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One for Free

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When the bathroom door swung open, all Sam could think was: 'Oh, come on!'

He had no clue where he was again, for the fourth fucking time that day. On a Tuesday, that pretty much told him what to expect for the rest of his week.


He felt his way slowly through the dark, trying not to flinch at each whisper of nothing that brushed against his skin. All of a sudden, "Ever wonder why they call me 'the Devil'?" floated through the air from somewhere to his right.

Before he could turn in that direction, "It's because I tempt people," came from the left. "I know what people want and I give them a chance to experience it. Really, when you think about it, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Only a crazy person would have touched that question, and he was pretty sure it was rhetorical anyway. Besides, he just wanted to go home, to hang out with his friends for one night. His real friends, the kind who didn't literally own his soul. If he didn't add to the conversation, he figured things would go a lot faster.

"Now, now, Sam, don't you want to play?"

Not really, but I don't have a choice, do I? he wanted to scream.

The last time the Devil had suspected he wasn't playing, he'd woken up on a beach in Cancun wearing only a red leather thong and a smile. He still couldn't remember what happened that night, and he definitely didn't want a repeat performance.

"No, Sam, you probably don't!"

This time, the words practically licked over his ear; and even though he was a Reaper now, and Reapers didn't scare easily, he couldn't help shrieking: "Would you cut that out?"

"Sorry, occupational hazard."

Finally, the Devil materialized in front of him, brightening up the place, flashing one of the easy smiles that kind of made him want to strangle the guy.

It wasn't that he didn't like the Devil; it was just, well, He was the Devil! No one liked him, not even the people, who worked for him. Especially not the people, who worked for him. He understood, in a round about and very twisted way, that maybe, just maybe the Prince of Darkness got a little lonely every once in a while. But why they had to play 'hide and seek' in an abandoned warehouse beat him! He was pretty sure there were cooler places they could be hanging out, if they had to hang out at all!

Which they didn't!

"Sure we do," the Devil told him, still grinning that megawatt smile.

Sam felt a twinge of anxiety then, since he had no clue what had put the Devil in such a good mood. Whatever it was, he knew it couldn't be good. "Fine, you've got me," he said warily. "Why did you bring me here?"

The Devil gave him one of those looks, which the Devil probably thought was fond but which, in fact, was just plain creepy. "You really should pay more attention when I'm talking to you."

"I was paying attention!" Sam frowned, wondering what he'd missed. Something very important, he guessed, from the way the Devil kept staring at him. "You were saying something about people calling you 'el Diablo'—"

"Because I tempt people," the Devil announced as if that were big news.

And maybe it was, Sam thought, confused, since there was definitely something weird going on. Weirder than usual anyway. "Okay, so you tempt people," he snapped. "What the hell has that got to do with me?"

The look he got then was shark-like, predatory, enough to make him take several steps back.

"You know, I used to wonder about you," the Devil continued like there was nothing strange about one of them stalking forward while the other ran backwards as fast as he could. "Most people meet me and I can tell instantly what they want. Money, fame, girls, boys: you name it, I see it! You, though, I can't tempt with any of that now, can I? Because what you want is entirely different, isn't it, Sammy?"

He wanted to say, *Don't call me that!* because he hated that name, and he hated the way it slithered out on the Devil's tongue, sibilant and hissing, exposing him in some way. But it felt like the words were choking him, trapped there in his throat as it seized up with fear. Each step he took made him wonder whether this was it: the moment where the Devil finally dragged him down to hell.

"Sam, my boy, lighten up, would you?" And out came another one of those creepy, fond looks. "I've decided to give you what you really want. Come on, how many people can say that, huh?"

"I don't want anything from you," Sam yelled. "There are rules—you can't do this—" and he kept backing away, shaking his head, thinking that if he raised both hands somehow he could ward the Devil off.

The Devil, though, was remorseless as always. "Think of this as a freebie," he said, right before Sam suddenly found himself back against the wall, naked from the waist down, with the Devil pressed up against him still wearing that thousand dollar suit.

"What the—"

"Tentacles," the Devil explained, smirking. "I've got to say: they do come in handy!"

