Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-18 21:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !trigger warning, lucifer morningstar, samandriel |
Who: Samandriel & Lucifer
What: Samandriel goes out for a late night run, things get a bit uncomfortable and he ends up sprinting it to Lucifer's where he drops the angel bomb on his boyfriend.
When: Saturday 17 August
Where: Lucifer's
Rating: High, explicit interaction between an adult and someone 4 months shy of legal.
Status: Complete
Samandriel had been out for a run. It was cooler at night and he was enjoying the weather. Normally, it was fine. That night, it wasn’t. It was fortunate that he was a good runner and that Lucifer’s wasn’t far from where he ended up. So he ran there, wondering if whoever was chasing him was going to give up as he sprinted up the drive to the front door and pounded on it as hard as he could.
Not even a few seconds later, Lucifer was at the door, opening it with an expression of vague annoyance --it was late, and he was not expecting company. That look melted quickly into one of surprise at the sight of who it was he was greeting on his doorstep.
"Samandriel? What are you possibly doing out here at this time of night?"
“Running,” Samandriel gasped in case that wasn’t obvious considering how sweaty he was and how little clothing he was wearing. “Being chased. May I come in?”
Lucifer rose a brow, but stepped aside to let Samandriel in and only perpetuated the motion by leading him further inward with a hand on his shoulder.
Not able to sate his curiosity with that alone, he stepped further outside, and gazed into the half lit darkness. "Chased?" He saw nothing out of the norm, but Samandriel was not a liar. "Are you alright?"
Samandriel nodded, bent over to catch his breath properly. “Just sprinted the last mile and change.” He looked up at Lucifer over his shoulder. “Thank you.” He wanted to sit and rest, but he felt so gross. A shower would be better. A shower and then he could just sit on Lucifer’s fancy furniture and recover.
Lucifer didn't look convinced, but he closed the door behind them and secured both top and bottom locks before resetting his alarm system.
Observing Samandriel for a short moment, Lucifer chewed his bottom lip. "Do you feel the need to call the police about this?"
“No,” Samandriel said. “I wouldn’t have much to give them. It’s dark. There were three of them.” Finally, he caught his breath and straightened up. “I’d like a shower.”
Lucifer still had a look of vague curiosity on, but shook his head a little as if to clear his thoughts, and then turned cool eyes toward the boy. Well, now that he had him here, he supposed. It hadn't been in his plans for the night, nor had it been the way he'd next wanted to see Samandriel, but there was something to be said about spontaneity, he supposed.
"A shower," he repeated, and then gave a half a nod. "Yes. You do. I can arrange that. Come on, upstairs." His home had exactly two and a half bathrooms -- the half downstairs, one upstairs by itself and the last one attached to the master bedroom.
He led Samandriel, quite intentionally, into the one through his room.
Samandriel took off his toe shoes and followed Lucifer upstairs. “Thank you,” he said, forcing himself to ignore the bed for now, the lingering smell of Lucifer in the room. He got to the bathroom and wasted absolutely no time in getting out of his t-shirt and tight shorts. What? Lucifer had seen him naked already. He could see him like this even though his muscles were still twitchy from all the adrenaline. Whatever had been after him spooked Samandriel hard.
If Lucifer minded Samandriel just going for naked (and why would he?), he didn't let on to it, instead he moved toward the bath to turn the water on. It was the sort of bathtub that was overly large, and had glass doors in lieu of a curtain.
He turned it up hotter than it needed to be, because Samandriel was still so twitchy looking. This would help his muscles relax some, and hopefully get him into proper mental order. "Use whatever soap you need in there," he said, standing too close to Samandriel, head tilted downward until his lips nearly touched the boy's forehead. "I'll see if I can't find you something to wear in the mean time."
Samandriel nodded, and was glad for Lucifer. He stepped into the shower and scrubbed himself down as thoroughly as he could, let the heat work through him. When he was finished, he stepped out and toweled off, not sure what to do with himself now. He wanted this to be okay. He also really didn’t want to go back to his empty house.
“Lucifer?” he asked, towel wrapped around him as he looked curiously around. He could stay naked, he just needed Lucifer there.
"You didn't take much time at all." Lucifer's voice trailed in from just the other room, and then the older man appeared in the doorway looking amused. "You should have enjoyed it more, it would have done you good."
Naked would have suited Lucifer just fine, but it seemed too easy. He didn't want to take advantage of Samandriel's nerves. And honestly, he didn't have to. In a way, the boy was already his, pushing sex on him after a time of fear was hardly something Lucifer found appealing. Well. Not exactly, anyway.
"Here." He offered a white button up shirt that would be entirely too large on Samandriel, and a pair of boxers, if only because there was absolutely no way the younger man would fit into any of his slacks.
Samandriel put the boxers on and shrugged into the shirt but didn’t button it. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he confessed quietly. He just wanted to curl up with Lucifer and work on feeling safe. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, brows tipped inward as he looked up at him.
