papercut fingertips

Rule in hell

Bizarre, that Sam’s still there. That the ground isn’t opening up and swallowing Dean whole—not yet at least. Been there, done that. Dean swallows and lets Sam guide him, careful not to trip over his own feet.

To Sam’s question, he replies: “It ain’t about ‘wanting’ at this point.” Dean wrinkles his nose at his brother and maneuvers his first foot into the shower tub. “Lend me your shoulder, that should work.”

Sam supports most of Dean’s weight, it is barely an effort, his brother feels so light in his arms, and helps him into the tub. He then unceremoniously sheds his jeans and underwear and climbs in with him, letting Dean use him as support. He takes the showerhead and turns the water on, pointing the stream at their feet.

“Oookay.”

With the wall behind him, Dean blinks up at Sam’s face. Decisively that. The water turns warm fast and the resulting steam crawls up in the small space between them. Dean’s feet are firm in the tub, his hand clamped over Sam’s shoulder. That wall behind him, thank God.

The warmth floods Dean’s feet, up his shins. Every shift of the stream makes the newly covered inches of his skin jump, but no repercussions follow. It’s just—nice, warm. No acid, no razors, no rotting smells. Regardless, Dean feels his breath coming a little flatter. He’s so fucked up he can’t even take a little bit of steam anymore, it seems.

Since Sam apparently (and surely only momentarily) forgot about his usual obsession with privacy in the heat of the moment, Dean mocks, “Hand me that bar of soap there? Or are you gonna help me with that, too?”

Rule in hell

papercutfingertips:

“You know what? I’m not even gonna question any of that. Fine by me.”

The blanket drops to Dean’s feet. Dean deadpans.

“Right,” he says. Sam looks as constipated as always when confronted with anything remotely intimate, but Dean is all out of fucks to give. The guy will survive it. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Lead the way.” Dean gestures towards the doorway with the hand not still on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam smiles at Dean finally deciding to stop being difficult and accept his help. Sam gives him a furtive once-over, but it only confirms what he had already seen when cleaning him up earlier: there are no traces of torture to be seen on his skin, which probably just means Sam came after they had healed him to start over again. He can not start to imagine what horrors his brother had to go through and for how long.

But no more. He is here now to make sure no one touches him again.

Sam wraps his arm gently around Dean’s waist and slowly leads him into the on-suite shower. It looks bizarely mundane: not unlike any of the showers in the countless motels they have stayed in in the past.

“Do you want me to help you in there?” he asks, no trace of mocking in his voice, just clinical detachment. He does not want to make Dean feel even more vulnerable than he probably already is.

Bizarre, that Sam’s still there. That the ground isn’t opening up and swallowing Dean whole—not yet at least. Been there, done that. Dean swallows and lets Sam guide him, careful not to trip over his own feet.

To Sam’s question, he replies: “It ain't about ‘wanting’ at this point.” Dean wrinkles his nose at his brother and maneuvers his first foot into the shower tub. “Lend me your shoulder, that should work.”

Rule in Hell

papercutfingertips

“Packed light but booked a five-fucking-star place. A shower? For real?”

Dean cocks one eyebrow and pushes off Sam far enough to search his brother’s face for the punchline. God, Dean hasn’t had a shower in… Not since he came here, he realizes. Or, at least none that involved water. Ugh. No good thought.

Dean allows to be helped upright. His hand remains on Sam’s shoulder for support. The dick better not mention it.

“Would the water pressure even be any good down here?”

Sam snorts, “Not my place, we’re just couch-surfing so to speak. Crowly, the dude who created this hide-away, likes his luxuries, so I’m pretty sure the bathroom isn’t lacking in creature comforts.”

He supports Dean on his way to upright, pointedly making eye-contact instead of looking at where the sheet is sliding precariously low.

“You know what? I’m not even gonna question any of that. Fine by me.”

The blanket drops to Dean’s feet. Dean deadpans.

