Lucifer Morningstar didn't make you do shit. (didnt_make_you) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-01-16 13:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, lucifer morningstar, samandriel |
Who: (hal)Lucifer Morningstar + Samandriel
What: Samandriel wakes up to Satan. (AU plot)
When: 01/16
Where: Morningstar Manor (and not farm)
Rating: High, but FTB
Status: Complete
Samandriel might not have any need for sleep, but the truth was he did rather enjoy it. Cuddling and relaxing with his partner was the perfect way to end one day and start the next. The very insistent warm press of Grace next to him wasn’t something Samandriel expected. In fact, it was a bit too much Grace and it felt far too much like home, like something he hadn’t felt in eons. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at...at Lucifer.
The wrong Lucifer. Samandriel could see it far too clearly now that the one he’d loved in his dreaming was laying in the place where the man he loved in this life ought to be. Physically, they looked the same, those bright blue eyes and slightly bed mussed blonde hair. “Lucifer,” he said softly, sitting up enough to run his fingers over the archangel’s stubble rough cheek. Samandriel had never felt quite so naked. It didn’t matter that he was naked, because of course he was, why would he bother with clothes when he was going to bed with his eventual husband?
“You’re…” Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong and he wanted his Lucifer back. Distress threaded through the angel, something that might’ve easily been mistaken for confusion while he stared at the exact being he had been quite literally made for.
Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer focused on his surroundings and then the boy in front of him.
Oh. Well. This was different. Leave it to the Winchesters to find angels willing to trade around madness and hallucination like Pokemon cards. Ridiculous as it seemed, it was much easier to think that than to assume Sam Winchester had moved up in the world (judging from the decor of the room).
"Samandriel," he practically purred it out, warmth and ice all at the same time. Interesting. Very interesting. This angel had been among his most favorites once. "It's been a very long time."
“It has,” Samandriel said softly, still staring breathlessly at the archangel in front of him. He ran his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, well aware what that predatory tone was doing to him. This wasn’t his fiancé. The vessel Lucifer occupied certainly would have looked the same to anyone who didn’t know any better, but Samandriel knew that body better than most ever could hope to know their lovers. As well as Castiel knew Dean’s.
Idly, he was aware that the usual light hum of Castiel’s presence on certain angelic frequencies was missing, but that seemed far less important than what was in front of him.
He shifted again, focusing more on Lucifer than caring about covering himself or if his legs were going to end up somehow tangled in the sheets. “I never…” he said softly, for once completely stumped for words. “They wouldn’t let me take a vessel.” There, that was close enough to coherency. “When you were freed. They said I wasn’t needed and to stay in heaven.” Loyalty. It would go a long way with this particular angel, and establishing it from the start might do wonders to protect everyone else he cared about while he tried to work all of this out. It helped that it was true, and that Samandriel had suspected that Michael and Raphael in particular were perhaps concerned about his loyalty to their cause.
"Yes, I imagine they would have." Ooh, but he always had liked Samandriel. Even now, the little angel of imagination was doing so perfectly what he always had: imagining enough for touching. Seeing enough for conversation, paying attention. It was nearly like a holiday after dealing with Sam Winchester for so long.
Beautiful vessel, but really just crappy personality, that guy.
"Seems done and over with yet again, though, doesn't it?" He tilted his head to the side, and really looked at Samandriel. Inside, out. "Looks like they let you go outside and play a little bit."
Samandriel could feel Lucifer looking at him, couldn’t help but straighten his wings almost preening under that critical gaze. His fingers ran down Lucifer’s chest and over his stomach until his touch faded off over the other angel’s hip.
“It was necessary,” he said softly, heart clenching in his chest and wings drawing tighter while he remembered. “A lot of our brothers have died recently. Deciding I was useful was a last resort.” This wasn’t a Lucifer who dreamed. This was a Lucifer straight out of his dreams. One who very much didn’t belong in this reality.
Lucifer was still the most beautiful thing Samandriel had ever laid eyes on no matter all the things that were subtly wrong about him. “You can see that, can’t you?” It wasn’t disrespectful in any way, more a quiet acknowledgement that he hadn’t been truly seen in a very long while. He would let his own desire hang heavy in the air between them. Lucifer would have the choice whether or not to act on it and Samandriel would do what he had nearly always done in the face of this particular angel. He would give of himself completely.
