Except Dean was starting to get exceptionally tired of his own silence. It was making him want to shout that much louder, his voice stopped up somewhere in the back of his throat, threatening to fill his heads with words he couldn't say out loud. Lucifer was still thrusting and Dean was starting to lose his grip, hips crammed harder against the desk as he tried to rut himself to orgasm.

But there was nothing there except the space in front of him, nothing but the absence of any possible friction he could get. Dean desperately didn't want to beg yet but he was falling ever closer, Lucifer beginning to take his ultimate toll.