“Right,” he says. Sam looks as constipated as always when confronted with anything remotely intimate, but Dean is all out of fucks to give. The guy will survive it. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Lead the way.” Dean gestures towards the doorway with the hand not still on Sam’s shoulder.

papercutfingertips:

termitarium

[{ closed spn Sam/Jack RP with @theboywiththedemonblood }]

Quietly, Jack admits, “I did, yes.”

He sheepishly watches Sam setting up his work station. A glance at the maps later, Jack is already overwhelmed. A huge maze is what the tunnels are, and Jack has yet to not get lost in the bunker for over consecutive twenty-four hours. Jack sighs before he can think better of it.

Before Sam has a chance to scold him, Jack scoots closer to the edge of his chair and leans over the maps. He just has to try hard enough. If he had to hide in there, where would that be?

“It must be hard to live down there,” Jack murmurs absently. His fingers follow the splitting paths, hover on symbols he doesn’t understand. He can hear Sam typing on his laptop. “All dark… No fresh air… It must be miserable.” Jack decides, “They must be really scared,” and nods to himself.

Sam takes a moment to consider what he is about to do, sighs, turns his chair towards Jack and adresses him.

“My father, he had another child, Adam. It was a while after our mother had died…. and way before she was brought back. Adam and his mother, they weren’t hunters, they didn’t know about the life. They were killed by ghouls and impersonated before Dean and I got a chance to meet them, the real them.”

He doesn’t tell about Adam’s ressurection, or Michael, or the cage. Jack does not need to know all that.

“I admire the way you want to give everyone, human or otherwise, the benefit of a doubt, but in this line of work, it’s best to have a healthy dose of biase, it can save your life.”

“Oh. Oh! I’m… I had no idea. I am so sorry.”

The shock freezes Jack to his seat. Another Winchester? Another brother, lost, killed…? So many questions bubble up in Jack but he knows to shut them down right away. Sam is obviously uncomfortable, there is so much pain Jack could sense even if he had no angel powers at his disposal. He should not bring this up any further. Should not probe.

But the pain of mourning holds on only temporarily to Sam. Gets overshadowed by something much larger, much darker. Connected to this? To Adam?

Jack’s mouth opens but he does not dare ask. And he realizes he does not need to.

Like Cas says: sometimes, Sam and Dean stand in their own way. Just humans, after all, and it’s hard to see the whole picture with all those emotions blocking your sight. Bias. No, if Sam is so biased, he cannot be thinking fairly, his skills and experience as a hunter be damned. And the ‘whole picture’ is what Sam and Jack need for this case, right now.

Jack hears his name, an echo of it or just the thought, a jolt in the otherwise tense, thick silence in the room, and then he is not in Jack’s body anymore. Is somewhere in-between, where he can slip to sometimes if he chooses to: someone else’s head. Someone else’s thoughts.

Sam. Sam’s memories; the black, pulsing darkness curled up so deep in him which, once faced with it, Jack hesitates to wade into. But he must. He must know. He knows so horribly little.

Right behind the veil lurks bottomless black. Lurks cold, lurks…a voice. A sensation. A weight on your shoulder. Hands, dragging you down.

An unfamiliar voice, here, far away (yet right in Jack’s (Sam’s) ear). A sing-song, soft. But Sam winces. Sam fears this. Jack does not understand.

The voice sighs. Its words curl around Jack’s (Sam’s) throat like a noose.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy… Still resisting, hm? How can we solve that? You’re really tickling my creativity bone here. Maybe that’s what you’re after? Oh, you flirt, you could have just said something…!”

#termitarium

papercutfingertips:

Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven

“If you squeeze me any harder, you might not have to worry about that…! Christ, I can—you can let go now, Sam.” Dean weakly repeats, “You can let go now,” but as his brother doesn’t easen his hold, Dean decides that letting Sam have this moment is, despite everything, the way of least resistance.

He lets his head droop against Sam and pats him on the back. Damn shivers. He might have to get used to those, huh?

“Man, I really… Please tell me you brought yourself a second outfit or something? Feeling pretty underdressed right now.”

