Who: Lucifer Morningstar + Dean Winchester What: Dean’s finally ready for the therapy that actually seems to work for him. Lucifer is only too happy to oblige. When: 12/21 Where: Lucifer’s Rating: High. Status: Complete
Dean knew going in what was going to happen here. Sex was a given and knowing Lucifer, the other man was going to take his damn time both working up to it and actually doing the act itself. Communication with Cas was paramount here, and they’d had a long talk before he left about what was (probably) going to happen and that it changed absolutely nothing. It was just an extension of their family. Their weird, kinda fucked up family. Cas didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea, but he didn’t look as upset as he might’ve been weeks before about it either. It wasn’t like he really had room to double standard there with how much he and Samandriel were...intimate with each other and neither Dean nor Lucifer were fussed in the slightest about it.
Whatever everything was, it would be fine and Dean really, really needed this. All that fucking glitters in-goddamn-deed. Tessa’s words were still deep under his skin in a way that even Cas couldn’t pull their shrapnel out from easily...or comfortably for a given value of Cas and being able to exert that kind of control and authority over Dean. It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise when as soon as the pony (baby was safe in the garage at home) was parked, the garage door shut, and Dean’s boots off (because Cas had housetrained him,) the hunter went in search of the devil.
He didn’t even realize until he got all the way upstairs to Lucifer’s office and the other man was still working that he was like fifteen minutes early. One of those things, right? He was absolutely positive that Lucifer was just going to make him wait it out, but that didn’t stop him from leaning against the door and patiently waiting to be acknowledged.
The devil clearly had his men trained in the art of knowing what to expect when it came to his whims, to waiting, and really that had to count for something, he imagined. Dean showed up when he wanted most of the time, and Lucifer was hardly bothered by it -- there was nothing wrong with early, after all, but he did prefer sticking to his own schedule.
He glanced over at the doorway, smiled charmingly (as was possible behind reading glasses that Samandriel loved, but he had no special fondness for otherwise), and gestured for him to come into the office. "Dean," he nearly purred the word out, like he could somehow find extra syllables in it. "Come in."
Dean felt pretty much the same about the glasses he used for intricate detail work at the shop. They were there. If he could borrow angel vision instead, he would have. But glasses or not, Dean didn’t really care as far as Lucifer went. He just pushed out of his lean and went to go sit in one of the chairs on the other side of Lucifer’s desk. He would have stood there waiting the whole time if that was what the other man wanted of him. “Sorry I’m early.” That possibly seemed better than acknowledging exactly the effect Lucifer’s tone was having on him. The things that man did even with possibly just half a syllable were obscene.
"Early is better than late," Lucifer said dismissively, turning his attention back down to his papers for a moment -- not because he couldn't set them aside, but because some things just had to be followed through with. Who would he be to preach patience and waiting only to give up on it whenever he pleased?
"But thank you for the apology in any case." Because good manners absolutely had to be acknowledged and rewarded, particularly in the case of Dean Winchester. "How are you?"
Dean was kind of annoyed that even Lucifer’s office chairs were comfortable. Of course, the guy’d probably picked them out with fucking Alfie in mind. Or something. He watched Lucifer working, shifting in the seat just a little. He was bad at this whole waiting thing without standing at attention. He probably could have stood at attention for hours and Lucifer probably knew that. Which, come to think of it, might’ve been why the guy hadn’t invited him to sit.
“Pretty okay,” he answered truthfully. He’d been taking his meds and abusing the hell out of his husband’s wings for as long as he could still see them. He had no doubt that was going to be a thing that wasn’t permanent. “You?” For as good at talking as Dean was, he was pretty awful at actually saying anything. It was a skill he’d developed a long time ago.
It was fairly obvious too, although Lucifer didn't point it out. He was constantly just taking mental notes when it came to Dean, really.
He waited a moment before speaking, dotting i's and crossing t's before lazily punching some numbers into his calculator. "Pretty okay," he repeated, because it amused him to do so. "A little busy. I've been making some plans for the upcoming week." At that, he looked up and smiled at Dean, amused and a little boyish. "It's Sam's birthday, soon."
“Ah, got uh...something special up your sleeve then?” It still weirded him out to have the kid referred to by his little brother’s name, but he was getting used to it so long as no one made him do it. That smile was something kinda disarming coming from Lucifer. It was particularly weird how even that seemed to make him feel smaller in his chair somehow. “That was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”
"Only a little dumb," Lucifer said, arching a brow and clicking his pen shut. He couldn't help that this was one of his favorite moments -- this almost foreplay that was probably only appealing to only him. Dean looked downright uncomfortable, and god, but if Lucifer wasn't fond of the way he nearly squirmed.
"I'm going to ask him to marry me," he said, like he was possibly just talking about the weather - natural, just conversational. "You should take your shirt off."
