Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-11-07 20:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, lucifer morningstar, samandriel |
Who: Samandriel & Lucifer Morningstar
What: Samandriel reaches the End of his dreaming.
When: 11/1
Where: Lucifer’s
Rating: High. Trigger warning for mentions of dreamlife torture, spoilers for SPN s8e10. Strangely appropriate celebratory sex follows.
Status: Complete
Samandriel didn’t know how to talk about it with Lucifer. He barely managed being able to talk about it with Abigail when she had come because he called (and if his phone hadn’t saved the texts, he wouldn’t have believed he actually asked for her in the first place,) finding words for Lucifer was somehow harder. He had, of course, acknowledged that something was wrong, and that it was related to the dreams, but he couldn’t...he couldn’t do more than that.
It’d been weeks in his dream life. Perhaps even months. Samandriel didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter. The dreams were so intense that it was getting harder and harder to keep them out of his waking life, to not remember the torture every time he closed his eyes.
He took a nap. He hadn’t meant to take a nap, but it happened, sleep dragging him under and Samandriel too exhausted on every level to fight it.
The dreams always seemed to start the same, with blood and pain. It changed, of course. And for a brief moment, Samandriel’s dream self was full of hope and happiness. Castiel was alive. Castiel had come for him. It was in those moments that Samandriel realized just how much Dean’s husband meant to his dream self, how deeply in love with him that poor angel was. He had hoped there, in the dreams, that Castiel would listen to him, would somehow beat Naomi’s control over him and take him some place safe. Any place safe. The Winchesters had to know somewhere where he could rest and heal all the injuries, both physical and not done to him.
That wasn’t to be. Castiel wasn’t as strong as Samandriel thought, and Naomi’s hooks were far too deep in his grace for him to Rebel against. He was aware of the presence of the blade while he held onto Castiel’s coat, but he didn’t look away from his brother’s eyes. He didn’t fear. He didn’t beg to live. He preferred Death, because Heaven would have just had more of the same for him. Naomi’s hands were as filthy as Crowley’s. At least death would mean that the cycle of pain would finally stop.
Castiel’s blade plunged into him, and it was Samandriel’s last movement, last hope, to let one hand drop to try to cover Castiel’s, to forgive him even as the last of the light died in his eyes.
Samandriel woke up.
He padded, barefoot and in his underwear (and nothing more) into Lucifer’s office. Solemnly and silently, he knelt next to his boyfriend, head bowed and hands on his knees. This would have to do.
It wasn't rare for Lucifer to be found in his office -- and it certainly was less rare that Samandriel was the one to seek him out there. It was not often, however, that Samandriel knelt without a comment. It was enough to make the older man turn in his chair, look down at his boyfriend with wary sympathy.
He knew that the last few days had been especially bad in terms of dreams. Lucifer knew it was probably wrong of him, but he was starting to think of Samandriel's dreams as "Castiel's fuck ups". Their older angel often seemed to be one of the largest game changers in those dreams, and rarely ever in a good way.
So distracted was he, Lucifer didn't even bother to take off his glasses like he might usually. "Do you want to talk about it, or a distraction?" That he had an actual routine for moments like these was saddening.
Samandriel thought about it for a long moment, considering everything that had happened and what might yet come. He wasn’t important enough to be rescued, to be even noticed missing. He wouldn’t be deemed important enough to be brought back to life again the same way Castiel was constantly. So, it was with a quiet kind of confidence that Samandriel said, “it’s over.”
He hoped that given his position and obedience that Lucifer would understand that he meant whatever life his dream self lived and not their relationship.
Lucifer got it. He was a confident sort of man and knew if their relationship ever did come to odds, it wouldn't be like this. He took the words in stride, settled his fingers into Samandriel's soft hair and petted it softly.
There was really only one sort of way out for an angel, he knew. Only one kind of over. Was it bad, he wondered, to be nearly relieved by it? He'd lived through thinking Samandriel dead before, and it had been more than heartbreaking, but he knew the dreams were a constant cause of pain and similar heartbreak. Maybe it was just for the best.
"I'm sorry," he said, instead.
“I’m not,” Samandriel said, finally looking up at Lucifer at the calming pull of fingers through his hair. He couldn’t yet bring himself to say that he wasn’t human at all anymore, that he could feel his Grace filling every fiber of his being and nothing of the boy he was remained in him. It didn’t matter, he supposed. He’d been preparing for this moment for what felt like ages no matter how relatively quickly it’d actually come.