Sitting up properly until he was against the headboard of the bed (and what a nice headboard, really), Lucifer took a moment to lament the strange metaphysics that were being a hallucination of someone who knew him well enough to make him completely sentient. It nearly seemed easier here, but that was hardly surprising, not when it came to Imagination.
"I see," he said, because he did. He smiled (Nick had a great smile), scratched at his chin and regarded Samandriel with a lazy interest. They'd gotten on perfectly once. Centuries ago. Things were different, but Lucifer always did love his brothers best. "It would be a perfect little fantasy, wouldn't it?"
“What would, sir?” Samandriel asked, tipping his head curiously to one side as he regarded this lazy Lucifer. That smile was gorgeous no matter which of them it belonged to. “You out of the cage and in my bed?” he continued. Moving to straddle the other angel was hardly an effort. “Here where I can have you all to myself without Heaven glaring down at either of us or having to worry about orders or surviving long enough to see you again.” He leaned in to taste the air just shy of Lucifer’s lips. “Yes, I rather think so.” Putting the pieces together on this was proving to be challenging. It seemed like a safer, easier option to simply roll with it.
They were both just rolling with it, honestly. But that was more due to the fact that this particular version of Lucifer wasn't allowed to do much other than roll with things. Sure he could show up and bother Sam, sing a showtune or Led Zeppelin song, maybe just ruin his day completely… but there wasn't much else to be done, not really.
And Sam never gave him this much attention. This was nice. Better than nice. It was like a mental vacation for… well. Whatever.
"Good," he murmured, resting hands on Samandriel's hips. "Your vessel's just a little thing, isn't he? Suits you." He leaned up then, pressed lips to the other angel's jaw, offered slow kisses. "What's this about, then? Miss me so badly after all this time that you took the first option? It's certainly easier than the cage."
Samandriel groaned lowly, tilting his head to offer Lucifer more skin. He rolled his hips against Lucifer’s, working into and a little against the press of those hands just to add an edge of disobedience to things. “Yes, sir,” he groaned, defaulting easily to something nearer a title. Whatever kept Lucifer focused on him and not Apocalypse 2.0.
“I don’t think you know how deeply I grieved your loss, sir. But if I’d rebelled as well…” They would have ended him without hesitation. Lucifer had to know that. A dead angel was no good to anyone. A living one, well...he could be good for something, right? “Yours,” he promised against Lucifer’s ear, willing and soft. Pliant to the archangel’s will as he had ever been.
And it was really good that Lucifer was positive he was just a (really great) figment of Imagination's imagination, or else that apocalypse would be well on its way to happening by now.
"Mine," he agreed, because fake or not, he was here. And he was greedy in a way he'd never been when he'd been part of the host. What he wanted he took. What he took he kept. "Yes. You are. You always have been. How long have you waited for this?" He moved until he was pushing Samandriel off of his lap, crawling forward until the position was switched and he was looming over the younger angel. "How many times did you look upon my brother and know hate?" He wanted to hear that as much as he wanted to ruin Samandriel's lips. So he kissed him.
Samandriel was pretty sure that Lucifer even at his most desirous had never made him feel hunted before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. When the hungry kiss broke leaving Samandriel gasping for breath he technically didn’t need to draw, he looked up at Lucifer, at an angel who truly was the Devil in ways he thought his love would never be.
“Since the moment you were lost to me,” he said, answering both questions at once. His fingers barely brushed a body he knew so well, saw wings and Grace that no one else could. Six of them all glorious and powerful. “I rejoiced when Raphael was ended. When there were no others left in heaven who could damn me for being yours.” Love wasn’t a word you used in front of this Lucifer. He was a being of loyalty and possession. Samandriel didn’t need Grace to know that. “There’s a kill order on me now, you know,” he practically purred, ignoring the fact that it’d already been seen out. Lucifer would probably be pleased to find himself with a Samandriel willingly on Heaven’s shit list.
"Raphel was always a fool," Lucifer didn't even bother sneering, didn't bother frowning. It was fact, spoken simply between sharp bites, near violence. "He deserved an end." More than Gabriel. More than Michael, who he hated in a completely different way, who he nearly just loved still.