“Well that’ll be the most unsurprising answer ever,” Dean said before processing that order, the one that came way too casually after the announcement of impending proposal. It’d actually managed to catch him off guard. He sat forward on the chair a little so that he could move enough to pull off the layered t-shirts he had on. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them so they just kind of sat bundled in his hands in his lap.
"Thank you," Lucifer murmured, because as always, Dean and manners went well together as far as behavior went. "And yes, I don't expect there will be any surprising answers." He settled his chin on the palm of a hand and just looked at Dean for a long moment, savoring.
"Tell me about how good you've been."
Dean cleared his throat. He had to look down and away to maybe not feel like he was being totally objectified or was somehow even nakeder than he already was. He wasn’t sure he liked how Lucifer could just do that to him.
“I haven’t had a drink in three months,” he said softly, “I’ve been taking my medication regularly for the past few weeks. Daily. On schedule.” He’d even set an alarm for his night ones so that he didn’t forget. It’d only gone off in the middle of sex once and was surprisingly not a mood killer once Cas realized what was going on.
“I didn’t actually shoot Cas’ brother when he showed up unannounced and started using things in my kitchen. I didn’t even threaten to at Thanksgiving.” Which, well, Lucifer should have known since he was kinda there for that. Sort of. He looked down at his mass of t-shirts in his hands and said even softer, “I saw myself in a fellow soldier and took the steps to get him the help he needed before he got to the point I was at.” Was pretty often still at. Dean was a messy goddamn work in progress.
Maybe if Lucifer hadn't met Gabriel over the Thanksgiving holiday he might have not seen how not shooting someone was actually a point when it came to behaving well. But Gabriel was… wild and a bit much to handle, and Lucifer had observed Dean a bit twitchy over the other man's existence (right before he'd disappeared to his office in order to ignore them all properly, of course). So yes, it was a bit of a feat that he'd held off -- particularly when Lucifer was aware Dean used Samandriel as a quick heal option during threats.
And the rest? Well, that was all truly noteworthy. Lucifer smiled, tapped his index finger against his own cheek and then offered a little nod. "More than good enough," he agreed after a moment, before dipping his gaze down to look at Dean's bare chest.
Dean smiled softly to himself, more pleased than he let on that he’d managed to please Lucifer well enough to warrant those words. He was about to say thank you, but when he looked up Lucifer was definitely staring at his chest - a collection of scars the other man had already gone about learning. He shifted a little more awkwardly, not certain if he was actually trying to hide or embarrassed or what. It felt like a very Cas thing to do. “Thank you,” he finally managed, dropping his gaze again. Down was a much easier, much safer place to be looking.
"You're welcome," Lucifer said, although he wasn't really sure that he needed to be thanked for anything. Dean's behavior benefited himself more than it did Lucifer, after all. They both knew that though, and he wasn't going to get into it.
The older man stood, made his way from behind his desk to stand in front of Dean, lifting his chin a little to take a kiss - gentle but firm. "You needn't be shy."
Dean leaned up into that kiss, eyes lingering closed for a moment even after Lucifer pulled away. “Offices make me nervous,” he said softly. He looked up at the other man, not at all sure when the hell he’d gotten so damn attractive because there wasn’t any real physical reason for it. Cas was gorgeous, completely and utterly, and Samandriel had that impish little shit thing going for him (that and occasionally his movements bordered on elegant and that was kinda messed up in Dean’s world.) Lucifer? Shit, with Lucifer it was all about presence.
Well, he had to have something going for him beyond a solid jaw and blue eyes. The shape of his brow wasn't doing much for Lucifer, so personality and making himself the most important person in the room would just have to do.
And that was fine, the devil certainly didn't mind that Samandriel was more lovely, or that Dean had perfect lips and Castiel the strongest profile. He enjoyed being surrounded by beautiful things.
He petted his fingers along Dean's jaw line, lingering on his neck. "We can leave. You know where the rooms are." He had behaved after all; Lucifer would cater to that.
There wasn’t anything Dean could do to stop from tilting his head up into that touch, to stretch his neck more for Lucifer. He licked his lips and nodded. He knew pretty much the layout of the whole damn house at this point. “Yeah,” he said. Getting up involved moving his knot of shirts and revealing (perhaps not exactly but a good idea) how hard Lucifer’s uncomfortable waiting game foreplay had made Dean.
The guest room seemed like the best option. He wouldn’t have wanted the kid and Cas to be fucking around in their bed without him there. Seemed only right to afford Alfie the same courtesy. He walked in and finally tossed his shirts into the comfy chair to free up his hands. Unsure of what Lucifer wanted him to do, he defaulted into what he would’ve wanted Cas to do when they were playing like this. Dean knelt wordlessly, back straight, head bowed and hands at his sides. Jeans were definitely not the most comfortable option here.
