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He'd learned that one early.
But for now he crept closer, moving very carefully to crouch beside Eliot.
"I'm going to set the bone back into place first. It'll help it heal sooner, and be more comfortable for you in the long run."
The case of tools were on the ground beside him where he'd fallen, and Sam fetched out the bar gag from inside, giving it the slightest wave in front of Eliot's nose.
"Do you want something to bite down on, or would you prefer to scream?"
"Bad dog. I can see it's going to take a little more work to get you in hand."
The hand holding the leash switched across to that it pinned both of Dean's shoulders. He could keep scrabbling at the cord, now, but as long as Lucifer held the other end it wouldn't be going anywhere. His free hand slipped into the crush space between Dean's hips and the bed, pressed into his jeans, under the waistband of his underwear, and wrapped tightly around him.
"My hand, Dean," he growled, in Castiel's low, serious voice.
"Not your fucking dog." Dean hissed even as he was pinned to the mattress by his shoulders and a hand was roughly shoved into his pants cupping him with purpose. His teeth clenched together to stem any further sound that touch caused because he would have been ecstatic had it been Cas doing the touching. He also couldn't stop the way his body reacted, his cock twitching in Lucifer's hand at the sound of Castiel's voice being used. Lucifer had to know the reaction it would cause and as such would certainly take advantage of it.
Dean smirked slightly. Just think Luci, you have to wear a partially fallen Seraph to get Dean Winchester to even think about possibly responding favorably to your touch. If nothing else positive came of this...at least he could cling to the fact it was the visual and sounds of Cas making him react like this. Not the archangel.
Eliot was fully aware of the approach, and although he remained unmoving on the ground like a newly dead thing, his senses were heightened and body ready to move. But no attack came, no taking advantage to drive the point home. No, Sam only crouched down beside him and sounded almost reasonable as he offered Eliot his options.
Cracking open his eyes, Eliot shifted so he could see the demon again. They were both a mess, Sam covered in a sheen of his own sweat, and of course blood and cum, and Eliot, he was covered in much of the same.
It didn't matter whether he screamed or gagged himself. Hollering would fit right in with the setting, and it didn't make him less of anything. For some reason, he doubted Sam would think less of him either.
"Do you care?" Eliot asked, surprising himself in speaking and honestly waiting for an answer. Torturers were still human, and at the end of the task, the ones who did it for a reason, who weren't the sadistic sons of bitches who enjoyed it, they tried to cope with what they've done. Everyone was different; some distanced themselves from their victims, some got closer even though that made it harder for them to continue next time. Sam was a demon in hell, but according to him he was human once. How much of that was left? Eliot wanted to know.
"I don't know what's so bad about being a dog, Dean. You get a master who feeds you, waters you, exercises you--gives you a warm bed to sleep in at night. It could be good for you. A comfortable, safe life, so long as you don't bite. If you bite, I have to put you down."
He stroked as he spoke, and withdrew his hand when he'd finished, using rough fingers to pull Dean's jeans down past his hips.
"If you bite, I have to put you down," he repeated, more firmly, before pressing two of his musk-scented fingers against Dean's mouth. "I'd get them good and wet, if I were you."
He gave a soft grunting sounds as his pants were roughly pushed down to about mid thigh. Wouldn't it be easier to just snap his fingers and have Dean naked? Of course it wouldn't be better for Dean but that's beside the point.
He tried to ignore most of what Lucifer said. He heard the warning though, of course he already knew. He knew better than to risk him forgoing any prep at all. That really would be hard to recover from. Still...he had to fight the urge to vomit when those fingers slipped between his lips. Sure it was the taste of his own arousal but the knowledge of who was pushing it inside of his mouth did trigger his gag reflex.
So he dug deep, he forced himself to concentrate on the texture of Castiel's skin. To focus on the pads of his fingers as they trailed over his tongue and imagine how his angel would respond for him. He imagines he would let out a breathy gasp and those startling blue eyes of his would get all the wider with need and lust for his human charge.
The implication being that the sooner the better wasn't just for Eliot, it was for Sam too.
He stayed close, raising his hand to cradle Eliot's cheek, looking down into his eyes. "But I understand that you can't give up without a fight. I know you won't, and I know why, because I was just like you once upon a time. Hell wears on you, but we don't expect miracles down here. Besides, all the angels I knew are dead, and God doesn't care about any of it."
