Sam frowned at Eliot, holding his nerve for just a little longer while he baited Lucifer above him. Didn't he know to be quiet, let it happen how it happened, the chips falling where they must? It was always gentler that way. God knew Sam had fought his little brains out, and paid for it, but now he found himself wishing that he could make Eliot understand, even if he knew full well that it had taken forever for Sam to stop resisting it all, to become as compliant as he now was.
And he was compliant; painfully so. His stirring erection made that all the more obvious, and soon enough Lucifer was grabbing hold of his wrist, pulling him back with a sharp tug.
His hand fell back, still wet with blood so that he didn't dare to look at it as he smeared his fingers past Lucifer's, wiping them off as best he could on his arousal. If he looked, he'd surely vomit, as hardened as his stomach was against such things. Lucifer nudged him forward, quickly, and Sam pressed the head of his erection against Eliot, giving him no warning before he slammed home.
That satisfied Lucifer, who let him fall still, reaching around to snag his wrists and cuff each of them in turn around the loop in Eliot's chest. Only then, with Sam bent forward over him, did Lucifer reach for the lube, nudging Sam's ankles apart so that he could go in with his fingers.
His eyes found Eliot's again, now, enduring the treatment, a deep hush settling over him, even though his muscles trembled every time the Devil brushed his prostate. He didn't say a word, wasn't trained to--not even an apology. Eliot already knew he was sorry, what good was repeating it?
Eliot's body jerked in pain at the rough entry, which brought a hiss of
pain when the movement agitated the wounds on his chest. Blood, even the
copious amounts he bled, was not enough to smooth the way, especially not
with how much it had congealed already since being exposed. But then Sam
was anchored against the small loop with the cuffs where the chain was too
short between them for Sam to hold anywhere but his chest, or tug
extremely painfully against the bent metal bar, and Eliot froze.
Locked as they were, he had nowhere to look but at Sam right now, and Sam
definitely was forced to face Eliot. And his pain. There was no way for
Eliot to hide in this situation, not the pain, or the slight trembling in
his exhausted body, or even the slight bit of shame that he was doing his
damnedest to ignore about the whole situation.
Likewise he had never faced Sam up close while the man dealt with the rape
Lucifer dealt him on a regular basis. It should have been a private thing,
how a man deals with torture, and Eliot felt like he was intruding by even
meeting Sam's eyes as the Devil prepared him for another rape. At least
Lucifer was using lube, which made Eliot feel mildly relieved that he
wasn't going to take Sam the same way.
Still, it made Eliot's skin crawl to think Lucifer was the one controlling
things, and he felt horrible for Sam being caught in this sandwich. No
apology was necessary, Eliot understood, and he was the one sorry for
continuing his fight.
Lucifer definitely knew how to make things play out the way he wanted to, and trapping Sam face to face with Eliot like this was much more a kind of torture than anything that had come before. A knife could cut, but this humiliated and hurt them both, and after all, wasn't it Sam's fault for not having Eliot polished up by now? He dropped his eyes away as best as he could, dropping his hands onto Eliot's chest and sliding his elbows across his chest until he had some kind of support for his body there. His head dipped lower, almost touching the metal bar as Lucifer pushed into him, not quite able to hide all of his expression from Eliot in the moment.
The archangel's fingers dug into his hips, signalling that he had to make an effort to move, then slid past him, one propping itself on the edge of the bed, the other curling firmly around Eliot's cock. He wouldn't do much more than stroke and squeeze him to counteract the pain, lifting him back past it, until he enjoyed every moment, because Lucifer had more in mind for the pair of them than this.
Sam, on the other hand, stirred by Lucifer's urging, was hard enough that the friction, and the steady rock of Lucifer into him from behind, triggered a breathlessness in him, pleasure playing its part. He exhaled shakily, building up a rhythm, even though Eliot was rough and tight around him. His skin began to prickle with sweat, hair shaken loose in front of his face to hide his eyes.
Eliot had no choice but to watch, endure it all--or perhaps not. Sam, certainly, was closing his eyes tight. Nobody was going to admonish him for hiding himself this time.
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.
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.
Eliot's relief at Sam pulling out was short lived as immediately after he
could see Lucifer manipulating the other man. The movement tugged on the
anchored ring, making him gasp out as sharp bolts of pain hammered into his
chest seconds before Sam was there, in his face and, oh god, settling down
over his cock.
"Fuck," Eliot expelled the air in his lungs in a quick rush, caught off
guard by this sudden change in tactics as well. He glanced over at Sam
quickly, wanting to check if the other man was okay with this, but Sam had
buried his face against Eliot and he couldn't catch his eyes.
Nor did he need to, not when he felt the hot tears against his skin when
Lucifer forced his way in beside Eliot.