Fingers brushed over Samandriel's jaw line, and then forced him to tilt his head upward exposing his neck and adam's apple and Lucifer licked at the spot. "What is it you did? You've clearly been playing with the Winchesters." That seemed damning enough, in some cases. Sam was Lucifer's too, after all.
Pain. Lucifer was giving him pain and it was the most glorious thing ever. He loved being manhandled like this. “Just the one,” he murmured. “Your vessel is to be respected but Dean? Dean I can use to my own ends and not feel bad about it. Dean took you away from me the second time and was meant to hold the brother who took you away the first.” Perhaps that would connect whatever dots Lucifer had left that Samandriel still hadn’t figured out to get them there.
His nails drug slowly down the archangel’s chest, knowing he’d heal no matter how hard he pulled. Lying was easy enough when it came to his feelings for Dean. Lucifer would see what he wanted to see, and what was beneath him was a desperately loyal angel who had pissed off Heaven to boot. “I found out too much. They had parts of heaven controlling us, all of us after what happened to you and Michael, after Raphael met his end.” And Gabriel too, but Samandriel didn’t want to talk about Gabriel. “I found out and I figured out how to keep them from getting in my head again.”
Whatever dots were being laid out for them, Lucifer seemed content to ignore and bypass them for the time being -- it was far more interesting to bite sharply at Samandriel's neck, to dig his fingers into hipbones so roughly that the bruise was nearly instantaneous. All those marks went away so quickly, it was such a shame. But it had been a long time since he'd nearly felt like a physical thing that this was distracting and amazing. It was perfection in its simplest form to just touch and ruin what he wanted.
"All those secrets in your brain," he hummed out, nearly thoughtful between the digging in of teeth. "How angry they must be." Samandriel would tell him the secrets, the knowledge. If he asked. He knew that.
Samandriel moaned loudly, body arching to try to get more contact anywhere. God, please anywhere. But the archangel was still hovering over him like a bigger damn tease than the one he was engaged to. “Furious,” Samandriel whined. “Please, Lucifer.” No more talking. No more Heaven or secrets or anything. He was hard and he wanted and was very much accustomed to Lucifer giving him what he wanted usually around the time he wanted it.
“Fuck,” he moaned, and then desperately aroused added, “keep hurting me. I deserve the punishment from you. I’ve earned it.” He hadn’t turned his back on Lucifer, not once, but he hadn’t fought either. Self preservation as it turned out was an interesting trait in angels.
Lucifer laughed at that, and it was a cold nearly disinterested thing. "You think you get to tell me what you've earned, Samandriel? When I've been caged for centuries? Do you think your fence sitting is enough to earn my ire?" Lucifer wished Hell upon no brother of his, particularly not Imagination, who had been nothing but gentle beauty. Apparently he thought the boy deserved something though, since he shifted, slotting a knee between his thighs and grinding closer yet.
Of course. Even a version of his angel who had arguably been broken to the point of earning his reputation wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. He moaned, but it was a half broken thing. “I just…” He bit the archangel’s lower lip. “I’m tired of being treated with kid gloves. I want to be fucked hard. I want you to do your best to leave as many marks on me as possible because you’re the only one who can. Please.” The last word was desperate, his voice breaking entirely. He still blamed himself for what his double did and no one was holding him accountable for it. No one was giving him what he needed to feel like he’d be able to be forgiven. “Please.”
Lucifer leaned back, took in Samandriel completely with a gaze that was so close to being completely detached, as cold as his hell was, or at least as cold as he could make it. "Beg," he said, fingers tracing up Samandriel's chest and higher until they were digging in deep and too rough against his throat and windpipe. "Really beg me. Don't tellme what you want, because I don't care about what you think you deserve, Samandriel."
Naked and even more bare than that, Samandriel’s wings opened behind him. “Please, Lucifer,” he pleaded, voice tight for all the pressure on his throat. “Please hurt me. Please. Please break me. Please. I need you to. I was made for you.” He tried to swallow no matter how unnecessary the motion was. “Please remake me for you.”
That he could do. Lucifer offered sharp bites of teeth and nails against any and all skin he could find, hummed delightedly every time he drew blood.
Even if he wasn't necessarily real, he was being imagined well enough where he could shape and mold the younger angel as he liked. It was a little like Samandriel making himself into what he really wanted to be.
But Lucifer would definitely take the credit.