Those small movements were all the reassurance Eliot needed to know that
Sam was alright with this. He was turning into his touches, not away, and
although that didn't forgive Eliot for what he was doing, it at least made
him feel the guilt a little less. He found the soft nub and brushed it
slightly, putting his finger in and out twice and although it wasn't a lot,
he was certain Sam was ready for another finger.
The second digit went in just as readily as his first, swallowed into the
cavern of Sam's body with barely went effort on Eliot's behalf. Even so
Eliot twisted his fingers to make sure the area was stretched and lubed. He
curled his fingers in a second time to rub Sam's prostate before pushing
his third finger in.
Eliot didn't dare to take too long with the preparation although he wished
he could have spent more time. With girls he would have taken long minutes,
kissing and distracting them while he got them prepared. But he was very
aware of the Devil constantly watching them, and they weren't here making
love. This wasn't even just sex, and Eliot was preparing Sam for rape.
As he stretched Sam open with three fingers, turning and and pushing them
in and out, he reached his other hand around to put a firm grip around
Sam's cock. It wasn't his first time touching another man's handle, but he
was young and lonely and in a war that had no women close by hundreds of
miles away back then. After a firefight and horny with the exhilaration of
being alive, a bunch of men sometimes just really wanted another hand on
their cocks that just wasn't their own. The theory was much the same, and
he knew how to jerk a guy off.
Several more twists of his fingers and strokes of his hand and Eliot pulled
back. Sam felt ready, but Eliot's erection had gone down slightly. He
poured out more lube to try and pull himself back to fullness.
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."
Eliot was very aware of the Devil by the end of the bed, watching every one
of his moves with sadistic amusement. Even if the situation weren't as it
was, he would've had trouble enjoying himself with such an audience in
place. But he tried to think other things, ignore the king of demon while
keeping one eye open in case the Devil decided to join in and interrupt.
Sam's words, breaking the man's stoic silence, was unexpected but
appreciated. It let Eliot know he wasn't hurting him, and although there
was little Sam could say under these circumstances, he chose to reassure
Eliot instead of not saying anything at all.
Eliot reached to caress Sam's ass, smearing warm lube across his skin but
returning the gesture of reassurance. He wish there was more places he
could touch, but with Sam's back the way it was, Eliot didn't dare to put
his hands anywhere else. "I've gotcha," he murmured, soft enough to be
heard by Sam. He didn't hold hope that Lucifer would've missed it, but he
kept his voice low just in case.
Giving Sam's ass crack one last swipe to add on extra lube, Eliot finally
shifted himself up between Sam's spread legs and used one hand to press
open his cheeks. He used the other to guide himself forward, not quite
leaking but hard enough for the job, and lined his tip up against Sam's
slicked hole. He gave Sam a few seconds to adjust before he leaned forward
and pushed until he slowly breached Sam's defenses.
Sam wasn't going to fight it. The sex was gentle enough, and Eliot wouldn't have hurt him at all irregardless of how he filled him. Lucifer had taken up much more room himself. He didn't fill that space at all, but Eliot knew what he was aiming for, because Sam had shown him just how important it was to hit that mark, and his own eyelids closed, eyes rolling underneath. It was easy, so easy, to feel pleasure if he wanted to, to let it come to him if he chose to.
He never moaned for Lucifer, but he made soft, pleading noises to Eliot, made gentle encouraging sounds that would carry him through the process, so he knew that he was doing the right thing, making all the right moves.
He took far too long, he knew. Eliot had already been on the verge of coming, even though he'd wilted under Lucifer's orders. This time, even with his stroking, hitting that spot every time, Sam couldn't force himself to spill until the right moment hit him. So he forced the images behind his eyes to cooperate, tried as he often had in the beginning to imagine that this was a place other than Hell, and that this was consensual, even if he'd never for a moment imagined sleeping with another man.
Orgasm was a little more halfhearted than he'd hoped it would be, but he spilled across Eliot's fingers, finally, his legs locking as he tried to keep himself in place, made sure he didn't fall forward. The cuffs and collar would slice into him if he lost his balance now.
Even though Eliot had been on the verge before, he held on for the sake of
the man beneath him. There were little that he could do for Sam right now
except to try to make this almost bearable and take onto himself to do
everything so Sam didn't have to. That included keeping his arm around Sam
while his hand held his cock so he could stroke the other in time to his
fucking.
