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Could You Be a Devil?

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Being the center of attention of two of the most powerful beings on Earth is. . . exhausting. Especially when part of the reason why you’re in the arrangement is because it prevented the Apocalypse.

Not that Dean Winchester minds anymore. Having the Prince of Heaven and the Devil as your lovers reap numerous benefits. Everyone’s safe. No one has to die or be worn as a ball gown to some bloody showdown.

And then there’s the sex.

To be honest, Dean expected Michael, the Prince of Heaven, the Viceroy, the head honcho in Heaven, to be a bit prudish and stingy in the bedroom. He certainly came off that way the couple of times prior to this arrangement (and eventual relationship) to Dean. Dean knew that Lucifer, the Father of Sin and the Light Bringer all in one would be one kinky ass sonofabitch. And Lucifer was, there was no doubt. Dean still has wet dreams about one of the forks of Lucifer’s tongue sliding into his slit, making him gasp, cry out, and cum down the other archangel’s throat. It was the best blow job he ever had, sue him.

But boy was he wrong about Michael.

Michael was just as kinky, just as mischievous in the bedroom as his brother. Michael was no pure angel, oh no. He was sin incarnate, much like Lucifer was, and Dean often wondered if he got two devils instead of an angel and a devil in his lovers.

They were still different in the ways they liked to take Dean apart.

Lucifer was cold, impassive. He relished in using his toys or soft touches with his hands on Dean’s bound body, murmuring how sweet his boy looked while Dean wriggled and writhed, eager for more of Lucifer (or of Michael, who would oftentimes simply just watch with a smirk on his face and dark, predatory eyes). Lucifer loved lavishing praises on Dean, and Dean loved every second of it. But nothing Dean did would make Lucifer lose his unimpressed facade, warm up his cold hands trailing up Dean’s trembling open thighs. Dean could beg and plead until his voice was hoarse- and he often did- but nothing would not move Lucifer faster than he wanted to move. It meant that Dean would often cry out hoarsely for more, faster, please, and the only response would be, “Not at this moment, Dean. We’re doing this at my pace, not yours.”

This simply frustrated Dean more, and it didn’t help that Lucifer was a huge fan of edging and orgasm denial. Dean always said he hated it. The trio knew he was lying. Dean secretly loved it, mostly because of the undercurrent of pride whenever he beat his old record and, of course, Lucifer’s praise often went straight to his cock.

Lucifer’s voice was always soft, soothing, tender. There was a note of pride whenever he spoke and praised Dean and it also helped keep Dean grounded until Lucifer wanted him to float. Dean’s fairly certain Lucifer could read him the phone book and he’d be hard and wanting.

Michael, on the other hand, wanted Dean completely free and yet choosing not to move except on Michael’s orders. And Michael barked orders like he was a general- which he was. And that also went to Dean’s cock. He loved being ordered around like that, loved military role plays and hooking up with men in the service back in the day. He didn’t need that anymore, as Michael caught onto the kink quicker than expected (Dean has his suspicions that his mind was read) and used it to his full advantage. No ropes or toys, save the occasional plug or dildo, were used. Michael’s touches were firmer than Lucifer’s, strong and warm against Dean’s skin, increasing the heat and the lust behind him.

Michael loved watching Dean get strung out and needy from a few simple touches, loved watching him pant and whine and whimper his name from the archangel simply massaging his thighs, or squeezing Dean’s ass with those large, strong hands.

And Michael’s voice. . . Dean could write sonnets to that voice, if he knew how. Deep, rich, commanding. Dean feels like when he’s with Michael his cock is always standing at half mast because of that voice. It was just as quiet as Lucifer’s, as apparently that was the way of archangels and sex, but there was something else underneath of it. Lucifer’s always sounded lackadaisical, like ‘I don’t care if you obey me or not’ (even though they all knew he did) but there was something in Michael’s voice. Something dangerous that said, ‘dare disobey me, and suffer the consequences’. Maybe it was a part of being Heaven’s general, maybe something that is uniquely Michael, although Dean’s fairly certain he’s heard Castiel use a similar voice.

Quiet dominance all through out.

It was usually Michael suggesting new things to try out in the bedroom, jade eyes on Dean to gauge his reaction. Furrowed brow meant no, a lick of the lips maybe, a flush across his cheeks a hell yes. Panties, whips, gags, spreader bar, shibari- all things that Michael suggested, a smirk tugging at Lucifer’s lips while Dean gave his nonverbal answers. And Michael always looked so smug whenever Dean flushed in answer to whatever Michael was suggesting. And those weren’t the only things that Michael would suggest.