Lucifer rather liked the way the shirt looked on Samandriel -- too big, a little cute. Oddly appealing. He motioned the boy closer with a nod of his head. "Where are your parents?" It felt a little wrong asking that, because these were the kinds of questions that made it so obvious what their age differences were -- but it was one he had to ask all the same.
“Father’s in Iowa on his book tour and Mother’s in New York on business,” he answered, walking to Lucifer within touching distance but not presuming to take wasn’t offered.
He closed the gap between them himself, long fingers brushing through Sam's wet hair, half soothing, half combing it. "I see. Well, I certainly wouldn't make you leave, if you wanted to stay." Which he did, since he'd asked.
Samandriel closed his eyes and leaned forward into the touch. His arms slipping around Lucifer’s waist. He needed this. “Thank you,” he said again. It was all he could come up with, all that made sense. Thank Lucifer, love him, make him proud. His fingers curled at Lucifer’s waist to try to make sure he didn’t go running off somehow.
"It's fine," he said, and leaned down a little to press an easy kiss onto Samandriel's forehead. "Out of the bathroom now, yeah? I was making tea when you came pounding. Would you like some?"
“No, thank you,” Samandriel said, pulling away so that Lucifer could move if he wanted to. He walked into the bedroom and sat down on the end of the bed just to perhaps find himself something close to balance again.
“I’m sorry.” Even Samandriel didn’t know why he was apologising.
"Why?" Lucifer quirked a brow, and looked vaguely amused for the apology, but sat down on the bed next to the younger man -- directly next to him, so that they were still practically touching at the hip and shoulder.
“For coming unexpectedly?” Samandriel said, deciding that it seemed like the most reasonable thing to apologise for. “For tearing you away from whatever it was you planned on doing and just...needing to curl up into a ball with you?” It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense, but Lucifer was there and safe and Samandriel was pretty sure he belonged to him already.
He fiddled absently with the cuff of the shirt he was wearing, like maybe he was already wrapped up in Lucifer and safe. “For wanting you to kiss me and tell me I’m safe and that everything’s okay.” The last bit was the softest. He was least sorry for that, but he didn’t know how welcome things would be with everything else he’d just done wrong.
"None of those things are something to be sorry for, Samandriel." Lucifer laid back on the bed, knees still hanging off the side, so it didn't completely count as being in bed, not really. He tugged at the sleeve of Samandriel's borrowed shirt, in a silent invitation for him to do the same.
"You should never have to feel unsafe, you must realize. Interrupting tea making is no crime. I'd prefer you'd knocked than didn't." He gazed up at the ceiling for a time, musing. "You shouldn't apologize so lightly. Save them for when they matter, and they tend to mean more."
Samandriel did, in fact, curl up with Lucifer, draping one arm across his chest and tucking his legs up so they were fully on the bed while he rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Yes, Lucifer,” he said softly, working really hard not to say sir still. He was getting better at it, but he really wished the other man would just let him say it.
He pressed his nose to Lucifer’s chest, relaxing gradually into how comfortable this was, how comfortable he was. His hormones seemed to have another plan altogether, but with his legs as they were and the shirt draped as it was, maybe he could ignore that safely for a while longer. “I dream about this sometimes,” he said, deciding a subject change was the best option.
It was easy to slip one arm underneath Samandriel, to hug him closer to his chest and settle his hand into that still damp hair. It was a bit like he was meant to fit so well. Except that Lucifer believed in neither fate or luck, and just preferred to enjoy things because they simply were, or because he had made them happen.
"Tell me about that."
Samandriel settled closer, found his head properly on Lucifer’s chest, his own pressed to the other man’s side.
He spoke in a quiet tone barely above a whisper about his dreams, laying just like this with Lucifer listening to his heart beat. In his dreams, they were naked already, and he could feel the coarse rub of Lucifer’s chest hair on his cheek. That was when he started blushing. He didn’t think he’d stop any time soon.
They were on a bed there too, kind of like this one only it was floating and the moon and stars in the cloudless sky were reflected in the water all around them. “You kiss me,” he said softly. “You tease me with all these soft touches and tell me that if I’m a good boy you’ll make me so beautiful that the stars’ll be jealous.” Which was silly and romantic for talking about inanimate balls of burning gas that were probably already dead.
“And...” he trailed off. Articulating what he dreamt being with Lucifer was like wasn’t at all on his list of things to do, but he supposed since he got himself into this he should finish it. “And you have me, eventually, telling me how good I am, how you can’t think of a situation in which I’d ever really disappoint you.”
The dreams described are romanticized of course -- Lucifer wouldn't have expected much else from someone Samandriel's age (realism didn't tend to settle in properly until the mid twenties, at least from Lucifer's experience). At the same time though, Lucifer couldn't help but be a little in love with the descriptions, a little amused and heartened. They were just so Samandriel, which was a tad weird, because he didn't really know the boy that well. But there it was. Adorable, earnest, honest and just a little shy.