It wasn't only for the sake of what they were doing that Eliot made sure
Sam got off, but Eliot was a man who made sure he pleasured his partners
too. Given, most of the time he pleasured women, but now was not the time
for differentiating. This made things awkward at first, but he got the hang
of it quickly, establishing a rhythm that took him back to the edge. Except
Sam wasn't ready, so he tightened his grip and pumped him faster until
Eliot felt the man shudder and spill, weak as the orgasm was, across his
hand. Quickly he changed his grip to holding Sam up across his stomach,
taking the weight off the man as best as he could without actually pressing
into the slashed back.
I've gotcha, he had said, and he kept his word.
Then and only then did Eliot groan and follow suit, releasing himself deep
into the depths of the man beneath him. Panting lightly, Eliot stayed in
place until he was sure Sam could support himself before he let go and
pulled out, his spent cock slipping easily from Sam's channel.
Without looking towards the Devil, Eliot asked, "There, was that what you
wanted?"
Sam was grateful for all of it. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn't rough, and while his wounds stung and his muscles ache, it was done. It was always done after he spilled over.
Lucifer didn't change the rules on him this time, either. He reached out and stroked Sam's hair back, almost comforting, before he bent away, not so much as laying a hand on Eliot as he retreated a step or two.
He stopped, though, bouncing on his heel and looking back on Eliot. "For now. I knew you could do what you're told. Now all you need to do is transfer that over to people you could care a whole hell of a lot less for. Simple, really." He made a clucking sound with his tongue, then turned away again, and a moment later the door was closed.
Sam had to do everything he could not to slump right over. Eliot could choose to do anything at this point, help him free or leave him tied up, but he hoped it was the former, no matter that if he was alone he would have waited it out. He hadn't been beaten like this in so long, it was more the shock of the pain than anything else.
Eliot didn't answer, he didn't move and barely even breathed until the
Devil left the room. It wasn't until then that he sprung into action,
moving around to Sam's side to see if there was a way to remove those
damnable chains.
Sam's question made him grit his teeth but he didn't look up as he tried to
look for a lock or a way to open the spiked cuffs. He couldn't, he didn't
think he could face Sam right now. Sam was just forced, by Eliot no less,
yet against all logic Sam asked Eliot if he was fine. Even
busy running his hands over the chains for weak spots, he paused to take a
deep breath. "I should be askin' you that."
Running his fingers over the edge, he concluded that there was no actual
opening. The chains were as magical as everything else and he couldn't open
them by normal means. "How do I get these open?" But then they suddenly
opened and Eliot was working to throw them off. "Are you okay? How can I
help?"
It was the thought that counted most. The moment Eliot wanted it, touched the chains, they fell away instantly, releasing Sam's wrists, and Sam consequently pulled back, flinching visibly as his muscles stretched and tightened the open wounds, trying to sit back but only managing to catch a stinging wound on his heel as he rocked back into it. He took a sharp breath, then released it, managing the pain. God, he'd kept fighting shot and stabbed before, with a broken arm and a ringing concussion, with blood pouring out his ear. He could do a scratched ass.
"There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine." His voice shook a little. It was the most he was going to betray, the most vulnerable he'd admit to being right then and there. He looked right at Eliot. "I get fucked all the time. Trust me, you did me a favor. That thing--" He glanced at the wicked looking dildo. "He'd have used it. You don't need lube after."
The voice of experience. He shifted, flinching again, reaching across to touch Eliot's knee, still clammy from the warm water. "You're the one who had to...to be something else. You gave up something. I didn't. But if you're feeling that guilty about it, you can help me back to the bath. Hell or not, it's going to take a couple of days for these to heal, and they hurt like a bitch."
When Eliot met Sam's gaze, his eyes were sullen and disturbed, but remained
determined and strong. He was hurting from his actions, but it wasn't
something he would talk about or that he couldn't push on from. This would
remain with him, like all the other things that he did that ended him in
hell, and he would remember it, but he wasn't going to let it freeze him
here.