“What are you thinkin’ about, Mike?” Lucifer asked.

They were sitting down at dinner, eating calmly. Even though angels really don’t need to eat, they did it in solidarity with their human. Sam was out with Castiel- come to think of it, he had been doing an awful lot of that later. Dean pushed it out of his mind because he did not want to be thinking of Sam and Castiel fucking.

“Well,” Michael hummed, taking a sip of beer from the bottle in front of him, “I was thinking one of these days we combine one of our personal favorite kinks for each other.”

“Oh?” Lucifer hummed. Dean picked up a forkful of mashed potatoes. “And which one would that be, Mike?”

Michael’s eyes glittered darkly. “Using our Grace on Dean. Either as bondage or as like, say, a dildo.”

Dean’s fork clattered to his plate as his cheeks flamed up. He loved the idea. Loved the idea that he was being held immobile by his lovers’ power, but he couldn’t see it. Feeling their Grace inside of him, fucking him for his boyfriends’ pleasure. Oh God. That was intoxicating. He picked up his fork and shoveled several bites into his mouth, hoping that they didn’t notice.

What was he kidding, of course they noticed.

“Oh yes,” Lucifer purred, eating a chicken tender like he was in some sort of fancy restaurant. Lucifer always acted more posh than he was. It was endearing. “I like this idea a lot, Michael.” Lucifer finished his chicken tender and dusted his fingers off. “Sounds a little voyeuristic.” He winked at Michael.

Michael chuckled and lightly kicked his brother under the table. “Brat,” he said affectionately towards Lucifer. His lips quirked up into a smirk as he observed Dean with his head ducked down and shoveling food into his mouth, pinks and reds dashing across his cheeks. “I think he likes it,” he remarked. “Do you, boy?”

Dean swallowed his mouthful of food, cock rock hard and mouth dry. He nodded, wetting his lips. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

Michael reached over and squeezed Dean’s arm. “Finish your dinner,” he ordered, “Then we’ll play.”

Dean certainly couldn’t refuse an order like that.

 

Punishments. . . Dean should’ve known that even if they gradually built up Michael’s kink level, that he’d be the King of Punishments. That’s definitely what Dean calls him in his head, anyways. He knew he shouldn’t have underestimated the oldest archangel in existence but. . . Well. He had already done that twice. First with exactly how kinky and how aware of Dean Michael was and then with punishments.

Lucifer’s idea of punishing Dean was spanking him until he cried and then be denied orgasm numerous times until Dean begged for forgiveness. And Dean, quite honestly, loved it. Lucifer certainly knew how to give a spanking, and being forced not to move on the spanking bench (where the hell Lucifer got a spanking bench from, especially one as nice as he got for Dean, is beyond Dean.) was equally as thrilling. And Lucifer didn’t hold back possibly as much as he should. Dean’s ass would be sore and tender for weeks on end. Donut pillows for the chairs and even the Impala, and lots of arnica cream, lovingly massaged into his skin while Dean panted into the pillows of their bed and resisted the urge to rut into their sheets were a must after Lucifer punished Dean. And then to be fucked into over and over again, but be denied release. . . it often sent Dean into the stratosphere, and deep into his headspace. Punishments always sent him down the deepest, and therefore it would be a long time before he resurfaced properly. But it was good for him, good for them too. Dean would disobey every chance he could get if he knew Lucifer would always be the one punishing him.

But that was not the case. Some of the rules were Michael’s rules, and therefore it would be Michael who would punish Dean.

Michael’s idea of punishment is a bit more creative than Lucifer’s. Michael knew that Dean didn’t need a physical reminder that he had disobeyed- oftentimes Dean felt guilty enough as it was that he needed a simple reminder. But Michael also knew how much Dean needed touch, craved it even, and so touch him Michael would.

 

Michael simultaneously hated and loved punishing Dean. He couldn’t help it. There was something beautiful about the way Dean submitted during his punishments, and as much as he knew Lucifer was excellent at punishing their human, their perfect little sub, he also knew that he enjoyed it immensely. Masochist, Michael thought affectionately.  

Dean’s love for masochism has gotten him into some trouble in the past, both of his own doing and not of his own doing. Michael tempered down the anger that arose within whenever he thought of the white eyed bastard that was Alastair.