His hand pulled away, and he brought his fingers to Eliot's arm instead, only touching very gently.
"Do you want to talk, or shall I do it now?"
"Dean..." almost his warning growl voice. "That's good. You can do things with your mouth that I never would have imagined. Your tongue..."
The words were a deep purr, and Lucifer began to thrust the fingers in and out of Dean's mouth, letting him feel them sliding into him, past puckered lips, over his hot, wet tongue.
"So good. I'm going to make you show me what else you can do with that tongue. I'm your idol, Dean--I'm going to make you worship me."
He pulled his hand free, sliding it between his thighs, only to press one wet finger inside.
Dean sucked on those fingers being sure to get them nice and wet...after all it was likely all he would get and the lack of lots of pain would help him keep his illusion.
That idol thought though, that did strike a small pull of disgust. Cas wouldn't say that, well not unless he was possessed by Leviathans and pretending to be God. Still he did his best to control his reactions. Best not to anger the archangel currently wearing his crush.
It wasn't until one of those fingers slipped inside that Dean was unable to stop a small cry. It was a gasp, barely audible but sure to be heard by the one behind him. His feet arched and his hands clenched in the sheets without his consent, purely instinctual, as he was breached. He clenched around the digit, his body resisting the intrusion and he had to bite his lip to stem off any more sounds. He hopes he can handle this...he really does; for himself and for Cas.
That sounded almost convincing. It could all be an act, a deliberately crafted exchange, lines used on all the tortured souls down there, and in the long run it didn't matter. Now, though, here and at this moment, it humanized the demon and was the behavior Eliot was familiar with. It eased his guard, not dropped, but pushed back so it wasn't choking his existence and allowed him some breathing room for recovery.
He looked up into Sam's gaze, not quite warm but not cold either, jaded, but not dead. No sadism though, at least not what Eliot could discern. Maybe demons were great at pretending, natural liars and all, but Sam seemed as sincere as he was capable of. Eliot met it with his own reserved expression. He didn't hate Sam for what the demon did, it was just the way Hell was.
"Ain't much for talkin'. Just do it." Eliot took a deep breath to brace himself, and when Sam righted his arm, he didn't hold back. His scream echoed off the walls of his cell, one short loud burst that lasted only seconds but exhausted him more than the whole ordeal did. When it was done, he was heaving and shaking from the effort to stay still, and he couldn't raise his guard if he wanted to.
For now, he wrapped his arms around Eliot's back, supporting him physically, Eliot's arm raised across his shoulder to support it.
"I've got you," he murmured, softly. Sam wobbled a little as he pulled upward, supporting Eliot's weight with his own strength. He was sapped, off guard, probably just wanted to sleep--sleeplessness was a trait for angels and demons, and for those souls who lost track of time in the monotony of their torture, and forgot what made them human. "It's okay, you'll be able to sleep it off. Just a little walk, and it'll all be over."
Sam kept Eliot's weight mostly across his shoulders and made the walk, half dragging him if he had to. The room he 'shared' with Lucifer was the next one down, and Sam led him there. It was lavish, gothic, with an enormous bed that looked immaculate, a seating area with a huge TV set up in the middle of it, and a step down to one side which led into a huge sunken wash basin. There was no need for fluffy towels. But a closer look? A closer look would point out the various hooks and hidden ropes, the length of chain under the bed, the cage in the corner, the long tapestry that hid something behind it, the suspicious bedding box in the corner.
Sam released Eliot when they made it to the cage.
"Hurry now. Lucifer's coming. You should be asleep - or at least pretending to sleep - when he gets here."
But he pushed his finger in, letting the slick moisture slip about the outside, and following up with another finger just a moment later. It was a lot to ask Dean for, especially with his pants still mostly on, especially considering he'd never been put through anything like this before.
"It's okay," he murmured, in Castiel's tone. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."
Eliot was worn and it was lucky that Sam wasn't trying to hurt him, his response would've been sloppy at best. Especially now, with no splint and nothing to physically hold the broken pieces of his arm in place except Sam, Eliot was racked with pain from each movement and supporting himself upright was all he wanted to do.