“Do you want to know what happened or would you rather move on?”
I'm not. Thank fucking God. And wasn't that ironic considering the situation and the people involved? Lucifer felt like it was nearly a weight off of the both their shoulders. He turned in his swivel chair until he could feasibly pull Samandriel up and get the young angel to sit in his lap.
"It's up to you," he said, honestly. "You're here and that's what matters to me, Sam."
Samandriel sat sideways across Lucifer’s lap, settling against him comfortably even though the chair arm was digging into his back. “I was...tortured endlessly for weeks.” Kidnapped and the Winchesters didn’t even notice even though they were there when it happened. Perhaps not the same room, but they were still there. Like how heaven never noticed that he hadn’t returned from his assignment. If the pain in his dreams hadn’t been so severe and bleeding into waking life, Samandriel might’ve been more depressed over not mattering.
“Castiel and the Winchesters showed up, rescued me and then Castiel killed me.”
That was not what Lucifer had been expecting to hear. At all. He paused in his head petting, and curled his other arm around Samandriel's waist, if only to keep his back from digging into the armrest further.
"Castiel. Killed you?" On a list of things that were not okay, Lucifer was possibly going to murder the angel Winchester.
“Castiel killed me,” Samandriel repeated. “It’s…” He sat there quietly for a moment, considering how with all those secrets unlocked in his head, he technically had more knowledge of Heaven than the archangels did. It wasn’t good. “Castiel was being controlled by someone else. His mind wasn’t his own. He killed me, and I’d much rather he kill me than to end up in heaven alive only to be tortured more and then either have everything that makes me...me removed or simply killed.” He didn’t think even Naomi knew it was a mercy killing when she ordered Castiel to do it.
Lucifer blinked and then only pulled Samandriel closer, resting his chin atop the younger man's head. Heaven was fucked up. Not that he hadn't known it, but -- it was maybe more than he'd ever really imagined with just bible and Milton stories.
It was hard not to be mad at Castiel still, but it was clear that maybe Samandriel just wasn't. Somehow, he constantly forgave Castiel for every single wrong (which was many) that he committed. "But it's over," he repeated.
“It’s over,” Samandriel agreed. “I’m not important or useful enough for it not to be over.” Unlike Castiel who seemed to have an intolerance to death. He kissed Lucifer’s neck because it was closest and he was too comfortable to move much more than that.
"Don't insult yourself like that," Lucifer murmured, only holding him tighter. "It's not true, no matter how your dreams make it seem, you are the most important person in the world." To Lucifer he was, anyway. Clearly that was all that mattered.
“To you,” Samandriel said, fingers gentle on Lucifer’s chest. “Not to Heaven. I was never much use to Heaven.”
Lucifer gave a little sniff, confident and brash in a way only he seemed to manage. "We're better than that anyway," he said, and wasn't surprised at all that he meant it.
Samandriel pulled away, not at all surprised that a phrase like that fell out of Lucifer’s mouth. “I really do like your glasses.” Love, really. He loved Lucifer’s glasses. And before Lucifer could argue with him, Samandriel leaned in and stole a slow, meaningful kiss.
"Mm," Lucifer responded, and took the kiss -- gave just as much back and more, tasting and not quite biting. He hated the glasses, absolutely hated them. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been wearing them more often lately for Samandriel's pleasure.
“They make you look like a distinguished gentleman,” he murmured as he broke the kiss, figuratively in the palm of Lucifer’s hand even as he was still in his lap. “One who’s even more devious than you are without them on. All full of plots and plans and the power to make anyone he wishes to obey and be glad for it.”
Lucifer laughed at that, feeling an overwhelming swell of fondness and pride wash over him. Samandriel was a precious thing, clever and perfect. He cupped one of his cheeks in his palm. "That means I shouldn't wear them so much. It's best to be underestimated when it comes to deviousness."
“Or you should wear them more often if only because you enjoy what they do to me,” Samandriel replied, wiggling a little in Lucifer’s lap to punctuate his point.
"They're still on, aren't they?" Is Samandriel wiggled any more, Lucifer would definitely give him something more pointed than all that. Already, he was nipping and kissing at the other man's jaw.
