. He brings one hand to her pussy to give her clit all the attention it needs, thumb rubbing up and down, as he teases her hole again. He dutifully licks up all the slickness of her, though the end of the bed is already stained with wet spots from where she's dripped all over it.

"Sam," she says, softly, and there's something different in the tone that he can't quite place. It sounds good. It makes him give in and touch himself for some relief. "Sam," she says again, like he's perfect. Sam swirls his tongue around her opening until she moans again, louder, her fingers clenching in his hair. She's getting close.

"Good," she says, and her voice seems lower now, sweeter, but just as familiar. His spine lights up with pleasure at the words, and he goes back to her clit, licking until she's gasping and twitching up into him. "Ah, Sam," she says, her voice wrecked, "keep going. Good boy. Prove that you were made for me."

Those words should scare Sam more than they do.

He sucks on her clit again. He pushes one finger inside her, an inch, maybe two, rubbing at her entrance and giving her something to clench down on. She moans. Her fingers clench against his scalp for a moment, as cold as the rest of her. Her moans are ringing with higher-pitched notes, on the very edge of human hearing. Her thighs clamp around his head, keeping him still, but he can feel something soft brushing against his bare back, hear a flapping noise that he's only ever heard around Cas before.

Lucifer moans his name, and Sam makes her come.

He doesn't even get to enjoy it, not really. He jolts awake, his heart beating too fast, his cock throbbing in his boxers and demanding attention. He breathes in and out, once, twice, trying to get his bearings. It takes him a long minute to realize that the dream was too fuzzy around the edges for it to have been the real Lucifer. She brought clarity into Sam's dreams, made them feel more like walk-in tours of Sam's subconscious. It had something to do with consent, but Sam rubbed his hand over his face and didn't care right now. It hadn't been Lucifer invading his sex dream, which made the fantasy his and his alone.

It had felt vivid enough that he's surprised when he wipes at his face and finds it dry, save a little drool at the corner of his mouth. He can still feel Jess's, or Lucifer's, thighs clamped around his head, her fingers in his hair, the gentle coax of her voice. Good boy, circles around his head, and his cock twitches again. He reaches down. Good boy, Sam, he replays in his head, and it's Jess's voice, it's Lucifer's voice, and some of the sound dips even lower, into the register of the other vessel she'd come to Sam in, the blonde man. Sam rubs his cock to the sound of it, his other arm thrown over his face. It takes him less than a minute to come all over his hand, and the Lucifer in his head tells him how good that makes him, how pleased she is.

For a few blissful moments, Sam's orgasm empties everything out of him except pleasure.

Predictably, the guilt rushes in soon after.