"Your brother's right," Lucifer says. "You should be resting more. The trials are already putting too much strain on your body." Sam chuckles as Lucifer's grace runs through him, healing what he can. No matter how much progress he makes, the trials undo it and pull Sam apart further. He's worried about where this will lead, but if he can't convince Sam to give this up, then he can try to spare him a little pain.

"If you're agreeing with Dean, than it must be serious," Sam says. He's quiet for a moment, and softer, he asks, "It really is, huh? Some of this... even you can't fix it." Lucifer leans into Sam, cupping his face in his hands. He places a kiss against Sam's forehead.

"Finish the trials quickly, and I won't be working against them." Sam tilts his head up, and his lips are easy to press another kiss to. Easier still to move in closer and let Sam wrap his arms around his waist. Sam is laughing again. It's weaker than Lucifer would like, but at least he still laughs.

"This happens every time," he says, barely a centimeter from Lucifer's mouth.

"My grace misses being inside you," Lucifer says back.

"I'm not sure I have the energy for that."

"Don't worry. You rest there and let me do all the work." Lucifer grinds up against Sam, slotting his clothed cock against Sam. Sam clutches him close, arching against the wall Lucifer pushed him into to heal him. Lucifer quiets his moans as best he can, just in case Dean is a little too close and takes Sam's groans as an excuse to interrupt them. He doesn't let up on the pressure until Sam comes, slumping in Lucifer's hold and back into the wall.

"Damnit," he mumbles, "that's another pair of boxers ruined." Lucifer smiles.

Kevin promised she would go to sleep an hour ago. She's bad at keeping those promises. That's why Lucifer always checks on her.

It takes her a minute to realize he's standing behind her, only alerted by the movement of his shadow over her notes. She nearly jumps out of her seat, and he settles her by placing his hands on her shoulders. The weight of them seems to ground her. She rubs her tired eyes and then glares at her hand like it's a traitor. "You can't make me go to sleep," she mutters, knowing full well that he can and that he will happily knock her out if that's what it takes to keep her healthy. Lucifer rubs his thumb against her shoulder. Her posture is terrible, and it leaves them a knotted up mess.

"You're right," he says. Kevin eyes him suspiciously. "No, ignore me. I can't make you do anything." He gets down on his knees in front of her chair.

"Lucifer..."

"Go on. Keep working." Kevin, stubborn as ever, tries to, even as Lucifer works her dick out of her pants. He presses a kiss to the head to feel her shiver. When he swallows her down, she bites her lip so hard it has to hurt trying to keep herself quiet, and still he can hear her breath hitching. He licks around the head of her dick leisurely. He knows exactly how to work her up. When he holds onto her hips to take her into his throat, she bends over her notes with a gasp. There's something deeply satisfying about feeling how her hips have rounded out, helped along with her fuller diet and her hormones.

Kevin comes shaking, letting her head fall against the table and her crossed arms. Lucifer swallows and licks her until she's soft.

As he stands, he asks, "do you still want to stay up translating?" Kevin sighs.

"No."

It works every time.

Dean has to realize that Lucifer lets him shove him around, right?

"You gonna call uncle yet or what?" Dean's arm is around his neck, the rest of his body blanketing Lucifer's to keep him still. Lucifer isn't even uncomfortable. The more he gets to know Dean, the further in Lucifer's mind that he separates himself from Michael.

"No," Lucifer says to aggravate him. Dean growls in his ear, pulling his arm harder against Lucifer's throat. Lucifer could throw him off in a dozen different ways. He doesn't bother. Riling Dean up is more fun.

Purposefully, he pushes his ass back into Dean's crotch.

"Stop that," Dean snaps at him.

Lucifer does it again. Dean's the one who gets hard while wrestling him. Lucifer's just offering to help.

"Stop it," Dean hisses at him. He's holding Lucifer hard enough to choke him.

"Make me," Lucifer forces out around the obstruction. Dean reacts predictably, shoving his hips forward into Lucifer.

"Can't ever do as you're fucking told, can you?" Dean releases Lucifer's throat, pushing his face down against the mat they're wrestling on. Lucifer grins, and he wishes Dean could see it. It would make him get rougher. Dean drags his pants off with little regard for his comfort and soon after, his underwear disappears.

He really hopes for Benny's sake that Dean knows how to actually use lube. Not everyone is able to use their grace to ready themselves. Lucifer never prepares himself too much, though, always leaves himself a stretch to enjoy the burn of. Dean fucks him against the floor exactly like he wanted.

Somehow, he still doesn't seem to understand that Lucifer has won every single time they've wrestled.

"Do not tell Kevin about this," Linda orders before she lets Lucifer into her room.

"Never," Lucifer agrees. She's as much his as anyone else in the Bunker, and she needs attention. Linda wears sensible underwear, and Lucifer noses down her belly lick over the fabric until she pushes his head away, amused.

"I don't feel like making a mess of these." On his knees, Lucifer satisfies himself with kissing along her stretchmarks until she's kicked her underwear off to the side, and he's finally allowed to dive between her thighs. He likes the way her legs snap closed around his head in surprise, unable to keep him from sucking on her clit. She flushes easily, and when she realizes he doesn't need to breathe, she keeps him down there as long as she wants. Lucifer wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

When she finally lets him go, he leans back, showing the mess he's eagerly made. She's trying to catch her breath, skin hot from her chest to her cheeks. "I hope," she pauses to swallow, "you don't think you're finished."

Lucifer licks his lips. "What do you want next?" Linda looks down at his hard cock. He doesn't need any more prompting to crawl into the bed on top of her and fuck her until she's truly satisfied.