Only at Dean’s words does Sam notice their state: Dean naked with just a blanket around his waist practically sitting in his lap, Sam bare chested and all but wrapped around his brother. It’s weirdly intimate and they don’t really do intimate, barely hug, barely touch. Somehow he can’t bring himself to care. He needs this closeness, deserves it, they both do. If he could hide Dean away under his skin, in his chest, he would.

“I’m afraid I packed light,” he says with with mirth in his voice, “was in a bit of a hurry.”

He stays still for a moment, savoring it, then shifts. “Come on, let’s get you off the floor and back into bed, or a shower if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“Packed light but booked a five-fucking-star place. A shower? For real?”

Dean cocks one eyebrow and pushes off Sam far enough to search his brother’s face for the punchline. God, Dean hasn’t had a shower in… Not since he came here, he realizes. Or, at least none that involved water. Ugh. No good thought.

Dean allows to be helped upright. His hand remains on Sam’s shoulder for support. The dick better not mention it.

“Would the water pressure even be any good down here?”

termitarium

[{ closed spn Sam/Jack RP with @theboywiththedemonblood }]

Getting out of the bunker for once is worth the stupid tie.

The takeaway coffee doesn't aid much beyond warming Jack's hands. A slow case, so slow Dean agreed on letting Sam take Jack along—and staying behind himself. (What, how many feds does it take to flunk that goddamn place out of a bunch of old-ass maps, Sam?) The clouds hang heavy over the city, this museum; Jack watches them through the far-away, tall windows. His attention shifts once again towards the science exhibition's entrance on the other side of this otherwise offensively bland hallway. Another sip of sugar-with-coffee, as Dean would say.

Jack drags the tip of his fancy shoe across the immaculate stone floor before he sighs and rejoins Sam and Lloyd behind the "employees only" marked door he is (technically) supposed to guard. Well, it's not like anyone is gonna walk past here, anyway.

termitarium

Jack gives Sam an apologetic smile.

“Of course I trust you, Sam.”

He takes a seat at the table and pulls his tie out of his pocket to wrap it around his fingers. The fabric is nice and slippery, fun to rub between his fingers.

Jack huffs, tilts his head while he plays with the tie.

“I just wish I—that I could be a little more helpful. But I don’t even understand normal words that everyone seems to know about.” He frowns. “Maybe you should have left me at the bunker after all. I’m only slowing you down.”

“Nonsens,” Sam replies, “We all have to learn somewhere and didn’t you want to come?”

He takes out the maps and spreads them on the table. “Besides, you can help. While I try to look into out secretive Mayor, you can study the maps. Look for any place that only has one entrance and is hidden away well. That would be the most likely spot for a nest.”

Quietly, Jack admits, “I did, yes.”

He sheepishly watches Sam setting up his work station. A glance at the maps later, Jack is already overwhelmed. A huge maze is what the tunnels are, and Jack has yet to not get lost in the bunker for over consecutive twenty-four hours. Jack sighs before he can think better of it.

Before Sam has a chance to scold him, Jack scoots closer to the edge of his chair and leans over the maps. He just has to try hard enough. If he had to hide in there, where would that be?

“It must be hard to live down there,” Jack murmurs absently. His fingers follow the splitting paths, hover on symbols he doesn’t understand. He can hear Sam typing on his laptop. “All dark... No fresh air... It must be miserable.” Jack decides, “They must be really scared,” and nods to himself.

#termitarium

papercutfingertips:

Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven

A fast-forwarded race of past horror after past horror overtakes Dean’s conscious, and his breath catches in his throat. He wants to say: you couldn’t possibly have known. It’s all right. Don’t worry about me.

But Sam would know better.

Regardless, Dean mumbles, “I’m okay,” because Sam is looking at him like that, and Dean might be a mess, but he's—better, now. Safe. Better than he’s been in… God, that phrase again: ages.

Dean’s legs finally give in and let him slide down the wall until his ass meets the floor.

He admits, “Maybe not that okay,” airy, behind his hands—covering his eyes, his mouth, beginning to curl in on himself, his lower half still somehow wrapped in that blanket.