And if Dean didn't make a pretty picture, knelt down and too-hard against his jeans but too well behaved to do anything other than take it, Lucifer didn't know what did.
"Beautiful," he murmured in approval, even as moved closer, running his fingers through Dean's hair for a moment. It was clear that offices didn't make him too uncomfortable. "You can be on the bed. Stay on your knees for now. Hands behind your back."
It was more that the offices making him uncomfortable was outmatched by Lucifer’s ability to take command without any effort. It probably helped that from Dean, it was freely offered. “Yes, Lucifer,” he said, avoiding any other honorific or title like the plague.
He got up and knelt again on the bed, positioning his knees shoulder width apart as comfortably as he could before one hand clasped his other wrist behind his back. Dean was working not to see this as a contest, or a test of endurance or something he didn’t deserve. This was a reward. Lucifer wouldn’t be giving it to him if he hadn’t earned it.
Generally, Lucifer thought that Dean probably deserved a lot more than what he thought, but that wasn't really the point here, not today.
"Now," he said, tone quiet -- quiet enough where Dean would just have to stay silent in order to pay complete attention. "I know what you want to an extent. And you'll get that. You've behaved so, so well Dean." He seated himself next to Dean on the bed, ran careful fingers across the length of skin of his side down to his thigh. "If there's anything else you want or don't, I'd prefer you told me now." Second guessing wasn't something he liked if it could be avoided.
Oddly, as much as he had a problem hurting Samandriel in any way, he wasn't really opposed here with Dean. And it wasn't at all about who he thought could take it better. He simply… hadn't shot Dean between the eyes or seen pictures of him ruined completely. It was as simple as that. Lucifer almost wasn't surprised by the sudden revelation.
Dean really wished he’d asked to be able to take his jeans off before he started kneeling on the bed like this. Or at least that he’d worn some looser, broken in ones. He licked his lips, focused solely on Lucifer, not even allowing himself to think in case his thoughts drowned out the other man’s voice.
He lifted his head and met Lucifer’s eyes. “I’m not here for pain,” he said, knowing that Lucifer was aware enough to know the difference between pain and any discomfort Dean might feel. Was feeling. Whatever. “But I am here to give up complete control for a while so…” So whatever Lucifer wanted went, and Dean would deal with it. They’d all discussed safewords and boundaries long ago. Still, Dean trusted that Lucifer would respect his wishes and they could avoid anything that might read as punishment or his childhood.
"Good." Being unopposed didn't necessarily make it a want, after all. Especially if that wasn't what Dean needed. Lucifer much preferred giving people what they needed -- even if he did work the wait in for himself. He wasn't above taking what he wanted and needed, too.
But this was a reward. None of it would seem like anything but that, and Lucifer was going to make sure of this. Dean punished himself enough as it was, and he was certain that even Castiel wasn't positive how to deal with that all the time.
Pressing a biting kiss to the spot right above the start of Dean's ribs, Lucifer hummed out a noise of approval at how perfectly still and behaved the other man was being.
Dean tipped his head back just a little, keeping the rest of his body still. This was easier than he thought it was going to be. In a way, he’d been trained for this. Not this specifically, but the marines had definitely taught him how to hold an exact position for hours on end if he had to, and to focus right through almost everything else that was happening to him. All while being terribly observant.
These were the moments when the differences between the hunter and both their angels were painfully obvious, and Dean was absolutely certain that Lucifer knew that neither Castiel nor Samandriel were really up to the task of taking on this side of Dean. He was hoping against hope that Lucifer was going to find a way to actually break through all that training and instinct. Somehow, he knew he would.
Well, he'd certainly try anyway. Lucifer could at the very least recognize that Dean's behavior was the sort that was trained - and well enough for it to become ingrained and easy at this point. Which wasn't how he liked things. Wasn't how this was going to be handled if they wanted to do it right, if Dean wanted to get anything out of it.
So he smiled, pressed an easy kiss onto Dean's lips. "Relax," he said, like he was doing Dean a favor. "No need for such perfect posture. I want you to be comfortable."
Dean kissed him back while he could. He looked down and thought about it. He’d figure it out for Lucifer and the goal of...of basically every single one of their interactions. He hated to admit it, but time with Lucifer was better than any therapy.
He shifted his shoulders a bit, but they wouldn’t sag much with the way he had to keep holding his arms. “I don’t know how,” he finally admitted, looking up to meet Lucifer’s eyes. He was willing. Dean was more than willing. He just needed a little help. Right?
Certainly. And help was one of the reasons Dean was here. Not the only reason of course -- there was obviously plenty of fondness, mutual attraction and a four lettered word that neither of them said easily as well. But this was part of it. Lucifer enjoyed earning and having the trust of someone so strong willed as Dean, enjoyed the idea of breaking him apart just by allowing him to be something he didn't normally allow himself.
