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The Shurleys and the Winchesters grew up together, their fathers having bonded over losing wives and booze.
There were four Shurley boys and two Winchester boys.
Michael Shurely was the oldest out of the bunch. At twenty-two, he was preparing to graduate from Stanford with his law degree top of his class and preparing to go to law school across the country at Tulane on a full scholarship. He was tall, with dark black hair and dark green eyes, a strong jawline that tended to flex and clench in annoyance at his siblings and the pseudo-siblings that he had acquired. He was the perfect child, an absolute shining standard of how a person should be, and he tended to be a little detached from his emotions, as if he were Lieutenant Data.
Lucifer Shurely was next at nineteen, and if his older brother was the golden child then he was the problem child. Lucifer had rebelled and rebelled hard, having gotten his first piercing at fourteen and his first tattoo at fifteen- both from reputable persons who hadn’t seen through the incredibly detailed forged signature of Chuck Shurely. He now had six piercings and ten tattoos, and he made sure that his bright blond hair was long in the front and short in the back and spiked to continue the bad boy vibe. Underneath the leather jackets, tattoos, and “fuck authority” attitude, however, there was a sensitive young man who helped nurse animals back to health and was at the local community college to study photography. Tall like his brother, blonde and blue eyed, with a smirk to match his attitude, it was no wonder that the smooth talking Shurely was a magnet for men and women alike.
Dean Winchester would be next on the list, also nineteen years old. He was at the local community college as well, going for his mechanic’s license so he could open a classic car restoration business. Closest in age to Lucifer, the two got along fairly well, working on Dean’s inherited ‘67 Chevy Impala or helping Lucifer edit the photos that he had taken while classic rock blared out, the two boys singing along as if they were born back during when the music was made- and well too. The same height as Lucifer, the older Winchester brother was a darker blonde and had candy apple green eyes. He only had one tattoo, a present from Lucifer for their seventeenth birthday (the boys were born three weeks apart, it was silly to not combine parties), and it was on his chest, where it could be hidden.
Gabriel Shurely was up next, and he was the prankster out of the two. Having grown up with essentially three older brothers, Gabriel was seventeen and about to graduate high school and was one of the most popular kids in school, with his beaming personality and sardonic wit, not to mention that during his freshman year managed to prank Principal Dick Roman and not get caught by the principal himself. He was shorter, much shorter than his six foot plus brothers, but he kept saying that he had growing room to do as he was only seventeen, with golden hair and mischievous amber eyes. He wanted to be an actor, and was always preparing for a theatrical production.
Castiel Shurely and Sam Winchester were only a day apart at fifteen years old, and were often mistaken for twins when they were younger. Both boys were intelligent and studious, and Sam was often the more excitable of the two, while Castiel was more like his somber eldest brother in terms of personality. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they’ve known each other since they were in diapers, or that they were the babies of the two families, or even the way they began talking to each other about something nerdy, but they were almost never separated. Sam had dark chestnut hair that was long and shaggy, covering his ears and bright hazel eyes. By contrast, Castiel had Michael’s dark black-brown hair and Lucifer’s bright, piercing eyes.
They were family, as far as anyone was concerned. The three eldest always protected the three youngest, no matter what. Lucifer and Dean still cackle at the memory of clotheslining the guy who thought that he could pick on Gabriel for him being a bit on the pudgy side (it was all the damn sweets the seventeen year old ate, but Gabriel was also a weightlifter and on the swimming team).
They were a family.
It was a dark and stormy night, and everyone but John, Chuck, and Michael were over at the Shurleys’ for the night to hang out. It being Saturday, they really had nowhere else they’d rather be. John was out working; Chuck was at a publishing party and everyone knew that he’d be back sometime late afternoon the next day. Michael was at his dorm at Stanford, studying for an upcoming exam in one of his classes.
Dean and Lucifer were in the living room, huddled around Lucifer’s top of the line laptop as the worked on editing the latest round of photos that Lucifer had taken. They were talking in hushed tones, Def Leopard pouring out of Lucifer’s speakers.