Sam watches the emotions flicker on his brother’s face and when his legs give out he is already in motion. He reaches Dean just as he slumps to the floor and wraps his arms around him.

“Hey, stay with me buddy, ok?” he gentles, rubbing Dean’s arms and pulling him close to his chest as if cradling a child.

“I won’t let them touch you ever again,” he vows with fire in his eyes.

Sam rests his chin on his brother’s head and rocks them back and forth, unaware of how similar the position is to his own demise just over a year ago.

“If you squeeze me any harder, you might not have to worry about that...! Christ, I can—you can let go now, Sam.” Dean weakly repeats, “You can let go now,” but as his brother doesn’t easen his hold, Dean decides that letting Sam have this moment is, despite everything, the way of least resistance.

He lets his head droop against Sam and pats him on the back. Damn shivers. He might have to get used to those, huh?

“Man, I really... Please tell me you brought yourself a second outfit or something? Feeling pretty underdressed right now.”

jackkline-nephilim:

Jack winced and fell down on his knees. “Daddy? Daddy what’s going on? I didn’t mean it! Honest!” He said nervously not knowing what his father had in mind for him.

The boy yelped when his hair was grabbed tightly and groaned weakly. “Daddy! You don’t have to do this!” He said in a feeble attempt to make Lucifer stop.

But no, he was much too late he felt the first splash off piss and Jack looked terrified up at his father. “What? How did you manage?” He looked confused. “Daddy! I /am/ a good boy! I can prove it to you!” The Nephil said nervously.

“Naughty boys don’t get to speak.”

Jack’s head jolted backwards with the yank Lucifer executed to make Jack crane his neck even further. His piss kept on going, hitting Jack square in the face, on his lips, his chin. It poured down Jack’s naked body and splashed onto the tiles.

“Open your damn mouth.”

“But I’m daddy’s good boy, his best boy!” He said nervously. Jack winced as his neck was moved further and he gasped as the piss shot over his lips and body his face flushed brightly with humiliation and embarrassment over what was going.

Jack’s eyes widened when he heard the next sentence and he struggled a little. “Daddy, I’m little, I’m not my normal age.” He reminded his father as he was told to do so when he regressed but something told him to open his mouth and he did so, eyes brimming with tears.

Lucifer scoffed. “Aw, did the little baby get piss in his mouth? Shut UP!”

Meanwhile, the tub had filled halfway. As Lucifer finished up emptying his bladder over his godgiven property, he squeezed himself and shook out the last drops that ended up landing in Jack’s hair.

“Get up.” Even as he said it, Lucifer knew Jack wouldn’t (couldn’t) comply, so, with an annoyed groan, he climbed into the tub first and pulled Jack after himself. “You’re a mess,” he told Jack, pointed and condescending as if he hadn’t caused most of said mess himself. But who was keeping track, right? Lucifer splashed warm water into Jack’s face, his eyes. Yeah, it better stung. Fuck. Lucifer could feel his rut flaring up again with Jack so helpless and limp in his arms.

Jack blushed brightly as he swallowed the piss and moaned softly. He staggered back when Lucifer yelled at him and teared up when he was told to shut up. Jack flinched as the last drops fell on to his hair and his cheeks were flushed bright red. He couldn’t believe what was happening and how no matter how hard he tried to not regress it happened to him anyways.

Jack landed with a small splash in the water and groaned when he felt that Lucifer splashed water on him which he did in response. Thinking it was some sort of game for a moment. The water stung his face and he squinted for a moment before his eyes glowed for a moment as they adjusted. Jack’s body was limp in Lucifer’s arms but he felt his fathers erection on him and he began to feel startled. “Daddy, no more big boy parts!” He said sucking his thumb.

"And you're calling the shots since when?"

A snort. Lucifer pulled Jack against his shoulder and continued to cup handfuls of water over him to sporadically clean him. At the last second, he pulled back from initiating a kiss, remembering where that mouth had been...or, well, what had been in it.

