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My Sacrifice

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Tonight is the night.

It’s the first night after the new moon, and a tiny, pale sliver shines silvery in the sky. Nick had no idea about these things before, no interest in anything like Wicca or Witchcraft… but that was before he met Lucifer.

Before everything changed.

 

At first, he was skeptical. It hat been difficult and dangerous enough to get Lucifer back from the Empty. To have him back within his own body, be Lucifer’s chosen vessel again, was exhilarating, and when Lucifer first voiced the possibility of finding another vessel for himself, Nick had been tempted to veto the idea immediately. But before he could tell Lucifer that he absolutely objected, the Devil had taken control of a hand and run it down their body suggestively. I want to be able to do that and watch you, Lucifer had purred in his mind. I want to kiss you, Nick.

That had nipped Nick’s protest in the bud, because Lucifer knew his dreams and fantasies damn well. He was part of them.

What do you have in mind?

He’d been able to feel the smirk Lucifer pulled their shared mouth into. And when Lucifer had told him… that night had been high on the list of really hot nights.

When he’d finally curled up, wrapped in Lucifer’s wings, he’d been convinced.

 

 

Lucifer finishes the last of the large sigils, cut into the earth with sheer power. Enochian letters and ancient symbols in their interlocking circles form a single, large circle around a bare bit of earth, just big enough for Lucifer to lie down in comfortably and spread out his wings. They checked how much space he needs for that, and calculated the size of the sigils accordingly, and the resulting circle is pretty big.

Nick watches as demon blood pours into the furrows. The smell of iron is heavy in the air, and once upon a time, Nick might’ve been bothered by that.

That had been before he’d become Lucifer’s vessel for the first time, and the fallen archangel had had to drink blood daily to keep Nick’s body from simply melting away beneath his grace. He’d gotten used to the smell, the taste. Now, he merely raises a brow at the sheer amount Lucifer is pouring from the canister. He suspects a little archangelic mojo, because that is a lot more than would fit into the container. How many demons did you bleed dry for this?

“A lot,” Lucifer replies dryly. “Don’t worry, most of them were loyal to Crowley.”

Nick snarls at the mention of the former King of Hell. Crowley might have been a decent demon and an interesting character, but Nick vividly remembers screaming in agony and begging for it to stop while Crowley watched impassively during the time they turned his body into Lucifer’s “living Cage”. During a break while more research was deemed necessary, he’d overheard the demons tasked with that job talk about how this was worse than what they did to the souls on the racks.

A rush of warmth soothes him, Lucifer’s Grace familiar and welcome, and Nick focuses back on the ritual.

“Time for the next part,” Lucifer murmurs as, with a negligent gesture, the seven small bonfires in the middle of the largest circles burst into flame. The wood was drenched in holy oil and myrrh, which they handled very carefully. Nominally, Lucifer still is an archangel, but they really didn’t want to test if it hurt him after his fall. Now, the scent rises into the air and first mingles with, then overpowers the iron from the blood. Nick breaths a sigh of relief, because he really hadn’t looked forward to having that scent in his nose for the whole ritual. Lucifer, noticing because he notices everything Nick does these days, chuckles as he slowly sheds his clothes. “Still comfortable with doing this?”

Comfortable is the wrong word, Lucifer, Nick answers dryly. But I won’t back out now.

“Stubborn,” Lucifer murmurs, and they both shiver as naked feet touch cold earth. The Devil slowly walks through the single spot where the sigils aren’t interlocked and settles on his knees on the bare earth where a copper bowl is waiting for them. The necessary herbs, powdered minerals and other, less appetizing things are already in it, all drenched in the same mixture of holy oil and myrrh as the small bonfires. Lucifer picks up the blade waiting beside the bowl, and Nick shivers, feeling the sheer age and inherent power of the blade.

I thought that was useless without the Mark, Nick observes. Lucifer snorts and sets the sharp part against his palm.

“For a human, an angel or a demon? It would be. But I still have a little of the Mark on my Grace, and the Blade recognizes that.”

Nick senses the disgust in Lucifer at mentioning the Mark and flares his soul against the Devil’s Grace in a silent caress, and the Devil smiles softly and envelops Nick’s soul briefly with his Grace. Then they both hiss as Lucifer draws the Blade over his palm, opening a deep cut. Blood drips out, thick and too dark even in the light of the moon and the fire. Nick frowns and tries to sense what Lucifer does. The Devil gently holds him back.

“I’m pushing out the last taint of the Mark with the blood,” he murmurs. “I don’t want it to latch onto your soul, Nick.”

Oh. Nick agrees with that sentiment and settles back down, watching as Lucifer takes the Blade in both hands. The shattering of ancient bone has him wince, and then the shards drop down into the bowl as well. Lucifer heals the wounds in his hands with a thought and takes a deep breath, and Nick can sense his reluctance.

It’s okay, he murmurs, reassuring. I trust you.

The Enochian falling from Lucifer’s lips sounds far off, heavy with magic and meaning. Nick still only understands a word out of ten, but he knows what Lucifer is saying. His archangel translated the ritual for him word by word, sigil by sigil. The flare of fire in front of them is sudden and hot and bright, and then Nick’s world turns dark and silent.

 

Waking up is a sudden thing, and Nick gasps in a breath. It aches a little, as does the second, and his heart stutters once before returning to a smooth, if fast rhythm.