Gabriel was in the kitchen, baking a pie. Or several pies. They’re not all exactly sure how many pies he is making, they just hear the latest dance music from the direction of the kitchen and an occasional lament that I CAN’T DO SIX PIROUETTES IN A ROW WHAT THE FUCK.
Castiel and Sam were curled up in Chuck’s library, reading and working on homework. There was some suspicion that the two boys were together (like together together, as the younger generation started saying), but no one would care if that’s how the boys saw each other.
“Sepia or normal for this one, Dean?” Lucifer asked, his hand idly tapping the side of his mouse.
“Show me the sepia again,” Dean said. The picture was of an old and worn book from Chuck’s library, laying open on a desk, a bottle of Dewar’s in the background. The theme of this portfolio was “Family” and Lucifer had chosen his father’s library to represent his. Of course, the Winchesters were included in that, with the picture of Dean being underneath the Impala, working on it in grease stained jeans and steel toed boots. Lucifer had saturated the picture in warm blues and Dean had suggested faded corners to give the photo a worn feeling.
Lucifer clicked to the sepia on his program and reached behind his head to scratch his scalp, the tattoo on his inner right arm seeming to glow in the low light of the computer screen. Dean looked at it briefly, smirking as he read the quote Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven. Paradise Lost was Lucifer’s favorite long poem, and he had the entire thing memorized, impressively. “I’d say the sepia, keeping it in the brown family,” he said.
Lucifer nodded and saved the change before groaning. “Finally all done,” he said, navigating to Blackboard and logging in.
“Do you have your next portfolio assignment?” Dean asked, looking at the profile of his best friend. His nose and tragus piercings seemed to glow, and he could make out the dark Kanji symbol for justice just underneath Lucifer’s left earlobe.
“Yep,” Lucifer said, starting to upload his files. “Not happy about it.”
“Why?” Dean asked curiously. Lucifer was always eager to start a new assignment.
“Nude model,” Lucifer confessed. “Fifty pictures, due in three weeks, including editing.”
Dean shrugged. “I think you’re good, man,” he said. “I mean, the chicks and dudes on campus dig ya.”
“They dig me because I look like I can fuck them into next year,” Lucifer corrected. “No other reason. And I’m easy, but I ain’t about to bank my grade on someone who isn’t going to work with me properly.”
“Maybe I could do it,” Dean said.
Lucifer looked at him. “You?”
“Sure, why not? You know me, I’m not expecting sex, and I’ve modeled for you before,” Dean said, and it was true. But this was different.
“Dean, you do realize that you’d be nude. Naked. Wearing a birthday suit. Au naturel.”
“Are you done listing the different ways to say my tackle kit is going to be flopping around?” Dean asked shrewdly.
“Are you sure you want to be posing in front of a camera- in front of me- with your bits out?” Lucifer clarified.
“It’s just art,” Dean shrugged. “And besides, dude, it’s you. You’re the one who walked in on me when we were fifteen and I just used Icy-Hot as lotion to jerk off. You’ve already seen my junk.”
Lucifer ducked his head down and snickered. “Touche,” he said. “Alright. Fine. You free Saturday?”
“Sure,” Dean said with a smile. “Noon?”
“Yeah, that’ll be good, we can always photograph into the night,” Lucifer said.
“Great,” Dean hummed.
Saturday dawned grey and dreary as Dean knocked on the door of the Shurley’s house.
Gabriel answered it, twirling a lollipop in his mouth. “He’s out in the studio, getting ready,” the younger Shurely confirmed. He ducked around the door and handed Dean two steaming mugs off coffee. “Here, take this out to him, he’s been up since five preparing everything.”
Dean nodded. “Thanks, Gabe.”
“No problem, Dean-o.”
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said in a low voice unusual for one so young, peeking his head around the corner.
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean asked, taking a quick look at the coffees in his hands to find his and taking a sip.
“Is Sam coming over today?” Castiel asked.
“He’ll be over soon, Sammy was in the shower when I left,” Dean confirmed.