"Dirty," he decided while he scrubbed the inside of Jack's mouth with his bare fingers. He gave Jack's flushed cheeks a harsh slap after he was done, mainly to feed off the ensuing moment of shock and betrayal on the kid's face. Lucifer grinned. "Naughty and dirty. That's really bad, Jack. Daddy's gonna have to be very strict with you from now on."

With Jack safely cradled in his right arm, Lucifer guided his left hand down Jack's body. As he felt between Jack's soft ass cheeks to wash away the residual slick and blood, Lucifer's cock throbbed between their stomachs. Lucifer sighed as the warm bath pulled him in. The water was still running; Lucifer figured they could use all the fresh water they could get.

#pater noster

jackkline-nephilim:

Jack winced and fell down on his knees. “Daddy? Daddy what’s going on? I didn’t mean it! Honest!” He said nervously not knowing what his father had in mind for him.

The boy yelped when his hair was grabbed tightly and groaned weakly. “Daddy! You don’t have to do this!” He said in a feeble attempt to make Lucifer stop.

But no, he was much too late he felt the first splash off piss and Jack looked terrified up at his father. “What? How did you manage?” He looked confused. “Daddy! I /am/ a good boy! I can prove it to you!” The Nephil said nervously.

“Naughty boys don’t get to speak.”

Jack’s head jolted backwards with the yank Lucifer executed to make Jack crane his neck even further. His piss kept on going, hitting Jack square in the face, on his lips, his chin. It poured down Jack’s naked body and splashed onto the tiles.

“Open your damn mouth.”

“But I’m daddy’s good boy, his best boy!” He said nervously. Jack winced as his neck was moved further and he gasped as the piss shot over his lips and body his face flushed brightly with humiliation and embarrassment over what was going.

Jack’s eyes widened when he heard the next sentence and he struggled a little. “Daddy, I’m little, I’m not my normal age.” He reminded his father as he was told to do so when he regressed but something told him to open his mouth and he did so, eyes brimming with tears.

Lucifer scoffed. "Aw, did the little baby get piss in his mouth? Shut UP!"

Meanwhile, the tub had filled halfway. As Lucifer finished up emptying his bladder over his godgiven property, he squeezed himself and shook out the last drops that ended up landing in Jack's hair.

"Get up." Even as he said it, Lucifer knew Jack wouldn't (couldn't) comply, so, with an annoyed groan, he climbed into the tub first and pulled Jack after himself. "You're a mess," he told Jack, pointed and condescending as if he hadn't caused most of said mess himself. But who was keeping track, right? Lucifer splashed warm water into Jack's face, his eyes. Yeah, it better stung. Fuck. Lucifer could feel his rut flaring up again with Jack so helpless and limp in his arms.

#pater noster

jackkline-nephilim:

Jack winced and fell down on his knees. “Daddy? Daddy what’s going on? I didn’t mean it! Honest!” He said nervously not knowing what his father had in mind for him.

The boy yelped when his hair was grabbed tightly and groaned weakly. “Daddy! You don’t have to do this!” He said in a feeble attempt to make Lucifer stop.

But no, he was much too late he felt the first splash off piss and Jack looked terrified up at his father. “What? How did you manage?” He looked confused. “Daddy! I /am/ a good boy! I can prove it to you!” The Nephil said nervously.

“Naughty boys don’t get to speak.”

Jack’s head jolted backwards with the yank Lucifer executed to make Jack crane his neck even further. His piss kept on going, hitting Jack square in the face, on his lips, his chin. It poured down Jack’s naked body and splashed onto the tiles.

“Open your damn mouth.”

#pater noster

jackkline-nephilim:

Jack made eye contact with Lucifer as his innocence was taken from him and he went ahead and came hard a second time his balls twitching up. His plush lips were agape slightly as the most delicious of sounds and ‘daddy’s escaped his lips. Another earthquake ensued as he came. “Daddy let go of me! I’m scared!” He said his voice starting to switch to his little side voice. The boy gasped when Lucifer fondled his balls and stood still for a moment before he moaned out. “Daddy that feels so good!”