He approved, of course. And who knew? Maybe the stars would be jealous; Samandriel was like a little shining ball of light and goodness, some sort of beacon that stood out, even when he was wearing a stupid orange hat and working in a mall food court. Stranger things.
"Is that a dream, Samandriel, or a fantasy?" There's a difference.
“Both, now,” Samandriel said softly, trying to hide his face in Lucifer’s chest. “I’ve always had very vivid dreams and I prefer this one to the ones where I’m running through school naked and I can feel the tile on my feet and...” He shook his head. “Beds aren’t very buoyant and the leverage needed to actually have sex on a floating bed would be nigh on impossible to manage.” Samandriel shrugged and pulled away from Lucifer but only to hide himself more by scooting higher up the bed.
“Besides, nobody likes waking up needing to wash their shorts again.” Samandriel could tell you what the very air tasted like in his dreams, the ones he remembered at least. When he did remember, it was always with disturbing detail and accuracy. He wanted an actual pillow. Lucifer made it clear last time that he wanted a little bit of space between them and so Samandriel would oblige for as long as Lucifer wanted. The pillow smelled too much like Lucifer. He was going to wake up a mess again, maybe more than once. Perhaps he should ask if Lucifer had a guest room, but he still didn’t want to be alone.
Lucifer actually laughed at that -- not at Samandriel really, just at the logic and the situation and the honesty of it all. "You're a precious thing, you know," he told the boy, who was currently squirming just a little too much for Lucifer to be really comfortable. But maybe that was good, because it kept him distracted. The last thing he really needed was to have a hard on while thinking about floating beds and leverage during sex.
"We'll work on it. Your bucket list of fantasies. But in a more realistic sense." Maybe a water bed. Those still had to exist, right? They hadn't all died out after the nineties ended, surely. Still, there was a promise to his tone, and Lucifer was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them.
Settled up properly on the bed, Samandriel considered things. “I think the dream’s more about being alone and bare with you, free to do whatever and not actually bed raft sex,” he reasoned. Lucifer’s boxers were too big on him. Samandriel was profoundly grateful for that.
“I’m new to the whole fantasies thing. There aren’t very many yet.” He looked to where Lucifer still was down on the part of the bed that really couldn’t be considered in bed. Lucifer was what he wanted. Everything else could stem from there. “If uh...” Samandriel cleared his throat and looked at the weft and weave of the threads in the fabric he was laying on instead of Lucifer. “If anything happens tonight, I just want you to know that I’m consenting to it now before I’m completely out of my mind with hormones so...so maybe you can’t feel too bad about corrupting the youth tonight.”
Tilting his head back in order to look at Samandriel, who had managed somehow to wiggle all the way up the bed to find a real pillow (not hard to do, there were a lot of them. Lucifer was a fan of hedonism), Lucifer quirked a brow.
"Oh, permission. That's very kind of you to say," mostly he was teasing. He was well aware that Samandriel was both interested, and the only real advantage he'd be taking of the boy was the fact that he wasn't technically legal.
Which, okay, that was actually a lot of advantage being taken as far as the law was concerned. But it wasn't something Lucifer was really thinking on too hard. Not in his own home, anyway.
"I will certainly keep that in mind."
Samandriel felt dumb. It was a thing he felt more often than he cared to admit, but only because it was hard not to be aware of how much he didn’t know as compared to what he did. He was smart. He’d never be smart enough.
He looked down at his hand on the clean sheets and focused on fingers and cloth instead of how spooked he still was and how badly he needed to distract himself from that. He was very possibly nearly a hate crime statistic, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to think about that. “You should tell me where you’d like me to sleep tonight, sir.” That sir was deliberate, calculated to communicate what? Distance? He wasn’t quite sure. It was a change of subject without entirely being one. He wanted to know where he stood. He wanted to be good.
He wanted Lucifer touching him and holding him and for his dreams to end up with far more vivid detail than they had already. He wanted to count his...whatever Lucifer was, he wanted to count his freckles, to map them one by one. “If it’s not here. I’m...trying really hard not to push you into something you don’t want right now either.”
"Lucifer," he corrected it automatically, but there wasn't a lot of emphatic feeling behind it. It was just something he knew he needed to point out, yet. Samandriel might have thought he was ready for that 'sir', but he wasn't. Not really. Not yet.
He sat up, twisting on top of the bed and leaning on one hand to really gaze at Samandriel, to give him a thoughtful, calculating look. "You didn't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be alone. You'll be here, sleeping with me. Samandriel. If I didn't want you, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have known where my door was to even knock on in a time of need if I didn't want you to."
He paused, tilting his head slightly to the side. "And I should make it clear now, perfectly clear, that I am not the sort to be pushed into anything. I am giving us both time to adjust to being around each other, because I am interested in more than just your body. Does this make sense to you?"
