Sam wasn't trying to hit Eliot's prostate, and that was probably for the best all things considered. It was meant to be torture, and that was what it was, for both of them. He kept rocking his hips, whimpering as his own pleasure rose. It would take forever like this, or at least what felt like it, and apparently Lucifer was thinking the same thing, because not three minutes later he was pulling free, his slick hands slipping away from Eliot to find Sam's hips, so that he could pull him back, and - surprising Sam completely - out.

Stunned by the unexpected, Sam shot a glance over his shoulder, frightened by Lucifer's abrupt change in tack. The archangel bent down, lifting Sam physically with his shoulder, his feet coming off the ground. Sam, consequently, was quick to move, even though it jerked his wrists briefly to do so, his legs going across Eliot's hips before the Devil finally stopped pushing him, and let him settle back down.

Meanwhile, Sam's attention had snapped back to Eliot, brow twisted in confusion to try and get across the fact that he had no idea what was happening either--no idea at all, in fact, until Lucifer guided him down on Eliot's cock, his back going rigid as the position angled straight into that magical bundle of nerves.

But the Devil wasn't done. He pressed Sam forward again, folding him down over the other man, until Sam's nose was brushing Eliot's collarbone, and then nudged the head of his cock back in, beside Eliot's, something that made even Sam, with his experience of all Lucifer's toys, gasp and whimper, wet tears making the room between them damp as he pressed his cheek against Eliot's chest. It hurt - God it hurt, even if he hadn't been this full in a long time - but mostly it was new. New tortures so rarely came along--they were saved for moments like this.