"It means something. I know it does, because it did for me too. I wanted anything - anything - but to get hard." He stroked gently, steadily, smoothing upward, circling the tip with just the pad of his thumb, and then dropping down again, letting his knuckles thump lightly against Eliot's balls before he pulled back up again.

"I tried my hardest to resist. I thought of all the worst, most horrible things in the world, and Lucifer stroked me, just like this. He was gentle. He spoke filthy words in my ear as he did it. He told me that if I was as pure as I wished I was, then his semen would burn me, like holy water burns demons. But I wasn't pure. I'll never be pure again."

Sam paused, squeezing the tip deliberately between thumb and forefinger, and then he began to stroke once again, firmly, steadily.

"I told myself it didn't matter, but I got hard, and he fucked me, and I came. I came harder than I've ever come before, and I was so ashamed."

He pulled his hand away, and showed it to Eliot, showed him the glistening precome between his fingers. "See what I mean?"