Lucifer was always more than willing to provide Dean the pain he craved, but Michael knew that the way to punish a masochist was not through pain.

Not to mention he felt like his True Vessel had gone through enough pain.

That’s not to say that Michael wouldn’t hurt Dean. Just never as punishment.

No, Michael’s idea of punishment was to do some things that Dean disliked, but wasn’t outright opposed to. And they, of course, somehow always managed to fit the crime.

For instance, Dean mouthed off one too many times to Michael, enough that the eldest archangel had given warnings and Dean hadn’t corrected his behavior, Dean would get gagged. Michael always made sure that Dean could give his nonverbal safeword and told him what it was before he fastened the gag into Dean’s mouth, murmuring soothingly to him. Dean hated the gag because he felt like it was a punishment, even if Michael used the O ring gag, and that was a part of the reason Michael did it that way.

“If all you’re going to do is be mouthy,” he’d say, running his fingers through Dean’s hair, “then you don’t get to talk, Dean.”

To be honest, Michael loved seeing Dean gagged. There was something beautiful about seeing those full, pretty lips stretched around the ball gag or the O ring. He preferred the ball gag.

After Dean was gagged, he’d make Dean kneel next to his lap and rest his head on his thigh, so Michael could card his fingers through the sandy blond hair, waiting for Dean to relax and calm down, to understand that while this was a punishment, it was done out of love.

Dean would also get punished for cumming without permission. It was hard, which is why whenever Lucifer praises him for being able to edge himself he fucking preens. However, it was still possible for him to cum before either Lucifer or Michael gave the command, and that’s where one of Michael’s favorite kinks that Dean detests because it’s a punishment for him, but fun for Michael came in.

Chastity play.

Michael has always been fascinated by chastity play. Maybe it’s because of his ‘must stay in control’ mentality. Maybe because it’s because he thinks Dean’s cock looks gorgeous in the golden cage he uses on him. Or maybe he’s a teeny bit of a sadist. Either way, Dean’s punishment for cumming to early was having his cock locked in the cock cage and he’d have to be on his very best behavior for Michael to even consider unlocking it.

Dean hated the cock cage, although he did like the way Michael’s and Lucifer’s eyes looked when they see it on his cock. Sadists, he’d think.

However, he did have to admit that Michael still came up with very good ideas. The cock cage was certainly a good reminder that he was the angels’ submissive, and that his pleasure was derived from their pleasure. Which made all the sense in the world, and he loved it. And he knew that Michael knew him almost better than Sam.

Michael loved how frustrated Dean would get while in the cock cage, going about his day with somewhat increasing irritability before the evening hit and he’d bring Dean over to his lap and sitting him down on it, lightly massaging the knots out of Dean’s back.

“What did you learn today, little one?” he’d murmur lovingly into Dean’s ear as the human began relaxing against him.

“I’m yours and Luci’s,” Dean would murmur, nosing into Michael’s neck.

“Do we still love you?” Michael’s voice was still soothing.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean would reply, groaning as a knot was freed from his back.

“Good,” Michael would hum, kissing Dean’s temple. “Did so good for me today, little one. All’s forgiven now. Ready to have your cage come off?”

“Oh God yes,” Dean would breathe.

Michael would then smack Dean’s ass. “Stop taking our Father’s name in vain,” he’d tease.

“Make me, Sir,” Dean would grin.

“Cheeky imp.”

 

That’s not to say Michael wouldn’t spank Dean. Oh no. Michael LOVED spanking Dean. It was quite possibly his and Lucifer’s favorite thing to do. Dean’s fairly certain that if he didn’t have a say in the matter, he’d be walking around with a permanently red ass. Something about it just made both of the archangels turn almost feral in desire.

He brought that up one day, during dinner after Lucifer and Michael engaged in a heated debate over whether hands or paddles were better for turning Dean’s ass red, and the pros and cons. “The two of you would keep my ass red as a cherry tomato if you had it your way,” he finally interjected into their conversation.

Both Lucifer’s bright blue eyes and Michael’s dark green ones glittered dangerously. “Don’t give us any ideas,” Lucifer growled, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.

“You’d love it too,” Michael said blandly, eating a forkful of the salad Lucifer made. “You love getting your ass spanked by us.”

Dean swallowed. “It’d make it hard to work,” he admitted.