Which was how Eliot made himself move, helping Sam up, sweeping the dildo
and chains onto the floor in the meanwhile. Some of the spikes scratched
him with the action, but he didn't even seem to notice as he stepped in to
give Sam his arms for support should the other man need them.
"I didn't want--... I thought it'd be worse if I let him know it mattered.
He wants me to submit, I can take that, but now he knows it'll work, and
you're..." Eliot trailed off, it not needing to say the rest. Sam was going
to be the leash around Eliot now, the whipping boy to his resistance, but
no matter how effective that will be, the hitter wasn't ready to submit.
The only thing he felt he needed to add, as he carefully helped Sam back
into the still hot water, was, "M'sorry."
Sam understood, at once. Sam was what was going to be used to control Eliot, he'd understood that since Lucifer's first commands. But Eliot cared. That was what Sam had done to him. He held up, grateful for Eliot's help as they moved across the room again, and letting a soft hiss or pain and relief as he was lowered back down into the water.
When he could think again, speak again, he looked right at Eliot, intensely.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry, Eliot. If I hadn't made you care about me... Honestly, I don't even know why you do. I rape you. Every day. I don't deserve your compassion."
His back was aching now, the muscles complaining, going rigid in an effort to prevent movement and therefore continued pain. Sam was trying to get them to relax in the hot water, but it was hard. He hurt all over. He looked back across to Eliot.
"There's no way out of this, for either of us. I'll condemn you, whether you're willing or not."
"You didn't make me do anythin'," Eliot corrected as he took in how
uncomfortable Sam looked. He was bleeding into the water still, causing the
hot water to grow pinkish with blood. If this was anywhere but hell, Eliot
would be alarmed by how easily lethal that could be.
Whatever Eliot had decided to do, it definitely wasn't because Sam
made him do it. Their time together simply showed Eliot the truth,
that Sam was as much of a victim as he was, and that he suffered things
only of Eliot's nightmares. Once that was established, it all went from
there. He meant what he implied to Lucifer about respecting Sam too, the
man had survived more than he could ever imagine, he witnessed it with his
own eyes. If Sam had tried to actively convince Eliot instead, then things
wouldn't have gone this way at all.
"It ain't your fault either. I know that. You wouldn't be apologizin' if it
was." Eliot let his gaze slip away, jaw clenched. Although the ordeal was
over, neither of them were relaxed, and taking note of that, Eliot
carefully touched Sam's shoulder. "Turn around," he said softly, "I'll
clean your back."
Sam was grateful, immensely so, that Eliot was cutting him a break in that respect. Even now, though, Sam knew that he'd have to betray everything Eliot did for him, said to him today, when tomorrow came around. He'd have to roll him over and take him again, like it was any other day.
But for now, he just sunk down, carefully folding, turning on the spot to present his ruined back to Eliot. It would heal--it wasn't as if Lucifer had gone out of his way to make the scars from this one stay.
He exhaled slowly, moving his hands up to place them on the edge of the bathtub, where he could hold onto the edge, dig his fingers hard against the stone if it hurt--which it would.
"You can...you can sleep with me on the bed tonight, if you want."
It wasn't like Lucifer ever joined them, it was always just Sam curled up at the foot of the bed. Archangels, after all, didn't take naps, and Sam's place was as much a gesture as anything else he did.
It was easier once Sam turned around and Eliot was no longer under his
gaze. Taking up the sponge, he moved into position behind the injured man
to carefully clean up the mess. He had seen it up close before, but on the
bed, in those circumstances, it had been a cursory look at best, but
running the sponge along their edges showed Eliot just how bad it was. And
since Sam didn't act like these were anything special, Eliot surmised they
will heal, eventually. Yet when compared to Sam's scarred back, Eliot knew
there was the distinct possibility that these were but passing wounds that
wouldn't leave a single scar.
His hand inadvertently moved from the slash to trace a long scar that
crossed beneath it. What else had Sam experienced that didn't leave any
marks on his body?
"That would be... nice." It had been weeks since Eliot could stretch his
legs when he slept. The cage was only long enough to allow him to half bend
his legs at most, and every time he got out, his limbs and back were stiff
from the semi stress position. On the other hand, he noticed Sam slept
curled up by choice at the foot of the bed.