There was a joke in there somewhere, and maybe some other time, if he weren't so freaked out by the Devil waving both hands in his face whilst still managing to grope him, he might have found it funny. But a couple of those things were grabbing at his ass, spreading him, holding him open; and now that he knew what they were, he had a horrible feeling about what the Devil planned to do with them.

"Okay, that's enough!" He struggled desperately, trying to get away as one of them slipped in between his buttocks. He could feel it, slick and wet with something, rubbing across his opening, making him shivery and warm—he couldn't help it! "Stop that," he yelled, panicking. "This isn't funny any more! Jesus Christ, will you listen—"

He was interrupted by another one of the Devil's tentacles smacking him hard on the ass.

"*Ow*! That hurt!"

"Well, you know how I feel about swearing," the Devil said casually.

There was nothing casual, though, about the look the Devil gave him, or about the way that first tentacle kept working at him, burrowing in hard, pressing through his desperate attempts to keep it out.

"Don't," Sam whispered, hearing how ragged and wrong his voice sounded. But that thing was inside him now, burrowing deep and flicking slowly, writhing, twisting, fucking him. In desperation, he stared into those hard blue eyes and begged, "Please, don't do this! I don't want it! I don't like it—"

"Liar!" The Devil beamed at him. "Oh, Sam, you know how I love it when you lie to me!"

And the Devil had him there, because the thought of the Devil watching him take it up the ass pushed all sorts of buttons for him. He kept on struggling, face hot with shame, feeling that thing thicken inside him, hearing the slick, wet sounds it made writhing deeper and deeper. Until it dragged over something, which sent so much pleasure roaring through him his knees felt weak with it.

He staggered, gasping, "Fuck, fuck," struggling to stay on his feet. But the Devil didn't give him any time to get used to it, and that thing just kept stroking the pleasure into him, flooding his insides with heat, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing him right there until his knees finally gave way.

"Hmmm, you like that, huh?" the Devil murmured, sounding very pleased with himself as he caught him and then shoved him right back up.

Sam opened his mouth to swear he didn't, only that thing inside him twisted again, twisting right there, and before he could stop himself he let out a broken sounding moan.

"It's okay to like it, Sam," the Devil whispered right in his ear. "I want you to like it," the Devil admitted very softly, cupping one hand over his nape while another one of those tentacles started working him open, stretching him to the limit.

By the time it had finished twining itself round the one already inside him, Sam was shaking, sweat pouring off his skin while his cock throbbed against the Devil's thigh. "Please," he groaned, writhing helplessly now. "Please, I need—" he wound his fingers tight in the Devil's jacket, trying to breathe through the burn, trying not to lose it as that sweet, trembling ache spread slowly through his body.

But another broken sound slipped out of him again when the Devil really started to fuck him, murmuring, "That's it, Sam, just take it," holding him there so he had to.

Somehow, his teeth found their way to the Devil's shoulder, but even biting down wasn't enough to keep those sounds in. He could hear himself sobbing now, screaming because it was so good, so unbelievably good he knew he was going to come right there with the Devil watching everything.

"Give it up, Sam," the words brushed against his cheek, and this time Sam shuddered because he wanted to. "It's okay to let go," the Devil went on, sensual, seductive. "Let go, Sam; give it up to me!"

"No!" Sam shook his head, whining as he felt the pleasure slide up a notch.

"You can't hold out forever."

Still, Sam kept trying to! He was so close now his cock was dripping, but he kept holding on, not sure why he was fighting any more, only knowing that he couldn't—he couldn't

"For me, Sam, please?" the Devil whispered in his ear again, so soft, so fucking sincere.

And that tipped him over the edge.

He bit down and then he came grinding his hips into the Devil's thigh. And just knowing that he was coming all over the Devil's perfect suit made him come even harder, gasping, shuddering while the Devil kept fucking him right the way through it, until his balls were empty, until he thought he was going to die it felt so good and until the only things holding him up were those tentacles twitching deep in his ass.


When he could think again, he took his mouth off the Devil's shoulder and then he tried to run away, but his legs were so weak he could barely move. He couldn't believe he'd come so fast, despite everything he'd said about not wanting any of it. All he wanted to do now was hide. He couldn't bear looking the Devil in the eye any more, not after the way he'd humiliated himself, especially when those tentacles slowly eased their way out of him.

