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the taste of your name

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"How terrible it is, to remember,
that once - not quite so long ago,
my mouth had never known
the taste of your name."



He takes out his skin flask and takes a long sip of spring water to calm down his still upset stomach. The meadow is calm and covered in snow, but magick flows through the earth’s veins beneath the thick cover. He undoes the knots on his footwear made from rabbit skin, and slowly dips his feet in the snow; the frozen grass tickles his cooling feet, but he doesn’t show any sign of being bothered by it.

“Earth abound,” he whispers, hands splayed under the snow; the pulsing veins of magick beneath the frozen surface of the earth respond to his words. “Tremor of life unbidden, I pray thy sympathy, allow me to return home.”

No sooner he let loose the last word, the earth quivered and bare trees around him lost their white cover.


The wind picks up in intensity and still he does not move from his crouch, black mantle caught in a frenzy. The snow lifts from the ground and the numb blanket of grass shivers once before roots twine around his forearms and ankles. The earth beneath him moves and dips, and a humanoid shape emerges, grass and flowers bent around it, earth hands keeping his wrists where they are.

She kisses his forehead and the shift in the air is unmistakable.

The crystal chirp of the sparrow is the first he hears, before the warmth of the sun and the smell of fresh rain. His toes curl around the wet grass and familiar magick ripples through him.

“Hello, Gabriel.” He smiles even before he turns around to take in the white-gray wolf, standing mere steps from him. “Won’t you properly welcome me?”

A wave of Gabriel’s quintessence envelops Sam, before the wolf himself jumps on him, and bringing both of them on the horizontal line of reality.

Sam laughs as he’s being thoroughly licked, cold hands taking solace in dipping into the warm and soft fur, keeping his Mate close to his chest.

I’d do more than lick you right now, but you’re not into bestiality.”

“I still haven’t changed my mind,” Sam says aloud, beaming up at Gabriel, who huffs.

He struggles against the wolf, but there’s no real intention towards freeing himself behind; it’s their way of playing with each other. But when Gabriel opens his mouth and closes it on Sam’s neck, the sharp teeth biting at Sam’s skin, Sam falls quiet and lax, closing his eyes and baring his neck even more.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, dark eyes coming alive into a molten golden. “I’m still yours.”

Piercing the thin veil between this realm and the spiritual one, their magick is fighting for dominance, pushing against each other, trying to tame and conquer. So although their bodies are locked together, Sam’s magick still does not want to be ruled or tamed by Gabriel’s.

No one wins this time either, so Gabriel huffs again and gets off of Sam.

The beaming smile Sam sends his Mate when he sits up, has his heart swell and sore. He stands and dusts off his mantle and pants.

Why can’t you ever teleport yourself with your shoes?”

Sam’s hand goes into Gabriel’s fur as they walk side-by-side towards their castle.

“I’m more connected with nature this way.”

As if that kiss is not connected enough,” Gabriel huffs, which makes Sam chuckle.

“You were kissed by her, too, so I don’t understand why are you still jealous of her.”

Gabriel pushes his wolf weight into Sam’s thigh to unbalance him, but his Mate regains his foothold in time to avoid falling.

You’re mine, that’s why.” Gabriel sniffs haughtily, walking as if someone stuck a stick in his ass; Sam laughs at the Gabrielesque display.

Gabriel stops and looks back at Sam, a wicked glint in his blue eyes.

Wait until you meet Lucifer.” That wipes off the smile from Sam’s lips. “You’ve been gone for more than six weeks. Without a word. Seeing as his magick is all over the place, turning our home into a living, breathing thing, I’d say that he’s miffed by your silence.”

Sam’s worry pervades their twined magick in filaments. “Is it that serious?”

Gabriel snorts. “He once turned the castle into a labyrinth so I couldn’t find the toilet just because I rolled my eyes and told him to calm down when he expressed his worry for your wellbeing.” A sigh. “Jeez, sometimes he’s such a stuck-up bastard. He’s lucky I love his sorry ass more than I care to admit, your perky ass notwithstanding.”

The smile returns on Sam’s lips. “I knew you were only after my ass!”

Gabriel barks once and pushes Sam again, but this time inviting him into a chase.

They reach the castle breathing hard and laughing, but a wave of powerful and familiar magick punches the air out of them both, forcing Gabriel’s transformation.