“Why?” Lucifer drawled. “Is it because you’d be so hard you can’t focus? That’s okay, Mike can put the cock cage on you.”

Michael shook his head at his brother, chuckling. “Cock cage is for punishments,” he reminded Lucifer. “Dean would just have to concentrate extra hard on controlling himself.”

Dean’s mouth went dry, so he put more ranch on his salad and shoveled it into his mouth.

“Of course, we can always set aside a week where Dean doesn’t have to go anywhere, leave some hunts for Sam, and we can just spend it spanking him,” Michael suggested in an all too innocent voice.

Dean’s fork clattered to his plate as his cheeks heated up even more. Damn his archangels. Damn them for knowing him so well.

“Oooh, I like that idea,” Lucifer agreed. “I’d also like to make the stipulation that the entire time he remains naked.”

Michael chuckled, amused more than anything. “If you could refrain yourself from destroying his clothes when you’re horny,” he teased.

“Dean likes it when I go caveman on him,” Lucifer beamed innocently at his older brother. “As do you.”

Dean groaned. He needed to focus on dinner. Not on how fucking hot his boyfriends were.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Michael lectured playfully.

“I’ll show you slow and steady,” Lucifer griped good naturedly. “See if I rim you later.”

“Oh, you will, little brother,” Michael smirked. “I know you’d never give up a chance to fuck me.”

Lucifer grinned. “That’s because your ass might just be tighter than Dean’s,” he joked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Stop that,” he said, swatting his older brother, “Or I’m going to spank your ass as well.”

Lucifer’s eyes glittered. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he leered.

Michael laughed and threw his napkin at Lucifer. “You just like having my hand come down on your ass. Maybe I’ll allow Dean to smack that pale ass of yours red. It’ll match your horns.”

“I am an angel, ” Lucifer gasped in mock affront. “The horns merely hold up my halo.”

Dean and Michael laughed uproariously.

 

The only place Michael and Lucifer didn’t differ as much was in aftercare. When Dean needed all the touch he could get his hands on, when he needed the praises and soft, gentle kisses all over his freckled skin. When he just needed to be taken care off.

Baths were a must, with the three of them squeezing into the tub. Dean loved being wrapped up in Michael’s arms while Lucifer washed him, both of them murmuring soothing words of love and encouragement.

The body wash Lucifer always used after they played hard was still something he couldn’t fully identify, even though Lucifer’s told him it’s a pomegranate and blueberry scented body wash. He didn’t care that it sounded girly. It actually smelled fucking good, and it felt even better when Lucifer would massage it into his skin as he cleaned him while Michael simply held him close. The shampoo was apparently the same scent as the body wash, and Michael always did that, massaging it into his scalp while Dean purred like an extra large cat.

They had a removable shower head, and Michael would rinse Dean’s hair out with it, careful not to get any into Dean’s eyes while Lucifer continued up the near full body massage to fully relax the hunter.

“What do you want to eat, Dean?” Michael would ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean would groan, turning his head to nose into Michael’s neck, inhaling the deep, rich scent from the angel. Frankincense, Michael told him once upon a time. It matched his angel perfectly.

Lucifer would laugh softly. “I’ll get some cheese and crackers,” he’d say. “And something to drink.”

“Juice would be good,” Michael would mention. “It’ll be more beneficial than water.”

“Orange juice?” Lucifer would ask in confirmation and upon receiving it, he’d nod and start to get out of the tub. “Do you need anything, Micha?”

Michael would smile serenely and shake his head, watching Lucifer get out of the tub. “I am content,” he’d reply with a smile.

“Stubborn bastard,” Lucifer would tease, kissing the top of Dean’s head lovingly before kissing Michael softly.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” Michael would chastise playfully, and Dean would smile, snuggling even further into Michael. He knew that the bed would be even better for cuddling, especially under the soft covers and with both of them cuddling him, but he was content and loathe to move.

“I’ll set down towels so you and Dean don’t slip,” Lucifer would promise, ruffling his older brother’s hair. He’d go and dry off, giving a little show for the two of them. Michael would wolf whistle at the way Lucifer’s ass would shimmy in the soft, fluffy towel and Lucifer would laugh, threatening to towel whip Michael. It was an empty threat, and Lucifer would drape a soft silk bathrobe around himself before leaving.

“Come on, little one,” Michael would murmur. “Let’s get out and get toweled off so we don’t have to snuggle with wet covers.”