"Not sure if this is a good idea," Benny says warily. There's hunger in his eyes, well-restrained.

"We could always ask Castiel to be our guinea pig," Lucifer offers, looking down the doorway from the kitchen.

"Like he'd agree."

"He might, if you ask nicely." From the look on Benny's face, Lucifer knows asking Castiel is not, and never was, an option. Benny shakes his head.

"If this kills me-"

"It probably won't."

"How are you worse than Dean at reassuring people?"

"I was locked in a Cage for most of my existence. I don't have much experience socializing." When Benny nods, there's a kind of understanding behind it that Lucifer usually only finds in Sam, or, very rarely and usually only so late at night that he'll forget it by morning, Dean. None of them can really conceive of what the Cage was like, not for that long, but they try. They have all been trapped before. "Will you bite me?"

"Remember that you asked for it," Benny answers. Lucifer tips his head to the side, exposing his neck to be bitten. "And you're cleaning up the mess," Benny tells him before his sharp teeth slot over his human ones.

Benny's teeth in his throat hurt until he moans. He grips Benny's shoulder. Benny's teeth cut deeper into him, even as Benny's voice rumbles against his throat, "Something's wrong with you." Lucifer smiles around another moan.

"You aren't dead," he says. Benny is pulling more blood from his neck, drinking greedily. His restraint falters and doesn't come back as he realizes Lucifer can take whatever he deals out and walk away from it.

"You taste... I don't have any way to describe it." Lucifer wants more. He tugs on Benny and gets a sharper bite, deep enough to kill a human.

All it does to him is make him come in his pants.

Castiel comes to him.

He looks pale. "Lucifer," he manages, barely, and then again, in Enochian this time. Lucifer's name has changed shape over years of the language evolving, but he still knows what a little brother calling for help sounds like. He lets Castiel tuck himself into Lucifer's neck as Lucifer's wings, in a dimension none of the other residents of the Bunker could perceive, except maybe Kevin on a good day, spread over Castiel's own.

Heaven can't have him. He belongs to Lucifer.

Still, sometimes, the wrong light in his eyes, a blade left where it shouldn't be, a certain smell, will send Castiel spiraling, sure that the control over him broken by the angel tablet is back again.

And once he's caught in that belief, there's very little that can break him out.

Lucifer lets Castiel take refuge for as long as he needs, until he's calmed down. His grace goes from vibrating in panic to soothed by the caress of Lucifer's wings. It's only the first step. The second comes when Castiel pulls back.

"It's alright, little brother," Lucifer says. There's been enough pain for both of them, and if Castiel can trust Lucifer to be his brother, than Lucifer will treat him as one as much as he can.

"Naomi-"

"Can't touch you," he says, "not when I'm here." Castiel breathes slowly, a habit he's picked up from his vessel or maybe from Sam and Dean. Lucifer should know. He picked up the habit the same way.

"Yes," he finally says, "I know that. I..." He looks up at Lucifer, unable to ask in words. Lucifer answers him, pressing his mouth to Castiel's. It isn't a kiss, exactly, but it carries the comfort of one. Castiel's grace reaches for his, and he lets it in, welcoming the connection. They lose themselves in it for a while, vessels forgotten except for small movements. Castiel takes his hand and grips it tight at the same time that Lucifer coils around his grace and lets Castiel feel how much he's loved.

It's ecstasy beyond human comprehension, and it always ends too soon.

Castiel pulls away to tuck himself back into Lucifer's embrace. Lucifer feels exhausted, but his little brother feels safe with him and that's all that matters.

Charlie flops over the side of the couch and lands smack against him with a thud. Lucifer doesn't flinch. Charlie grunts in slight pain.

"You're pouting," Lucifer says without looking.

"I'm not pouting," Charlie pouts. He throws his arm back towards Lucifer. "I need you to heal this."

"Heal what?"

"My hand. It hurts."

"That doesn't seem life-threatening."

"You helped Kevin when he stubbed his toe the other day." Lucifer takes Charlie's hand in his. All he can feel is a cramp in his muscles, easily soothed with only a touch of Lucifer's grace. "You're a lifesaver," Charlie sighs in relief.

"What caused that?" Charlie snatches his hand back.

"Nothing."

"If you're going to be a hunter, you need to be better at lying." Charlie crosses his arms.

"You can't tell anyone. It's embarrassing."

"I promise." The amount of secrets Lucifer is trusted with could fill the whole Bunker at this rate. Charlie stretches his other hand back, pinky extended. Lucifer crosses it with his own.

"So, hormones are great," Charlie starts. "I feel amazing. My face gets kind of wispy sometimes and- I mean, you can hear my voice." Lucifer nods. "And... also I'm kind of always horny," he says quickly.

"You hurt your hand jerking off."

"I can hear you trying not to laugh!" Which makes Lucifer break and chuckle at him. "I'm stuck in second puberty, and you're making fun of me!"

"If you want my help, you could ask." Charlie goes quiet.

"You know I'm not-"

"I know."

"...so, it would..."

"Be the same as using a toy to help yourself get off. But with fewer hand cramps."

"And we could do it right now?"

While Charlie can't finger himself for too long without his hand hurting, Lucifer doesn't have anything to hold him back. He's not sure what Charlie appreciates more, that he gets off enough to satisfy his libido or that Lucifer lets him fall asleep against him afterwards. He covers Charlie with his blanket and watches over him, listening intently in case anyone else in the Bunker needs him in the meantime.