“That fucking asshole,” Gabriel grumbles, pushing himself up from the gravel and throwing the heavy doors open.

He marches inside like he’s preparing to chop off Lucifer’s head. Knowing Gabriel, Sam’s not far from the truth, so he runs after him, cutting his soles on the pebbles in doing so.

“Lucifer!” he roars, willing away every floating object or furniture that stands in his way, smashing the porcelain object and breaking the heavier ones when they get thrown into the stone walls. “You fucking ass! Show yourself!”


He appears at the top of the stairs, imperious as ever. His commanding presence freezes every floating object in the hallway as his eyes bore into Sam’s. The assaulting wave of magick makes Sam’s knees grow weak and he fights with himself to not fall, not kneel, not bow, even as his magick bites back at Lucifer’s, as untamed and unruly as ever. But he knows he won’t resist much longer like this. Lucifer’s magick is stronger than Sam’s; he never won.

“Don’t fucking ignore me, you bastard!” Gabriel says, ire in his voice; he doesn’t climb the stairs. “How many times did I tell you that forcing my transformation fucks up with my inner balance?”

It takes Lucifer a second, maybe two, to focus his attention on Gabriel.

“Enough times to ignore you,” he says honestly.

“You asshole!”

Fueled by his anger, he unlocks the objects caught in inertia and propels them towards Lucifer in a convoy of brown and cream and white.

Lucifer annuls the attack with a simple wave of his hand, freezing them in place. Gesturing with his hands as if to push back the curtains, he opens himself a direct path towards Gabriel, appearing before his Mate in an instant.

“Shit,” Gabriel ushers through his clenched teeth, clearly caught by surprise by Lucifer’s swift movements. “Look, I know that you’re equal parts mad and worried because of Sam, we both are, but that doesn’t mean that you need to reverse my transformation without my saying so.”

The ice in his eyes thaws at Gabriel’s words and Gabriel dares to caress his cheek. When Lucifer doesn’t bat it away, he molds himself in one, sinuous undulation of his body and kisses Lucifer like he’s starved for it, deep and long, Gabriel taking in Lucifer’s scent and Lucifer bringing him closer still, strong arms keeping Gabriel glued to himself.

“I’m gonna take care of your punishment later,” he whispers breathlessly as he caresses the warm cheek, dark eyes piercing into Gabriel’s.

The renewed force oppressing Sam’s magick alerts him before Lucifer appears scant inches away from Sam.

“Lucifer, please, stop,” Sam says, gritting his teeth against the force seeming to have grown larger than life itself.

He still bites back viciously like the wild thing that he is, pushing back into Lucifer’s magick, gaining mere millimeters for his efforts.

“Sam.” The word breaks from his mouth, vulnerable and trembling; a myriad of emotions cross his face and Sam feels guilty for each and every one of them.

The warm hand that cups his cheek does not alleviate the struggle going on inside him and around them.

“You were gone for so long,” he says, eyes the epitome of sorrow. “Why didn’t you contact us at least once?”

“I couldn’t.” He forces the words out, eyes flashing in and out.

Lucifer shakes his head. “Because of your determination to complete that job, we are now paying the consequences. Look what it did to you! You regressed back into the wild creature we met back then. Our magick realms do not match anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers, bowing his head enough for his hair to cover his face. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Sam.” The word falls warm and loving against his ears; two fingers lift his chin to meet Lucifer’s glowing embers. “Don’t fight back.”

This time, Sam struggles against Lucifer’s physical presence, his touch, his words, his magick.

“I can’t.” More struggle; Lucifer doesn’t relinquish his hold on Sam’s chin. “I won’t.”

Molten gold gazes back at Lucifer and a surge of magick pushes back against Lucifer, but apart from Lucifer’s surprised look and the subsequent gust of wind that disturbs his well-kept blond hair, nothing else happens.

A familiar wave of magick embraces Sam’s before physical warmth plasters itself on his back, hands settling on his hips.

“Sam, don’t fight us,” Gabriel says against his ear. “Please, Sam, you’re hurting Lucifer.”

“Hurting him?” Sam grits out, opening one eye to peer up at a distraught Lucifer, the image at odds with the deadly man they met a few moments ago. “He’s the one trying to dominate my magick!”

