Not much makes Gabriel beg, but this does, and Chuck huffs his usual patient chuckle as he fits them in one by one, watching Gabriel’s eyes bug out a little further with each intrusion, watching his lips part as though he were taking them in his mouth instead of his ass. They’re curved into a perfect O, and Chuck leans down to kiss that round mouth, his desire surging as Gabriel keens against his lips and begs, “Get me off, Chuck, c’mon, help a guy out.” And Chuck will, he does, but with patient, firm strokes, pausing at the crest of each movement of his fingers to watch Gabriel squirm and struggle against the lack of motion. He knows well the feeling of the beads deep inside him, the strange uneven burning that sets up a steady burst of fire with each breath. It was Gabriel who showed it to him, at first, and it’s now Chuck’s wicked delight to return the favor, finally and ruthlessly ripping the beads out when Gabriel comes, watching his body thrash and listening to the sweet revenge of his throaty cry.
Chris has used plugs on Tom before, and a vibrator, and on one memorable occasion the whip Tom first used on him, but he thinks the beads he’s using on Tom now are going to be his favourite toy in future.
It’s the number of the beads and variety of games to play with them that makes them so much fun - Tom was relaxed and calm through the first two beads, but by the fifth he was unsteady on his hands and knees; by the final bead Tom was shaking and Chris knew Tom was going to be incoherent by the end of the night.
Pushing and pulling on the beads brings out the strangest noises in Tom - his ability to speak has completely disappeared - and it is so, so fucking pretty watching his hole stretch around them during a pull, then try to squeeze shut when Chris pushes the beads in further.
Chris licks his free hand before wrapping it around Tom’s cock and stroking it with the lightest, barest touches, and it’s immensely satisfying to watch Tom’s hands fist in the bedsheets, to watch sweat pool in the dip of his back, a flash of white teeth biting a tongue to stop it speaking.
Chris relents eventually, pumping hard until he feels Tom’s balls draw up tight; Chris pulls all the beads out in one long, relentless tug, and the scream Tom lets out is probably going to get them arrested.
Sorcery has never dazzled like this, and Merlin would consider renouncing it forever if he knew he could have this and never let it stop. He’s covered, coated in his own come and Arthur’s, lying on his back in the straw of the stables where prying eyes can’t find them, and his legs are propped up against the wooden poles that hold the shack together as Arthur teases his cock to hardness again. Whoever’s idea it was to use these glass beads — costume jewelry? castle decoration? who knows? — in this filthy way, Merlin doubts Arthur came up with the idea himself, but he’d readily kiss whoever put the idea in Arthur’s head. And now they’re being worked back in, one at a time, and when Arthur pauses to jack his own cock roughly until he splashes another load of come over Merlin’s stomach and chest, Merlin’s left gasping and begging for Arthur to keep sliding them in. He can’t wait to feel himself full of them, then have them ripped out again, dragging another orgasm from him in the process and leaving him starry-eyed and breathless.
Dean’s thighs clench and release; Castiel watches in amazement as another bead disappears, and he kisses one of those trembling thighs, lips drifting to the base of Dean’s balls and tongue darting out to lick there. Dean cries out, hips snapping forward and away from the path of Castiel’s mouth, but Castiel’s determined, and he leans forward, sucking a soft red mark into the crease where thighs meet ass. “Cas, I can’t,” Dean mutters, and then, with an amazing pull, takes another bead in, and begs— “Pull ‘em out, I’m gonna come, Jesus, pull ‘em out!”
“No,” Castiel growls, “you have to take them all, Dean—” but it’s too late, Dean’s coming, hips pistoning desperately and breaths hitching as he spills all over his hand and the sheets.
But with Dean gasping and twitching, Castiel still isn’t satisfied: he keeps working them in, fingers aiding as Dean’s ass clenches and releases in the dying spasms of his orgasm, and only when Dean’s boneless and breathless and full does he whip them back out again, sending Dean into another fit of desperate cries on the come-stained bed.
“Now you know what it feels like to be stuffed full, so full you can’t breathe,” Sam whispers in his ear, working the beads in with one knobbly finger; Lucifer gasps and holds tight to the sides of the bed, cock throbbing every time Sam’s other hand strokes it, ass rearing up against the protrusion of Sam’s own erection. Is Sam going to slam himself in there, own Lucifer and ride him the way Lucifer did when they took the world? Lucifer almost hopes so — he’s begging, dying for more, for Sam to stuff him beyond imagining, and in their privacy he can dare to beg. Sam’s done all he asked, and this is his reward, though it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying all this exquisite torture more.