“Nick?”

And that is strange, hearing a voice that is so close to his own. Nick opens his eyes and smiles. “It worked? You have your own body now?”

“It worked,” the archangel wearing his face murmurs. Lucifer’s eyes are maybe a little icier than a normal human’s eyes would be, and the wing draped over Nick protectively gives him away as well, but apart from that, Nick is looking into the face of his twin. He knew this would happen, but it’s still a little strange.

Lucifer leans down and kisses him, and Nick moans a little as his body wakes up all at once, and he remembers the second part of the spell.

“Time for the virgin sacrifice, huh?” he asks between going back for more soft kisses, and Lucifer laughs and nods.

The earth is still cold, but the fires burning around them give off enough warmth, and Lucifer makes sure Nick never touches the earth. Nick makes a mental note to explore those glorious wings first chance he gets, preferably somewhere warm and comfortable and well-lit. Lucifer keeps two of them between Nick and the ground, and just raises an expressive eyebrow when Nick asks if he’s not too heavy for that.

“Archangel, Nick,” is the only answer he gets before Lucifer sets to work with lips and teeth and tongue to turn his chosen former vessel into a writhing mess in his arms.

He has a definite advantage, having shared Nick’s body and mind for so long, and now he knows that nipping at Nick’s throat will make him gasp, and playing with a nipple will make him squirm with want.

Nick lets Lucifer play with him and touch as he wants, blushing a little when the fallen angel slowly pushes his legs apart to settle between. He twitches once as slick fingers slide down past his palls and rub over the virgin entrance, but Lucifer immediately leans in and distracts him with gentle kisses.

The Devil is so very gentle as he slides a slick finger into Nick’s body, and Nick squirms a little at the unfamiliar sensation before Lucifer does – something with his grace, and Nick moans and arches up into his lover as his whole body tingles.

Just like that, Nick, Lucifer murmurs in his mind. The Devil’s mouth is insistent against Nick’s, the soft kiss turning deeper and hungrier the more Lucifer stretches him open. Nick moans and writhes and clings to him, and mewls protest when Lucifer pulls back after what feels like hours.

“Hush,” Lucifer murmurs against his mouth, and Nick whines softly as the Devil shifts so he can trace the nail of his free hand over Nick’s chest. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Nick gasps out, and feels Lucifer shiver against him, moans as the fingers in his hole push in just a little harder. He flinches at the first touch of the small blade his archangel conjured, then moans as Lucifer counters the sharp pain of the cut with a move of his fingers inside him.

Lucifer keeps him on the edge between pleasure and pain like that as he cuts a single sigil into the skin of Nick’s chest, shallow cuts that bleed just a little. Nick can feel him shiver and tremble where they touch, in the wing beneath him, and fights to keep his eyes open to watch as the same sigil appears on Lucifer’s chest.

They don’t need any more words. Lucifer finishes with the sigil and drops the blade, pulls his fingers free to Nick’s whimpered protest, and then the fingers get replaced by Lucifer’s hard cock, and Nick hisses and shivers as he’s taken. Claimed, in more ways than one.

Lucifer covers him, chest to chest and sigil to sigil, and Nick wraps his arms around his neck and holds on as Lucifer moves slowly, whispering more ancient Enochian. Magic pulls at him, twines with the pleasure of having Lucifer inside him. Nick moans softly and mouths at Lucifer’s neck, feels the Devil shiver, and then there are no more words, only one thing remaining for the ritual to be done.

Nick moans as Lucifer’s pace picks up, pushing into him harder, caught up in the magic of the ritual they started. Arousal burns higher and higher, and Nick whispers breathless encouragement mixed with pleas for more, harder, please, Lucifer

Orgasm is a sudden thing, hitting them both hard as all around them, the demon blood in the sigils bursts into flame. Nick screams, clinging to Lucifer, who curses and holds him tightly against his chest, and Nick shivers helplessly as his body twitches and clenches, feels Lucifer’s wings twitch beneath him, the wind of the free wings beating at the air as Lucifer fills him up.

As soon as the flames sprung up, they collapse again, and the only light left is the cool moonlight. But neither the Devil nor his newly made Knight care. They are the most dangerous thing out here tonight, and they know it.

 

Lucifer shifts and sits up, Nick in his lap, still on his cock. His chosen moans softly and snuggles close, and Lucifer wraps him up in his wings and runs gentle hands up and down his back. “Feel different?” he murmurs.

Nick purrs at the caress, stretching a little. “Yes,” he lifts his head to look around, and Lucifer growls a little as he gets his first look at Nick’s eyes. Demon-black… with a thin ring of icy blue around where the pupil should be.

Nick yelps as Lucifer drags him forward and into a hungry kiss, then laughs into it and kisses back with the same kind of enthusiasm. He moans softly as he realizes Lucifer is still hard inside him.

“Archangel,” Lucifer purrs against his mouth, and Nick grins.

“Do your worst,” he invites and experimentally clenches around the hard flesh inside him. Lucifer moans. “But this time, I demand a bed.”

Lucifer laughs. “Whatever my Consort demands,” he murmurs, and with a flick of Grace, they’re gone.

 

Tomorrow, they’ll march into Hell and reclaim it, the rightful King with his chosen Knight at his side.

Tonight… well, the King of Hell has a Consort to satisfy, and he plans to do so to the best of his abilities.