Unfortunately Eliot hadn't gotten to that point of apathy that Sam had reached yet. Even with how dispassionate he was able to get, he couldn't separate himself from his shame or concern or rage that swallowed him with every thrust he felt himself pushed into as Lucifer continued his ride.

For the Devil's purpose, it was as if Eliot wasn't even there. His cock was just a tool to pry Sam open, give them both the feeling of being tight and full, he wasn't expected to either thrust or move. It wasn't particularly pleasurable, just enough to counterbalance his pain. Yet when Sam started moving, things began to change.

The eager shifting of the man above him made it difficult to remain impassive. Sam had already given over to pleasure, his rocking and downward thrusts, grinding his cock onto Eliot's stomach, was both disgusting and arousing in a basic, animalistic way. His movements provided friction around Eliot's cock, like a hot wet sieve that moved and squeezed.

Despite himself Eliot grunted and closed his eyes as his hips made miniscule thrusts in time to Lucifer's. His scales started to tip towards pleasure too.