Samandriel moaned, dropping his shoulder to let Lucifer taste as he liked. “Yes, sir,” he moaned, wiggling changing to subtle rocking. He cared not at all that he was being obvious. Lucifer would either put him in his place for it or give him what he wanted or, in the best of all things, both.
It was a little sad that Samandriel's dream death almost seemed like a reason for celebratory glasses kink sex. But Lucifer figured their lives were weird enough where he didn't have to feel particularly guilty about it. Anyway, his little angel obviously liked it.
He grazed his teeth across the curve of Samandriel's shoulder and then moved to lick at his collarbone, prominent and distracting.
Lucifer’s teeth were amazing as always and Samandriel couldn’t help but bend for more of it, immediately glad he hadn’t bothered putting on anything but his underwear before he came to bother his boyfriend.
“Will you have me tonight, sir?” he found himself asking, the question a breathy moan all on its own.
And fuck, but if that wasn't a good tone on Samandriel. Everything had been so difficult lately that sometimes Lucifer forgot. He wasn't even really sure how. Lazily, he ran his thumbs against the jut of Samandriel's hips. "And tomorrow," he said it like a promise.
Samandriel pulled away enough to look at Lucifer, skin slightly flush with desire, his eyes a bit more pupil than they were wholly blue. His lips stayed parted until he found it in him to murmur, “Thank you, sir.” This. This was the first day of a feasible attempt at going back to normalcy for Samandriel, reclaiming the life he wanted and not the one that had either been ruined for him or existed solely in his head. That he’d managed to still his hips for the time being meant little for his plans for the rest of the night.
"Bedroom," Lucifer advised, very much on the same line of thought in all matters here. Definitely celebration sex. He kissed the younger man again, intense and certainly not helping with that whole concept of getting up and moving to a new room.
In both their defense, the whole getting up and walking part was optional, and since only a location had been declared and not a method, Samandriel simply flew them there, landing on the bed straddling his boyfriend while they kissed. He doubted he’d maintain anything nearing the upper hand for long and that was exactly how he wanted it.
Most of the time Lucifer liked for Samandriel to do things the old-fashioned way, but sometimes he really did have to admit that there was something very useful about flight. Teleportation. Whatever it was. This time, in particular. He growled, low and interested and tipped the younger boy back until he was the one on the mattress and Lucifer was on top.
“Please, sir,” Samandriel gasped between kisses, reaching down to push at his own underwear, needing to get it off so that perhaps Lucifer might get more of the hint. Naked. They both needed to be naked and he needed his boyfriend in him more than he needed air itself.
Yeah well, it wasn't Lucifer's fault angels didn't technically need to breathe. But he got the hint -- additionally was just as interested. Luckily it was a day off and he'd been lazy -- it was only too easy to lean back, pull his t-shirt off and somehow not dislodge his (stupid goddamn) glasses.
Samandriel looked up at him, smirking deviously at the fact that those glasses were still there. “Look at you,” he murmured, fingers skimming down Lucifer’s chest and stomach. “Turning young, innocent angels into hedonistic creatures for your pleasure.” It was teasing, of course, and only half the truth. Just because Samandriel hadn’t realized his capacity for attraction or sexual interest before Lucifer didn’t mean it was Lucifer’s fault that he was nigh on insatiable now. Of course, Samandriel was just as happy to blame his boyfriend for opening his eyes on that world anyway.
"It's a hobby," Lucifer said dryly, "But just the one, really." Teasing and half truths aside, it wasn't as if he hadn't sought Samandriel out and propositioned him. It was more that the boy had agreed more readily than he'd expected in the first place.
Really, it worked out well for the both of them.
Tossing his shirt to the side, he leaned over again, stealing a kiss even as he guided Samandriel's hands to his belt buckle, a silent urge to let the angel undress him.
Samandriel didn’t need to be hinted at twice. He undid the buckle and the close of Lucifer’s pants under it, shoving everything he could down as far as he could manage without breaking the kiss. Another time, perhaps, he would have kept the belt and asked to be bound, but after everything that had gone on in his head, Samandriel just wanted to move, to know that he was free - especially here with Lucifer.
That was fine with Lucifer. While he wasn't always as attuned to Samandriel's moods as he might have liked (hey, the angel was a little mysterious by - well, angelic nature alone), he usually seemed to get when just something hot, heavy and mostly normal was being asked for.