Gabriel meets Lucifer’s gaze. “That’s because he, like me, hates the idea of you not belonging to us anymore. We had to step over our instincts to allow you to leave us. He just reacts like this because— he’s afraid.” He lets his head fall on Sam’s shoulder. “We both are.”

For long seconds Sam’s heavy breathing is the only thing that they can hear. Then Sam’s hands slide over Lucifer’s cheek and into his hair, pulling him in the last few inches.

“I’m still yours,” he tells Lucifer, eyes returning to their natural color. “Both of you. Now kiss me, calm down, and then let’s try again at matching our magick realms.”

Lucifer complies all too readily and Gabriel huffs a laugh against Sam’s shoulder even as Sam’s hand reaches back into Gabriel’s hair, fingers scratching deliciously against his scalp; it triggers the expected reaction, Gabriel’s hips thrusting into Sam’s ass.

They materialize in their bedroom, warm from the fire in the hearth. The bed remains untouched as they fall on the bear skin near the fireplace, already naked.

“Sam,” Lucifer grumbles as he tries to subdue his younger lover.

Only the fiery glow of Sam’s eyes answers Lucifer’s admonishment. He fights Lucifer as much as his magick fights back both of his Mates’ magick, without giving up an inch of space.

“I forgot how stubborn Sam is when it comes to being dominated by you, brother,” Gabriel says, amusement in his words, even as he tries to limit Sam’s movements by keep the man between his legs and arms.

But Sam’s as serpentine as a mountain road when it comes to being restrained; and neither of the two traveled this ‘road’ for enough time to pull out a miffed huff from Lucifer. Sam’s body undulations both arouse the two men and annoy his older lover.

“Enough!” Lucifer commands and Sam’s movements stop altogether.

It’s clear Lucifer used his magick to restrain him by the way Sam’s muscles quiver and the vein in his neck protrudes. Gabriel is fast at tasting it, tracing a wet line along it. He meets Lucifer’s dark gaze and a sly smirk curls Gabriel’s lips, eye glowing softly as he places a delicate kiss on Sam’s cheek.

As soon as Gabriel leaves Sam’s back, he finds himself being lifted in the air, a few inches above the bear skin, and put on display, legs and arms wide apart. His magick bites viciously at Lucifer’s, and when he throws a glare at his Mate, he finds the man as affected by Sam’s insubordination as Sam is by Lucifer’s dominance, both lengths hard and dripping pre-come.

Sam’s liquid amber tries to pierce through Lucifer’s glowing ice, but Lucifer doesn’t budge an inch. Moreover, his magick pulls out filaments of fire from the hearth, three snakes twisting and winding around Sam’s limbs without burning. Sam moans, unable to withstand the assault of pleasure that they let to seep into his body, warmth and extasy alike. He loses the battle of wits he had going on with Lucifer by closing his eyes and bending his head backwards.

Gabriel’s moan cuts sharp through the charging air in the room at the sight of Sam so open and ready for the taking. He touches himself where he is splayed in the middle of the satiny covers and plush pillows in the bed.

“Fuck, Sam,” Gabriel moans low in his throat, back bending upwards as he strokes himself as slow as he can stand. “If you could see yourself—“

But just as he says those words, Sam receives the feedback of himself, displayed and played with by Lucifer’s little snakes, through their connection.

“Shit, Lucifer,” Sam says, fists clenched as he feels the filaments spiraling down on his torso.

He knows, without looking, where they’re heading to. Two of them coil around his cock, pulling out a gritted cry, while the third one slitters down on his spine, tortuously slow, sending wave after wave of pure pleasure coursing through his body. He’s ready to spill his seed, but the two snakes coiled tight around his cock act like a dam to his impeding orgasm.

When the third one reaches Sam’s tail-bone, he opens his eyes wide, the color changing between dull brown and molten gold.

“Lucifer, please, no,” he says, even as he sees Lucifer take a step forward, breath uneven and eyes black pools of pleasure.

The sensory input Sam receives from the snakes, Lucifer’s sight and Gabriel’s moans, makes Sam’s magick fight back once more, pushing against the restraints and keeping his eyes tightly shut to block Lucifer’s hungry look; all that desire threatens Sam in some primal way. He feels the coming storm; he doesn’t want to feel Lucifer’s desire, but the snakes’ purpose is just that: to feed Lucifer’s building pleasure into Sam’s body and thus creating a bit of leeway for his magick to insinuate itself into Sam’s magick.

