thelockbox | Lucifer

Sam's eyes crinkled slightly, expressing bemusement, and concern. He reached out, laying his hand very gently on Eliot's shoulder, studying him again.

"I don't think you understand. I want to."

He tipped his head slightly, smoothing his fingers a little further down.

"It'll help you relax, which is good for me too, and it's no different to any of the other times I've made you come--just today it would be just for you, that's all." He reached across Eliot, taking the sponge off the side of the bathtub and sitting back again. He lay the sponge on Eliot's shoulder, where his hand had been.

"If you say no, then okay. I won't force you. It's just...an offer, that's all. Like the bath, because you've earned it."

Whether it was Sam's intention or not, but Eliot relaxed after hearing his answer at the same time as Sam putting his hand on his shoulder. It was positive reinforcement, as Sophie used to say, but Eliot didn't think about the grifter at the moment. In fact, he hadn't thought about his teammates much after his death, Hell wasn't a place they belonged to, even in his thoughts.

He opened his eyes to look at the other man, studying Sam just as the other studied him. It was a really good offer, and he was given a choice. This wasn't a humiliation forced onto him, and he didn't need to surrender anything. It didn't count as surrendering if he said yes, did it?

The thought that he earned it made him feel uncomfortable though, like he had given something for this. Maybe he was dodging, but he couldn't directly say yes. "Do as you wish. You've been doin' that from the start."

Sam understood what Eliot was doing, and why. He nodded, taking it in, scrubbing gently across Eliot's shoulder, his chest. He was careful and meticulous, using the soft sponge to clean Eliot up, but only as a half measure to placate him as he moved into place on the floor of the pool, resting on his knees.

He paused as his cloth dropped under the water, still working Eliot's abs, his sides, along the curve of his back, only to circle back around, resting just the pad of the sponge and his hand on Eliot's thigh.

Sam bent down, dipping his chin under the water's surface, meeting Eliot's gaze, while the fingers of his other hand dropped to his crotch, the tips of them sliding underneath to cup his balls gently.

He dipped under the water, but it wasn't to go straight to work. He bent in, the long strands of his hair swaying in the pull of the water as he bent in to kiss Eliot's skin, curl his mouth around his nipple, flicking his tongue up against it.

If the situation was different, if they weren't in Hell and Sam hadn't tortured him every day, this would be awesome. The heat of the water was adjusted just right short of scorching to relax all his tense muscles, and the sponge bath Sam was giving him helped get rid of all the caked gunk that coated his skin over the last few week. It made him feel slightly like being stuck at a hospital, perhaps with a very special nurse who gave him remarkable attention, but it still felt nice.

Despite himself, Eliot allowed his guard to be lowered and relaxed into the careful, tender strokes. He couldn't be on the alert all the time, his fight and flight instincts have been drawn out and wrung repeatedly over the last few weeks. He was exhausted, and this unwound him like nothing else had.

His breath hitched at Sam's first touch, and he met Sam's steady gaze with one that was both troubled and wanting at once. So he closed his eyes like Sam suggested, not out of need to pretend the Sam was something he was not, but to actually feel what was being done to him, for him.

Going after the rest of his body wasn't what Sam said he'd do. Eliot tried to pull back at the unexpected touch to his nipples, but they were the most sensitive part of him short of his cock, as Sam well knew by now, and Eliot ended up moaning softly instead.

Really, Sam hadn't done this for years. Lucifer didn't bathe with him any more, and so he hadn't had any practice recently, hadn't had any need to do more than make sure that he could keep holding his breath, just in case. One day, he'd be grateful that he could.

Right now, though, Sam just needed to test himself once, get his bearings before he tried to do anything more complicated than just go below the water.

He languished attention on Eliot's nipple just for twenty seconds or so, then resurfaced, taking a breath, then exhaling low, emptying his lungs all the way. He took a deep breath, slowly, drawing it down to his core, and then ducked forward, bending into Eliot's lap. His hand smoothed up, guiding his half hard erection into his mouth, taking the tip in firmly so that he could seal it with his lips, and swallowing the warm bathwater that went in with it, so that there was no risk of it dripping into his lungs and making him cough.

