Eliot's eyes met Sam's only briefly then slid away to give the man as much privacy as he could under the circumstances. They traveled along Sam's torso to the Devil behind him, then locked there, letting him see his work, pain and humiliation that Eliot didn't try to hide because it was nothing compared to his anger.

Yet Eliot almost recoiled when the Devil took him in hand. The hand that touched him felt normal, no claws, no burning heat or raging cold, but something about it felt so inherently unclean that it made him want to turn and hide away. It was completely different from the normal touches that Sam placed on him, and Eliot could not get even an inkling of how much worse it must be for Sam to be taken by this creature, time after time after time.

Then they began to move and it was more pain than pleasure. The rocking motion of Sam inside him was rough with friction, not far enough to reach his prostate but deep enough to keep Eliot stretched and full. None of this was about pleasure and Eliot didn't try to seek it, but the Devil wouldn't let him be. Lucifer stroke and squeezed at him with rough hard pulls. It wasn't good, but it was stimulation and his tortured body sought it like an olive branch.

It was when he hardened at the Devil's hand that Eliot finally closed his eyes as well. His breathing had deepened and his body was balanced perfectly between arousal and pain. There was little he could do to tip the scales towards either, and when he gasped, he couldn't be sure for which reason it was for.