Well, Lucifer was having none of that--he took hold of the end of the cord again and gave it a rough pull, yanking it just enough to remind Dean that he was in control of it, rather than actually hurt him.

"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.