Dean would moan and protest, but the perks about dating archangels is that they’re strong enough to lift you. So Michael would easily lift Dean out of the tub and hold him close while he would use the fluffiest towel he could find, and Dean would bask in the attention, purring as Michael would whisper soft praises into his skin and checked him over. The medical exam may not have been necessary, but Dean appreciated it all the same. It was Michael’s way of looking after him, making sure that there were no truly lasting injuries.

Dried off and wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, Michael would lead Dean into their bedroom, completely nude and not giving a damn, before tucking Dean into the middle of their California King sized bed. Dean would coo at being so warm and safe, watching Michael slide into bed with him and cuddle him close, just as Lucifer would waltz into the bedroom with cheese, crackers, and juice for the three of them to share.

Dean would deny that he loved being hand fed and pampered in this way, but it was really hard to do when his boyfriends were so good at it. And he knew his boyfriends wouldn’t believe him anyways.

It was a treat, especially because Lucifer would also insist Michael needed some nourishment too. And Dean would always giggle at Michael insisting that he didn’t need anything, he was fine, but would always give in to his younger brother. The adoration for each other is probably why they fought so hard when Lucifer Fell- you would have to be a damn fool to not see how much Michael and Lucifer loved each other.

Once it was deemed everyone had enough to eat and drink, the trio would settle in for the night, soft pink wings laying over Dean first, then midnight blue over on top of them. And Dean would drift off, safe in his angels’ arms.

 

Dean’s bad days did come. They always did.

Nightmares of Hell have occurred since Castiel raised him from that awful place, where Alastair learned very early on that unlike John, Dean enjoyed pain. A lot of it. Part of the reason Dean broke was because he couldn’t handle the shame from enjoying whatever fucked up torture Alastair had designed.

When those days hit, they hit hard. Over the years, the guilt has lessened, but the shame and the weight of knowing what he did and enjoyed for ten years always came crashing down on him, usually when the days have been going well, or if a hunt’s gone wrong.

His archangels were even more protective of him, and they did everything in their power and then some to not let Dean go too deep inside of his head. Daily affirmations have been and would be said, but Dean wouldn’t believe them as much.

They learned early on that skin on skin contact was of the upmost importance when Dean was on his depressive spiral. This meant a lot of naked cuddling while Michael and Lucifer soothed his fears and reminded him how much they loved him, trailing soft kisses and nipping at the skin. Michael would trail his fingers over the tattoos on the inside of Dean’s arm, Lucifer’s sigil and Michael’s name in Enochian in stark black.

“You see these claims, Dean?” Michael would whisper, “these are our claims. These are our promises to you that we’re always here for you. You’re ours.”

“He’s right, you know,” Lucifer would murmur, kissing just underneath of Dean’s ear. “Everything you’ve done in the past is just that, the past. It doesn’t matter. We’re here with you now, and we’ll never take advantage of what you love. Never. You believe us, do you?”

“And even if you don’t right now,” Michael would add, kissing Dean’s nose, “We’re here to prove that. And we’ll be here even after you start believing it. You don’t have to believe it. You just have to know. Belief will come later.”

Dean would nod, sniffling as he would attempt to keep his tears at bay. His boyfriends were just so good to him. The best. His archangels. His Devil and his Angel.

“Let go,” Lucifer would whisper. “You don’t have to be so strong for us.”

“Cry,” Michael would coax. “You’ll feel better.”

In the past, the guilt, shame, and anger he’s always associated with his time in Hell was hallmarked by heavier drinking, stupid decisions, the occasional death wish, and keeping everything hidden from Sam. But now, there was no reason for him to hide. Lucifer and Michael loved him, despite of everything. And so he would cry, take a nap and then feel a thousand times better.

He also learned, with Michael and Lucifer’s help, that even though he was the submissive in the bedroom, and that he was fiercely protected by the two of them, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have the ability to help them through their own issues.

Lucifer was just as tactile as Dean. Eons spent in the Cage lead to a lot of touch starvation and separation anxiety. Lucifer hated to be left alone, unless he intended to be alone. And even though both Dean and Michael spent a lot of time touching Lucifer and parading affection on him, there were days where that wasn’t enough. That Lucifer would start up with memories and nightmares of the Cage, his skin glistening with sweat and his heart beating in his chest.