He feels invaded from every corner of his body, he know it’s a matter of time before Lucifer’s power overwhelms him and creates a cocoon inside Sam’s magick realm like he did last time.


Liquid lust washes over Sam and it’s not the snakes nor Lucifer’s magick.

It’s just his voice, the rumble of those letters, the passion behind the word; his names spoken with so much reverence and warmth. It bring to the fore of his mind summer evenings and passionate nights.

“Sam, look at me,” Lucifer says, tone an invitation instead of a command.

Sam complies and two fingers close around his chin. He sees how something separates from Lucifer and floats towards Gabriel, writhing and moaning on the disheveled covers and pillows. The semi-transparent entity takes Lucifer’s form and Sam’s eyes widen when he realizes what Lucifer’s about to do.

“I want to pleasure you both at the same time,” he says and the coiled snake, poised in waiting on his tail-bone until then insinuates itself into his hole just as the phantom-Lucifer seeps into Gabriel’s body.

They both scream in unison, the coiled snakes disappearing from Sam’s cock just as the orgasm crashes into them and they spill they seed.



Hunger wakes Sam up, limbs tangled with another’s.

Between Lucifer and Gabriel, Sam got used to Lucifer being the one who cannot help himself but seek physical contact; there’s no morning in which Sam does not wake up properly secured into the man’s arms. Gabriel, on the other hand, is the first to disappear from the warmth of their bed; his wolf never lets him laze around for more than a couple of hours, even when Sam and Lucifer engage him into activities that require a lot of physical effort.

Like last night.

Nobody would peg Gabriel as a morning person at a first glance, least of all someone who goes out for a run at the crack of dawn before returning home to prepare breakfast, but that’s how Gabriel functions.

Lucifer’s magick is perfectly twined with Sam’s to the point of not knowing where one begins and the other ends. Sam closes his eyes and revels in the sensation of feeling safe and loved, despite his adamant attitude towards the opposite he showed several hours ago. He sends a ripple through the magick pervading their room and Lucifer makes a soft sound, arms tightening around Sam’s midriff in response. He faces Lucifer and kisses his nose, then uses his magick to trick his Mate into releasing him without disturbing his sleep.

“Mm, smells like heaven,” says Sam as he enters the spacious kitchen.

Gabriel sends his presence to envelop Sam into a warm embrace, his usual ‘good morning’. Sam chuckles and lets his magick nuzzle into Gabriel’s, which makes him beam over his shoulder at his Mate, even as he skillfully turns over the omelette in the air.

“His Lazy Assness won’t grace us with his presence again?”

Sam chuckles as he takes his seat at the table. “You know he’s not a morning person.”

But Gabriel’s manly yelp makes Sam turn his head towards a still sleeping Lucifer.

“Who are you calling lazy?” grumbles Lucifer as he makes his way towards Sam, planting a kiss on his forehead, then sidling beside Gabriel and kissing him.

“At least you don’t deny being an ass,” mutters Gabriel even as he returns the kiss, their magick singing beautifully. “And stop sending those electric shocks or else!” Gabriel threatens him with his spatula.

Sam turns around to look at the little show his lovers are putting up. Lucifer’s amused expression promises nothing good.

“Or else?” Not even the quirked eyebrow helps.

Gabriel doesn’t answer right away. Sam noticed that he doesn’t always answer back to Lucifer, even though he could. Right now, he yields. Sam swallows, feeling the rising tension in their twined magick.

“Don’t think I forgot about that punishment I promised you, Gabriel.” The hand is soft and warm on Gabriel’s cheek; the feedback reaches Sam through their connection.

“Didn’t you punish me enough last night?” Gabriel finds his words, but no bite comes out with them. “You sent a shadow of yourself to satisfy me.”

Lucifer cocks his head and moves forward not unlike a snake, nose nuzzling behind Gabriel’s ear, where Sam knows that’s his weakness.

“And didn’t you come from that feeble presence alone?” Lucifer asks, tone low and rumbling.