It wasn't beyond his pride to accept the aid of the demon who raped him and broke his arm, this wasn't personal. He wanted to get a shower and, yeah, sleep, but he wasn't going to get the former, Sam was clear on that, and the latter didn't sound like a good idea despite what Sam said he should do.
He managed to get to the room without any dragging involved although he allowed Sam to support more of his weight than he really wanted to. The place was just what Eliot expected a rich bedroom in Hell to look like, luxurious, Gothic, and full of subtle malevolence. It was no more than a lavishly decorated dungeon, the meat hooks replaced by chains under the bed and solid rings in the overhanging frame.
Eliot wasn't particularly surprised when Sam led him to the corner where an overlarge dog cage sat with blankets and pillows. At least there were those, which was more than Eliot expected in this place.
Eliot thought about fighting, he probably could try again, but in the end he bowed his head and crawled in. Maybe next time when his arm was healed. He put his slashed back to Sam but looked over his shoulder at the demon. "Lucifer?"
Dean gasped again when the second finger slipped in. He groans when those fingers curl just right and stroke along his prostate. He jumps, not expecting the feeling that courses through him. I mean yeah he's expiramented before but nothing like this has ever happened. "Cas..." Dean whined softly his fingers digging into the blankets as pleasure began to fill him.
Sam actually looked frightened. He'd gone pale, clearly aware of something that Eliot wasn't, and a few moments later he was back on his feet, pushing the cage door closed and turning the key. He hung it around his neck, with shaking hands, and moved over to the bed, kneeling down at the foot of it as though in prayer.
That was when Lucifer entered, barely even looking at Eliot as he strode over to the bed. His hand curled in Sam's hair, stroking almost tenderly.
"Hello, puppy. Busy day? You haven't even washed up."
Sam mentally cursed himself, flinching just enough that Lucifer felt it.
"It's okay, I know you've been working hard. You don't have to bathe until tomorrow. Face on the bed."
It was a threat, and Lucifer flicked his hand out, summoning a pair of chains out that lashed themselves around Sam's wrists, throwing him forward, pinning him down. Lucifer moved up behind him, loosening his fly. A moment later - without hesitation, without pause - he was forcing himself upon a soundless Sam, thrusting deep and steady, growling softly into his ear, grunting insults. Just before he came, Lucifer pulled free, spilling himself across Sam's back.
He patted him on the shoulder, gently, murmured something else at him - possibly a goodnight - tucked himself away, and left, leaving Sam chained, filthier, ass still up in the air.
He'd let Dean sink down into this fantasy and then fuck it up right at the last second. It'd hurt when he remembered.
Lucifer slid his hands away, moved his hands away and tapped Dean's shoulder, so that his clothes evaporated. He moved his fingers to Dean's shoulders, both, and pulled him away from the bed, pulled him around until there was room for Lucifer himself to slump on the bed in front of him, also completely naked, legs parted wide, erection half hard.
"Show me."
He realized he'd failed once more though when Lucifer pulled away and rendered him naked. He felt his body lifted up and then in a moment Lucifer was on the bed before him naked as he was. Dean wasn't able to stop the way his eyes roamed over Castiel's naked frame. His cock jumped and his eyes dilated with lust. He wanted Cas...he desperately wanted him but the way Lucifer said "Show me" reminded him it wasn't Cas.
"No, I'm not going to suck you." Dean said shaking his head. it was one thing to lose himself in a fantasy when he couldn't see and another to willingly submit to the archangel wearing his crush.
The changes in Sam weren't even subtle, they were blatant and obvious and left little to doubt that it was fear that sparked behind those eyes. Eliot didn't say anything to Sam closing the door and moving away, and that was when he heard the sound of footsteps as well. He turned quickly too, putting his back to the scene although he kept his eyes and ears open for what came next.
The voice of the Devil was like any other man's. It wasn't particularly deep or evil, sounding as normal as Eliot or Sam, yet there was something malicious in its carefree tones. Eliot heard the distinct sound of chains rattling, the hard impact of a body thrown onto the bed, then the unmistakable rustle of clothes being removed and then... fucking. It was over in minutes and the Devil was saying something too softly even for Eliot's good hearing to make out. It marked the event as over though, and instead of staying, Eliot heard Lucifer's footsteps retreat. Eliot waited until the soft tread were completely gone to carefully look over his shoulder.
