Sam knew where this was leading from the first refusal. Eliot might not break, he knew, but Lucifer was building on what Sam had inadvertently created over the last few weeks. He'd been played. Lucifer had wanted him to bond with Eliot, grow close to him, and Sam hadn't disappointed. He'd done exactly that, and Lucifer was now taking advantage, pushing Eliot the next part, where Sam hadn't been able to do any such thing.

It had been the plan all along.

So at this point, Sam couldn't fight it, wouldn't fight it. The only thing to do was to let it carry on the way it was.

He was bound with his toes underneath his feet to keep his ankles from being stabbed with the spikes, and his hands lifted up to keep the same thing from happening, his legs were spread to expose his ass to Lucifer's strikes, but his head was kept very still, even when Lucifer stroked his cheek, providing the slightest comfort. He held still, waiting for Eliot's weight to come up on the bed beside him, shifting his legs apart just a little further in anticipation of what was to come next.

Sam didn't say a word; it wasn't his place to speak unless asked a question.