There was something to be said about being practiced at moving just enough to slip his pants off without completely changing up his current position -- and Lucifer was nothing if not talented. He rocked back a little tossing his clothes to the floor and biting sharply at Samandriel's neck.
Samandriel groaned loudly, hips rolling up against Lucifer and nails dragging down his back. “Lucifer,” he said, face turning against the other man’s ear, teeth just grazing the lobe. “Fuck, please. Please.” He knew full well that Lucifer didn’t approve of swearing and maybe, just maybe, Samandriel’s little indiscretion might be worth it.
"Such impatience," Lucifer said, offering Samandriel a little pinch at the waist for his swearing (some days he just couldn't properly disapprove of much when it came to his boyfriend) before leaning back enough to grab lube from the nightstand.
Some days, impatience was warranted.
“I’m allowed some times,” Samandriel said, leaning up to pull Lucifer into a deep kiss even while he felt the other man’s glasses shifting on his skin. “Being patient enough for you to propose,” he said against those lips. Lucifer would do it in his own time and Samandriel had stopped pestering him about it daily for the past few weeks. Or at least since their disastrous dinner date. He didn’t know if it was fear or progress.
Maybe a bit of both. Samandriel hardly need worry though, Lucifer had clear plans for it, and had been searching (from his office at work, where Samandriel had no reason to be) for a real proper ring. He'd get his question exactly when Lucifer had originally said he would, and not a moment before or after.
He let out a little snuff of air, amused, and returned with the little bottle before adjusting his glasses back into place. "I still don't see how you like these," he said, and punctuated it by unclipping the lid of the lube.
“Does it matter? I like them because they’re part of you, because they frame your face nicely and even if you say they’re only for reading I like making sure you can see every single detail of me as clearly as possible.” A pause and he added, “though I’m pretty sure I could fix your eyesight if I wanted to.” He didn’t. The glasses would go away then.
Glasses or otherwise, Lucifer wasn't particularly bothered by his own imperfections and didn't want it either. "I'll make sure to pay attention," he said, half teasing, and brushed newly slicked fingers along Samandriel's erection. Truthfully though, Lucifer always paid attention -- he did, after all, like watching.
Samandriel’s breath caught in his throat, his hips arching up into Lucifer’s grip, head tipped back a little. “You’re paying attention to the fact that I want fucked and not jerked off, right?” he teased, clearly barely holding sense enough together to manage to sass at all.
The look that Samandriel got for that one was full on sarcastic. "Hush," he said, "Or I'll just make you do it yourself." He wouldn't. He didn't mean it. It should have been obvious. As if to prove it though, he moved his hand lower.
Samandriel caught his lower lip between his teeth, keeping himself silenced while he spread his legs and lifted his hips more for Lucifer. He reached down to take the other man in hand, not simply to drive his point home, but because there was no reason for Lucifer not to get direct pleasure from this as well.
Lucifer though, only guided his hand away. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be able to get all the pleasure he wanted from the moment soon enough. "You can touch yourself if you want," he allowed, even as he slipped an easy finger into the younger man. Samandriel was so often relaxed in situations like these, like he was just well aware he was made for Lucifer and there need not be any resistance.
Sometimes, Lucifer found himself flattered at his own thoughts and assumptions.
Samandriel almost actually pouted at being denied touching Lucifer, but didn’t put up any fuss. He rocked back a little against that finger. “Just want to please you,” he said, a recurring mantra in their lives. It never needed to be said, but Samandriel liked saying it anyway. It made him feel like he had some kind of purpose or goal beyond pretending to be a teenager.
"You always do," Lucifer said, flexing his hand and adding fingers slowly -- his hand held at an angle that was tilted and teasing. "I am pleased. I just want this to last longer." Not that he really needed to explain himself, but the near-pout that Samandriel was a master at made him want to speak further on the matter.
Samandriel kept his gaze on Lucifer’s face, those far too tempting and flattering glasses and the gorgeous eyes behind them. “Your stamina outlasts mine any day,” he pointed out, but still wasn’t lying about it.
He didn’t touch himself. He kept his fingers running over Lucifer’s toned biceps and forearms as much as he could. “I’m not human at all anymore.” 100% pure grade-A angel meat.
"Stamina is hardly my concern." It really wasn't. But if he was going to enjoy himself he'd rather do it inside the younger man. He couldn't be faulted for having preferences.