Sam was alone, chained ass up on the bed, and left there with a sheen of fresh cum coating him in messy splatters that reflected the room's light. Carefully he turned in his cage, grimacing when it jolted his arm, and rolled do he faced Sam.
Eliot didn't feel any better seeing his torturer raped in return, and Eliot didn't think for a second it wasn't that. While it appeared that Sam was used to it, submitted to it, it didn't look like he enjoyed it.
Eliot brought back the words Sam said to him earlier. "Have you learned to want it yet?"
His breathing was level, barely winded, and there was no ragged emotion in his voice as he spoke--it was the same level tone as he'd used earlier, matter of fact.
"I always want it," he answered. "So that when he lets me, when he's in a good mood, I can give him everything he asks for. That's what I want. I put up with this, but I live for the days where he lets me blow him, when he lets me swallow; the days he ties me up and watches my face as he makes me come." He shivered, and paused for a moment. That edge of cold was still ever present--Hell wasn't warm. "If I didn't want it, I'd never survive everything else."
He expected it to hold long enough for Dean to at least bend in toward him, but the moment didn't, and so he wrapped a firm hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulled him up off the floor, bending in toward him to crush their lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. A few seconds of lips mashing hard, and then Lucifer moaned softly, pulling Dean's body against his own and rolling them on the bed, so that he could grind his erection against Dean's, press his tongue into his mouth and lash through him with every inch of passion that this body possessed. His free arm dropped to Dean's thigh, lifting it higher so that his angle, grinding down, did just as much more to drive him wild, and then Lucifer was rolling over just as fast, scooting up the bed and letting Dean entirely free--as if there was ever really such a thing.
"I need you to show me how you feel, Dean," he pulled his feet up, opened his knees wider, making a show of himself, hands stretched out toward him. "Show me how it feels. I want it to be you."
"You're not Cas...and I'm not showing you how anything feels." He is willing enough to allow Lucifer to takes what he wants...but he's not going to give in and willingly participate. Not just yet anyway. He realizes it's probably a bad idea, that he's making a poor choice. But he knows that he wouldn't be able to pretend like that. Suddenly his grand idea to just go with it and imagine it was Cas didn't seem like it would work.
Eliot could call Sam a hypocrite, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be completely wrong, but Sam wasn't trying to be. He had the tone of someone truly believing what he was saying only for the sake of survival. The difference was it wasn't heartfelt, he hadn't grown to want it, but was forced to and had developed a coping mechanism to deal with it.
"If that's the case, then why d'ya want me to break so desperately?" Sam had mentioned Eliot was his ticket out, and unless there were other things he could escape from, otherwise what Sam wanted was for it to stop badly enough that he would make Eliot take his place.
Not that Eliot could blame him. If first impressions were indication, Sam had it far worse than Eliot did, dealing with the Devil himself. What Eliot experienced was probably just a shadow of what Sam went through.
And that was all the warning he got, before a telekinetic noose snatched around his throat, an invisible leash that Castiefer reeled in like a fishing line, folding the invisible strand over and over his hands until Dean was face to face with him again. He reached up, curled his fingers in Dean's short hair, petting him just for a moment, before he pulled Dean down toward his cock, staring down at him.
"Blow me, or I'll put Castiel up front and center when I split you open. He'll feel everything, all your pain. Is that what you want?"
He licked his lips, shoulders tensing. "I know what happens at the end of this path, Eliot. I forget who I am, what I used to stand for, what I used to fight for, forget my family and my brother, and I become just like all of them. I become a demon."
And there was the bombshell that Eliot probably didn't expect, having believed all this time that that was just what Sam was. Maybe he thought it was hyperbole now, too, but Sam said it with such stress, and aching pain.
He let himself be pushed down, now nose to cock with a rather impressive looking shaft. Not quite as thick as his own but a bit longer and curved. He briefly wondered what it would feel like buried inside of his body but let the thought go as quick as it came. For now...he had to do this. He could pretend. He kept his eyes closed as he leaned forward and let his lips cover the head of slightly weeping shaft before him. His tongue traced the slip, collecting the dew atop it and swallowing lightly. Slightly bitter, salty, not pleasant but he could handle it.
He prayed to his angel, he prayed that Cas understood why he was doing this and that he knew it was really him he was pleasuring. Not Lucifer.
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