Samandriel nodded. "Yes, Lucifer," he said, feeling very much put in his place. He stayed where he was half curled up in too big clothes.
"I just...the idea of being sexually interested in anyone at all is new for me and I don't want my eagerness to learn as much as I can about this new part of me to put you off or...something." Samandriel lifted his head to look at Lucifer. "Being seventeen and full of hormones and things I don't practically understand only gets me so far."
"Being inquisitive is never a bad thing," Lucifer agreed, and rather felt for the boy in that regard. Being overly hormonal wasn't exactly a good time, as far as he recalled. It felt like forever ago, though, and he was quite distant from it. His sympathies only went so far, but Samandriel was getting more of them than most already would - although, really, the boy had no way of knowing that.
"Come here."
Samandriel sat up to scoot over to sit by Lucifer. He looked into those too blue eyes. Intellectually, he knew what was happening, but that helped nothing at all in the practice of dealing with it.
“I just want to be good for you,” he said softly, earnestly. Good was more than just well-behaved. Samandriel wanted to be Good, more Good than he had ever thought he was capable of being. He wanted to actually live up to being his mother and Abigail’s little angel, only he wanted to do it for Lucifer. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him, but that hardly mattered.
"And you will be," Lucifer sounded very sure of it, as if he'd see to that himself, and in reality Samandriel had little choice in the matter.
Samandriel was already good though. Honest and eager to please in ways that so few people were, particularly people his age (not that Lucifer normally was looking at people that age).
And then, because he really didn't want to help himself anymore, he pulled the boy closer and kissed him.
Lucifer’s kisses were things that Samandriel ached for even while he was being given them. He still needed one hand to keep himself vertical, but the other rested lightly on the other man’s chest, wanting to hold onto fabric and pull him tight in and keep this going to the conclusion he wanted from it. He liked the certainty in Lucifer’s voice, like the man already knew that there was no way Samandriel would fail him.
Samandriel kissed like it was an art he'd already practiced with -- and for a moment, Lucifer found himself nearly jealous, oddly possessive, and he knew it was silly because past experiences weren't something that he should feel strangely about. But there it was, anyway, and it made him settle his hand onto his cheek, kissing Samandriel a little harder, a little more intensely, like he was trying to wipe that slate clean and imprint only himself into the boy.
It seemed that Lucifer knew exactly how to get those quiet little needy sounds out of Samandriel, like he’d been doing it forever and would continue to do it just as long. He gasped, but that only made the kiss more intense. He moaned and surrendered to it instead, the arm carrying most of his weight threatening to give out on him not because he didn’t have the strength, but because he’d lost the will to stay leaning. His hand moved from Lucifer’s chest to the other man’s hand, guiding it down to the line in borrowed boxers.
“This is your fault,” he said heavily against those lips, “constantly.” Maybe that would impart enough understanding. Samandriel’s hormones seemed to have delayed themselves actually having Urges until this man, and now he could think of nothing else.
"My fault, is it?" Lucifer seemed more than bemused by that, even as he pressed his hand a little more firmly against that line of erection -- the boxers weren't all that thick in material and Samandriel would more than easily note even the tiniest of strokes that Lucifer gifted him with. "That's very flattering, Samandriel, but it's your body to control." Still, there was something in his tone that nearly implied "for now".
Samandriel turned redder than he had been before. He bit his lower lip and pulled back enough to look at Lucifer’s hand there, just to confirm that it was really happening. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the case, Lucifer,” he said softly, lifting his gaze up to the other man. “It feels like you do...or at least thoughts of you do. Like every so often you’ll wander into my head and have to assert your claim that this is yours and I don’t even get to get hard thinking about anything but you.”
Lucifer let out a little snort at that and smiled a little lopsidedly. "Mm. Is that so? I think even your mental image of me holds some amount of credibility." His thumb stroked against Sam's cock, but Lucifer did not remove his gaze from the boy's face.
Samandriel’s breathing got shallow while Lucifer touched him, hips moving just a bit up into that hand only as much as he dared. Admittedly, it wasn’t much. “I want to be yours,” he said softly, half lost in those blue eyes he loved so much.
His fingers curled around erection and fabric both, and Lucifer tightened his grip there -- a stronger stroke.
"You're in my house, in my bed and in my clothing, little one. Do you really think you're not mine already?"
Samandriel whimpered, a sound that caught in his throat but eventually worked its way out in entirety. “Then why not have what’s yours already, Lucifer,” he asked, but it was less question and more plea. He wanted this so badly, couldn’t Lucifer tell? And Lucifer’s name? Samandriel made it sound like the most potent honorific in the world, like Lucifer was more than any king in history had ever been, perhaps even greater than God if Samandriel believed in such things. There was too much science for those kinds of things to be true, though.
Licking his lips, Lucifer considered the question, the way Samandriel said his name like there was nothing more important in existence. With his free hand, he cupped the boys' cheek with his palm, pet his jaw line with the pad of his thumb.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Samandriel?"