“Oh good. I’m not doing very well in film studies.” Castiel grimaced and Dean chuckled.
“Sammy loves movies, he’ll help you out,” Dean assured him before heading out to the loft of the garage, aptly named Lucifer’s studio because Lucifer kept all of his major photographing equipment there and held his photoshoots there.
Lucifer was already there, bent over a low tripod and shirtless. Dean took a moment to platonically admire his best friend. Lucifer was in shape, but had just enough softness to him to not make him look like The Rock; huge black wings covered his back, tendrils of fire dancing along right where a tramp stamp would go. He straightened and Dean’s eyes fell to the curve of Lucifer’s ass and he subtly licked his lips before kicking himself. Lucifer was like his brother, no.
“Hey, Dean, glad you could come,” Lucifer said, turning to look at his best friend.
Dean held up his coffee. “Gabe made it,” he said.
Lucifer walked over, silver nipple rings glowing in the bright lights of the studio and highlighting three more of his tattoos. Dean’s eyes traveled to the right side of the other boy’s ribs, reading another quote from Paradise Lost: “The mind is a place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven”; to his left pec, where the Sigil of Lucifer was displayed on his chest, almost proudly; to his left bicep, where the opening lines to Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven lay. Dean could just barely make out a fourth, a giant Gothic style cross on the inner part of Lucifer’s left forearm. His dark wash blue jeans were slung low over his hips and the button was undone, giving him the perfect “I just rolled out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans over my boxers” look.
“My brother’s an angel, for once,” he murmured, taking the cup meant for him, barely looking at the coffee inside, and began guzzling it.
“So how are we gonna do this?” Dean asked, sipping his coffee.
Lucifer held up a slender finger- pianist fingers, Dean’s heard them referred to- and he waited patiently for Lucifer to finish inhaling his caffeine before he smacked pale pink lips and looked right at Dean. “Well, I figured it could be a progression,” he said. “In fact they encourage it, so I’m thinking the first few shots will be of you fully clothed, here in the studio. Then I’m thinking the shirt goes first and we could go outside and use Baby as a prop.”
Dean nodded. “Then back in here for the rest?” he asked.
Lucifer nodded. “Yeah. Unless you want to be bare assed naked outside.”
Dean shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want CPS getting called on us.”
Lucifer laughed and gestured towards the white screen behind him. “The whole thing about this is causal,” he said. “So just pretend that I’m just taking your picture for the sake of taking your picture.”
Dean nodded and took the high back wooden chair that Lucifer had left out and swung it around, straddling it and resting his arms on the back of it.
Lucifer went behind the cameras and looked over his equipment, directing Dean occasionally as flashbulbs went off intermittedly and Lucifer looked over the stills that he got. Dean knew he could move after every couple shots- in fact, Lucifer encouraged it, and he somehow managed to end up pulling off a Captain Morgan pose, using the seat of his chair to rest his foot. A hand rested on his knee and the other sat loosely at his side as he stared piercingly at the camera.
“Holy fuck, that’s a full body model shot if I ever saw one,” Lucifer groaned. “Fuck. Good. Can’t wait to edit these. Alright, ready to lose the shirt?”
Dean nodded and shrugged out of the AC/DC tee he was wearing, tossing it into a corner as Lucifer grabbed a few flash bulbs and a camera with three lenses. Juggling his equipment, he lead Dean out of the garage and outside, where the sleek black Impala sat. While the Shurleys’ was within walking distance of the Winchesters’ Dean had the feeling that his friend would want to photograph him with Baby. “Hey, beautiful, did you miss me?” he murmured.
“God, it’s like you’re a mechanophile,” Lucifer teased, setting up his flashbulbs as the sky darkened. “And I gotta make this quick, it’s going to rain.”
Dean nodded and he sat on the hood of his beloved car, putting one foot on the fender and resting the other on the ground, steepling his fingers as if he were in thought.
Posing for Lucifer was natural, to be honest. There was something about his best friend that posing came naturally for him. Maybe it was the way Lucifer allowed him to be himself, to have no pretenses, to not have to smile.