Rearing back, he kept his eyes down and then wished he hadn't, because there it was: all the evidence streaking white down the front of the Devil's dark suit. Fuck, there was so much of it, like he'd come for hours, which in many ways it felt to him like he had.

"Ah, Sam, always with the worrying!" The Devil sighed, sounding fond and exasperated all at once. "Forget about it! I've got a tailor in the fifth circle, who makes sure I've got an endless supply of these suits."

Then, still sighing, still sounding just that little bit exasperated, the Devil cupped his face in both hands, tilting it up to just the perfect angle for a series of kisses so tender they literally took his breath away.

The first one grazed over his forehead, right above his left eyebrow. The second barely missed the corner of his mouth. With the third, Sam stopped counting; he just stood there, stunned, letting it happen, letting the Devil brush those sweet gentle kisses over his forehead, down his cheeks and along the line of his jaw. And after what they'd just done, 'kissing' didn't seem so bad. After tentacle ass-fucking, his mind screamed at him, 'kissing' really didn't seem like such a big deal.

He leant in a little, brushing back when the Devil finally brushed a kiss over his mouth. Then the Devil started sucking slowly on his lower lip, biting gently at it, all the while combing those thick, long fingers through his hair. And it was so sweet, this asking not taking, that before Sam knew it he'd opened his mouth for the Devil's tongue, feeling himself flush from head to toe as it slipped inside and slowly stroked its way into him.

Shivering, he flicked his tongue out to meet it, tangling the two of them together before drawing the Devil's tongue deeper into his mouth and then sucking on it, groaning deep in his throat, feeling that trembling sensation of heat start to curl low in his stomach.

Suddenly, everything turned to fire.

The Devil picked him up and then pressed him back against the wall, taking his mouth with the kind of desperate hunger that made Sam ache to give him everything he wanted. He could barely breathe with the sheer need that crashed on top of him. So all he could do was submit to it, letting the Devil take him, shivering and shivering as that tongue thrust slick, hot and rough inside his mouth. And it was so good, so fucking good he had to kiss back, sucking helplessly on it, never ever wanting to stop—

Which was, of course, when the Devil pulled away.

Sam reached for him, mindless with need, only to have the Devil hold him back, whispering, "Ssh, Sam, just take it easy! It's okay, I've got you."

Then what happened next nearly destroyed the last sane parts of his mind. The Devil gathered him up close and started stroking his hair, whispering more of that soothing nonsense in his ear and—oh, fuck—nuzzling him gently.

He took the comfort, because he needed it, because he was trembling so badly he didn't know which way was 'up' or 'down' any more. Apart from the fact that, not too long ago, he'd just come writhing on the Devil's tentacles—which was still weird and incredibly fucked up no matter how he looked at it—more than anything, he wanted to kiss the Devil again. No, he was fucking desperate to kiss the Devil again. And the really frightening part was, even though he knew it would probably mean going straight to hell, he still wanted to do it. Soon. Very soon.

"Oh, we will, Sam," the Devil promised him. "You can have me like that any time you want me. You just have to ask. Only you should know that next time it won't be free."

Sam wrenched himself out of the Devil's grasp and moved a few steps away, trying not to scream. He wasn't sure whom he was angrier with: himself or the Devil. Though, on the one hand, he had to hand it to the guy because, seriously, tentacles and sex all to distract him from the main event? "You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes," he snapped.

The Devil responded with a bright smile, but said, "Careful there, my boy!"

Sam laughed bitterly; he couldn't believe how easily he'd been tricked. Still, he got it now. He really got it: the idea of temptation and sin, wanting something he knew it was wrong to want. What made it worse was that the Devil kept staring at him, hungry, and hopeful. And how fucked up was it that a part of him still wanted to go over there?

"I'll be waiting, Sam. Just think about it: you and me, together forever . . .."

Sam shuddered, terrified, because that idea didn't scare him nearly as much as it should have. He tried not to think about what that said about him: that, for him, temptation wasn't fame or other worldly possessions, temptation was the Devil itself.


The End.