He put away the sponge to lay his hand in Sam's shoulder instead. Then
picking out the tension, he kneaded the muscles to help loosen the muscles
to make relaxing easier. "You have anythin' I can put on your back?"
Sam slowly did begin to relax, little by little, between the working of the sponge and the kneading of Eliot's fingertips. He felt safe with the other man, protected, and he bent into each touch gratefully, particularly toward the end, sighing softly as he persisted.
He gave his head a shake, finally, at the question, rolling his hips forward and moving away from the touch to his shoulder. He'd settled in far too much, and he peeled forward the rest of the way, lifting his toe to the step and pulling himself out of the bath. This time he padded as far as the pile of towels, crouching down briefly to snatch one of them and bringing it across his shoulder, flinching and scrabbling awkwardly for the other side of it.
"This is Hell," he said, stating the obvious pretty much. "It's not like they pack a first aid kit."
He gestured to the towels. "Could you maybe scrub my hair dry. I can't get to it like this, and to be honest... I just want to go to sleep. That's the best thing for me."
Eliot had guessed as much but he thought it wouldn't hurt to ask and hoped
to be surprised. But regardless, it was good to see Sam was able to relax
despite his condition and Eliot was almost reluctant to let him go when he
pulled away.
Eliot followed Sam up, face stern when he saw the man's difficulty with the
towel. "Yeah," Eliot answered, stepping up behind Sam, "Lemme."
He made short work of toweling off Sam's hair, then carefully padded his
back dry too. The bleeding seemed to have stopped while they were in the
water, as impossible as that seemed, but it meant Sam was healing and Eliot
knew it was a good sign. Only when Sam was taken care of did Eliot make
quick work to dry himself as well. Save it felt strange, that Sam was
injured while he remained unscathed this time.
Looking up, enjoy realized that by the time he was done, Sam had already
moved to the bed. He followed, feeling awkward but a sense of relief as
well. It would be nice to have a bed under him again, even if it was for
only one night. "So how does this work?"
Sam dropped the towel back into Eliot's hands, and let him go to work on drying him, grateful for how gentle he was with the towel, and the fact that he was considerate of his pain at all. Sam didn't resent his resistance at all--had their positions been reversed, Sam would have done just the same. He probably would have let Lucifer go to town with the dildo, too.
Eliot had been kind to him, and Sam wasn't going to forget that any time soon. That was why he was encouraging Eliot to sleep with him on the bed; it was reward and forgiveness both.
"We stay down this end, otherwise he knows. You can't sleep in the bed. It's reserved for people, and we aren't people."
That was very blunt, but Sam didn't even acknowledge it thus, just carefully edged down onto it.
"Maybe if you slot up against my back--that way I can curl up. I feel safer in that position."
Eliot understood, not what they were reduced to, but the oppression that
existed even when the Devil wasn't there. He sat on the edge while Sam
curled up, resting a hand on his shoulder like a lover would have after sex.
"I shouldn't be against your back," Eliot reminded him gently. "should give
it space to air dry."
But Sam insisted, so Eliot moved in, careful to give the man a little gap
at least before he very tentatively curled up behind the other man. The bed
was narrow for him to properly sleep sideways across so he put his hand on
Sam's waist, half to keep himself from falling off the edge and half to
assure the man he was there. With the two of them settled, Eliot closed his
eyes. It has been a tiring day.
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Those small movements were all the reassurance Eliot needed to know that Sam was alright with this. He was turning into his touches, not away, and although that didn't forgive Eliot for what he was doing, it at least made him feel the guilt a little less. He found the soft nub and brushed it slightly, putting his finger in and out twice and although it wasn't a lot, he was certain Sam was ready for another finger.
The second digit went in just as readily as his first, swallowed into the cavern of Sam's body with barely went effort on Eliot's behalf. Even so Eliot twisted his fingers to make sure the area was stretched and lubed. He curled his fingers in a second time to rub Sam's prostate before pushing his third finger in.
Eliot didn't dare to take too long with the preparation although he wished he could have spent more time. With girls he would have taken long minutes, kissing and distracting them while he got them prepared. But he was very aware of the Devil constantly watching them, and they weren't here making love. This wasn't even just sex, and Eliot was preparing Sam for rape.
