Burying his forehead against Dean's shoulder, Eliot's thrusts carried the hunter through his orgasm and beyond. As the clenching around him grew tighter, Eliot's rhythm became erratic. Dean's words were the final straw and with a few quick short bursts, he buried himself and came hard into the condom's reserve, Dean's name whispered against his skin.

He panted as he fell down afterwards, temporarily supporting himself on one side of the hunter's chest. Yet not wanting to crush the man though, he dragged up his hand and supported himself on its elbow as he waited to catch his breath.

"Damn," he muttered between soft pants that huffed against the hunter. "That was... damn."