“Okay, I got a shot idea,” Lucifer said. “Stand in front of your classy lady, facing me, and then sit down.”
Dean did as he was told, feeling a few drops of rain hit his head. “Um, Luce?”
“I know, but I’ve got an idea. Lay down on her hood, and spread your arms,” Lucifer instructed.
Dean did so, feeling a bit ridiculous. Rain fell on his face sporadically, and he could feel his jeans starting to get wet. “Luce-”
“Shh,” Lucifer grumbled. “Let the artist work, man.”
Dean chuckled lowly.
“Do you mind if I get on her roof?” Lucifer asked. “I got an angle idea, but I know how much you love her.”
“Don’t dent her,” Dean warned.
“I won’t,” Lucifer said. “Not even wearing socks. You might have to wax her, but she should be good.”
Dean closed his eyes and heard Lucifer nimbly climb on top of his car from the trunk and heard the click of the camera. He opened his eyes and looked up at Lucifer, blond hair getting wet and a deft finger curling around his camera tighter. “There. Let’s get inside.”
Dean helped Lucifer get off of the Impala and carried two of the flashbulbs inside with him so Lucifer could clean off the lens that he had been using.
Back inside the studio, the two broke for a snack and went into the kitchen, only to find Sam and Castiel exchange a slow, easy kiss in front of an open fridge. Sam’s hands were cupping Castiel’s face tenderly, thumbs rubbing across the other boy’s cheekbones. Castiel’s hands rested on Sam’s waist, the other boy shirtless just like his brother and Lucifer.
Dean stood there shell shocked for a moment but Lucifer, clearly, knew what to do.
“If the milk’s gone to waste, I’m not gonna be happy,” he said dryly.
Both boys flew apart from each other as if they had been burned, twin expressions of alarm flashing across the fifteen year olds’ faces.
“Luci!” Sam gasped.
Lucifer shrugged. “You two, just keep it to kissing for now, alright?” he admonished. “And, um, maybe next time, not make out in front of the open fridge?”
“He distracted me,” Castiel accused. “I wanted to grab some juice. He had a better idea.”
Sam flushed scarlet and looked at Dean. “Dean-”
“Dude, we’ve been suspecting for a while, no need to hide it from us,” Dean chuckled. “And agreed with Luce. Don’t do anything that he’d do.”
Lucifer threw a glare over his shoulder at his best friend. “Shut it.”
“‘M not the one who lost my virginity at fourteen,” Dean chuckled. “To fucking Zeke.”
“I had a moment of weakness,” Lucifer defended himself.
Dean shrugged. “Whatever, man.”
Castiel shook his head, an amused smile tweaking at the corners while Sam outright giggled.
“C’mon, Cas, let’s go back to your room. We still need to watch The Breakfast Club,” Sam said, slinging a possessive arm around his boyfriend’s hip. “Thanks Dean, Luce.”
“Not a problem, Sammy,” Dean said, stepping behind Lucifer and grabbing a bottle of water off the shelf, guzzling it down.
“It’s Sam.” Sam protested over his shoulder.
“That was cute,” Lucifer admitted blithely, biting hard into an apple.
“It was,” Dean agreed, grabbing an apple himself and eating it. “I’m glad that they’re, ya know, happy.”
Lucifer nodded and took a sip of the Mountain Dew he had stashed. “Yeah. To be honest I’m surprised we haven’t caught them before.”
“Sam can be a tad impulsive.” Finished with his apple, Dean threw the core into the garbage and jerked his head in the direction of the garage. “Let’s go do these scenes,” he said, heading in that direction.
Nodding, Lucifer followed after throwing his own apple core away, still sippin on his Mountain Dew.
Once back in the confines of Lucifer’s studio, Dean shucked his jeans and boots, glad to be getting the cold, drying denim off of his skin and he he looked at Lucifer expectedly, clad now in nothing but a pair of black socks and dark red boxers that clung to his skin. “What are you thinkin’ of now, Luce?” he asked.