"Okay," he said, smooth and calm. "Here." He settled his palm on the curve of Dean's back right underneath where his hands were clasped around wrists. "Slouch and bend until you don't feel as stiff. Certainly, it could only help matters where your pants are concerned."
Dean closed his eyes and took a breath, bending back into Lucifer’s touch instead of straightening more like he wasn’t at enough attention somehow. He made it all the way to basically sitting on his heels. It was something, and yeah it did do a little bit to ease the pressure in his pants. Not a lot, but some.
“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, like being bad at...at whatever they were doing might actually be the easiest way to disappoint Lucifer and he knew it.
"You don't have to be," Lucifer murmured, leaning closer, lips against Dean's ear and fingers grazing and traveling over shoulders and biceps, elbows and then the sloping curve of his back. He spoke of immediate forgiveness, of simple gestures and relaxed ease. "You only have to try. And you are. You're perfectly behaved, Dean." As an obvious reward, Lucifer saw fit to undo the button and zip of Dean's jeans.
Dean couldn’t help but arch with it, briefly straightening before he returned to his slouch. He really, really didn’t want to disappoint Lucifer. “Thank you, Lucifer,” he said, gasping softly as the pressure on his dick was finally eased some. He licked his lips, watching the other man, wanting and needing more than he could articulate. Going slow was going to be painful, but Dean supposed that at least this time he knew he was going to actually get fucked. Which, somehow made him more patient. He’d been waiting how long for this, right? A little bit longer wasn’t going to kill him.
“Why did you want me kneeling?” he asked softly. It was a fair question and not complaining in the slightest. That Dean needed talk during sex was no secret between the four of them. He liked voices. They kept him grounded in a way that touch never could.
"It's just a position I like to see you in," Lucifer murmured, somehow managing to make that sound nearly polite and complimentary instead of just dark and dirty. Not that it couldn't be both, which was sort of what he was going for.
The need to talk wasn't anything Lucifer saw as an issue -- and he was, frankly, a bit chatty in bed so it was no real concern as far as this particular eventual-angel went. "Do you like it?" He asked, still touching. He already knew Dean's curves, but was only too happy to learn them again, pushing those jeans down just as much as they could go in a position like this, just enough to uncover perfect hips.
It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Lucifer was basically not bothering with ropes or anything to bind him with simply because he had given an order and he expected it to be followed. Sort of like how Dean knew how this meeting was going to go and he hadn’t bothered with underwear. “Some,” he confessed, resisting the urge to raise his hips so Lucifer could take his jeans all the way off. When the devil wanted him completely naked, he would be.
His cock jutted out almost obscenely at this angle, the press of his thighs so close doing nothing to make that less obvious. “You like your men obedient, don’t you?” There was a counter question there, one that pointed out Samandriel’s obvious taste for laughing at the rules and getting exactly what he wanted anyway. Dean wasn’t Samandriel. None of them were Samandriel. The kid...fuck, the kid did what he was going to do and Lucifer would largely just let him. That was love right there. Well, as far as someone who thrived on control as much as Lucifer did it was. Dean wasn’t going to be able to get away with pushing back too much.
"You don't think Samandriel is obedient?" Lucifer asked, cutting through the bullshit of the question and just going to the implications. Clearly though he was amused by it. "There's a difference between willful and misbehaved. He does what he likes, yes. But if you think he wouldn't do what I asked at any given moment, perhaps you don't know him quite well enough." True enough though, Lucifer had no real leash for Samandriel. That didn't mean they didn't have set rules and proper communication for when it was needed.
"And what is it you like, Dean?" Lucifer pressed a kiss onto Dean's side, sank his teeth in a little even as he pressed his palm into that too-obvious erection.
Dean moaned loudly, arching with both the bite and the touch to his cock. He’d been told to relax. Keeping still was really hard to manage when he was kneeling at ease and not at attention. Daddy’s blunt little instrument, floated coldly through his head. He closed his eyes as he answered, hating the truth even as he said it. “To obey.” It wasn’t something he allowed himself the luxury of doing often now that he wasn’t in the service, but he was a soldier and he functioned better with orders. Even if those orders were just ‘look after Sammy.’
Lucifer kissed him properly on the lips for the answer, slow and steady and only ready to take more than what was being offered in the first place. "That's not a bad thing," he told Dean, fingers snaking down to pull his erection completely free from jeans, his grip was firm but he was still careful of zipper.
Dean obeyed well, too. Beautifully even. Even now he was trying so, so hard to keep himself relaxed, and stay still on his knees. "I'll give you what you want now," he murmured, their lips brushing. "You've been very good."
