The difference between himself and Eliot was that Sam would get a chance to wash all the mess off afterward. Dignity and cleanliness meant very little down here. There was no one to impress, nobody who would ever see past the name on his collar. Sam knew that even though he'd put the collar on Eliot, it didn't mean the man was his. He belonged to Lucifer just as much as Sam did.

"You shouldn't feel this way, Eliot. You have a great advantage over all the other people down here. The Hell you could face if I gave up on you...it would be terrible. You should be grateful for me."

Eliot's fingers grazed the inside of his thigh, and Sam snarled suddenly, pushing him forward, shoving him right down toward his face. He'd have to go flat, or else suffer a brutal tug to his cock in the process.

Sam put the knife back in the case, then withdrew one of the dildos, making it wet with lube. It was one of the smaller devices, but it had a trick in its sting. A moment later, Sam was nudging it into place, keeping his distance as he did. Once it was past the first, resistant ring of muscle, he slammed it home with brutal abandon. It was too slim to tear anything, but an unwelcome invasion it undoubtedly was.

"I'm really disappointed in you."