Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3512681.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Lucifer/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Lucifer_(Supernatural)
  Additional Tags:
      NSFW, Samifer_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-09 Words: 1754
****** Indemnification ******
by walrucifer
Summary
     Sam's hot, and Lucifer's cold. They resolve things.
Notes
     Blah blah Supernatural does not belong to me.
     Mark Pellegrino belongs to my bedroom.
     So does Jared.
     This is for Kaitlyn. I promised it to her ages ago, and never
     finished it. But, yes, here you go, bae. Enjoy this.
It’s much too hot. It is far, far too much… he can’t handle it…. not this much.
Sam groans and rolls over, tangling himself into covers, worsening the problem
and ending up wrapped in eiderdown and cotton. A glance at his alarm tells him
that it’s very early in the morning, 2:43, and Dean’s likely already awake. The
heat and silence become oppressive and painful. Sweat starts to slick his back
and arms.
Uncomfortable as it is, Sam disentangles himself from the covers, grateful for
the sudden decrease of tepid blankets over his body. He sits up slowly, vision
swimming slightly. The heat is making him feel light-headed and tired. He
supposes he’ll have to ask someone to install air conditioning, but now is not
that time. Now is the time to get a drink and, if possible, return to bed. It’s
a weekend. He’s earned himself a lie-in.
Halfway down the hallway, he comes across Lucifer. The blonde lookes as
exhausted as Sam feels, eyes bordered by purple and red, jaw set, slight
stubble coating it and his throat. He’s barefoot, arms hanging limply at his
sides. His chest heaves as he struggles to hold in a yawn, toes curling in an
almost birdlike way, and Sam likes this view, this almost human version of
Lucifer.
“Hello, Sam,” he sighs and lets the yawn out. Sam nods in return; he’s too
tired to respond coherently. Lucifer rubs his eyes, making little noises in his
throat, and then his eyelids are drifting shut.
“Luce, wha’re you doin’?” Sam slurs tiredly. The blonde shrugs and rubs the
heel of his hand into his left eye, eyeing Sam’s sleepy form.
“I’m cold,” he mutters and bites back another yawn. He seems almost afraid to
show how tired, how vulnerable, he is, Sam thinks, and he smiles. Lucifer cocks
his head, confused.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, amused, and gazes at Sam. “I’m cold, Sam.”
“It’s in the middle of summer, Lucifer,” Sam sighs, but he pulls the smaller
man close and wraps his arms around him gently. Lucifer smiles tiredly and lets
his chin fall onto Sam’s shoulder with a contented murrp. Sam has to admit, he
is cold, and it feels good.
“We should lie in a bathtub of ice water,” Sam murmurs. Lucifer shakes his
head.
“Boiling,” he demurs and groans softly as Sam palms up his shirt, hand resting
on his chest, thumbing his nipple gently. Sam bites back a moan and undoes the
first two buttons of Lucifer’s shirt, making the blonde groan again, higher-
pitched and ragged.
Breathing hard, Sam pushes Lucifer into a wall, spurred on by the blonde’s
small moans and gasps, presses his lips onto the smaller man’s viciously. Sweat
coats his face and neck, and he tastes salt when Lucifer kisses him back. Blue
eyes slide closed as Sam cradles his boyfriend’s skull in his palm, other hand
wrapped around his shoulder blade, and kisses his neck.
Sam shoves Lucifer into his room, nearly slamming the door shut, sloppily locks
it, and tears the blonde’s shirt off eagerly.
“S-Sam…” Lucifer growls, breath stuttering, as Sam almost throws him onto the
bed and yanks his jeans down with enough force to leave fabric welts and
scratches on the insides of his thighs. Fingers trembling, Sam tries to undo
his own button and fly; it doesn’t quite work, and Lucifer helps, significantly
more patient, but also eager and painfully needy.
After a few awkward fumbling moments, Sam pulls Lucifer’s boxers down, exposing
him, and he’s already achingly hard. He groans when Sam regains composure and
leans in and kisses him, rough and filthy, and his groan stops short as Sam
cups one hand around his shoulder blade, the other wrapping around his cock. He
can’t help making a small noise in the back of his throat.
“Still cold?” Sam asks, slightly breathless. Lucifer shakes his head,
shuddering, and Sam sits them up, cradling the blonde in his arms, kisses and
sucks over his neck and chest. When he lets his teeth graze over Lucifer’s
collarbone, he’s rewarded with a particularly wrecked moan and a shiver.
“Mmm… you’re so pretty, you know that?” Sam whispers against his chest and
looks up through dark lashes, eyes butterscotch-brown. Lucifer shudders again
and claws a hand into Sam’s hair, breathing hard, jaw slightly slack. Sam
raises his head, tackles him back, and presses his lips to the side of
Lucifer’s neck, sinking his teeth in. The blonde’s resulting mewl is the most
delicious sound he thinks he’s ever heard. He wants to hear it again.
Scooting down on his elbows, Sam repositions himself over Lucifer’s waist and
hips, chin rested on his abdomen, gently jabbing into skin, making more bruises
bloom on pale skin, but it doesn’t seem to hurt Lucifer.
“Sam… Sam why’re you..?” Lucifer wonders, voice rough and husky, catching at
the edges. Sam laughs softly, gazes up at him again.
“You said you were cold. I need to warm you up, sweetie,” he murmurs, still
smiling.