He tongued the head, tip delving against the slit suggestively, teasing at the vaguest taste of him that hung underneath the cleansing water. He bobbed down further, encompassing more of Eliot as he came into his own, erection filling under the efforts of Sam's teasing.

Eliot was reacting swiftly to Sam's lips and tongue. Even though the hot water diminished the specific sensations, what Sam was doing brought him to heightened sensitivity that made him aware of every current that brushed past his skin. He filled very quickly under those circumstances, and his lips parted to pant lightly.

It was good, it was damn good, and if Sam was rusty at this, to Eliot who hadn't experienced a blow job since before death, he couldn't tell at all. Even before, the ones he experienced couldn't compare to this underwater one that Sam was giving him.

"Ah, fuck..." Reaching down he placed one hand on Sam's shoulder, the other naturally cradling the back of Sam's head, and used his iron control to not put any pressure in either location. He needed to hold on and caress, let his partner know he was enjoying their efforts, and when he was getting near, which was really quickly enough that he was actually slightly embarrassed, Eliot pushed at Sam's shoulder to give him warning.

The warning came faster than Sam had expected. Honestly, he'd half imagined Eliot would try to drown him the moment he had his head down under the water, but it didn't come. At the gentle tug, Sam was more surprised than anything; Lucifer would never have offered him the choice, or any kind of warning.

So he retreated, because he was asked to, rising up out of the water sharply and gasping in a fresh breath of air. He wrapped his hand around Eliot, intending to pull him over the edge toward orgasm, those last few strokes that he needed to get off--

And that was when the door opened.

He'd been so busy underwater that Sam hadn't noticed Lucifer's approach the way that he usually did. He would have been by the bed already, prostrate and waiting for him. It was always a mistake not to be. This time, he was nowhere near the bed, wet from head to toe, his lips swollen from working on Eliot, and Lucifer picked up all those amusing facts even as Sam pushed his way sharply back to the other side of the pool.

The archangel came to stand over them both, arms folding over his chest, head tipped to one side.

"I had no idea you two were so friendly," Lucifer remarked. "My my, Eliot, what blue balls you have."

Eliot should have caught the sound of footsteps, something like that shouldn't have caught him off guard if he hadn't been completely immersed in his current activities. He cursed to himself when the Devil appeared, walking in just when Sam was about to bring him over the edge. It was too late to will his erection back down, but his release was stopped abruptly enough that it left Eliot almost lightheaded.

But even in his state, the sudden appearance of danger brought his guard slamming back. It was almost instinctual that he moved in the water, to put himself slightly before Sam, not enough to really matter but the protective move was instinctual.

He was still panting and flushed from hot water and arousal, but he pushed all that aside to grin up at the Devil standing over him. "Ain't that way most of the time. You interrupted somethin' special here." He wasn't doing it consciously, but he was drawing the attention to himself and away from Sam.

Sam instantly flinched as Eliot moved in front of him, wanting to grab at his shoulders and force him to come back, not to confront the Devil straight on. Sam had always made sure that Eliot was in his cage when Lucifer joined them, that he didn't address Lucifer or draw his attention at all, and Lucifer had never paid even the slightest attention to him.

Today was clearly different. Worse still, just for a second, Sam had a flash of Dean standing in front of him, standing between him and Lucifer defiantly, protectively. It didn't mesh well with the fact that he'd been blowing Eliot just a moment before.

He didn't dare to move toward him. Lucifer didn't need to know that he was starting to care about the other man, except that, somehow, he suspected that Lucifer already did.

"Eliot--" he warned.

"Eliot," chided Lucifer. He smirked, pressing forward, crouching down beside the tub and laying his hand right on Eliot's head. "You're in Hell, you're not supposed to be enjoying yourself. But since you seem to be settling in, we may as well press on with your lessons."