As he stretched Sam open with three fingers, turning and and pushing them in and out, he reached his other hand around to put a firm grip around Sam's cock. It wasn't his first time touching another man's handle, but he was young and lonely and in a war that had no women close by hundreds of miles away back then. After a firefight and horny with the exhilaration of being alive, a bunch of men sometimes just really wanted another hand on their cocks that just wasn't their own. The theory was much the same, and he knew how to jerk a guy off.
Several more twists of his fingers and strokes of his hand and Eliot pulled back. Sam felt ready, but Eliot's erection had gone down slightly. He poured out more lube to try and pull himself back to fullness.
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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."
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Eliot was very aware of the Devil by the end of the bed, watching every one of his moves with sadistic amusement. Even if the situation weren't as it was, he would've had trouble enjoying himself with such an audience in place. But he tried to think other things, ignore the king of demon while keeping one eye open in case the Devil decided to join in and interrupt.
Sam's words, breaking the man's stoic silence, was unexpected but appreciated. It let Eliot know he wasn't hurting him, and although there was little Sam could say under these circumstances, he chose to reassure Eliot instead of not saying anything at all.
Eliot reached to caress Sam's ass, smearing warm lube across his skin but returning the gesture of reassurance. He wish there was more places he could touch, but with Sam's back the way it was, Eliot didn't dare to put his hands anywhere else. "I've gotcha," he murmured, soft enough to be heard by Sam. He didn't hold hope that Lucifer would've missed it, but he kept his voice low just in case.
Giving Sam's ass crack one last swipe to add on extra lube, Eliot finally shifted himself up between Sam's spread legs and used one hand to press open his cheeks. He used the other to guide himself forward, not quite leaking but hard enough for the job, and lined his tip up against Sam's slicked hole. He gave Sam a few seconds to adjust before he leaned forward and pushed until he slowly breached Sam's defenses.
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He never moaned for Lucifer, but he made soft, pleading noises to Eliot, made gentle encouraging sounds that would carry him through the process, so he knew that he was doing the right thing, making all the right moves.
He took far too long, he knew. Eliot had already been on the verge of coming, even though he'd wilted under Lucifer's orders. This time, even with his stroking, hitting that spot every time, Sam couldn't force himself to spill until the right moment hit him. So he forced the images behind his eyes to cooperate, tried as he often had in the beginning to imagine that this was a place other than Hell, and that this was consensual, even if he'd never for a moment imagined sleeping with another man.
Orgasm was a little more halfhearted than he'd hoped it would be, but he spilled across Eliot's fingers, finally, his legs locking as he tried to keep himself in place, made sure he didn't fall forward. The cuffs and collar would slice into him if he lost his balance now.
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Even though Eliot had been on the verge before, he held on for the sake of the man beneath him. There were little that he could do for Sam right now except to try to make this almost bearable and take onto himself to do everything so Sam didn't have to. That included keeping his arm around Sam while his hand held his cock so he could stroke the other in time to his fucking.
It wasn't only for the sake of what they were doing that Eliot made sure Sam got off, but Eliot was a man who made sure he pleasured his partners too. Given, most of the time he pleasured women, but now was not the time for differentiating. This made things awkward at first, but he got the hang of it quickly, establishing a rhythm that took him back to the edge. Except Sam wasn't ready, so he tightened his grip and pumped him faster until Eliot felt the man shudder and spill, weak as the orgasm was, across his hand. Quickly he changed his grip to holding Sam up across his stomach, taking the weight off the man as best as he could without actually pressing into the slashed back.
I've gotcha, he had said, and he kept his word.
Then and only then did Eliot groan and follow suit, releasing himself deep into the depths of the man beneath him. Panting lightly, Eliot stayed in place until he was sure Sam could support himself before he let go and pulled out, his spent cock slipping easily from Sam's channel.
Without looking towards the Devil, Eliot asked, "There, was that what you wanted?"
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Lucifer didn't change the rules on him this time, either. He reached out and stroked Sam's hair back, almost comforting, before he bent away, not so much as laying a hand on Eliot as he retreated a step or two.
He stopped, though, bouncing on his heel and looking back on Eliot. "For now. I knew you could do what you're told. Now all you need to do is transfer that over to people you could care a whole hell of a lot less for. Simple, really." He made a clucking sound with his tongue, then turned away again, and a moment later the door was closed.
