Sam doesn't read much, anymore. Not out loud, not even silently. He's not sure he likes stories much anymore.
"Sam Silvertongue," Gabriel calls him, and begs him to read from the story he and Lucifer had fallen out of, clawing at each other and spitting like angry cats. Sam refuses him, as much as he can; for all Gabriel's sweetness, he knows something dangerous lurks under his skin, and Lucifer's never pretended to be anything else. He knows he got off lucky with them, he doesn't want to know what worse thing might come through.
Still, though, there are some nights when he can't quite bring himself to say no. There are some nights when Lucifer adds his voice to Gabriel's, murmuring things about how lovely Sam's voice is, how nice it would be to hear him read something, his lips against Sam's ear. He'll wind an arm around Sam's waist and press the book into his hands, guiding him into the living room, where Gabriel will already be sitting expectantly.
They always sit on the floor, Gabriel on his left side, Lucifer on his right, pressed close against him. The angels have such limited concepts of personal space, especially when it comes to this ritual. Tonight, Lucifer's pressed his face deep into Sam's neck, his hot breath tickling the fine hairs there, and one of Gabriel's hands has wandered just up under his shirt, stroking his hip and tracing little symbols that Sam doesn't recognize. As loathe as he is to admit it, he enjoys the attention, the reverence they pay him as he opens the book.
"You're very distracting," Sam says, flipping to the page they'd left off on, and Gabriel hums, pressing a light kiss to Sam's cheek. He takes a deep breath, and reads.
Tonight, he reads about Gabriel and Lucifer's brothers; about Michael, the eldest, the wise one, forever pulling them both out of trouble. He reads about Michael protecting Lucifer from monsters with enormous teeth in huge mouths full of saliva, and wide, gaping eyes, horns and tails and everything monsters are supposed to have. Gabriel gives a little shiver as Sam goes through the vivid descriptions of beasts, and Sam hopes very dearly that none of them will make it through.
And he reads about Lucifer as he once was, bright and luminescent, so very beautiful, their father's favorite. He was the most well-loved of them all, Sam reads, and he shone brighter even than the sun.
"Until he Fell," Sam reads, and next to him, Lucifer makes a choked little noise.
"Lucifer," Gabriel says, and lays one of his small hands on Lucifer's larger one.
"You don't know," Lucifer mutters angrily into Sam's neck, "you weren't there. You ran away." His tone is accusatory, but he doesn't draw his hand away. "You left."
The book is still open on Sam's lap, the pages now littered with long feathers, pink and gold, the color of a sunset. Looking at them, Sam thinks he has an idea what the long scars on Lucifer's back are.
"Lucifer," he says gently, and draws away just slightly. "I think these are yours," he says, and presses a feather into Lucifer's hand.
When Lucifer lifts his head, he leaves Sam's neck wet with tears. He stares at his hand for a long moment, and next to Sam, Gabriel is perfectly still.
"Oh," he says, at last. "Oh." His face is blank, worryingly so. "They're mine," he says, and then he turns on Sam, shoving him down, pressing him into the carpet and straddling him. He crushes Sam's mouth under his own, ferocious and starving, devouring him.
"Sam Silvertongue," Gabriel says, slithering his way between them. He threads feathers into Sam's hair, forming quick, loose, little braids, and Lucifer laughs, kissing him on the nose.
"I'd nearly forgotten what they looked like," Lucifer says quietly. He sits up, his hands on Sam's hips, and without quite seeming to know what he's doing, he's unzipping Sam's jeans, pulling them down his thighs while Gabriel makes a little encouraging noise.
"Hey," Sam says, making a feeble effort at protest, but Gabriel grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, laughing.
"Hush, Sam," he says, and Sam exhales as Lucifer dips a hand into his boxers, stroking lightly, experimentally.
There's something unsure and inxperienced about Lucifer's touches, and Sam wonders how much he's done this before. He's seen them both naked (they'd lacked anything resembling boundaries, in the beginning), and he knows they aren't shaped any different from him. They certainly aren't shy about touching him, but there's so much he doesn't know about where they came from, how they did things there.
Still, as with all things Lucifer does, his confidence doesn't take long to increase, moving to longer, rougher strokes, jacking Sam's dick with precision. He's soon thrusting up into Lucifer's grip, sighing while Gabriel drags fingers through his hair and presses little kisses all over his face. Another hard twist of Lucifer's hand and he's coming, his stomach sticky with it. Lucifer blinks curiously at the come on his hand, before casually wiping it off on Sam's shirt.
It's with effort that Sam pulls himself upright, and nearly immediately afterward Gabriel pushes him back down, curling up beside him.
"Just stay like this," he whispers, and Lucifer hums his agreement, draping himself against Sam's back, an arm over his waist.