"Sam," Eliot breathed, his whisper practically in Sam's ear from how close
they were. "Hold onto my shoulders an' just keep breathin'." He knew the
other didn't need advice from him but this was as much of a gesture of
support as anything else. To hold that position would pull on the cuffs,
but Eliot could take the pain if it would help ease Sam's even a little.
Sam could take it, but that didn't mean that it was easy being pierced that way, two cocks pressed inside him, stretching him uncomfortably wide. Eliot's erection still nudged his prostate, but it was up to Sam to try and relax, to let them fill him. Lucifer was giving him time, gratefully, though Sam still tensed under Eliot's soft words, flicking his eyes upward.
Eliot invited him to move his hands upward, but that would cause him pain, Sam knew. He knew how the metal would pull uncomfortably, how it would hurt deep inside, where all those nerves had been healed into place, where they could feel the pain, experience it.
So he refused with a little shake of his head, raising his head just a little so that Eliot could see that he wasn't afraid, that he could take it on full strength.
He shuddered, as Lucifer began to move, sliding against Eliot inside him, thrusting him up and forward, and then pulling him back as he slid away. Sam groaned, digging his nails into Eliot's chest, the blunt touch much more reasonable than the alternative. Breathe. Keep breathing. He could get through this. He was strong; Eliot had to know that. He was surviving Hell and he wasn't even dead, that had to count for something.
Eliot's brows creased when Sam refused, for his sake, he knew, which left
the other man's hands bent awkwardly under him with barely any real grip.
Sam's blunt nails found purchase on Eliot's chest and scratched into the
skin, but it wasn't a strong clutch and didn't allow him to transfer any of
the motion away from himself. Each thrust would be absorbed by his body,
made even harder on him for his attempts to hold still and hurt Eliot less.
Damn stubborn man, it made Eliot respect him and want to help him more.
Because Sam wasn't as broken as he first implied and there may still be
something salvageable within him.
"It's alright," he murmured for Sam's ears only. He kept his tone low and
voice soft, like he would be speaking to an injured horse. But if Sam
looked up he would see that Eliot knew he was strong, that he wasn't in
anyway thinking Sam couldn't take this on himself. It was Eliot who wanted
to help and was determine to however he could. "Y'can hold on... Just for a
bit."
Eliot meant more than just this time though, maybe Sam will suffer like
this for the last time. He said before that if Eliot surrendered, he will
be freed from the Devil's play things, and he needed to before he broke
completely. Eliot could see clearly what he meant by that now, and the
hitter intended to stop it at whatever the cost.
Sam was doing well enough for now, especially with Eliot's reminder that he should be breathing. Grateful, though, for his encouragement, he moved his hands up, even though he knew it would pull on Eliot slightly, getting a slightly better grip, just under his armpits. He didn't want to cause him pain, but the position was better for him, even if he was nose to nose with Eliot now, with nowhere to hide.
He didn't know, really, how to thank him for that, so as Lucifer rocked into them, fucking them both in his own way, he brushed his lips slightly against Eliot's, then nudged in against his cheek. It was the best he could possibly do, under the circumstances, and yet he was plenty hard again. Lucifer didn't bother stroking him--he'd come eventually. Eliot, though. Eliot was the key to this. Nobody was going anywhere until he was done, and that was most of the reason why Sam wasn't trying to hurt him. The pain would hold him back, and Lucifer would take his damn sweet time.
And it was humiliating - God it was humiliating - to be pulled so wide open this way. Another small part of him that had always thought he could find a way out of this was breaking under it all. He couldn't go back, not after this. He'd always feel this.
Eliot's own breathing hitched too when the chain, like Sam anticipated,
pulled painfully on him, but the position Sam chose wasn't too bad and he
got past the pain after a few controlled breaths. He could tell that it was
worth it though, Sam seemed to be holding on better and wasn't sliding as
much to Lucifer's thrusts.
Eliot closed his eyes to Sam's grateful kiss, accepting them for the chaste
gift they were meant to be despite how at odds it was with everything else.
It was the only clean thing in the midst of all the ugliness, because
regardless of how Sam turned away there was no hiding from what was
happening to them both.
Eliot could feel Sam's hardness sliding and sandwiched between their
stomachs, progressing much further along than his own despite how Sam's
body squeezed him tighter than any fuck he ever experienced. It wasn't even
the pain, he could've gotten over that, but knowing the amount of hurt he
was causing Sam turned him off completely. Only the constant pressure and
friction of Lucifer's thrusts kept him hard, but he didn't know how long it
would be before he could orgasm from this torture.
"I'm sorry... Sam." He felt like he was contributing to his torture even
though he didn't know if it would be better if he came or to go flaccid.