He stepped back, pulling his hand away, and gestured for Sam to get out of the bath, which he did at once, rising up dripping and making absolutely no effort to try himself off. He just stood there, water streaming off him, as Lucifer came to stand behind him.

"What do you say, Sam? Let's work on Eliot's obedience together. He seems to have you wrapped around his little finger, so why don't we see how he handles the boot being on the other foot. Go and kneel on the bed."

Sam obeyed, and Lucifer walked back around the pool, standing over Eliot again. "I think you can find the chains. Go and tie him up."

Eliot stiffened visibly, his mind making the quick connection and figuring out what Lucifer wanted. Then and there, Eliot made the decision that he wouldn't, that Lucifer could break him repeatedly, but he wouldn't be his tool in hurting the other man.

"No," Eliot said, bracing himself for the lash of retaliation that refusing the Devil would bring. When nothing happened immediately and Eliot wasn't a mist of red spread across the tub, he continued, "I ain't workin' for Hell, I'm not becomin' one of your demons. And, I have no interest in men."

Eliot didn't dare to flicker his gaze towards Sam, not even a glance in his direction. He made sure that in his words he made it clear this was his own refusal, that this wasn't about Sam or anyone. Some backlash will probably still fall on the other man, but hopefully not as much as what could happen if Eliot revealed that he came to care about the other man.

"That's adorable. How defiant you are--you know, wasn't I generous to you before? I offered you the chance to tie him up, and that meant however you saw fit. Now I'm going to tie him my way."

He retreated from Eliot at once, moving over to Sam, who was still kneeling dead straight on the bed. Lucifer reached across, taking hold of the chains, but as he lifted the shackles, long spikes grew on the inside of them; sharp, thick spikes, that visibly dug into Sam's skin as Lucifer attached the shackles to his wrists and ankles. Lucifer attached another to the collar at Sam's throat, and with a tap that too grew spikes, which curled upward and downward, presenting a thorny collar that should Sam curl into himself or drop his chin would spike into him.

Sam was soundless throughout it all, not making any sound of protest.

"Let's try this again. Go and take something out of the toyboy, and beat him with it."

Eliot's gaze hardened just the same way he hardened his heart when he saw the spikes grow into thorny instruments of torture. If he gave in now, then he will appear to be weak, or care, which may be worse in the long run. Sam had suffered through worse, he said so himself, then he could take this too. Otherwise Eliot would have to do worse to prove he didn't care because going easy wouldn't be an option.

"I said I'm not doing it. If you're going to beat him bloody, that's his problem, not mine." Eliot knew that sometimes to be kind one had to be cruel first, but it was a fine line to walk here. He may save Sam from more pain right at this moment, true, but that may open the floodgate to worse in the future. Eliot wish he knew if he was making the right decision, or if he was being a coward and just didn't want to hurt someone else.

But if the Devil wanted him because he was bad, then Eliot could play the bad guy, just one who was defiant as well. He just hoped Sam understood.

"Yes, it's his problem. It's very much his problem. You see, your abject disobedience, Eliot--it doesn't hurt just you. It proves that everything that Sam's done these past two months has been for nothing. He hasn't secured any degree of obedience or respect from you. Even one would be enough."

Lucifer circled to the toybox, opening it wide. He'd never opened it before, but now the contents showed, the blades and whips and dildos, various cuffs and shackles, long rods, pieces of rope, a spear, things that resembled strips of thorn, paddles, things in boxes that were perhaps magical.

Lucifer showed Eliot each of the things he wasn't using, a soft strip of leather, a flat paddle, a cat of nine tails with nails sewn into the ends of each strip. Finally he took out a simple silver rod, but as he lifted it, coming back around the bed, it transformed into a silver snake, swerving about in his grip.

He raised an eyebrow at Eliot, and swung the snake, which struck with its silver bladed teeth, stripping two long lines across Sam's back. He jerked in all his chains, gasping out a sharp, breathless sound, but nothing more.

