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Sam drabblle for 11x14
Feb. 20th, 2016 07:39 pmRating: soft R
Pairing(s):Sam/Lucifer, Sam/Dean
Spoilers: up to and including 11x14
Warnings:ptsd, past rape, not exactly comfort in your h/c, self loathing, shame also - this can be read as very anti Dean. I don't exactly men it that way, it's a story of a moment, not the whole picture. But if that bothers you - be warned.
Summary: At least Lucifer was never the only monster living in Sam's head.
That night, alone, Sam dared to look, to touch the thought -
Had Dean not been in trouble that moment, 'gotta save Dean', to carry him through that moment....
Lucifer.
There.
In Sam again. Touching him, making him scream.
Felt like the end of everything. No point fighting anymore, never was.
Distraction from the stark dread and hopelessness, had him reaching into his pants.
Coming is better than that. Self loathing means there is at least someone there. Anything is better. Disgust. It should be disgust. Shame. Being like this - being turned on by this, he'd mostly forgiven himself that. Been turned on by worse.
But he deserved no forgiveness for being Lucifer's bitch.
Ten seconds around him topside and Lucifer in him again.
It wasn't even compulsion - he might recognize compulsion, might be able to work with it.
This was not even that.
A moment around him and Sam was offering his soul to him, take it, take it, please.
It was like Stanford, like Sam could fight it. It wasn't even compulsion. The world would rearrange itself to make things right. Nothing about Sam mattered but who he was made for.
Self loathing added an edge, sticky on his hand.
What if Dean called through Sam's door, came in. What if Dean held Sam’s face, held Sam through it. What if Dean kissed Sam and told him he was worth living. Was Dean’s. Again, like he once used to ....
Sam curled around the thought, around his bunched up blanket.
He had always, every moment of his life, been a bit more Dean's.
Pairing(s):
Spoilers: up to and including 11x14
Warnings:
Summary: At least Lucifer was never the only monster living in Sam's head.
Had Dean not been in trouble that moment, 'gotta save Dean', to carry him through that moment....
Lucifer.
There.
In Sam again. Touching him, making him scream.
Felt like the end of everything. No point fighting anymore, never was.
Distraction from the stark dread and hopelessness, had him reaching into his pants.
Coming is better than that. Self loathing means there is at least someone there. Anything is better. Disgust. It should be disgust. Shame. Being like this - being turned on by this, he'd mostly forgiven himself that. Been turned on by worse.
But he deserved no forgiveness for being Lucifer's bitch.
Ten seconds around him topside and Lucifer in him again.
It wasn't even compulsion - he might recognize compulsion, might be able to work with it.
This was not even that.
A moment around him and Sam was offering his soul to him, take it, take it, please.
It was like Stanford, like Sam could fight it. It wasn't even compulsion. The world would rearrange itself to make things right. Nothing about Sam mattered but who he was made for.
Self loathing added an edge, sticky on his hand.
What if Dean called through Sam's door, came in. What if Dean held Sam’s face, held Sam through it. What if Dean kissed Sam and told him he was worth living. Was Dean’s. Again, like he once used to ....
Sam curled around the thought, around his bunched up blanket.
He had always, every moment of his life, been a bit more Dean's.