Jack saw his favorite stuffie and tried to crawl over there and yelped when Lucifer’s knot held him down too big to allow him to go out anywhere. “Daddy what is that?” Jack tilted his head curiously. He felt Lucifer’s knot and his walls tightened around it

Jack let out a moan as more cum came from Lucifer and he whimpered, his hand pushing on Lucifer’s bladder.

Lucifer hummed low while his hips kept circling absently. He didn’t really care that (or if) Jack got off, but if it felt this good on Lucifer’s end, he wouldn’t object. Jack’s grace ebbed and rippled in large waves that washed over them, locked together as they were—Lucifer’s grace responded to it, tuned into it. He’d screwed angels before (duh) but this was a whole other level. God, knocking that human bitch up had been the best fucking decision of Lucifer’s life.

Upon the complaints, Lucifer groaned, “Shut up,” and sluggishly helped reaching for Jack’s stupid teddy bear. The combined overdrive of their orgasms fortunately had fried Marvelous Marvin’s chatter box, and so the damn thing got squished in Jack’s sweaty arms in blissful silence. Lucifer scowled; he grabbed Jack’s wrist to stop him from pressing against him. “Stop that unless you wanna play toilet for me, bud.”

With a tired huff, Lucifer got somewhat comfortable, his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on the bed. His knot was still going strong. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hm, this? My knot? Don’t be silly, you’ve seen it before… Y’know, when Daddy used your mouth and you got to drink his special milk? I’d always had to use my hand to squeeze it so I could feel good while you were nursing on the tip. But now, I’ve got something much, much better to get the job done.”

Lucifer rubbed his fingers between Jack’s legs, let them split in a V around where his cock was spearing the boy wide. Jack reacted with another of those gut-wrenching milking spasms that sent Lucifer grunting with overstimuliation.

“You’re doing so well for Daddy, Jack. You’re making Daddy very happy. And surely, you want Daddy to always be this happy, right?”

luciferspnrpask

Jack happily got his teddy bear and hugged it lovingly. It was his only one he had besides another baby boy soft blue one with a ribbon around it and on the paw embroidered on the leg it said ‘Baby’s first teddy bear.’

It was natural for Jack to be between minds and want to be more childlike after all he was forced to grow too fast. Jack held the teddy close and sucked on his thumb softly. Then just like that everything went south almost. He remembered what was going on and how Lucifer had promised he would never touch him again.

A gasp escaped Jack’s lips and he quickly tried to get to work with pushing Lucifer off of him. “N-No! Daddy promised no more! Daddy said no more! Daddy /promised/ no more big boy parts!” He said anxiously and felt his legs squirm. In the process Jack tore his pussy for having moved too much the hymen was taken by his father earlier but now he accidentally tore himself by trying to force the knot out. Blood started to pool down his legs almost as though he was having an early period along with his heat.

Jack whimpered and teared up. “What’s going on?! It hurts so badly! Daddy I need to play bathroom please!” He said innocently thinking that would make Lucifer stop being inside of him ravishing his needy hole.

“Stop being such a brat! You were having a grand ol’ time just a second ago; don’t act like you didn’t want it.” Lucifer winced for the pull on his knot. “Ugh, stop that, you'll—ugh, see, now you really did it! Stupid little brat. It’ll go down soon enough, just calm down and wait… Here.” Lucifer nudged Jack’s hand closer to his mouth so he would focus on suckling his thumb instead of what was happening to his power half. Lucifer sighed, annoyed. “You’re such a piece of work. We’ll go to the bathroom in just a second, okay? Then we can get you all cleaned up. And me too, while we’re at it. Jesus, you got your slick all over me…” And his blood, too. Laced with Jack’s grace, like in the bite on Jack’s neck. Lucifer swallowed, remembering. Jack’s grace still burned in his mouth when he focused on it.

Jack teared up and shook his head fast when Lucifer called him a brat. “No! I’m a daddy’s good boy!” He said his eyes glowing gold when he said that part almost menacing Lucifer into telling him otherwise.

Jack managed to heal the bite from Lucifer and whimpered. “N-No! I don’t wanna get washed up! I want time with daddy! What’s slick? Daddy is it the stuff that’s streaming from my big boy parts?” Jack sucked on his thumb more and bobbed his head softly almost like if he were sucking a cock.

