Sam didn't struggle with the digits. One after another was fine, and even if it had made him slightly uncomfortable it was nothing compared to what Lucifer would have done to him. Eliot was so much more gentle, and Sam was grateful for that. He rolled his hips downward, gently responding to the press of his fingers, echoing each of Eliot's thrusts with one of his own.

It was reciprocation, and Sam made every effort to make sure he knew that he was with Eliot completely. Even with three fingers inside him, Sam gave just as much, making soft breathless noises each time Eliot's fingers brushed against his prostate.

Suddenly Eliot's hand was around him, and it was the first time that he'd ever willingly touched him that way. Sam was grateful, because he needed that push to get beyond his usual limit of pleasure, but more than that, he hadn't needed to ask Eliot to do it. He'd never ordered him to stroke him before, so this, the first time, being willing. It was an open door that Sam would be able to step through later.

He shuddered as Eliot's hand pulled back, his muscles tightening slightly across his shoulders.

"It's okay," he said, breaking his usual silence, speaking because he thought Eliot's stopping was because he was afraid of actually going ahead and doing the act. "You can."