Lucifer gnawed on the bottle cap, contemplating. He untwisted it and took a long sip, closing his eyes half way and suddenly Dean had a very vivid image of Lucifer on his knees in front of him, giving him that same look, only it wasn’t a bottle of caffeinated soda that Lucifer’s pale lips were wrapped around; it was Dean’s length, and Dean scowled internally as he shook the daydream aside. Lucifer was his best friend- his extraordinarily attractive, devil-may-care-but-he-actually-does best friend.
So what if he’s jerked off to an image similar to that before, or if he’s grunted his name during a solo session? A lot of people do that, just for a face to imagine, a name to cry. Right?
Right.
“I think I’m going to have you sitting for this,” Lucifer hummed. “And I want you to play with the waistband. Give a peep of those hips.”
Dean raised a brow. “Aren’t you pushing the lines of decency, Luce?” he asked as he sat down in the chair, spreading his legs so he straddled it and leaned back in it.
“Perhaps,” Lucifer said as he snapped picture after picture, Dean moving. “But that’s what art is for, pushing boundaries. Pushing the limits.”
“I suppose,” Dean said.
“Okay, rest your head on the back of the chair, arch your back, and hook your thumbs into your boxers,” Lucifer instructed.
Dean obeyed, and he thought he heard Lucifer groan, but attributed it to a lighting issue, or maybe a camera issue. Whatever it was, Little Dean was becoming highly interested. Dean scowled at it. Fuck no. No boner. Not now. Later.
“Dean? Stand up, move the chair,” Lucifer said.
Dean did so.
“Now, face the wall, away from me, then look down and over your shoulder while pulling your boxers down so we can see your ass.”
Dean scowled. “Seriously, man? Are you getting into boudoir shoots now?”
“Just do it, Dean, there’s worse things I am going to be asking you to do,” Lucifer said absently, adjusting a camera setting.
Dean groaned and did as he was told, hearing Lucifer mutter “Fuck.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just that these are really fucking good shots,” Lucifer said. “Expose a bit more cheek, right hand side… Your right, my left.”
Dean followed the instructions, feeling his cock harden and thicken.
Dead puppies. Dead dad. Sam and Castiel having sex. Gabriel having sex with a pie. Michael masturbating. Dead Lucifer.
Apparently, his cock wasn’t listening to reason.
“Alright, Dean, take ‘em off,” Lucifer called out.
“Do you want me to strip for you? Give you a little show?” Dean called out playfully, keeping up teasing banter as a way to disguise his growing hardon.
“If you want,” Lucifer called casually. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable, Winchester.”
Dean slid his boxers down and kicked them off, leaving him naked in front of Lucifer. The other boy gave a mocking wolf whistle and Dean laughed, looking over his shoulder at Lucifer, who was already snapping pictures. “Like what you see?” he teased, falling back into the comfortable familiarity that came with being with Lucifer.
“Of course,” Lucifer chuckled. “Spread those legs apart, I want to catch a little of that bowleg you’ve got going on there.”
Dean did as he was told and forgot about his boner. For a little bit.
“Alright, front facing, let’s get some dick pics,” Lucifer said, making a twirling motion with his finger.
Dean’s cock gave a throb and he scowled. “Um, no can do Luce,” he said.
“What, is Little Dean a happy camper?” Lucifer asked, crossing his arms and raising his brow.
Dean stared at his normally chill best friend. “I mean, yeah, a little,” he admitted.
“It works for what I want to do, so turn around. Not like we haven’t seen each other hard before,” Lucifer said.
“Not my fault you didn’t leave a sock on your door when you were getting plowed into the mattress by Cain,” Dean grumbled, turning around and gesturing towards his dick. “Happy now?”
“Yes,” Lucifer said simply. “Now, relax, and show off that dick.”
Dean rolled his eyes but did as Lucifer said. It was a little weird, knowing that at some points Lucifer was zooming in on his cock. But it was also, if he had to admit to himself, a bit erotic. There was something incredibly sexy about being photographed naked.