It was true that Eliot was contributing in his own way, but it wasn't intentional. Sam didn't hate him for it, would have trouble doing so, and besides it was slowly getting to him. With every bump and thrust, Eliot's cock snagged his prostate, and eventually it was enough to tip him from pain across into pleasure.
It began to really get to him, and soon enough Sam's little whimpers had become shaky grunts of pleasure. Even stretched wide, there was something good--there was something really good about it. That was the problem, really. Sam couldn't help himself, even if Eliot would have been disgusted by it. With all the years he'd been getting screwed by Lucifer, it had led into him not really caring. The pleasure and shame and pain all rolled into one in the end, and he began to like it just because it meant it would be over sooner that way.
But Lucifer really did get him up. One thrust led into another, and soon enough he was sweating and panting, finally rocking his own hips down to meet those thrusts. It might almost seem like he was getting into it, because it would be over soon, rising into a crescendo. He might almost feel as though he were really here because he wanted to be, almost feel like this was consensual, and the way he rocked back so eagerly, could almost sell it on him enjoying this because of what it was, with who it was.
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.
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And he was compliant; painfully so. His stirring erection made that all the more obvious, and soon enough Lucifer was grabbing hold of his wrist, pulling him back with a sharp tug.
His hand fell back, still wet with blood so that he didn't dare to look at it as he smeared his fingers past Lucifer's, wiping them off as best he could on his arousal. If he looked, he'd surely vomit, as hardened as his stomach was against such things. Lucifer nudged him forward, quickly, and Sam pressed the head of his erection against Eliot, giving him no warning before he slammed home.
That satisfied Lucifer, who let him fall still, reaching around to snag his wrists and cuff each of them in turn around the loop in Eliot's chest. Only then, with Sam bent forward over him, did Lucifer reach for the lube, nudging Sam's ankles apart so that he could go in with his fingers.
His eyes found Eliot's again, now, enduring the treatment, a deep hush settling over him, even though his muscles trembled every time the Devil brushed his prostate. He didn't say a word, wasn't trained to--not even an apology. Eliot already knew he was sorry, what good was repeating it?
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Eliot's body jerked in pain at the rough entry, which brought a hiss of pain when the movement agitated the wounds on his chest. Blood, even the copious amounts he bled, was not enough to smooth the way, especially not with how much it had congealed already since being exposed. But then Sam was anchored against the small loop with the cuffs where the chain was too short between them for Sam to hold anywhere but his chest, or tug extremely painfully against the bent metal bar, and Eliot froze.
Locked as they were, he had nowhere to look but at Sam right now, and Sam definitely was forced to face Eliot. And his pain. There was no way for Eliot to hide in this situation, not the pain, or the slight trembling in his exhausted body, or even the slight bit of shame that he was doing his damnedest to ignore about the whole situation.
Likewise he had never faced Sam up close while the man dealt with the rape Lucifer dealt him on a regular basis. It should have been a private thing, how a man deals with torture, and Eliot felt like he was intruding by even meeting Sam's eyes as the Devil prepared him for another rape. At least Lucifer was using lube, which made Eliot feel mildly relieved that he wasn't going to take Sam the same way.
Still, it made Eliot's skin crawl to think Lucifer was the one controlling things, and he felt horrible for Sam being caught in this sandwich. No apology was necessary, Eliot understood, and he was the one sorry for continuing his fight.
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The archangel's fingers dug into his hips, signalling that he had to make an effort to move, then slid past him, one propping itself on the edge of the bed, the other curling firmly around Eliot's cock. He wouldn't do much more than stroke and squeeze him to counteract the pain, lifting him back past it, until he enjoyed every moment, because Lucifer had more in mind for the pair of them than this.
Sam, on the other hand, stirred by Lucifer's urging, was hard enough that the friction, and the steady rock of Lucifer into him from behind, triggered a breathlessness in him, pleasure playing its part. He exhaled shakily, building up a rhythm, even though Eliot was rough and tight around him. His skin began to prickle with sweat, hair shaken loose in front of his face to hide his eyes.
Eliot had no choice but to watch, endure it all--or perhaps not. Sam, certainly, was closing his eyes tight. Nobody was going to admonish him for hiding himself this time.
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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.
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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.
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Eliot's relief at Sam pulling out was short lived as immediately after he could see Lucifer manipulating the other man. The movement tugged on the anchored ring, making him gasp out as sharp bolts of pain hammered into his chest seconds before Sam was there, in his face and, oh god, settling down over his cock.
"Fuck," Eliot expelled the air in his lungs in a quick rush, caught off guard by this sudden change in tactics as well. He glanced over at Sam quickly, wanting to check if the other man was okay with this, but Sam had buried his face against Eliot and he couldn't catch his eyes.
Nor did he need to, not when he felt the hot tears against his skin when Lucifer forced his way in beside Eliot.