Dean was very good at mothering. He had years to practice, with Sam, and so after making sure that Lucifer was nestled into Michael’s strong arms, would get up to go make tomato rice soup, because that was the cure-all for any time of illness, or so Mary Winchester believed. And Dean Winchester believed what his mom taught him.

He’d feed Lucifer, while Michael rocked the slightly taller archangel and whisper soothingly to him in Enochian. Dean was learning, but slowly. The angels never made a big deal out of it, but he knew that they were proud. And he knew that Enochian would get Lucifer to relax better than plain English.

Sometimes, Lucifer would get violent, and Dean would grab the angel warded cuffs so Lucifer didn’t hurt himself or either of them, and then Michael would put The Voice on. The Voice that would come into play if Dean had crossed a line and was about to be punished, or if Michael felt like playing up the ‘General’ act a little more. It never failed to make both of them pause (and Dean’s cock harden), but it also worked at helping to calm Lucifer until Dean could safely remove the cuffs.

Lucifer always felt the need to apologize after one of these outbursts, but Michael and Dean would always shush him, telling him this is what lovers do, and the smile that would come onto his face would be the sweetest one. Lucifer didn’t need to cry it out, but he would sometimes, and Dean would be there to stroke his hair while Michael attempted to sing beyond ancient lullabies.

Michael was definitely the hardest to spot having a rough day. His usually stemmed from the feelings of failure, of feeling like he failed at being the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect little soldier God made him to be. Dean could catch it quicker than Lucifer, but that could be because Michael and him were two halves of the same coin, and Dean’s been known to have these same feelings before.

Michael oftentimes wouldn’t even have to say anything. It was all in the mannerisms. The way his jaw would click, as if Michael was gritting his teeth. His eyes would grow narrow and squinty, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle or discipline an unruly soldier. His shoulders would creep up by his ears. And when he did speak, it was short and clipped. Almost soldierly, but not quite the ‘General’ voice Dean loved to hear.

And Dean’s surefire remedy was to first, alert Lucifer of his older brother’s plight. Once Lucifer had been alerted, next was to climb onto Michael’s lap and nose into him, purring softly. Michael would freeze at first, then relax, resting his hands on Dean’s back and rubbing it while Lucifer made tea in the kitchen.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not unbearably so. Lucifer and Dean kept it quiet because that’s the way Michael preferred to be taken care of and reminded. Lucifer would bring in Michael’s tea and then curl up on Michael’s other side, covering them in his soft pink wings and making everyone feel safe and sound.

Michael got over his bouts of feeling unworthy the quickest, and he would always kiss their heads and hug them close, murmuring his thanks.

 

All of these images, thoughts, and memories swirled around in Dean’s head until Michael spread his legs open even more, and he whimpered, attempting to use his hands but the invisible bonds of Grace held him fast as he was jerked out of his head.  

“Beautiful,” Michael whispered, Lucifer peering over his shoulder. “Absolutely gorgeous, wouldn’t you say, Lucifer?”

“Good enough to eat,” Lucifer smirked.

Dean whined. He felt so exposed, trapped for his lovers’ pleasure and desires.

“Oh, I’d agree with that,” Michael laughed, turning his head to kiss Lucifer softly. “I have an idea.”

“A filthy one, I hope,” Lucifer grinned.

“Oh, it’s plenty filthy,” Michael smirked, running a dry thumb over Dean’s exposed hole. His eyes darkened at Dean’s whimper and attempt to thrust down onto it. “I know you’ll like it, heathen.”

“Who are you callin’ a heathen, Mikey?” Lucifer chuckled, kissing down Lucifer’s neck. “We both know you’re just as much of a hedonistic sinner as I am when it comes to our little sub.”

Michael rumbled a laugh deep from his chest. “Perhaps,” he murmured, turning his head to look at his brother’s questing lips, “but we all know that you’re the biggest sinner.”

“Mmm, then cleanse me of my sins, o Holy Archangel,” Lucifer drawled, yipping as Michael’s hand landed on the side of his ass.

Dean couldn’t help but give a breathless laugh. These two would be the death of him. Somehow. Someway. His gravestone will read ‘here lies Dean Winchester. Cause of Death was the two devils”.

“I’m thinking,” Michael hummed, returning to his study of Dean’s tightly furled hole, “That you should open him up with that talented tongue of yours first.”

Dean whined. “Oh, come on, ” he groaned. “That’s cruel, guys.”

