There was only so much Eliot could resist against the natural needs of his body. It was sooner or later, and with how Sam was pushing him worse than any aphrodisiac, that sooner was going to be very soon. Even though he forced himself to remain still, his whole body trembled with the the mounting lust. Each thrust of the dildo behind him aimed perfectly into his prostate, each twisting pull of the fist around his cock pumped more blood into his shaft.

Three more minutes, three, each minute more intense than the last, and Eliot began the convulsions that marked the beginning of his orgasm. He couldn't fight it, didn't even try, but only bit down on his lower lip instead of crying out. He tasted the blood from his bleeding nose and added some fresh drops when he broke the skin, but managed to stay quiet even as he came like a volcano, exploding thick white ropes of liquid heat all over Sam's fist.

He felt the demon pump him through his orgasm, twisting with each hard pull like he wanted to milk out the last of Eliot's seed from his abused nuts. Eliot's locked hands were balled into fists behind his back, and as the last of his orgasm was wrenched from him, he opened them again, forcing himself to be ready in case anything else happened. Yet there was little he could do. He hadn't come that hard in a while, hadn't come in a while, and following his explosive orgasm, Eliot's legs felt weak. He doubted he could put up a fight again, at least, until he caught his second wind.

"Thanks," he said, voice hoarse and rough, "That was just what I needed in Hell."