If Dean kept on doing what he was doing, he very much could make Eliot come from being finger fucked.

"Stop bein' a fuckin' tease," came Eliot's strangled reply as he groaned when the fingers sped up their stimulation of his prostate. He tossed his head back and writhed on the bed and pillow.

"M-make up your fuckin' mind." Because if Dean didn't soon, Eliot might end up making it for him. He tried to grin back at Dean but it was a feral expression of desire. "Would love to have your lips wrapped around my cock."