Samandriel closed his eyes, basking in that touch while he considered so much. He didn’t think ‘fuck’ was an appropriate word for what he wanted from Lucifer, but it got the general idea across.
“No,” he said, lifting his gaze and his head to meet Lucifer’s. He stretched his neck to try to get the other man’s hand lower, perhaps down onto his throat. “I want you to own me inside and out.” What? Abigail had dropped the word ‘subs’ and so naturally, Samandriel had done as much research as humanly possible and decided that it was the most accurate description ever.
It really was the most accurate description ever. Then again, Lucifer had already known this -- it was obvious. Around him, at least, Samandriel wore that title on his sleeve. Right next to his heart.
The answer still made Lucifer smile though. It was good that Samandriel was clearly aware, it made things -- easier, in some regard.
"Good," he said in approval, but did not offer any more than that in words, or any more than he was already giving in touch.
Samandriel was certain he wasn’t going to get any more than what he was already, but he was working very hard at being grateful and not pushing.
“Please,” he said softly, holding that gaze and feeling so, so bare. One word couldn’t hurt him, not when that one word was polite and if he was still denied, he would stop asking for the time being. He hoped.
"Samandriel." Lucifer didn't do either of them a solid by pulling his hands away from the boy completely, but he did it anyway, settling them in his own lap and folding them there as if he had infinite patience. In this regard, he did. "Do you know what you're asking for? Really know? Because the internet makes it look amazing and sexy, and just wonderful, doesn't it? And it can be. It would be. But that's not all of it. Do you really know what you're asking for?"
Samandriel closed his eyes and sat properly, allowing them both to have the space to communicate. “What I’m asking for depends solely on what you decide to give me,” he said after a moment, “what I’ve earned in your eyes.” He appreciated the care Lucifer was giving him, but that wasn’t something he could say properly.
“I don’t know what I’m asking for, because you haven’t shown me what you’d like, but if whatever it is means obeying you in every aspect of my life above even my parents then I’m prepared for that. If it means quitting Jamba or anything else, then I’ll give you that too. If you decide that I’ll never hold a brush or a bow again, then I won’t and if you decide it pleases you to beat weals into my skin or to take a knife and carve things into my flesh, then I am yours to do that with.”
He looked over at Lucifer again. “On the surface, the internet makes it look amazing and sexy and wonderful, yes, but if you look deeper there’s a lot more commitment and challenge to it. There is trust and sacrifice and communication. For you, I’m willing. I’m not an idiot, Lucifer. You wouldn’t have me here if you thought I was dumb enough not to drown myself in research before I even brought it up.”
Samandriel got up and walked to the side of the bed closest to where Lucifer was and knelt, looking not down at his knees because he didn’t think Lucifer wanted that, but up at the man. “This is me, laying myself out on a platter for you, willing to learn for you.”
Nearly overwhelmed, Lucifer had to close his eyes for a moment because Samandriel was just so ridiculously perfect and lovely. Because the boy was smart and clever, and entirely too good with words for someone his age.
Entirely too good in general.
He had a very distinct urge to pat himself on the back for being able to spot a boy like this in a crowd of mundane others. The urge to ruin something so lovely also came to mind, but he quashed that thought back down from where it'd come because he was a large believer in timing and proper pacing.
When he opened his eyes, Samandriel was still there, staring back at him.
He got it. That was what mattered. And because he got it, Lucifer gave in a little, himself. Just a little.
"Remove your boxers," he told the boy, tone remarkably steady, considering the gift he'd just been bestowed.
Samandriel could feel his insides fluttering again, but he nodded and said, “Yes, Lucifer,” as he stood and slipped easily out of slightly too large shorts. He stayed standing because Lucifer might have more he wanted out of him from that and because he thought that the image he presented, near drowning in Lucifer’s shirt all hard and wanting, was rather appealing. He hoped it was. He hadn’t thought himself as desirable at all before Lucifer.
It was appealing, but then, Lucifer had always found the boy appealing -- even in that stupid orange hat that he wore for work, which was more than ridiculous, but hell, even he wasn't perfect. "Back on your knees," he murmured, tone velvet.
Samandriel obeyed without question or hesitation, sinking gracefully to his knees as though he knew of no other way to move. He looked up at Lucifer, hands resting lightly on his thighs and the whole world revolved around the other man. “Will you tell me how I should refer to you in my head?” he asked, because he wanted a title or label or something. Actually, he needed it. His mind worked far better when he could organize things properly.
Watching the boy, Lucifer looked bemused at the question. Although probably he shouldn't have -- the boy struggled enough with calling him by his given name.
He knew the names a lot of dominant men liked being called in situations like these. Boyfriend clearly wouldn't do. Daddy was right out, Lucifer felt poorly enough already at the boys' age and didn't need a reminder. Owner was ridiculous on levels Lucifer found laughable.