Sam had to do everything he could not to slump right over. Eliot could choose to do anything at this point, help him free or leave him tied up, but he hoped it was the former, no matter that if he was alone he would have waited it out. He hadn't been beaten like this in so long, it was more the shock of the pain than anything else.
All he said, though, was: "Are you okay?"
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Eliot didn't answer, he didn't move and barely even breathed until the Devil left the room. It wasn't until then that he sprung into action, moving around to Sam's side to see if there was a way to remove those damnable chains.
Sam's question made him grit his teeth but he didn't look up as he tried to look for a lock or a way to open the spiked cuffs. He couldn't, he didn't think he could face Sam right now. Sam was just forced, by Eliot no less, yet against all logic Sam asked Eliot if he was fine. Even busy running his hands over the chains for weak spots, he paused to take a deep breath. "I should be askin' you that."
Running his fingers over the edge, he concluded that there was no actual opening. The chains were as magical as everything else and he couldn't open them by normal means. "How do I get these open?" But then they suddenly opened and Eliot was working to throw them off. "Are you okay? How can I help?"
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"There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine." His voice shook a little. It was the most he was going to betray, the most vulnerable he'd admit to being right then and there. He looked right at Eliot. "I get fucked all the time. Trust me, you did me a favor. That thing--" He glanced at the wicked looking dildo. "He'd have used it. You don't need lube after."
The voice of experience. He shifted, flinching again, reaching across to touch Eliot's knee, still clammy from the warm water. "You're the one who had to...to be something else. You gave up something. I didn't. But if you're feeling that guilty about it, you can help me back to the bath. Hell or not, it's going to take a couple of days for these to heal, and they hurt like a bitch."
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When Eliot met Sam's gaze, his eyes were sullen and disturbed, but remained determined and strong. He was hurting from his actions, but it wasn't something he would talk about or that he couldn't push on from. This would remain with him, like all the other things that he did that ended him in hell, and he would remember it, but he wasn't going to let it freeze him here.
Which was how Eliot made himself move, helping Sam up, sweeping the dildo and chains onto the floor in the meanwhile. Some of the spikes scratched him with the action, but he didn't even seem to notice as he stepped in to give Sam his arms for support should the other man need them.
"I didn't want--... I thought it'd be worse if I let him know it mattered. He wants me to submit, I can take that, but now he knows it'll work, and you're..." Eliot trailed off, it not needing to say the rest. Sam was going to be the leash around Eliot now, the whipping boy to his resistance, but no matter how effective that will be, the hitter wasn't ready to submit. The only thing he felt he needed to add, as he carefully helped Sam back into the still hot water, was, "M'sorry."
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When he could think again, speak again, he looked right at Eliot, intensely.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry, Eliot. If I hadn't made you care about me... Honestly, I don't even know why you do. I rape you. Every day. I don't deserve your compassion."
His back was aching now, the muscles complaining, going rigid in an effort to prevent movement and therefore continued pain. Sam was trying to get them to relax in the hot water, but it was hard. He hurt all over. He looked back across to Eliot.
"There's no way out of this, for either of us. I'll condemn you, whether you're willing or not."
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"You didn't make me do anythin'," Eliot corrected as he took in how uncomfortable Sam looked. He was bleeding into the water still, causing the hot water to grow pinkish with blood. If this was anywhere but hell, Eliot would be alarmed by how easily lethal that could be.
Whatever Eliot had decided to do, it definitely wasn't because Sam made him do it. Their time together simply showed Eliot the truth, that Sam was as much of a victim as he was, and that he suffered things only of Eliot's nightmares. Once that was established, it all went from there. He meant what he implied to Lucifer about respecting Sam too, the man had survived more than he could ever imagine, he witnessed it with his own eyes. If Sam had tried to actively convince Eliot instead, then things wouldn't have gone this way at all.
"It ain't your fault either. I know that. You wouldn't be apologizin' if it was." Eliot let his gaze slip away, jaw clenched. Although the ordeal was over, neither of them were relaxed, and taking note of that, Eliot carefully touched Sam's shoulder. "Turn around," he said softly, "I'll clean your back."