FILL, team gabriel/lucifer/sam, silvertongue (gabriel/lucifer/sam), NSFW
"Sam Silvertongue," Gabriel calls him, and begs him to read from the story he and Lucifer had fallen out of, clawing at each other and spitting like angry cats. Sam refuses him, as much as he can; for all Gabriel's sweetness, he knows something dangerous lurks under his skin, and Lucifer's never pretended to be anything else. He knows he got off lucky with them, he doesn't want to know what worse thing might come through.
Still, though, there are some nights when he can't quite bring himself to say no. There are some nights when Lucifer adds his voice to Gabriel's, murmuring things about how lovely Sam's voice is, how nice it would be to hear him read something, his lips against Sam's ear. He'll wind an arm around Sam's waist and press the book into his hands, guiding him into the living room, where Gabriel will already be sitting expectantly.
They always sit on the floor, Gabriel on his left side, Lucifer on his right, pressed close against him. The angels have such limited concepts of personal space, especially when it comes to this ritual. Tonight, Lucifer's pressed his face deep into Sam's neck, his hot breath tickling the fine hairs there, and one of Gabriel's hands has wandered just up under his shirt, stroking his hip and tracing little symbols that Sam doesn't recognize. As loathe as he is to admit it, he enjoys the attention, the reverence they pay him as he opens the book.
"You're very distracting," Sam says, flipping to the page they'd left off on, and Gabriel hums, pressing a light kiss to Sam's cheek. He takes a deep breath, and reads.
Tonight, he reads about Gabriel and Lucifer's brothers; about Michael, the eldest, the wise one, forever pulling them both out of trouble. He reads about Michael protecting Lucifer from monsters with enormous teeth in huge mouths full of saliva, and wide, gaping eyes, horns and tails and everything monsters are supposed to have. Gabriel gives a little shiver as Sam goes through the vivid descriptions of beasts, and Sam hopes very dearly that none of them will make it through.
And he reads about Lucifer as he once was, bright and luminescent, so very beautiful, their father's favorite. He was the most well-loved of them all, Sam reads, and he shone brighter even than the sun.
"Until he Fell," Sam reads, and next to him, Lucifer makes a choked little noise.
"Lucifer," Gabriel says, and lays one of his small hands on Lucifer's larger one.
"You don't know," Lucifer mutters angrily into Sam's neck, "you weren't there. You ran away." His tone is accusatory, but he doesn't draw his hand away. "You left."
The book is still open on Sam's lap, the pages now littered with long feathers, pink and gold, the color of a sunset. Looking at them, Sam thinks he has an idea what the long scars on Lucifer's back are.
"Lucifer," he says gently, and draws away just slightly. "I think these are yours," he says, and presses a feather into Lucifer's hand.
When Lucifer lifts his head, he leaves Sam's neck wet with tears. He stares at his hand for a long moment, and next to Sam, Gabriel is perfectly still.
"Oh," he says, at last. "Oh." His face is blank, worryingly so. "They're mine," he says, and then he turns on Sam, shoving him down, pressing him into the carpet and straddling him. He crushes Sam's mouth under his own, ferocious and starving, devouring him.
"Sam Silvertongue," Gabriel says, slithering his way between them. He threads feathers into Sam's hair, forming quick, loose, little braids, and Lucifer laughs, kissing him on the nose.
"I'd nearly forgotten what they looked like," Lucifer says quietly. He sits up, his hands on Sam's hips, and without quite seeming to know what he's doing, he's unzipping Sam's jeans, pulling them down his thighs while Gabriel makes a little encouraging noise.
"Hey," Sam says, making a feeble effort at protest, but Gabriel grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, laughing.
"Hush, Sam," he says, and Sam exhales as Lucifer dips a hand into his boxers, stroking lightly, experimentally.
There's something unsure and inxperienced about Lucifer's touches, and Sam wonders how much he's done this before. He's seen them both naked (they'd lacked anything resembling boundaries, in the beginning), and he knows they aren't shaped any different from him. They certainly aren't shy about touching him, but there's so much he doesn't know about where they came from, how they did things there.
Still, as with all things Lucifer does, his confidence doesn't take long to increase, moving to longer, rougher strokes, jacking Sam's dick with precision. He's soon thrusting up into Lucifer's grip, sighing while Gabriel drags fingers through his hair and presses little kisses all over his face. Another hard twist of Lucifer's hand and he's coming, his stomach sticky with it. Lucifer blinks curiously at the come on his hand, before casually wiping it off on Sam's shirt.
It's with effort that Sam pulls himself upright, and nearly immediately afterward Gabriel pushes him back down, curling up beside him.
"Just stay like this," he whispers, and Lucifer hums his agreement, draping himself against Sam's back, an arm over his waist.