"I prefer Lucifer," he told the boy, leaning forward a little to brush some hair out of the boys' face. "But you're looking for a title. You seem to like sir, very much, considering you say it enough. Use that."
Samandriel closed his eyes with that light brush of contact. “Thank you, Lucifer.” That wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, more what he should be introducing his...Lucifer to people as. Assuming he actually did introduce Lucifer to anyone. One day, perhaps. Hopefully.
Hey, he'd said in his head, not in public. In public, Lucifer would be certain to make sure that he was called anything that carried a more normal meaning. Boyfriend, partner, that hot guy I'm dating. Whatever.
Then again, that wouldn't be for a while yet, because Samandriel was young, and this wasn't going to be made properly public until later on.
"Is that what you wanted?" He paused, shaking his head because he knew that Samandriel would tell him if that's what Lucifer wanted, that was what he wanted. "I want you to have an opinion. Know that. You're intelligent, and there's no reason we should pretend otherwise."
All this talking when Samandriel was still so hard and mostly naked...yeah, not helping anything. His fingers curled against his thighs while he tried to remain at least a little in control of his own dick.
Frankly, he was just glad that Lucifer hadn’t gone for ‘Master’ or something equally arcane. He opened his eyes and smirked just a little at the edge of his mouth for the other man. “Yes, sir.”
That smirk was nearly too much to handle. Samandriel did cute well, adorable, endearing. But there it was -- the boy could manage sexy, too. Lucifer shouldn't have already been plotting for more of exactly that, but there it was.
"Close your eyes," he told the younger man, stroking his cheek one more time. "And touch yourself for me."
What Samandriel wanted was for Lucifer to touch him, to not have to wait any longer for contact on his dick that wasn’t either his own hand or all too light and brief through fabric. Still, Samandriel obeyed. His eyes fell shut and fingers curled lightly around his cock. His lips were slightly parted while he let his imagination run wild for all the things that he wanted Lucifer to be doing to him instead.
Truth be told, Lucifer rather wanted to touch the boy as well. Really wanted to, actually. It was hard to actually sit still with Samandriel in front of him. But sometimes, it wasn't about that. And it most certainly wasn't about what Samandriel wanted at the moment. It was about what he was being given and allowed.
"Don't close your mouth," he told the boy. "Keep it exactly as it is now."
And of course, the first thing Samandriel wanted to do after being told not to do something was to do it. Still, keeping his mouth exactly as it was meant he wasn’t going to be able to speak so he’d just have to show Lucifer that he could listen and be good instead. It was effort as his hand gradually sped up, the other one moving to balance himself just enough on the box spring.
A small furrow formed between his brows while he worked over himself, quiet sounds of pleasure and strain joining it. Keeping his mouth just like that was not easy in the slightest bit, but Samandriel always did enjoy a challenge.
It might have been just a little command, but Lucifer was well aware that it wasn't actually easy. Keeping his mouth open not only meant no talking, but it also meant it would be harder for the boy to actively swallow. It took concentration. Concentration that he might have otherwise put into jerking himself off.
Lucifer leaned back over, stroking Samandriel's neck with a light touch before moving his hand up to run his thumb against those open lips. "Good. You're being very good. Slow your hand down some. You aren't allowed to come, yet."
Samandriel figured out how to swallow, but briefly forgot how to breathe when Lucifer came. It took far too much effort to think through things, to keep his mouth where it was and slow his hand down without acknowledging the order. Eyes still closed and lips still parted, he tipped his head up into that touch so Lucifer could see him better. It was the most languid wank he’d ever had in his life, not that he’d had too many before this but still. The slower movement of his arm made him acutely aware of the muscles not only in his forearms and biceps, but where they connected in his shoulder and across his back.
"Perfect," he told Samandriel, and quite meant it. For a while, he just let the boy continue just as he'd been -- it was a little cruel, he knew, to make a boy who admitted to not being able to control himself all that well yet go slowly and keep himself at the edge. But it wasn't nearly as cruel as Lucifer would be later on. It was like a very slow crawl down a very steep hill. Eventually, Samandriel might appreciate it.
Or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes.
He bent over and kissed the boy then, licking lips that had gone a bit dry and biting easily into that too red skin.
It took too much to keep from kissing back, and Samandriel had to pause in his teasing of himself just for a heartbeat to regain focus. He started up again almost immediately. He was being kissed, and he wanted to reach up to touch Lucifer, to give in utterly. He didn’t. Samandriel hadn’t been told he could move his lips yet, and the whine in the back of his throat was far more high pitched than he’d expected almost near protest.
Whatever it was, whatever they were, Samandriel was discovering very quickly that he liked it a great deal.
Fuck, but he listened well. Lucifer was nearly surprised at just how well. After one more bite at the boys' lip, he leaned back a little and hummed out his approval. "Faster now."
He wasn't even sure how he was going to get his own erection to subside at this point, and that was a very distracting thought all on its' own.