“I was connected with Sam,” he says, voice weak; he sucks in a breath when Lucifer moves his lips over Gabriel’s neck without really kissing him. “I only felt what he felt.”

“And Sam felt what you were feeling.” A hand cups Gabriel through the thin cotton of his pants. “Which was me.”

“Shit, Lucifer!” Gabriel moans low in his throat.

“Guys, the omelette!” Sam jumps out of his chair and takes off the pan from the hob. “Is completely ruined.” He shows them the scorched eggs and Lucifer chuckles into Gabriel’s neck.

He slaps the man on his biceps, clearly unamused by the fact that part of their breakfast is black matter.

“Don’t laugh, you ass!” The bite is back in Gabriel’s voice; nobody plays around with food in his presence. “It’s your fault we’re reduced to eat just bacon.”

“You know you can conjure other eggs, right?”

“No.” Determination mars Gabriel’s features. “This is your punishment for distracting me.”

“What about me?” Sam asks, puppy eyes at their most powerful; Lucifer bites his lower lip to not laugh. “I didn’t do anything!”

Gabriel points his spatula towards Sam in the same way he did with Lucifer.

“It’s your punishment, too. Don’t think only Lucifer was affected by your silence. So, today, no eggs for either one of you!”

The memory sours the easy atmosphere. Even if the ‘punishment’ Gabriel bestowed on them is a child’s play, the underlying message remains: Sam should have contacted them.

Later that day, Sam lounges comfortably on the comfy armchair by the fireplace, rereading the book of magick on their Imperium’s history.

His eyes pass over changing words, flowing phrases and morphing paragraphs. He reads again on how the Empress brought order to the Old Religion, how she spent the better half of her life taming the North Horses, studying other Kingdom’s religions and then settling down in the vast and magick-abound land of Death. The childish glee he felt the first time returns as he reads the full account on how Death payed her a visit and officially handed her the highest title one could achieve in this time and age: Empress. The cackle Sam emits is not his own, he’ll later tell himself, when he reads aloud the High Priestess’ answer to “cram your title where the sun never shines” because she never really needed anyone’s help to reach positions she could easily conquer on her own.

The account foreshadows a courting ritual, seeing as Death periodically paid her visits with the same proposition and the same response over and over again. Only when then-Duke and South ruler Crowley and Balthazar, a frivolous and luxury-lover sorcerer, the only two people in the Imperium she trusted above anyone else, came to talk to her did she seem to relent a bit.

He is about to learn how she came to be the Empress (because she didn’t up and say yes to Death even if her icy resolve thawed a bit with the help of her trusted friends), when ripples pervade the calm of the room.

“What’s the difference between warlock, wizard, sorcerer and witch?” says Lucifer, sinuously intruding on the morning calm.

Sam follows his every movement, every twitch and rustle of the fabric from the comfort of the armchair. He’s finally attuned to Lucifer like he was before traveling north. Still, he finds the question out of place, but he plays along nonetheless; it comes easier to do it when his magick is secured within Lucifer’s.

“Warlock means ‘oath-breaker’; it comes from Old English wærloga traitor, liar, enemy’.”

His eyes trail lazily over Lucifer, undressing the man; he changed into a cashmere snow-white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck and a pair of dark, pressed pants that hug nicely his ass.

Sam’s suddenly hungry for dessert.

“We cannot forget Metatron and his magical storytelling,” he adds after a moment of shamelessly objectifying his Mate.

A nod from Lucifer, playful glint in his eyes at Sam’s open desire. “He manipulated a lot of wizards and witches during that year, using just his pen and his imagination.”

“Some say that his imagination was very limited,” Sam comments as he follows Lucifer around the room, thinking up what other positions should they try in bed.

Or any other room in the castle. They have plenty of those. Lucifer’s smile is entirely beguiling.

“Limited though it may have been, he did a lot of damage to our world. We still haven’t completely recovered from it.”

Sam inclines his head in acknowledgement as he continues, “wizard, on the other hand, means ‘philosopher, sage’ because during the transition from the Old Order to the New Religion, there was a very thin and blurred line between philosophy and magick.”

A soft huff escapes Sam, and it has nothing to do with his choosing of the room they’ll be spending enough hours in, tonight.

“What is it?” asks Lucifer curiously.

Sam shakes his head. “Just a stray memory.”

“I want to hear it.”