Michael and Lucifer chuckled, shaking their heads. “We ended up with an adorable sub, didn’t we?” Lucifer purred.

“We did, brother,” Michael agreed, running his fingernails down the inside of Dean’s thighs. Dean whimpered. “After that, I want to fuck him while you clean your mouth.”

Lucifer smiled. “You know we can’t pass diseases to our human because our own superior immune system would destroy them, right?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Michael said primly, as if he was an old school marm. It made Dean giggle.

“I suppose,” Lucifer huffed before smirking. “Okay, so you fuck him, I wash out my mouth, and then what? Aftercare?”

Michael chuckled and raised a brow at Lucifer. “Do you really think I’d let our boy off that easy?” he asked.

“No,” Lucifer grinned.

Dean groaned. He had a feeling where this was going. It was possibly one of their biggest shared kinks.

“I then want you to fuck him, without cleaning him up first,” Michael said conversationally. As if he was merely discussing the weather.

Dean whimpered loudly, trying to buck his hips. He couldn’t get enough leverage.

“Oh,” Lucifer groaned, burying his face into Michael’s shoulder. “And then?”

“Well, I haven’t decided yet,” Michael admitted. “I can’t decide if I want him all plugged up after that, if I want to then use my Grace to fuck him a third time, or if I should then eat his ass out.”

Lucifer groaned. “Mikey, you’re a dirty bastard,” he growled. “Can I vote for all of the above?”

Dean choked.

“No,” Michael sighed, dragging just his thumbnail down the inside of Dean’s left thigh. “I suppose it’ll depend on how he’s doing after you fuck him.”

“Oh?” Lucifer hummed. “Are we edging, or are we going for the record of how many times Dean Winchester can blow his load?”

Dean moaned. He didn’t care which one, honestly. Right now, he was completely at their mercy.

“I was thinking of letting him cum whenever and however many times he wants,” Michael smiled, standing and then going to sit on the bed by Dean’s side, running a soothing hand over Dean’s chest, calming him. “That’s it, little one,” he whispered, listening as Dean’s breathing evened out. “Lucifer and I will take good care of you.”

“I still think you’re a devil in disguise,” Dean moaned. “Fuck.”

Michael laughed softly and leaned in to kiss Dean, which Dean ate up eagerly. There was another dip in the bed as Lucifer sat down on Dean’s opposite side, running his hand down the center of his chest as he made out with Michael.

When Michael was done conquering his mouth, Lucifer replaced it, groaning as he tasted Dean and Michael on Dean’s lips and Dean moaned into the kiss, wishing he could fist Lucifer’s pale blond hair and give it a good yank, but he couldn’t.

“Are you on board with what I have planned?” Michael asked when Lucifer was done kissing Dean and the human could answer verbally. His eyes seemed to glow in the low light of the room. Dean felt his toes curl and his cock throb in response to it.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean groaned, rocking his hips from side to side. That he could do, and he needed to move somehow.

“Safe word,” Michael requested.

“Colt,” Dean replied, resting back into the bed.

“Nonverbal,” Lucifer added.

Dean snapped his fingers three times in quick succession.

“Good,” Michael praised, and Dean’s cheeks flooded pink as Michael caressed his cheek. Dean leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed from the contact. God he loved this.

“Such a good boy for us,” Lucifer smiled, kissing Dean’s chest, just above his nipple. “What you give us is a gift, one you give willingly, and we accept it.”

Dean could’ve rolled his eyes at the cheesy words, but they warmed his heart, so he didn’t. He knew that’s how Lucifer and Michael saw his submission- a freely given gift. And Lucifer liked to affirm that before they begin a scene.

“What are you going to do while you wait your turn to fuck him, Michael?” Lucifer asked, leaning over Dean’s body to kiss his older brother.

Michael kissed him back, and Dean could swear he felt the tattoos on his arm vibrate from the sexual energy and the love that Lucifer and Michael had for each other and him. “I’m content to watch you indulge,” Michael murmured. “And I’ll praise our good boy while you work on him.”

“You’re both wickedly evil and plan on destroying me,” Dean whined. Fuck, his cock was hard.

Michael chuckled and kissed Dean’s lips while Lucifer shimmied down to start eating him out. “Yes, we do, little one.”

In the end, it didn’t matter if Dean had an angel or a devil for lovers, or two devils. What mattered is he found two beings who loved him for being him.