"What do you think? Again? Yes, I think again..."

He snapped the snake down, drawing another pair of twin marks back in the other direction.

"Shall I continue, or are you ready to take over?"

Eliot didn't let on that he was gritting his teeth, or that he was holding himself still to avoid flinching with the blows. He just kept his gaze steady, unwavering except with seeming disinterest.

"Why would I wanna take over?" he glanced from Sam's back to the Devil with the snake. It figures that he would favor a snake. "So far you've been appealin' to my humanity, but I wouldn't be in Hell if I had any. You wouldn't want me. So I don't see what's in it for me besides doin' somethin' I really don't wanna."

Once upon a time Eliot had been that sort of man, he may even mean those words if he said them back then, but now they were no more than a really risky bluff. Or he could try to keep the Devil's attention on him and give Sam a reprieve. "And maybe he ain't the one I've got no respect for."

"That's ridiculous. You're human, you don't lack humanity. Besides, the very first thing you did when I stepped in here was try to protect him. It seems to me you're failing."

"That is what you thought you were best at, isn't it? Protecting people?"

Lucifer struck Sam again, and once more. On the fourth strike, Sam finally let out a whimper, jerking a little harder under the touch. His muscles were seizing up as he tried to anticipate the next blow, which only made the next strike more painful than the one it had preceded.

"I don't care if you don't respect me. That's what you need to understand, Eliot. And this place isn't so cut and dried as the bible would have you believe. You were never a bad person--you were a good person who did bad things. But it's because you were a good person that you have weaknesses, and I happen to know that Sam is one of them."

He struck him again, and Sam gasped, louder this time. He was trying to gulp the noises down, but that only made them more audible.

"Now do you want to fuck him, or shall I pick out an appropriate dildo to do it for you?"

Eliot's eyes narrowed at the sound of Sam's whimper, soft as a whisper but it might as well have been a gunshot for the effect it had on Eliot. Finally it was enough to bring Eliot out of the water, erection still bouncing against his stomach and skin red from the heat. He didn't care that he was naked or streaming water though, he walked right over to the bed.

Up close the slashes appeared worse, ragged cuts in the skin that bled heavily, not at all like the clean wounds made by knives or even whips. They had tore into Sam's back with blunt force rather than sharpness, dragging through the flesh from force as much as sharpness. They were ugly things, crisscrossing like a railroad terminal in Hell.

The Devil was right in that Eliot was doing a piss poor job at protecting Sam, but Eliot was focused on the big picture. Or so he had to convince himself when Sam gasped from the unbearable pain. And Eliot didn't rape, especially not to someone he cared about. "Why don't we cut to the chase? We both know Sam ain't the issue here. What I do or won't do to'im aren't what you care about." Eliot had to lock his joints in place to stop himself from reaching out and yanking away the hideous snake. "We can talk about what does matter. What's the end game here, what do you want from me?"

"What? Sam didn't tell you?"

Lucifer reached his hand out, running it possessively across Sam's left buttock. His expression sharpened, just a little, as Sam flinched away from his touch.

"I want a torturer, Eliot. I want an obedient, corrupted demon out of you in the end, and I'll get exactly that. If you can't even screw someone you like it doesn't bode well for you, does it? You see, there's two ways this can go--you can accept it, and like it, and hold onto some part of yourself in the process. Or you can fight it and become a mindless, factory-standard style creature, simple, burned up inside."

"I prefer when my demons have some independence, of course, some spark, but I'll live if I have to burn you out first. You're mine either way."

Lucifer stepped away from Eliot, moving around toward the bedding box. "Sam really doesn't mind, you know. He'd rather have you."

Lucifer pulled out an enormously broad dildo, the head of it shaped like a fist, and then another, with downward facing spikes, which would anchor it in place and tear when pulled out. The snake went back into the box, where it turned into a rod again, and he advanced back on the bed, on Eliot.

"Last chance."