“Okay, Dean, I want you to sit on the chair again,” Lucifer instructed, raising his eyes from the camera. If Dean was honest, Lucifer’s eyes looked a little darker, a little hungrier than they had been twenty minutes ago. “Legs spread, and I want you to close your eyes and slowly stroke yourself.”
“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean asked scandalized. “You want me to jerk off in front of you?”
Lucifer snorted. “Yes, Dean, I want you to masturbate while I take pictures. Not that hard of a concept to understand.”
Dean groaned. “Dude-”
“Do it, and I’ll have Gabriel make you that apple cinnamon pie that you love so much,” Lucifer bargained.
Dean narrowed his eyes at Lucifer, but there was only sincerity on his best friend’s face. “Fine,” he bit out.
“Wonderful.”
Dean assumed the position that Lucifer had describe, and he gave a low groan as he wrapped his hand around his throbbing dick, hearing Lucifer’s flashbulbs going off around him. “This is weird,” he muttered.
“You’re doing beautifully, Dean,” Lucifer assured him. “Just relax. Indulge in a fantasy. I’m not here.”
Dean took in a deep breath and let it out, letting some of the tension seep out of him as he began fashioning a scene. Sitting up sex, with a dude. The guy had slender hips and strong thighs, and his throaty cries of Dean’s name echoed in his head. Soon, he forgot that he was in Lucifer’s studio and that Lucifer- his best friend, whom he has totally platonic feelings for- was taking pictures of him stroking his cock.
Dean allowed his imagination to take control and melted into the fantasy he was creating. Yeah, it was starring Lucifer, but goddamn, Dean couldn’t help it. A lot of guys daydream about fucking their best friend, right? Right.
Lucifer was above him, making soft little whimpers as he rode him, and Dean was imagining capturing one of Lucifer’s nipple rings with his teeth and giving a gentle yank, just to hear Lucifer cry his name.
He jumped when he felt fingers on his chest, tracing his anti-possession tattoo, his gift from Lucifer, and his eyes flashed open to reveal Lucifer leaning over him from behind, predatory and hungry.
“Do you have any idea of what a delicious picture you make, Dean Winchester?” Lucifer growled. “Of how beautiful you look while you’re handling your dick? The way your chest heaves, the way your thigh muscles twitch? Do you realize that you’re a work of fucking art?”
“Um,” Dean replied intelligently. “I, um-”
“Oh for Satan’s sake,” Lucifer hissed, grabbing Dean by the chin and bringing him into a rough and dominating kiss, one that Dean wasted no time in returning, seeking out Lucifer’s tongue ring and groaning as he felt it push past his own lips. He nabbed the muscle with his teeth, just behind the piercing, and gave a firm suck. The answering moan Lucifer gave made his skin hum in satisfaction.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” Lucifer growled. “Tell me to go away, to finish my shoot and leave you be. Tell me you don’t want to be thrusting up into my warm hole.”
“Do it, Luce,” Dean moaned. “Fucking ride me.”
“Give me your consent,” Lucifer snarled softly, biting down on Dean’s lip, eliciting a soft gasp from the mechanic.
“I consent. Yes. Get on me,” Dean hissed. “And get undressed.”
Lucifer gave a low laugh and walked around in front of Dean, fully naked.
“Holy fuck,” Dean breathed.
Lucifer chuckled, his thighs flexing and showing off two more tattoos; his left thigh having a full colored red rose on a stem, blood dripping down from the thorn, and his right thigh reading a quote from the TV series Sherlock: “In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is King. And honey, you should see me in a crown.”
But that’s not what caught his eye.
What caught his eye was the large captive bead ring on the end of Lucifer’s thick, hard cock.
“Do you like?” Lucifer chuckled as he approached Dean on the chair, climbing over him.
“Wait!” Dean said.
Lucifer stopped, cocking his head to the side curiously.
“I-I-I mean we don’t got condoms or nothin’ and you’re about to slid on me with no prep,” Dean explained.