Dean kissed Lucifer back, groaning into it and whimpering at the loss, no matter that the devil’s lips were still brushing against his own. “Thank you, Lucifer,” he said breathily. He didn’t think he’d have ever managed waiting so long to actually fuck someone (or in this case, be fucked by.) The man he was before his husband and the rest of those asshole angels came into his life would’ve given up pretty much immediately or written himself off as not worth it.
He wasn’t allowing himself to pull back enough to see, to do anything but let Lucifer do what he wished to him. It probably meant that he’d have to feel the other guy’s reaction more than see it. “After I come, I’m totally gonna say the devil made me do it.”
"I will gag you if you even consider saying something like that, ever." Lucifer said, biting Dean's lower lip and then guiding him to move so that he was switching his position up from his knees to laying down. Those jeans needed to be off now. Even the devil was tired of waiting.
Dean smirked, rolling as much as he could onto his back without the use of his arms so that Lucifer could get his jeans off. “With your dick or something less fun?” he asked, unable to be anything but cheeky with his arms pinned under him like that.
The cheek was endearing in its own way, but that didn't mean that Lucifer couldn't give a long suffering sigh even as he moved to slip Dean's jeans all the way off. "Far less fun," he assured, and couldn't help but suddenly wonder if there was dildo shaped soap out there.
He shook the idea away. So tacky.
That long suffering sigh was a thing that made Dean shut up immediately, made something tense in his chest because he was pretty sure somehow he’d fucked up and he just shouldn’t talk. Daddy’s blunt little instrument, right? He’d follow orders, and take his pleasure in pleasing Lucifer...or something like that. Talking was definitely off the table for now.
"No." Lucifer saw it the second it happened -- that strange moment where Dean very nearly just shut off. Sometimes, he forgot how fragile this was, how much of a front Winchester put on for everyone else. It was always a shock when that information came back in such obvious displays.
"I was being playful. And this isn't a punishment. Even if it were, you don't get to shut off like that. Tell me what you're thinking." Jeans discarded, Lucifer tossed them to the floor, not caring about neat for a moment.
He reached over Dean to the side table, lubricant easily found.
The ‘no’ jolted Dean out of his thoughts, firm and unyielding in ways that he had almost forgotten Lucifer was capable of. Almost. He looked up at his partner, a man he loved desperately even though he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He hadn’t been given permission to move his arms yet, but he needed to regardless. He didn’t ask. Even as he moved, shifting up onto his elbows, he loathed himself just a little for not getting permission.
“That talking only seems to get me in trouble,” he said honestly. Acting got him into more trouble, but he was working on that. “And...and something from the dreams,” he said even softer, gaze dropping to the expanse of his own bare skin. Lucifer wasn’t going to let him get away with half-truths and evasions the way Cas usually allowed. Cas had faith that Dean would at least eventually tell him, because Dean had slowly been proving to be better at that. Lucifer...Lucifer seemed to know that Dean needed to be forced to speak, to just get it out so that it wouldn’t fester in him.
“Daddy’s blunt little instrument,” he said, before the eventual-angel could ask him what. He lifted his eyes to meet the other man’s, desperately wanting to be more than someone who fought and killed, to feel the weight of the world slide off his shoulders for just a little while. It was almost strange how Lucifer of all people took care of Dean while Dean shoved himself aside to take care of everyone else. He didn’t know how it’d ended up like this. He supposed that it didn’t really matter. It merely was.
"You aren't that here," Lucifer murmured, resettling himself between Dean's legs - half kneeling and just touching every last bit of skin he could reach. Reassuring, gentle and somehow still firm.
This wasn't the first time that Lucifer was getting a very poor implication of Dean's father - dream version or otherwise. He came across as a man more than repulsive, and it was painful to see such obvious scarring. Luckily, he was a man of patience, a man who had no problem taking times with the things he thought of as his and important. This could be fixed - it would just take time. "That's not the point of this. It's a mutual thing, you know that, don't you?"
Those touches were something of a taste of Dean’s own medicine. He didn’t understand why Lucifer was so gentle with him beyond that he knew it pleased the other man to do so, to take his time. “I know,” Dean said, meeting those blue eyes. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s introduction into his life, he might’ve actually assumed that blue eyes were just an angel thing. It wasn’t, of course, but none of them had eyes that were anything less than intense no matter what color they were. His own too fell into that category, he supposed. He didn’t like to think about that.
“We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.” A gentle, near constant reminder that he was working so hard to believe. Since he hadn’t been yelled at for moving his arms when he hadn’t been told, Dean figured he’d not push his luck. “Can I touch you?” he asked, and then softer, “will you kiss me?” He was okay if the answer to both was no. He hoped it wouldn’t be. Lucifer was remarkably good at allowing Dean the things he asked for or at least explaining why if he didn’t.