Samandriel heard and obeyed, but he couldn’t keep his head up any longer. He bowed it just a little, eyes closed tighter and mouth still where it was. He wanted to lower his head more, but he didn’t want to end up in a position where Lucifer couldn’t see that he was still working hard at keeping his mouth as it was supposed to be.
That was getting significantly more difficult, and the word that worked so hard to come out of his mouth without moving his lips anything wanted to be ‘please’ but sounded closer to just another whine.
It was helping nothing at all that Samandriel could feel the slight amount of blood Lucifer had drawn when they kissed pooling on his lower lip, begging to be licked off. He was just hoping that however he was angled now wouldn't end up getting blood on his borrowed shirt.
Lucifer had zero fucks to give about his shirt. Zero.
He gave a little groan of a noise at Samandriel's pleading whine and had to tilt his head up to gaze at the ceiling for a second just to stop himself from doing anything he hadn't already been planning on.
"Stop," he said, after he looked back down at the boy. It was possibly both cruel and a relief for Samandriel. "Keep your eyes closed and your mouth opened and stand up."
Samandriel gave himself a second, just a second to orient his body. His leg had started to fall asleep with the way he’d been kneeling, but that didn’t stop him from standing awkwardly even if it took him a minute to manage it. He stood with his hands at his sides, head angled in the direction he thought Lucifer was.
The little bit of blood crept down his lower lip onto far too pale skin. Samandriel wanted to open his eyes, to reach out and touch Lucifer, but he held fast to his orders.
Lucifer reached out, fingers curling around the boys' shoulders and pulled him closer, close enough where he could tilt his head up and lick away the blood on his lips. Just the tiniest amount, really. But it tasted of soap and copper and just the faintest amount of sweat. "Very good," he murmured, and then turned his boy around completely, so that he was slotted between Lucifer's knees, slightly able to rest against the bed if he needed.
It was a good thing Lucifer turned him around, because his thighs against the mattress were pretty much the only thing holding him vertical. His fingers brushed the other man’s knees just by virtue of where they were. He wanted to do so much more, but he was quickly finding that he simply couldn’t keep his mouth open anymore.
It was with a great amount of focus (and knowing that Lucifer would be able to see his jaw and therefore if he was moving his mouth,) that Samandriel did his best to speak while keeping his lips still. “May I move my mouth, Lucifer?” he asked. He wanted to speak, to swallow and to wet his lips properly. He just hoped that he managed to make himself understood.
Lucifer held him closer yet, one arm wrapping around Samandriel's waist and staying there -- palm flat against his stomach -- and the other snaking past a slender hip in order to take hold of his cock.
"You may," he agreed, because he wasn't completely evil and also because he wanted the boy to get in the habit of knowing he could ask what he needed to, and very well might get it if he was behaved well enough.
Samandriel swallowed and licked his lips. “Thank you, Lucifer,” he said, glad to have his words back and to be able to say please and thank you properly. He leaned into that touch at his back as a means to not press into the hand wrapped around his cock. Samandriel turned his head to the side just enough so that Lucifer could see he was being good and keeping his eyes closed, but none of that stopped the desperate moan from working its way out of his throat. “Please, Lucifer. Please, I need you.”
Absently, Lucifer thought that perhaps he should be teaching Samandriel to actually ask for things that weren't just terribly vague. Now wasn't really the time though, there'd been enough trauma in the day.
Stroking the boys' erection with a sure, firm grip, he pressed kisses and small bites down his neck at the same time.
Lucifer’s touch brought all sorts of desires up in Samandriel, and with them, a certain level of incoherency. “Please,” he said again, stretching his neck so that Lucifer could bite and mark him where he pleased. “Please, I would very much like to come for you, sir.” Keeping his eyes closed and his hands at his side was even more difficult than making words. He could focus for now on the feel of Lucifer’s rough hands on his skin, one moving and the other present and solid on his stomach.
He did not slow the pacing of his hand, but did huff out a pleased little breath against Samandriel's neck, and then bit sharply at the curve of skin between neck and shoulder - that one would leave a bruise. "Would you? Then you have permission to do so."
Samandriel came hard partly onto his skin, Lucifer’s hand and then in a few places just forward of himself. On the floor maybe? His eyes were still closed and he couldn’t see. What he could hear though was his own crying out, his body shaking as he fell apart for Lucifer, leaning harder backwards because now his legs truly wouldn’t hold him up. He felt, more than heard, the other man’s name on his lips, forcing itself out of his lungs and throat. Praise in the highest.
"Good," Lucifer murmured, light and nearly gentle. "So good." He stroked at Samandriel's cock for a second or two more, and then pressed an easy kiss against his temple and guided him until they were facing again -- mostly holding up the boys' weight by balancing him between his knees. "Now look at me."