No matter how you put it Jack was a good slut and he was just his daddy’s for the taking.

“No, you’re not, baby. You’re being really naughty right now talking back to Daddy like that. Daddy will have to think of a punishment for you if you can’t behave. So don’t tempt me.”

Lucifer glared back against the golden glow of his son’s eyes, not giving the kid an inch. What was he thinking he was doing? Lucifer would have to drill some reminders into that thick skull. But all at its time.

Slowly but surely, the tension in Lucifer’s knot subsided and it began to soften. He pulled back experimentally only to be forced to wait another moment. Jack was just too tight.

“I’ll pull it out now. Hold still,” Lucifer warned, knowing very well just how impatient and reckless his kid could be. Lucifer pinned him with his weight as he drew his hips back slowly and carefully. “I’ll leave something in so you don’t gush all over the goddamn bed,” he rumbled, focusing on the membrane of grace wrapping off his cock as he slid it out of Jack’s pussy. Lucifer’s cock came free but his load and Jack’s slick and blood remained safe inside. Lucifer nudged the tip of his cock where it had just exited from to test the membrane—thick, but elastic; a sick parody of the hymen that no longer existed. The membrane wouldn’t dissolve unless Lucifer wanted it to. Lucifer huffed, smirking, satisfied. He hefted himself off the bed and helped Jack to stand up, too. “Bathroom; now,” he ordered. “And I don’t wanna hear another peep, young man. No more discussions. Good boys are nice and listen to what their daddies tell them to do.”

Jack yelped when Lucifer tried to pull away and he quickly moved his body with Lucifer’s as one so that he would avoid that feeling again.

Jack whimpered and gasped when Lucifer pulled out. He groaned as Lucifer put his tip in again without warning. He stayed still for Lucifer and quickly got on his hands and knees to suckle on Lucifer’s cock tasting the mixture of juices on it. Tasting /himself/ on it and it tasted amazing. “Daddy also said good boys can suck their daddy’s lollipop when they see it out.”

Jack said reminding Lucifer before groaning and getting up to the bathroom with his father as he was asked. “I’d do anything to make up for being a bad boy daddy.” He whispered softly not wanting to upset Lucifer.

Lucifer scoffed; a hot gesture from the Omega, sure, but Lucifer was oversensitive at this point. He zipped up sporadically and reached out to take Jack’s hand.

“Oh, that he remembers, huh? C'mon, little bug, let’s get you washed up. And tuck those wings, they’ll only get in the way. They look clean enough.”

Lucifer let his own wings disappear. This house was very much built for humans and much easier to navigate without bulky wings.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now, we gotta make you not drown in your own juices… A bath will help your fever, too.” Lucifer put the back of his hand against Jack’s forehead. “Yep, still burning. That heat’s got you good.”

Jack whined when Lucifer tucked himself away. “But daddy I wanted to nurse.” He said softly, confused. Jack nodded and tucked his wings in with a snap of his fingers not wanting to upset his father. “They don’t need to be washed?” He asked cutely.

Jack pouted and nodded softly. “Can we have some candy afterwards?” He asked cutely. Jack sucked on his thumb softly and groaned getting confused as he slipped ages.

“What did I just say about talking back to Daddy? Ugh, you know what, forget it…!”

Lucifer roughly yanked Jack along, out of Jack’s room and into the corridor. Just like Jack’s heat, Lucifer’s rut was nowhere near done and he felt his urges return.

Lucifer slammed the bathroom door shut after them and began to strip. He swiftly turned the faucet on to fill the tub.

“Get in there, Jack. Unless you really want to piss me off.”

Jack winced and said slowly. “Not to talk back to daddy about anything.” He said his tone getting blank as though he had already used that phrase before.

Jack winced again and groaned. “Daddy! You’re giving me bruises!” He said as he was dragged along to the bathroom. Jack watched the faucet start to fill the tub and shook his head. “No, I want candy first!” He said getting upset.