"Of course." For some people Lucifer might not have bothered responding at all -- but Dean liked it, the communication. It didn't stop him leaning in to offer a kiss right after though in some sort of much more adult version of show and tell. Kissing was more than okay.
Balanced on one arm over Dean, he uncapped the lube with his free hand, licked Dean's mouth open even as he poured a little pool of the slick liquid onto his partner's stomach. It was like paint on a palette, almost. "Let's try not to make too large a mess," he murmured, adding just a little rule to the moment. Dean could move and touch as he liked, he just had to be careful.
Dean threaded his fingers into Lucifer’s hair as he kissed him, opening and yielding to the other man so easily. He kept his weight firmly braced on one elbow, hips canted up to not only give Lucifer access to where he was eventually going, but also to try to keep the lube from having a one way trip down his stomach, over his hips and onto the sheets. As it stood, even breathing as shallowly as he could wasn’t doing much to help keep the lube in anything approaching one place.
There was a kind of nervous, excited flutter running through him for this. All hopped up on months of anticipation for what this was going to feel like. Lucifer all bare and thick inside him, the kind of asshole who would probably keep taking his time once he was fully seated in Dean. “Yes, Lucifer,” he murmured when the kiss briefly broke.
"Beautiful," Lucifer repeated. He could tell Dean that all night and be nothing but true and honest about it. Dean all laid out but positioning himself so carefully was enticing enough for him to want to take another kiss -- and so he did. This one was a little more bite and suck, but no less intense for it.
He ran his fingers through the lube (nearly helpful in that he was spreading it wider on Dean's stomach and lessening the chances for a mess) before moving to brush slick fingers over thighs and lower still. "Tired of waiting?"
Dean let out a low, keening noise into the kiss, legs spread wider. “Yes, Lucifer,” he gasped. He made eye contact with the other man, and followed one of the few rules he’d ever been given from this particular (one day) angel. “Will you have me?” If Dean wanted something, he had to ask for it to get it. “Please?”
It was a good rule. One of Lucifer's only firm and consistent ones for the most part. Asking didn't always mean getting, but being polite and actually speaking one's mind did wonders for a more positive outcome.
That said, it was hardly necessary Dean have had asked right this second. It was already coming to that. They both knew it. Still, Lucifer hummed out his approval even as he finally acquiesced completely, and pressed one finger in. It was still slow but no one should have been surprised with that.
The noise that slow, solitary finger pulled from Dean was positively desperate. He needed this. Badly. That Lucifer still wasn’t properly giving to him was almost...well, Dean was getting a very strong idea of how Cas felt during times like this. His fingers slid out of Lucifer’s hair, down his neck to his shoulders and then over a bicep as strong and sculpted as Dean’s own.
Lucifer was only the third person Dean had let fuck him because he wanted it, and some part of him really didn’t think John counted. It was fun and all, but they were both really damn drunk and kinda preferred to pretend it never happened partly because Dean barely remembered it. And even when he was doing porn he never actually bottomed, not for a real dick at any rate. “Just…” he tipped his head back, holding tighter to Lucifer’s bicep as that finger found a particularly wicked angle. “Just you and Cas.” Lucifer, he hoped would understand. Just him and Cas got through Dean’s walls like this, got him to lay back and beg, to let go and try to trust.
The slow pacing didn't stay forever -- Lucifer wasn't being a tease now so much as he was just being careful and eventually one finger turned to two with the eventuality of three.
"I know," he said, because it was more than obvious that Dean didn't do this for many people. Even if the number was larger for the actual act (which Luc somewhat doubted), the amount of people that he actually let in, folded for, was still small. Two in number. It was a bit flattering, a bit of an honor. Like he was being handed the keys to something very precious.
Lucifer leaned forward enough to kiss Dean one more time before slipping that third finger in -- angling his touch just so.
Dean whined, all concern for whatever lube was left on his stomach making a mess lost as his hips bucked up and back down onto those fingers. His fingers tangled tightly in Lucifer’s hair while he kissed him hard and desperate. “Please,” he gasped when it broke. “Please, please Lucifer.”
He thought he’d fall apart if Lucifer didn’t fuck him soon. It was completely irrational, but that was how it felt. Desperate to the point of vital and fuck.
Please. That was all it really took to get Lucifer moving. He slipped away from Dean only long enough to lose the rest of his own clothing and then was back - stealing more of that almost-mess of lube from Dean's chest only to slick himself.
Condoms weren't really necessary things when angelic beings with the ability to heal were in the mix (it didn't even matter if it wasn't this specific mix, yet), and so Lucifer wasted no more time with useless measures, instead only taking a short second to find a proper position before pressing into the hole he'd just taken the time to prep so well. It wasn't rough, but was by no means gentle either. "This is what you wanted," he said, tone low but lacking its usual nearly icy quality.
