Eliot laughed at that decision and somehow it made perfect sense that the guy who he met through hustling his pool game would offer to get him off only to fuck him first. He had no complaints though, not when he felt Dean enter him and pound right against his prostate.

Not quite werewolf strength, but Dean wasn't an easy pushover either and there was substance behind those poundings.

He tilted back his head and emitted a soft keening at the wonderfully deep thrusts.

"Fuckin'... god, just... fuck!" That summed it up pretty well.