A sigh. “I used to think, when I was a kid, that Death was the greatest wizards of them all. But later I realized that he’s into a category of his own.”

An inclination of head, proud smile blooming on Lucifer’s lips. “Mary Campbell was one such wizard.”

A soft smile adorns Sam’s lips. “Her name is not written in any book because she met my father before she made a name for herself. However, she is still remembered as one of the greatest wizards by the old Order. She fought alongside the White Empress to tame the Darkness.”

A sound of assent from Lucifer. “I remember our father telling us that her greatest power wasn’t her magick, but her unending supply of kindness and courage. She alone kept up the spirits of her companions every time the battle became strenuous.”

The smile turns proud and warm on Sam’s face. “That’s mom for ya!”

“What about sorcerers?” Lucifer asks.

“The word alone means ‘conjurer of evil spirits’, and here we have the Grand Duke Crowley. The Empress’ most loyal subject alongside Balthazar. Crowley used to exploit his powers like the selfish bastard he still is, but Balthazar and, afterwards, the Empress somehow managed to tame that side of his to manageable levels.”


“Comes from the Old wicce , meaning ‘female magician, sorceress’,” Sam says without batting an eyelid. “Did I pass the test, Professor?” The wicked smile makes Gabriel chuckle as he makes his presence known.

“You look delectable when you smile like you’re in on a secret, you know that, right?” Gabriel tells him as he steals a kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“Not my fault. He was the one to start this game.” His gaze falls on Lucifer and with the most suave voice, he says, “right, Professor Morningstar?”

Gabriel bites his lower lip at the sight of Sam, seducing them. He rests his elbows on the ledge, but Lucifer doesn’t make any movement to turn around and look at Sam.

“What a wicked game you’re playing, Sam.” Gabriel shakes his head, clicking his tongue, totally amused.

Sam inclines his head. “I’d stop, if someone would jump my bones like he so obviously wants to.”

No sooner he finished saying the last word, that Lucifer’s already on Sam, devouring his mouth.

“As you wish,” Lucifer says, and they both disappear, leaving behind a chuckling Gabriel.




“What are you?” Sam whispers into Lucifer’s skin, already drunk on the magic that’s flowing unbidden through and around them.

The response seems to come from a hundred places in a kaleidoscope of sounds.

“I’m a Wiccan, I abide by the Old Religion’s rules.”

They need those words; there’s solace to be found in the truth spoken aloud. They’re both raw and open, no shadow of a doubt regarding the other’s intentions. Here, Sam can be as wild or as tame as he wants to be. Lucifer and Gabriel will never fail to catch him when he falls.

“What else?” Sam demands, body moving like water against Lucifer’s.

“I’m your Chosen, the Mate you allowed by your side,” Lucifer says into his ear and Sam moans.

“What are you, Sam?” Gabriel asks, appearing at his side, naked and wanting.

Sam finds his hand immediately, twining their fingers as Lucifer leaves a trail of kisses along his neck.

He gasps when Lucifer finds his nipple and starts to play with it.

“I’m your Chosen Mate,” he says, eyes closed. “The one you put a claim on, first, and the one who Lucifer chose afterwards.”

“And?” Gabriel whispers into his ear, but Sam sucks in a deep breath when Lucifer envelops his dick into the wet warmth of his mouth, chest bowing off of the bed.

Gabriel kisses him, a clash of teeth, lips and tongues, breath mingling. Sam has no idea how powerful he is right now; he has both brothers wrapped around his little finger.

“And?” he asks again, this time into Sam’s mouth.

Sam opens up liquid amber eyes and he uses his magick to coax Gabriel above his torso, thighs bracketing his chest, hard length mere inches from Sam’s face. The black engulfs Gabriel’s brown and his breath picks up in pace, when he realizes what Sam is about to do.

“I’m what the Olden referred to as a soðsagu, the one who speaks the truth.” He gives a tentative lick to the head and Gabriel sucks in a breath. “Your soothsayer,” he says before taking Gabriel length in one go.

“Fuck, Sam!”

Gabriel cannot help himself from thrusting into Sam’s velvety warmth, hissing when Sam traces the underside vein with his tongue. He tries to keep his thrusts shallow and short so as not to choke his Mate, but then Sam opens his eyes and manipulates Gabriel’s magick into making him lose control.