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But for now, he just sunk down, carefully folding, turning on the spot to present his ruined back to Eliot. It would heal--it wasn't as if Lucifer had gone out of his way to make the scars from this one stay.
He exhaled slowly, moving his hands up to place them on the edge of the bathtub, where he could hold onto the edge, dig his fingers hard against the stone if it hurt--which it would.
"You can...you can sleep with me on the bed tonight, if you want."
It wasn't like Lucifer ever joined them, it was always just Sam curled up at the foot of the bed. Archangels, after all, didn't take naps, and Sam's place was as much a gesture as anything else he did.
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It was easier once Sam turned around and Eliot was no longer under his gaze. Taking up the sponge, he moved into position behind the injured man to carefully clean up the mess. He had seen it up close before, but on the bed, in those circumstances, it had been a cursory look at best, but running the sponge along their edges showed Eliot just how bad it was. And since Sam didn't act like these were anything special, Eliot surmised they will heal, eventually. Yet when compared to Sam's scarred back, Eliot knew there was the distinct possibility that these were but passing wounds that wouldn't leave a single scar.
His hand inadvertently moved from the slash to trace a long scar that crossed beneath it. What else had Sam experienced that didn't leave any marks on his body?
"That would be... nice." It had been weeks since Eliot could stretch his legs when he slept. The cage was only long enough to allow him to half bend his legs at most, and every time he got out, his limbs and back were stiff from the semi stress position. On the other hand, he noticed Sam slept curled up by choice at the foot of the bed.
He put away the sponge to lay his hand in Sam's shoulder instead. Then picking out the tension, he kneaded the muscles to help loosen the muscles to make relaxing easier. "You have anythin' I can put on your back?"
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He gave his head a shake, finally, at the question, rolling his hips forward and moving away from the touch to his shoulder. He'd settled in far too much, and he peeled forward the rest of the way, lifting his toe to the step and pulling himself out of the bath. This time he padded as far as the pile of towels, crouching down briefly to snatch one of them and bringing it across his shoulder, flinching and scrabbling awkwardly for the other side of it.
"This is Hell," he said, stating the obvious pretty much. "It's not like they pack a first aid kit."
He gestured to the towels. "Could you maybe scrub my hair dry. I can't get to it like this, and to be honest... I just want to go to sleep. That's the best thing for me."
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Eliot had guessed as much but he thought it wouldn't hurt to ask and hoped to be surprised. But regardless, it was good to see Sam was able to relax despite his condition and Eliot was almost reluctant to let him go when he pulled away.
Eliot followed Sam up, face stern when he saw the man's difficulty with the towel. "Yeah," Eliot answered, stepping up behind Sam, "Lemme."
He made short work of toweling off Sam's hair, then carefully padded his back dry too. The bleeding seemed to have stopped while they were in the water, as impossible as that seemed, but it meant Sam was healing and Eliot knew it was a good sign. Only when Sam was taken care of did Eliot make quick work to dry himself as well. Save it felt strange, that Sam was injured while he remained unscathed this time.
Looking up, enjoy realized that by the time he was done, Sam had already moved to the bed. He followed, feeling awkward but a sense of relief as well. It would be nice to have a bed under him again, even if it was for only one night. "So how does this work?"
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Eliot had been kind to him, and Sam wasn't going to forget that any time soon. That was why he was encouraging Eliot to sleep with him on the bed; it was reward and forgiveness both.
"We stay down this end, otherwise he knows. You can't sleep in the bed. It's reserved for people, and we aren't people."
That was very blunt, but Sam didn't even acknowledge it thus, just carefully edged down onto it.
"Maybe if you slot up against my back--that way I can curl up. I feel safer in that position."
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Eliot understood, not what they were reduced to, but the oppression that existed even when the Devil wasn't there. He sat on the edge while Sam curled up, resting a hand on his shoulder like a lover would have after sex.
"I shouldn't be against your back," Eliot reminded him gently. "should give it space to air dry."
But Sam insisted, so Eliot moved in, careful to give the man a little gap at least before he very tentatively curled up behind the other man. The bed was narrow for him to properly sleep sideways across so he put his hand on Sam's waist, half to keep himself from falling off the edge and half to assure the man he was there. With the two of them settled, Eliot closed his eyes. It has been a tiring day.