Dean groaned lowly as Lucifer filled him. It was different than anything else, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. “Yes,” he said, looking up at the other man. “It’s still what I want.” He wanted to thrust his hips back against Lucifer, wanted to fuck himself on that cock. “Still what you want?” he asked, but thought was hard, and even though he knew Lucifer wanted this, wouldn’t be doing it anyway, he wanted to hear the other man say it. He wanted to be wanted by someone who mattered so much to him who maybe had more of a choice in the matter and hadn’t dragged him out of hell.
With his not sticky hand, Lucifer reached out to brush the curve of his thumb against the light smattering of freckles on Dean's cheek. It didn't help a lot with finding a proper pacing right away, but it wasn't as if there was a rush. "Dean," he murmured -- rather losing himself to the moment, "yes, I want this." It wasn't necessary to mention if he didn't it wouldn't be happening. Sometimes the reassurance was just nice.
There was something in the way Lucifer said his name, a caress more than a demand. He closed his eyes, basking in the brush of contact and the way the other man seemed to make his name melt over him. If his goal in coming over here was to set the weight he was carrying constantly down for a little bit, Lucifer definitely managed to help him cast it off. He tipped his head up and kissed him slowly, mapping those lips with his own as his fingers wandered wherever they could. His Lucifer for the time being. Tenderness wasn’t what he’d expected going in, but it was exactly what he needed.
Which was what Lucifer tried delivering on. He didn't always succeed, but he did his best and some wins were better than none. He rolled his hips, slow and sure and set a pacing that was neither rough nor especially gentle. It was solid and present and basically just Lucifer.
"I'm very fond of you," he told Dean, lips brushing against lips.
Dean felt something break in response to that, something so deep he didn’t even know it needed to snap. He didn’t move away from Lucifer, let the soft gasps and moans linger right there between their mouths. “I love you,” he whispered finally, knowing that in the throes of passion, he had an excuse to never say it again if he didn’t want to. He could bottle his emotions down in regular life, make it so that nobody needed to know that he felt much less how. It meant something now, but maybe not as much as it could have or would if Dean ever managed to say it outside of the bedroom. Still, he repeated it over and over against Lucifer’s lips like a mantra turning into a desperate prayer.
They both knew it wasn't something that would come out later with excuses. Even if Dean never said it again, he'd done now and meant it, and that counted quite a lot. Lucifer huffed a pleased little sound directly into Dean's mouth, moved until he could tilt the other man's hips up just slightly to allow for a better angle. "I love you," he agreed in return, because it was fair. Because it was the sort of thing that Dean should hear more often, and not just from his overly-devoted husband.
Dean’s fingers curled roughly around his own cock, jerking a little bit faster than Lucifer was moving. He sealed his mouth over the other man’s, shifting his hips enough to try to nudge him over, to try to take over enough to fuck himself down onto Lucifer’s cock. He wanted to see the blond messy and gorgeous on the sheets beneath him, wanted to feel those hands gripping tight to his hips, to hear himself begging please please please while Lucifer smirked.
Lucifer allowed the movement - helping slightly even by pulling Dean along with him properly -- never once breaking the kiss or even really pausing his hips completely. If that was the position Dean wanted, Lucifer certainly wasn't going to complain at the chance to watch from an easier, more comfortable angle.
Dean broke the kiss, practically panting for breath while he sat up enough to look down at this man. He took what he wanted from him as hot and heavy as Lucifer promised in his basement so many months ago. He was done with soft and gentle and teasing. He needed this to move into more, a hard and fast kind of claiming that might leave both of them sore for hours after.
Lucifer did smirk, hands falling easily on to Dean's hips and then guiding them to move -- setting the pace no matter that he wasn't on the top anymore. It was sort of like fulfilling that promise, just from a different position.
Dean watched Lucifer, ignoring how sweaty they both were in favor of the look on Lucifer’s face. He fought those hands, trying to get Lucifer to leave bruises. His hand curled back around his cock, weight braced just over Lucifer’s shoulder. “Harder,” he gasped.
"None of that, yet." Lucifer moved Dean so that he was balanced up straighter, nearly straight and then moved his hands so that they were on his own hips, Lucifer’s fingers thread through them and pressed down hard against the jut of hip bones. If Dean wanted to be begging, it was going to be for a lot of different reasons.
Harder he could do, rolling his hips up sharply against Dean's, guiding him down at the same time with firm fingers.
Dean whined loudly, biting his lower lip as he worked so very hard to keep to posture Lucifer set for him. He was well aware that the other man knew exactly how frustrating he was being. “Fuck,” he hissed softly. Meeting Lucifer’s thrusts at this angle and with his hands essentially out of commission to help him balance was difficult, but Dean was trying. Failing, but trying. He looked down at the other man, convinced at least in this if no other way, that he was his namesake. “You’re evil, you know that?” he asked. He wasn’t complaining.