"Sam," Eliot breathed, his whisper practically in Sam's ear from how close they were. "Hold onto my shoulders an' just keep breathin'." He knew the other didn't need advice from him but this was as much of a gesture of support as anything else. To hold that position would pull on the cuffs, but Eliot could take the pain if it would help ease Sam's even a little.
no subject
Eliot invited him to move his hands upward, but that would cause him pain, Sam knew. He knew how the metal would pull uncomfortably, how it would hurt deep inside, where all those nerves had been healed into place, where they could feel the pain, experience it.
So he refused with a little shake of his head, raising his head just a little so that Eliot could see that he wasn't afraid, that he could take it on full strength.
He shuddered, as Lucifer began to move, sliding against Eliot inside him, thrusting him up and forward, and then pulling him back as he slid away. Sam groaned, digging his nails into Eliot's chest, the blunt touch much more reasonable than the alternative. Breathe. Keep breathing. He could get through this. He was strong; Eliot had to know that. He was surviving Hell and he wasn't even dead, that had to count for something.
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Eliot's brows creased when Sam refused, for his sake, he knew, which left the other man's hands bent awkwardly under him with barely any real grip. Sam's blunt nails found purchase on Eliot's chest and scratched into the skin, but it wasn't a strong clutch and didn't allow him to transfer any of the motion away from himself. Each thrust would be absorbed by his body, made even harder on him for his attempts to hold still and hurt Eliot less.
Damn stubborn man, it made Eliot respect him and want to help him more. Because Sam wasn't as broken as he first implied and there may still be something salvageable within him.
"It's alright," he murmured for Sam's ears only. He kept his tone low and voice soft, like he would be speaking to an injured horse. But if Sam looked up he would see that Eliot knew he was strong, that he wasn't in anyway thinking Sam couldn't take this on himself. It was Eliot who wanted to help and was determine to however he could. "Y'can hold on... Just for a bit."
Eliot meant more than just this time though, maybe Sam will suffer like this for the last time. He said before that if Eliot surrendered, he will be freed from the Devil's play things, and he needed to before he broke completely. Eliot could see clearly what he meant by that now, and the hitter intended to stop it at whatever the cost.
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He didn't know, really, how to thank him for that, so as Lucifer rocked into them, fucking them both in his own way, he brushed his lips slightly against Eliot's, then nudged in against his cheek. It was the best he could possibly do, under the circumstances, and yet he was plenty hard again. Lucifer didn't bother stroking him--he'd come eventually. Eliot, though. Eliot was the key to this. Nobody was going anywhere until he was done, and that was most of the reason why Sam wasn't trying to hurt him. The pain would hold him back, and Lucifer would take his damn sweet time.
And it was humiliating - God it was humiliating - to be pulled so wide open this way. Another small part of him that had always thought he could find a way out of this was breaking under it all. He couldn't go back, not after this. He'd always feel this.
no subject
Eliot's own breathing hitched too when the chain, like Sam anticipated, pulled painfully on him, but the position Sam chose wasn't too bad and he got past the pain after a few controlled breaths. He could tell that it was worth it though, Sam seemed to be holding on better and wasn't sliding as much to Lucifer's thrusts.
Eliot closed his eyes to Sam's grateful kiss, accepting them for the chaste gift they were meant to be despite how at odds it was with everything else. It was the only clean thing in the midst of all the ugliness, because regardless of how Sam turned away there was no hiding from what was happening to them both.
Eliot could feel Sam's hardness sliding and sandwiched between their stomachs, progressing much further along than his own despite how Sam's body squeezed him tighter than any fuck he ever experienced. It wasn't even the pain, he could've gotten over that, but knowing the amount of hurt he was causing Sam turned him off completely. Only the constant pressure and friction of Lucifer's thrusts kept him hard, but he didn't know how long it would be before he could orgasm from this torture.
"I'm sorry... Sam." He felt like he was contributing to his torture even though he didn't know if it would be better if he came or to go flaccid.
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It began to really get to him, and soon enough Sam's little whimpers had become shaky grunts of pleasure. Even stretched wide, there was something good--there was something really good about it. That was the problem, really. Sam couldn't help himself, even if Eliot would have been disgusted by it. With all the years he'd been getting screwed by Lucifer, it had led into him not really caring. The pleasure and shame and pain all rolled into one in the end, and he began to like it just because it meant it would be over sooner that way.
But Lucifer really did get him up. One thrust led into another, and soon enough he was sweating and panting, finally rocking his own hips down to meet those thrusts. It might almost seem like he was getting into it, because it would be over soon, rising into a crescendo. He might almost feel as though he were really here because he wanted to be, almost feel like this was consensual, and the way he rocked back so eagerly, could almost sell it on him enjoying this because of what it was, with who it was.
If you squinted.
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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.