He didn't even pause what he was doing, freeing his hands and slicking himself before shifting slightly, a better angle. There was a lot to be said for how weird their conversations were that even this didn't make him take a moment. "You're yourself," he murmured. "And that's more than perfect."
“I’m yours, always have been,” Samandriel said and then, then Lucifer was so close to pressing into him that all he could do was whine softly in hopes that he might do it faster. “Please, Lucifer.”
That was all he'd been waiting for. He pressed forward, a sharp tilt of his hips, hands lifting Samandriel a little higher for proper positioning. "Mine," he agreed with a half growl. And then he moved.
Samandriel held tightly to Lucifer’s arm, too lost in pleasure to even note that it was much the same way his other self had clung to Castiel before he’d been literally stabbed. His other hand tangled into dark blond hair, dragging Lucifer down for an equally claiming kiss. As he was Lucifer’s, Lucifer was his. His wings spread out visibly behind him and curled up and around to shield them both, creating the illusion that they were completely alone in the world and exactly as close as they needed to be.
Lucifer kissed him back, rough and then gentle, and when he had to breathe, he pressed his cheek into the curve of Samandriel's shoulder. He liked the wings, encircling and stupidly, poetically romantic. They suited.
Words weren't really necessary, not when actions worked just as well -- and like his kisses, his thrusts were somehow loving and rough enough to be completely claiming.
Now, Samandriel took advantage of the permission he’d been given to touch himself. His teeth grazed a spot on Lucifer’s shoulder that his clothes would very definitely cover and sucked a mark of his own to claim the other man. If he wished, he was sure he could claim Lucifer with the same obvious might that Castiel had claimed Dean. Lucifer was no angel yet. Samandriel wouldn’t. It seemed too complicated and ultimately unnecessary.
Lucifer had no such need for such obviousness. He was a subtle man who preferred little signs of possession instead of large ones. Castiel could have his handprints and endless staring. Lucifer would stick with the simple ring, and the spoken and unspoken devotion that he and Samandriel offered each other.
He liked they way they fit together when they moved, and murmured as such between thrusts. He was ridiculously romantic some days.
Samandriel thought that Lucifer was ridiculously romantic every day, but he was too lost in sensation to care at all about calling Lucifer out when he was busy moaning and whining his pleasure. This. This was amazing and wonderful and he needed it for always. He kissed Lucifer a little less finnessed than usual, but that mattered not at all.
“Please,” he gasped, nipping at his lower lip. “Please, Lucifer.” He was close and he just needed the permission to do it. Please.
Lucifer bit into the curve of Samandriel's shoulder, brushed his lips upward so that they were next to the younger man's ear. "Come," he said, his approval punctuated by a sharper, deeper thrust.
Samandriel came. In the face of Lucifer’s desire, there was no way he couldn’t. He cried out, nails digging hard into Lucifer’s back, leaving welts behind and in one place, drawing a small amount of blood. There was one thing to be said for being a full angel and that was that he’d never had an orgasm that intense before.
It wasn't hard to tell that, either. Not that Samandriel wasn't usually responsive but this was -- above and beyond expectation. It was impossible not to follow, letting go completely and gasping Samandriel's name; not minding the welts or the blood even one little bit.
It took a bit for Samandriel’s senses to come back to him, but when they did, he was kissing Lucifer slow and appreciative, angelic strength rolling them both over so that he could do it properly. The glasses were still there and it was the most amazing thing to be kissing those lips and loving this man. To be alive to do it. “Marry me,” Samandriel whispered, in case perhaps Lucifer needed reassurance that despite everything he’d been through on his own and everything he’d put his infinitely patient partner through, Samandriel wanted him forever. He didn’t give his boyfriend time to answer however he was planning to this time, and it wasn’t really a question anyway. The only answer that was acceptable was to kiss Lucifer and make sure that he knew that Samandriel’s heart was made up, no matter how much room there was for others in it, only Lucifer mattered.
Lucifer knew that. Of course he did: the two of them were forever in ways that were incomprehensible to most others. Slightly incomprehensible to Lucifer himself, if he had to be honest. But that didn't mean he didn't know.
He kissed back, slow and deep and languid like they had all the time in the world. Because they did.