"I think I've been told as much before," Lucifer half laughed before giving up and turning it into a little pant. This position was more difficult, but the angle was nice. And, yes, he did like making this difficult.
He chewed his bottom lip, focused on keeping Dean upright and moving. "Tell me. Tell me what you want, Dean." He wanted to hear it.
Dean watched those lips, wanting desperately to move from where he’d been put so that he could kiss them. “I want you to fill me up,” he said roughly. “Wanna feel you come in me and…” he trailed off so he could moan lowly. “And I don’t want you to let me come until you’ve got me on my back again and your mouth wrapped around me.” That he could still think and actually articulate himself was way more than Dean ever thought he’d manage with someone hitting really really good angles in him over and over again like Lucifer was.
God, but if that didn't paint a beautiful picture, Lucifer didn't know what did. He had to close his eyes for a moment, just to refocus on breathing properly between upward thrusts and rolls of his hips. It wouldn't be long before all those wants became realities. Lucifer did, of course, try his hardest to fulfill the wants of those he loved.
"Ask me for it," he managed, fingers pressing sharply into Dean's hips.
Dean tipped his head back, teeth clenching briefly. This felt way too damn good to be talking during. “Please,” he gasped, thrusting down harder as he arched his back to actually manage to get the angle right to move. “Please, Lucifer will you come in me?”
It was really mostly just good timing that it worked out that Lucifer did come right after he was asked for it. He moved his hands, pulled Dean down for a sharply taken kiss that was just as much teeth as lips and groaned into his mouth even as he made a mess of them both.
It was beyond good, actually. Maybe timing had nothing to do with it at all.
Dean practically growled into the kiss, barely able to catch himself to keep from actually crushing Lucifer. Fuck. Fuck, that felt good. There were a lot of things Dean loved and feeling his partner fall apart because of him ranked pretty high up there. “Thank you,” he murmured against those lips, softer than Cas’ perpetually chapped ones. It was only polite for thank you to follow please like that. Ask and get had a higher probability of happening more than once when manners were involved.
Lucifer only hummed out a noise of nearly lazy approval when it came to that thanks -- nudged and pulled at Dean until they were rolling over a bit, until he could pull out of the other man and lay a trail of bites downward. They had a plan set and made, there was absolutely no reason not to carry on with it. Good behavior was always rewarded.
Dean’s fingers threaded into Lucifer’s hair, body rolling and arching to meet that touch. He hadn’t been given orders, hadn’t been explicitly told or shown how Lucifer wanted him. He felt like he was allowed to move for now, to be very visibly appreciative of what he was being given. The other man’s name rolled off his lips in an almost pornographic sigh.
Lucifer liked obedience -- that much was clear -- but he wasn't so strict that he felt the need to control every single position and movement that Dean might make. Particularly not at a time like this - all reward and positive enforcement.
He nipped at the already forming bruises on Dean's hip before taking him into his mouth. The time for forcing wait was over now.
Dean groaned low as Lucifer took him in, trying not to pull at his hair too much. “Fuck, yeah,” he murmured, all the words of praise he’d trained himself into giving Castiel flowing easily past his lips. He really, really loved being able to relax and let go like this. It happened all too infrequently.
Lucifer didn't really need the praise, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate it anyway -- it was always nice to know that his partners were enjoying themselves, after all. Not that it wasn't completely obvious.
It might not really have seemed like his thing, but Lucifer kind of really enjoyed giving this sort of attention. He sucked cock a little bit like it was a business -- all efficiency and his own personal flair - cheeks hollowed and tongue rather expert.
It didn’t take long at all, especially when all the teasing and denial was considered as well. Dean let out a brief moan of warning, but he couldn’t hold back to make sure it was heard. He came hard into Lucifer’s mouth, crying out his name in a way that was absolutely devil worship. His fingers clenched tight in that blond hair, and for just a few moments he forgot that the outside world existed at all.
Swallowing, Lucifer relished the tug to his hair a bit. It was satisfying, in it's own way. He huffed out an amused little almost laugh and reared back when he was done, licking and then biting his own lower lip. "Sated?" he asked, only a little teasingly.
“Only once you come up here and kiss me,” Dean said, tugging gently to get the other man up his body. “And maybe take a nap.” Shit, he knew he was gonna need to sleep before he even considered getting back in his car. It’d be nice not to do it alone after something like this.
Lucifer rolled his eyes fondly before scooting up and over next to Dean in order to lean down and take a kiss. "A nap I could do with," he agreed. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be with someone who tired and didn't just nap out of comfortable obligation.
Dean returned that lazy, easy kiss. Once Lucifer was settled, he found himself a comfortable spot with him, making himself still vulnerable as he rested his head on the other man’s chest and his arm around his waist. This was way more than he’d expected coming in.