Lucifer blinks in surprise and makes a half-satisfied mmm in his throat at the
sudden change in sam’s behaviour. Sam kisses his cheek, much less aggressively
than before. The blonde flushes at the gentle touch, coaxing a little sigh out
of Sam.
“Do I still need to fuck you warm?” Sam breathes, making Lucifer groan softly
and nod.
Sam leans in and presses a kiss to the blonde’s stomach, feels Lucifer squirm
beneath him. As large as Nick may be compared to other people, he’s tiny
compared to Sam, and Sam rather likes the irony. He can tell Lucifer doesn’t.
He’s used to being bigger and more powerful. Still, he never complains.
“Sam, you’re hurting me,” Lucifer murmurs gently, but firmly, when Sam claws
his nails into his sides, drawing blood tinged with the faintest residue of
Grace. Sam loosens his grip, gently pets his hands down the blonde’s waist and
stomach, smearing blood over snowy skin. Breath held, jaw clenched, Lucifer
tilts his head back and makes a deep rumble in his chest.
Something huge obscures the light for a moment; then, it’s suddenly much
brighter than before, blindingly bright, and Sam is enveloped by wings,
gargantuan, powerfully muscled, all the colours of a sunrise, and in the burnt
and scarred patches where Lucifer’s feathers have been torn from his skin,
veins track his skin like a tiny road. Sam brushes his fingertips over one
patch.
He can see blood surge through the veins in time to the slow metronome of
Lucifer’s heart, veins darkening and lightening in turn, and the angel’s skin
is perceivably warmer in these patches than the rest of him.
Carefully, Sam kisses one such spot, letting his lips touch it only ever so
slightly, not wanting to hurt Lucifer. The blonde shudders and makes a wrecked
noise in his throat, arches his back.
“Do you… do you like them?” Lucifer asks in a small voice, eyes upturned to
meet Sam’s gaze. Sam growls and kisses him as hard as he can, kisses him
breathless. They tangle into a knot of limbs, Sam on top, pinning Lucifer
beneath his elbows and thighs, Lucifer spread-eagled and vulnerable.
“They’re beautiful, baby. I love them,” Sam whispers and traces over a raw
patch, letting the pads of his fingers glide across the entire wing, down
Lucifer’s scapula and collarbone, ends with his palm rested on the center of
the blonde’s chest. Lucifer sighs softly and closes his eyes, rumbling deeply
in his chest in enjoyment.
“Thank you, Sam,” he breathes. Sam smiles and kisses his temple.
Lucifer cocks his head to the side, baring his neck, and Sam kisses a trail
down the exposed skin, making the angel purr and moan softly. Moving down, Sam
nips, kisses and licks down Lucifer’s stomach and hips, down to the arch of his
hipbones and at the base of his cock.
Growling, Lucifer claws into the bedspread, nails tearing into the flimsy
cloth, making a ragged, high-pitched groan as Sam licks over the side of his
cock, saliva superheating frozen, sensitive skin. Sam growls in turn and tilts
his head, deep-throating the blonde, unable to resist smiling at Lucifer’s
whimper, which grows to a cry.
“I want to fuck you. Will you let me fuck you?” Sam gasps, and Lucifer bucks
and shudders beneath him, muscles tightening, pulls his hips back, curls up on
his side. Breathing hard, Sam kisses Lucifer’s shoulder, gently grips under his
chin, and kisses him roughly.
“Do you need me to prep you?” he snarls impatiently. Lucifer shakes his head,
breathing so hard the air literally whistles in and out of his lungs, and Sam
slides a hand over the blonde’s thigh, curves his abdomen and hips against
Lucifer’s backside. Carefully, but with exceeding voracity, he eases himself
in, Lucifer’s breath stopping in a startled gasp.
Sam places an arm around his angel’s hips gently, holds him in place, snaps his
hips experimentally. It works. Lucifer throws his head back, eyes closed, jaw
gone slack, entire body loose in complete luxury and pleasure, and Sam picks up
the pace, fucks him hard and fast.
A while into this, Sam can feel Lucifer’s form clenching in his arms, his jaw
tight, his chest hitched. He angles his hips up, hits Lucifer’s insides with
maddening efficiency. The blonde squirms and thrashes in his grip, trying to
speed the procedure. Sam doesn’t let him. He’s adamant.
After several more thrusts, Lucifer goes limp, unable to find his breath,
trembling. Sam gently turns him onto his back, lies down beside him.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. Lucifer nods tiredly, eyelids at half-mast,
looking exhausted and small and thoroughly well-fucked. Sam kisses his forehead
tenderly. Lucifer’s much warmer than before.
Slowly, Sam kisses his cheek, down his cheekbone, his jaw and his collarbone,
comes to a stop at his chest, and tilts his head to the side. Lucifer’s skin is
hot compared to his usual chill, the sound of his heart oddly calming, despite
how quickly and hard it’s beating.
“Sam?” Lucifer asks after a few moments, voice slurred and small. Sam looks up
at him, hums, inviting the question.
“I love you,” Lucifer yawns.
Sam smiles and raises his head off of the blonde’s chest, kisses him sweetly,
and returns to his former position.
“I love you, too,” he whispers. “Love you, baby.”
Then he remembers something.
“Did I warm you up enough?”
Lucifer hums affirmatively. Sam grins and closes his eyes.
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