Eliot was horrified by the item the Devil chose, the dildo wasn't even something that should exist. It was an item of torture, not sex, and would rip Sam right open if it was forced inside. Eliot could harden himself, but dammit, he wouldn't be able to face Sam if he allowed it to happen. But the alternative, he didn't know if he'll be able to face himself afterwards. This was the bottom line of all the evil things he did, and of course he was made to cross it.

"Wait," Eliot said before the deed could be done, "I'll take over." Eliot felt a little of himself die inside when he gave in and agreed, even knowing that this was probably what Sam would want instead of the torture device. But that didn't mean he had any choice in the matter or that this was any less rape.

"Do I get lube or do you expect me doin' him dry?" If Eliot hadn't past that point of no return earlier, his erection would've flagged and shrank at what he was about to do. He was so far from being aroused mentally that he wouldn't have been able to get it up if he wasn't already.

He stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Sam's flank, the same place Lucifer had moments before as if he could erase the Devil's touch. This was the first time he touched Sam this way, or willingly touched the other man, as willing as this situation was anyway.

Lucifer expected Eliot to break at that, and certainly he did. That was the thing--it was hard the first time. The next time it would be less hard. And the time after, and the time after.

He placed the dildo down on the bed, by Sam's ankle, so that there was a clean reminder to Eliot why he was doing what he was doing. The next moment, a tube of lubricant was flying into Eliot's hand, seemingly thrown out of nowhere by the devil.

"I can be benevolent, you see, so long as you don't test it unnecessarily."

lucifer moved over, sitting right on the edge of the bed in front of Sam's right shoulder. He reached up to stroke him, gently, comfortingly.

"It's okay, puppy. It's over now."

Sam knew where this was leading from the first refusal. Eliot might not break, he knew, but Lucifer was building on what Sam had inadvertently created over the last few weeks. He'd been played. Lucifer had wanted him to bond with Eliot, grow close to him, and Sam hadn't disappointed. He'd done exactly that, and Lucifer was now taking advantage, pushing Eliot the next part, where Sam hadn't been able to do any such thing.

It had been the plan all along.

So at this point, Sam couldn't fight it, wouldn't fight it. The only thing to do was to let it carry on the way it was.

He was bound with his toes underneath his feet to keep his ankles from being stabbed with the spikes, and his hands lifted up to keep the same thing from happening, his legs were spread to expose his ass to Lucifer's strikes, but his head was kept very still, even when Lucifer stroked his cheek, providing the slightest comfort. He held still, waiting for Eliot's weight to come up on the bed beside him, shifting his legs apart just a little further in anticipation of what was to come next.

Sam didn't say a word; it wasn't his place to speak unless asked a question.

Despite the lack of warning, Eliot caught the lube one handed as deftly as if he had been expecting it. He wasn't, he had honestly expected the Devil to make him take Sam the worst way possible. Given the lube was a relief, but it also made him wary over just how much leniency he could show without trying Lucifer's patience.

Eliot didn't look at Lucifer as he began, squeezing out an ample amount from the tube and warming it between his fingers. He worked in silence, touching Sam lightly across his buttocks to alert the other man before he dipped two lubed fingers down to rub between the valley between the mounds.

While Eliot had never done this before with a man, that didn't mean he didn't know how things were done. He had certainly been on the receiving end often enough the past weeks to be intimately familiar with the exercise.

He didn't dare to take too long with that though, just enough to slick the area with lube before he moved the pad of his index finger to probe Sam's pucker within. It was far less tight than he had anticipated, and just touching it seemed to open the man spread beneath him. Sam swallowed his finger up to his first knuckle before he truly pushed, catching him almost by surprise how ready his partner --victim-- seemed to be. It made his stomach clench too because he knew just why it would be that loose.

M'sorry, Sam. God, I'm sorry.

Eliot slowly pushed his finger in all the way and twisted, trying to find that magical spot that would at least make this bearable. But he watched carefully too, trying to make sure Sam wanted that pleasure before forcing it on him. With how stoic the man had been, and his back looking like a cat's scratching post, Eliot hoped he could read him correctly to interpret what he wanted.