Lucifer threw his head back and laughed happily, and Dean scowled.
“It’s not funny, man,” he grumbled, blush coloring his cheeks.
“No, it’s not, but it kind of is,” Lucifer grinned. He opened his palm, revealing a silver foil square fitted neatly in his palm. “I’m always prepared for the eventuality of sex. And also-” he leaned in close and brushed his lips against Dean’s ear, making the other boy shudder, “-I’ve been wearing a plug since last night, so I’m nice and open and slick for you to just slide right in and to ride you.”
Dean groaned and reached around to trace around Lucifer’s hole. The other boy keened and dropped his head down onto Dean’s shoulder.
“Responsive,” Dean approved, feeling how open and slick Lucifer was. Just like he said.
“Just get the condom on so I can hop on,” Lucifer groaned.
“Bossy little man for a bottom,” Dean teased, taking the foil packet from Lucifer and opening it. Squeezing the air out of the tip, he rolled it on, Lucifer’s eyes following his fingers.
“I like being bossy, sue me,” Lucifer grumbled.
Dean chuckled darkly. He was done fucking around with himself. He had a crush on Lucifer Shurely, and now he was about to fuck him. Hard.
Lucifer climbed on and positioned himself at Dean’s head the moment the condom was rolled on. He slowly began sliding down, eyes widening.
“Ooohhh, you’re bigger than I expected,” Lucifer moaned, his head tilting back. “Fuck, you’re thick.”
Dean groaned. “You’re not that bad yourself,” he commented. He wrapped his hand around Lucifer’s thick cock and stroked as Lucifer’s hole swallowed Dean’s cock like it was nothing.
Dean bottomed out in Lucifer, and the other boy took a moment to take a deep breath and exhale before looking at Dean. “Ready to be ridden?” the photographer taunted.
“Ready to be fucked?” Dean countered, wrapping his hands around Lucifer’s waist.
“You betcha,” Lucifer grinned, resting his hands on top of Dean’s shoulders. He lifted himself up, almost all the way off of his cock, before Dean slammed him back down.
The cry Lucifer gave was beautiful, and they repeated their motions, Lucifer sliding up and Dean slamming him back down. Lucifer’s nails dug into the meat of Dean’s shoulders, and the mechanic was fairly certain that he was leaving bruises all over Lucifer’s waist and hips as their rhythm became faster, and harder. Lucifer panted above him, his chest heaving and a thin sheen of sweat covering his torso, pale skin a wonderful contrast to Dean’s own tanned skin. He leaned up and snagged a silver ring dangling from Lucifer’s nipple into his teeth; Lucifer’s echoing cry of “YES, DEAN!” was one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.
“‘M not gonna last,” Lucifer panted, his hips jerking erratically under Dean’s firm hands.
Dean removed one of his hands and flicked the ring on the head of Lucifer’s dick. “Cum for me, baby, c’mon,” he coaxed. “Give it to me.”
Lucifer seized and almost sat still for a brief moment before bucking his hips on Dean’s cock, crying out in pleasure as Dean flicked the piercing again, cum flying out and striping their chests, his hole clamping down on his cock hard.
Dean managed to last three more thrusts before cumming into the condom with a groan, digging the hand still on Lucifer’s hip into it harshly. If Lucifer wasn’t going to have bruises dotting his fair skin before then, he was now.
Lucifer slumped against Dean, resting his head on Dean’s, both boys breathing heavily as Dean’s hands turned tender, Lucifer’s almost useless.
“That was fucking amazing,” Lucifer breathed after a few minutes of calming down.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Dean chuckled gruffly, smiling up at his friend. “You doin’ good?”
“Yeah. You?” Lucifer asked.
“Eh. Dealing with a bit of a crisis. I mean, you’re like my brother man, is it wrong for me to like you like this?” Dean wondered.
“Not only is it right,” Lucifer said, cupping Dean’s face in his hands, “It’s perfect. I’ve had a crush on you since we were sixteen and you drove Baby all by yourself, you remember that day?”