Samandriel opened his eyes finally to look at Lucifer. Nothing was more beautiful. Nothing and no one and he belonged to this man. His hands rested gently on Lucifer’s thighs, lost in his gaze. He could see forever there.
Which, really, was what Lucifer had been going for. He smiled, a genuinely pleased sort of thing and then pulled Samandriel closer yet into a kiss. A proper one this time.
Samandriel thought that since he’d been given permission to move his mouth, it included permission to kiss back, so he did slow and grateful. He loved Lucifer’s lips, how the other man could disarm him with a simple brush of skin that, when it came from him, wasn’t so simple at all.
“I’m an angel,” he heard himself whisper when the kiss broke.
"You are," Lucifer agreed, because it was a name that suited the boy just more properly than it should have. Of course, he didn't actually realize that Samandriel was being serious. How could he have?
“No,” Samandriel said softly. “I mean species, not pet name.” He pulled back to look at Lucifer, feeling like somehow, his dreams were making him betray the one who mattered.
Lucifer went from bemused to perplexed in nearly no time flat. He ran a thumb over Samandriel's cheek and then rose an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Samandriel closed his eyes, because it would hurt too much to look into Lucifer’s and see disbelief. When he opened them again, he was speaking to somewhere around the other man’s chest and not his face. He explained gently about the dreaming, speaking in hushed tones about things that no one really wanted to talk about but seemed to plague the whole county.
“I dreamt Creation. It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it and dream me was so excited. There were so many things going on and he just had to be a part of everything, to watch the sun break through the darkness and see everything come to life and run around in bare feet laughing and it was the absolute most beautiful sound. I couldn’t believe it was coming out of my own mouth.” Except he wasn’t sure it was coming out of his mouth so much as just radiating off of him. “Everywhere I ran, flowers grew. Trees and butterflies and all sorts of animals walking around for the first time taking in the whole world with newly made eyes.”
He was so excited talking about it, full up with so much joy just thinking about the pleasure his dream life experienced that he almost forgot himself, forgot that part of him was supposed to be scared that he’d almost been hurt or respectful of Lucifer’s ownership over him enough to just not babble on end as long as he was allowed.
But frankly, Lucifer was not that kind of man -- the kind who would want to own a boy as beautiful as this and not let him speak of joys and concerns and dreams. He had no intention of ever being, because it would ruin something beautiful, and he could see no reason to doing something like that.
So he listened, a fond expression on his face and eyebrows half furrowed in amusement and -- something else he couldn't quite place himself.
He'd read a bit, about dreams, on that internet forum. Heard whispers in his bar. But he'd never really thought it was a case of truth. Perhaps he'd been wrong. "An angel then," he amended, because fuck, why not. It was an appealing thought in a lot of different aspects. "My angel."
Samandriel lifted his head and looked at Lucifer. That the other man didn’t think he was crazy was the best thing he could hope for. “Yours,” he agreed, taking Lucifer’s hand in his own and brushing a kiss against his knuckles.
Giving a little snuff of a noise, Lucifer could only shake his head in fondness. "I'm glad," he said, because Samandriel had a bad habit of rubbing his sunshine and light off on him, and it made him want to say things he normally might not.
"Now go wash your hands."
“Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, pulling away slowly, almost reluctantly to go wash up again. His hands and his stomach and other places he was very much not thinking about. It would only make things more difficult. Tonight, he’d get to fall asleep in Lucifer’s arms. It was a thing he’d been dreaming about since the man had first wandered into his life.
Lucifer was pretty keen on the idea of it, himself, and not just to be able to say he’d slept with an angel.
While Samandriel was in the bathroom, Lucifer decided to give up on the idea of tea and just skip straight to bed and so readied himself properly by removing his button down shirt and slacks. Idly, he contemplated getting the boy a toothbrush.
Samandriel found some mouthwash and made do with that before he came back to the room still wearing Lucifer’s shirt and nothing else. He watched Lucifer moving in his underwear through the room and decided that was very much a sight he could get used to. So much that he found himself leaning against the door frame smiling to himself while he watched him. How did he get so lucky?
Very carefully. Or not carefully at all. Either way. Lucifer turned and quirked an eyebrow at Samandriel -- clearly amused at the way he was just standing and watching. If nothing else, Samandriel really just wasn’t all that shy; Lucifer found that he approved of that. “Well?” he asked, but not really in question. “Get in.” No point in picking a side, he had a feeling they’d both gravitate toward each other somewhere in the middle of the bed anyway.
Samandriel smiled as he pushed out of his lean and went over to the side of the bed furthest from the door, so Lucifer could protect him of course. His logic was absolutely sound on that one. “Thank you,” he said once he was in and settled. No one made him feel quite like Lucifer did.
And if Lucifer had it his way (which he did, thanks), no one else ever would. One didn't just give up an angel once they handed themselves over.
"You'd better not snore," he told the boy fondly before moving to switch off the lights and then crawl into the bed, pulling Samandriel close with a natural ease. Of course he was the big spoon.