Sam was fine. Sam stayed still, just concentrating on his own balance, breathing through the agony that was his back. It was nothing compared to what Lucifer had done to him over the first few years of his time in Hell, and he was grateful - immensely grateful - when Eliot took over. Lucifer wouldn't have hesitated to use the vicious device he'd shown him. He'd have driven it deep, pulled it free, then used his blood as a lubricant.

Eliot's touches were practically loving in comparison, slow and tender. Sam knew those, too. Lucifer had touched him softly, he'd made him come tens of thousands of times, like Sam was doing to Eliot.

Apparently Eliot was learning by example very well. He pressed his finger inside and began to twist and shift it, and Sam curled his fingers into the bed in anticipation. Pleasure was good, yes. It took a lot to make Sam come, now, but if Eliot couldn't do it - which was likely considering he was already close - them Sam would have to be put through more still. He always had to come.

He couldn't move much, given the spikes, but he rolled his hips back against Eliot's touch to encourage him, anyway, breathing out a soft exhale of encouragement that he barely felt. It was for Eliot, reassurance.

This was Hell. What did Eliot expect? Sam had grown to accept it. Lucifer could have thrown him into a pit and let every demon in Hell have their turn with him, but he hadn't--this was practically merciful.

Those small movements were all the reassurance Eliot needed to know that Sam was alright with this. He was turning into his touches, not away, and although that didn't forgive Eliot for what he was doing, it at least made him feel the guilt a little less. He found the soft nub and brushed it slightly, putting his finger in and out twice and although it wasn't a lot, he was certain Sam was ready for another finger.

The second digit went in just as readily as his first, swallowed into the cavern of Sam's body with barely went effort on Eliot's behalf. Even so Eliot twisted his fingers to make sure the area was stretched and lubed. He curled his fingers in a second time to rub Sam's prostate before pushing his third finger in.

Eliot didn't dare to take too long with the preparation although he wished he could have spent more time. With girls he would have taken long minutes, kissing and distracting them while he got them prepared. But he was very aware of the Devil constantly watching them, and they weren't here making love. This wasn't even just sex, and Eliot was preparing Sam for rape.

As he stretched Sam open with three fingers, turning and and pushing them in and out, he reached his other hand around to put a firm grip around Sam's cock. It wasn't his first time touching another man's handle, but he was young and lonely and in a war that had no women close by hundreds of miles away back then. After a firefight and horny with the exhilaration of being alive, a bunch of men sometimes just really wanted another hand on their cocks that just wasn't their own. The theory was much the same, and he knew how to jerk a guy off.

Several more twists of his fingers and strokes of his hand and Eliot pulled back. Sam felt ready, but Eliot's erection had gone down slightly. He poured out more lube to try and pull himself back to fullness.

Sam didn't struggle with the digits. One after another was fine, and even if it had made him slightly uncomfortable it was nothing compared to what Lucifer would have done to him. Eliot was so much more gentle, and Sam was grateful for that. He rolled his hips downward, gently responding to the press of his fingers, echoing each of Eliot's thrusts with one of his own.

It was reciprocation, and Sam made every effort to make sure he knew that he was with Eliot completely. Even with three fingers inside him, Sam gave just as much, making soft breathless noises each time Eliot's fingers brushed against his prostate.

Suddenly Eliot's hand was around him, and it was the first time that he'd ever willingly touched him that way. Sam was grateful, because he needed that push to get beyond his usual limit of pleasure, but more than that, he hadn't needed to ask Eliot to do it. He'd never ordered him to stroke him before, so this, the first time, being willing. It was an open door that Sam would be able to step through later.

He shuddered as Eliot's hand pulled back, his muscles tightening slightly across his shoulders.

"It's okay," he said, breaking his usual silence, speaking because he thought Eliot's stopping was because he was afraid of actually going ahead and doing the act. "You can."

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