Dean nodded. He did. He was so proud that John had let him drive the Impala alone that the first place he went to was Lucifer’s and sent him a text saying that he was outside. The look of awe on Lucifer’s face had made him grin like an idiot.
“That night I locked myself in my room and nearly jerked my dick off imagining you pressing me into her leather seats and making an absolute mess out of me,” Lucifer continued, ears turning pink at the confession.
Dean chuckled. “You would,” he teased. “I think I realized I had a crush on you when I watched you get your Sigil done.” He laid a hand over Lucifer’s tattoo of the Sigil of Lucifer, the skin warm and dewy against his palm. “You were so calm and looked so peaceful, and you’d do that lip bite thing that you do when you really like something. Wanted to wreck you.”
“Oh?” Lucifer chuckled, resting his hand on Dean’s anti-possession tattoo. “How?”
Dean smirked. “By drawing your jeans down and off and sucking you.”
Lucifer moaned softly. “Some friends we are,” he laughed quietly.
“Tell me about it,” Dean chuckled. He leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss with Lucifer, one that the other boy was all too happy to oblige to.
That’s when he heard it.
“Luce?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you leave the cameras going?”
“Maybe.”
“Luce.”
“Okay, yes I did. I might edit a few and submit them.”
Dean sighed. “Seriously?”
Lucifer kissed Dean’s lips softly. “You can help me edit and choose which ones to send in.”
“What changes about us?” Dean laughed.
“I think calling ourselves boyfriends, if we so choose, and the permission to kiss you and fuck you,” Lucifer grinned impishly.
“Boyfriends. I can deal with that,” Dean beamed, stealing another kiss from him.
FOUR WEEKS LATER:
“So, I got my grades on the nude portraits of you,” Lucifer said, flopping in bed next to Dean.
Dean barely looked at his boyfriend as he played Call of Duty. “Oh?”
“I nearly got a zero on the assignment for the *ahem* more risque pictures,” Lucifer admitted. “BUT it went before the school board and they ruled that I was trying a new art form by fucking my model. And also, they pointed out, it created a beautiful aesthetic. So full marks, and I might be doing one of the other art teachers’ wife’s boudoir shoot.”
“That’s awesome, babe,” Dean grinned, saving his game and leaning in for a warm kiss with Lucifer. “How’re we going to celebrate?”
Lucifer smirked, sitting up and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Want to go bug our brothers and see if we catch them with their hands down each others’ pants?” he suggested.
Dean shook his head, ruffling Lucifer’s hair. “I’d rather pin you down and make you scream,” he purred.
“Everyone’s awake and I don’t want Michael to think I’m being murdered by a banshee again,” Lucifer hummed.
“Well, what’s your next assignment?” Dean hummed.
“Photos in the style of Robert Mapplethorpe,” Lucifer leered.
“Who?” Dean was lost.
“Photographer in the 70’s who specialized in gay BDSM scenes,” Lucifer explained, grinning wickedly. “My inner Boy Scout is purring.”
Dean groaned, cock growing interest. “So lots of self photography,” he murmured. “Can I tie you up?”
“Oh baby, I thought you’d never ask,” Lucifer teased, nibbling along Dean’s shoulder.
Dean smirked. “Let me practice then, so we don’t hurt you during the shoot.” He turned and pressed Lucifer down into the bed, kissing him hotly as they individually thought about how to make the sexiest photographs in existence.
“You’ll also be pleased to know that one of the most recent photographs from that session is being entered into a contest,” Lucifer murmured.
“The one of me on the Impala?” Dean confirmed.
“Mhm. The black and white with only green eyes showing, and the way the rain drop on the lens magnified it and enhanced every little freckle on your face.” Lucifer looked proud of himself.
“Pride goeth before the fall,” Dean teased.
“Maybe that should be my new tattoo, right along my left hip.”
Dean leaned down and tongued where Lucifer’s shirt had ridden up to expose that very area. “Do it.”
“Plan on it, now fuck me, Winchester,” Lucifer growled.
“With patient pleasure,” Dean smirked.