“Sam, you — fuck!”

His thrusts become erratic and deep, Sam taking everything like he was made to do this; to kill Gabriel little by little, thrust by thrust. Then Sam chokes once and Gabriel is fast at pulling out, worried that he might have overdone it, but Sam moans and his short nails bite into Gabriel’s thighs rhythmically. He looks back at Lucifer, who stopped sucking Sam and is now preparing him to take in his girth.

Lucifer meets Gabriel’s gaze and licks his lips, pulling out his fingers and preparing himself to enter Sam. The nails bite harder into his skin when Lucifer’s tip pushes in and he returns to look down at his Mate, the mixture of pain and pleasure as Lucifer bottoms out. Both Sam and Lucifer breathe as if they just ran a marathon and Gabriel is caught between his brother’s chin on his shoulder and Sam’s drunk expression, eyes glowing softly and lips red from being abused so much by Gabriel.

“I’m going to open up every connection between us,” Lucifer warns them breathlessly.

He pulls back, Gabriel mourning the absence of warmth and Sam’s grimace of discomfort clearing. Lucifer pauses for a moment, enough for Sam to coax Gabriel back into his mouth. The return to that delicious wet warmth, lips tight, pulling back the foreskin and making Gabriel see stars, makes both of them forget Lucifer and his warning for a moment, but then the gates open and the proverbial flood drowns all three of them into so much love, affection and desire that no one knows who moans harder.

Lucifer’s thrusts become long, deep and focused; Gabriel’s thrusts become erratic and shallow and Sam takes both of them in because he wants everything his lovers can dish out at him.

Nothing is hidden right now. Raw pleasure courses unimpeded between the three of them.

Gabriel leans forward, planting his hands into the pillows at Sam’s sides and Lucifer thrust so deep that it hits Sam’s knot of nerve-endings and his guttural moan reverberates through Gabriel dick, making him almost spill himself right there and then. The pleasure reaches heights never known before to them, the magick helping them share it physically and spiritually.

Then Lucifer uses two fingers to penetrate Gabriel and the burning friction is enough to send Gabriel over the edge, followed by Sam from the feedback received at the same time and, finally, Lucifer.




Stark naked, Gabriel pads over the windows and opens the heavy curtains to a blinding white.

“Gabriel,” Sam protests, burrowing further into Lucifer’s chest to hide his eyes from the light.

“Darlings, tonight we’re gonna party!” Gabriel announces as he bounces back on the bed.

“The only party I’m gonna see will be the bed and my dreams,” Sam says, eyes resolutely closed against Lucifer’s neck.

But before Gabriel could respond a sizzle in the air alerted all three of the impeding presence of another.

In the middle of the room, a man appears holding a papyrus in hand and looking like a Christmas tree. He doesn’t seem to notice the three, naked men in bed.

“Wiccan Lucifer of the Morningstar symbol, his Sawol and Gefera Gabriel and their Chosen Maat, Samuel of the House of Winchester, are hereby invited to celebrate the White Night festivities, held at the Mist Palace tonight—”

“Who’s this?” Sam asked, sitting up.

The man droned on, following a long list of names and what was and wasn’t prohibited to use on the premises of the palace, all of which Sam tuned out.

“This, my most precious Mate, is a conjuring of Prince Balthazar, one of the Empress’ most loyal subjects,” Gabriel says, stealing a kiss from Sam.

Lucifer yawns as he says, “A pain in the ass if he sets his eyes on you, but loyal to a fault if you win him to your side.”

Sam studies the conjuring. “Isn’t he the one who tamed Crowley into what he is today?” he asks bluntly, which makes Gabriel bark a short laugh.

“The one and only,” Lucifer says in a boring tone as he sneaks his arms around Sam’s midriff and nuzzles his nose into his neck.

“Anyway,” Gabriel says as he jumps off the bed to open his wardrobe. “We’re partying tonight! The whole forest is covered by a thick layer of snow.”

Lucifer looks at the window. “Winter is finally here.”

“The White Night Empress,” says Sam, gaze pensive. “What did Prince Blathazar call her?”

Both brothers share a look and what comes out of Lucifer’s mouth is a symphony of consonants clicking over emphasized vowels.

“Lýsa Nátt.”