Eventually, the kiss broke and Samandriel moved off of Lucifer to tuck himself next to him comfortably. Content in more ways than one, he said softly, “Can we talk? About us, I mean.” It might be a hard conversation to have, but they probably should have it anyway and Samandriel didn’t think after what they just did, there would be any doubt that there was and always would be an us.
Lucifer shifted too, making up the big spoon and tucking his chin above Samandriel's head. "What's on your mind?" Obviously he had no problems talking -- about them or anything otherwise. He was, after all, a man of near infinite patience.
Samandriel made a soft sound that might’ve been a purr from almost any other being. If he were less respectful of the moment and more insatiable, he probably would’ve rubbed back against Lucifer more. Round two could wait, however.
“I made a new friend,” he said, considering his words carefully. “The young man about my height who came in to Lux a couple weeks ago. Dark hair, pale eyes. We went upstairs and spoke for a while.” He wasn’t the sort of man who didn’t think that Lucifer kept tabs on who his boyfriend spoke to in private in his territory. Not that he thought Lucifer was jealous of anything, more that he had a healthy interest in keeping Samandriel safe and was more protective than he ever cared to let on.
“He’s...or will be, a vampire and he’s worried about becoming a murderer once his own transformation from the dreams is complete so I offered him my blood. It made sense. He can’t become a killer if he is incapable of killing his food source. I just, thinking on it, there’s no place that he can actually feed from me that isn’t a bit intimate and I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.” Samandriel licked his lips and added, “And make sure that we both were on the same page when it came to how our relationship works.” This was a can of worms that Dean Winchester had opened and the more Samandriel thought about it, the more he realized that it worked for him and Lucifer far more than it did for Dean and Castiel.
Lucifer made a thoughtful little sniffing noise. He was aware of the man in question -- he paid attention to the goings-on in his own club, after all. Absolutely he was the sort of man who paid attention to all things that were his with a degree of interest that was probably nearly unhealthy. Being patient didn't necessarily mean he wasn't a control freak in his own way.
"That's Good of you to offer," he said, tilting his head so that Samandriel's hair tickled a little against his skin. "I have no problem with it -- I assume you already knew I wouldn't. I only ask for information and updates on the situation as you have them." That basic rule had been set since Castiel, and it had worked so far. Lucifer had no problem sharing, it wasn't as if Samandriel wasn't his, and it wasn't as if either of them had any diminished affection for each other just because they might offer some to others as well.
“It seemed to be the logical conclusion, but I needed to make sure that it wasn’t just the Winchester Exception.” Samandriel brought one of Lucifer’s hands up to his mouth so he could brush a kiss against the joint of his thumb.
The Winchester Exception. Lucifer huffed out a little laugh, just liking the name of it. Ridiculous, but strangely made sense. "It's whatever exception we'd like, I suppose. So long as there's approval and communication." Lucifer himself wasn't amazingly interested in most others, but one never really knew for the future. They weren't really a secretive couple though, so he had no doubts there would be no issue.
Samandriel rolled over so he could cuddle Lucifer’s front instead, nestle his face right under his lover’s chin properly. “I take it you’d like to meet him, then?” he asked. “I’m not certain if he’s considered that part of things, but he’s a good man I think. Decent at least.”
"I'd meet him," Lucifer agreed, running his fingers slow and soft against the curve of Samandriel's hip. Sexual or not, there would be some kind of intimacy there. It was close enough.
Samandriel kissed just at the hollow of Lucifer’s throat. “Don’t put too much of the fear of god into him,” he teased, knowing that wasn’t going to be a thing that happened regardless. “We should probably consider Thanksgiving sometime soon.” Thinking about the Winchesters tended to put family things into perspective.
"I'll do my best," Lucifer said dryly, thinking only about how he might do the exact opposite. It wasn't his fault, but he was the Devil.
"Should we do something? I usually just go out." Then again, he'd never had much of a family before this year.
“I think it’d be nice. And Dean does lust after your kitchen pretty hard,” Samandriel said, considering the elder Winchester brother’s unexpected love of cooking.
"Does he?" That seemed to amuse Lucifer to no end, if the new lilt in his voice had anything to show. "I'll call him this week about it."
“Good,” Samandriel said, lifting his head to steal another gentle kiss. “You should rest. I plan on using you for your body again soon.”
Lucifer only snuggled closer until the two of them were flush with no space between. "Such objectification." Not that he minded.