A few more bold strokes, Sam’s hands huge and encompassing against the ridge of his cock, and Lucifer’s riding the edge; Sam’s chuckle in his ear is sadistic, and he says, “Are you ready to come so hard you’ll never need anything but me for the rest of time?” Lucifer’s still taking in breath to say the word when the beads come flying out— Lucifer spasms, his ass clenching and relaxing convulsively, and a moment later Sam’s in him and he’s coming and fuck, this is the kind of heaven he’s been looking for ever since the real thing cast him out.
Freedom is preferable, Castiel said once, but Dean looks too beautiful all tied up for Castiel to deny the thrill of power, the outpouring of possessive love that rockets through him at the sight. He’s gentle as he slicks Dean up, kneeling behind him and stroking his calves near where the rope bites hard enough to turn flesh white. Dean whines at the contact, strains and grunts into the gag as Castiel works the beads in, and the ropes make soft rustling noises as he tries in vain to find some freedom of movement within their intricate web.
Castiel tugs on the ropes, brings Dean’s suspended body around so his cock is proud and exposed before Castiel’s mouth. He works on Dean slowly, twisting the beads and lapping up each pearly dot of pre-come as they emerge, thinking that as much as Dean is tied up, Castiel is the one hopelessly enslaved — and addicted to the muffled sounds Dean makes, the hoarse shout of release as the beads come whipping out and Dean’s come coats the inside of Castiel’s mouth in thick splashes.
Sensation, sensation like nothing else, and if Castiel could make more than muffled grunts into the tie blocking his mouth he’d beg for mercy, for a chance to breathe. But he can’t, and he can’t move beyond vague squirming in the restraints that keep him motionless, so it’s torture with every stroke of his restrained dick, every thrust of the toy into his slick ass. Dean’s promised to show him just how good it can feel, but Cas isn’t sure this isn’t torture — not pain, maybe, but surely torture, as the feeling rips up through his gut and spine and threatens to overwhelm him.
When Dean removes the toy, then lets his aching cock free from the ring, Castiel slumps, relaxed for a brief moment, but he isn’t able to do so for more than a second before he’s breached by a single round bead, then another and another, until he’s full. Then Dean’s stroking him again, and Castiel’s vision whites out; he feels the beads pop in a single yank out of him as he breaks into tremors, and he hears a muffled scream that he realizes is his own.
Sam doesn’t know what they are, and when Gabriel explains how they work Sam’s dubious. But when Gabriel works them into him, each bead larger than the last, they stretch him deliciously, bit by bit. In the end, Sam’s so loose and so full that he begs Gabriel to take them out and put his cock in, but Gabriel just settles behind him and nips patiently at Sam’s shoulder, tugging every so often to make the beads move inside him.
“Oh, God,” Sam babbles, and “fuck,” and he fucks his own fist desperately, desperate for climax as the beads move inside him and drive him to madness. And then, when his orgasm comes, Gabriel pulls them out in a single yank — and Sam shouts, very nearly screams, his ass tingling, his balls aching as he empties out stream after stream of come, and somewhere in the mindless haze that follows Sam gives two thumbs up to the newest of Gabriel’s diversions.
His fingers white knuckle the pillow and Sam can hardly breathe with the way his face is pressed into the cotton, but he doesn’t dare move; it’s both fear and pleasure that holds him there in limbo, and he’s perpetually caught between the both of them, unsure which is actually going to win out. Gabriel pulls slowly, teasing at first, just a gentle pressure against Sam’s prostate, but enough to make Sam’s muscles clench up and his thighs press closed again until Gabriel nuzzles against him, licking and kissing until he relaxes again. The first bead is a shock; Sam cries out more in surprise than anything else, because it’s the sort of pop that Sam’s sure means something ripped or snapped; and he’s surprised when it doesn’t, surprised enough that he relaxes almost instantly with relief. Which makes the second one nothing more than pure bliss as Gabriel tugs it out; Sam gasps into the pillow, a sound that is too sharp and too undignified to be anything other than absolute pleasure and his cock throbs full and excited and leaking heavy between his thighs. Gabriel doesn’t give him time to adjust, he just keeps pulling, slow and steady, the pressure of the beads grinding against his g-spot one after another before sliding out easily until finally the whole strand is release and Sam, trembling on hands and knees, seizes up and soaks his thighs, his stomach, and the bed beneath him with an orgasm he thought would never happen this way.
Nate’s skin flushes darker slowly with the increasing difficulty to stay still and quiet, legs spread wide and head bowed obediently as Godfather slicks him up and pushes the beads into him, one ball at a time. It’s so difficult for him not to squirm, moaning softly when Godfather’s fingers jack him off or tweak his nipples, and Nate is relieved when he’s finally ordered to his knees.
Godfather’s fingers rake through Nate’s hair, gripping it tight and yanking it back, forcing him to watch and moan in anticipation as Godfather undoes his slacks and pulls his cock out. There’s no hesitation in Nate parting his lips and licking them wetly, watching Godfather with large eyes and pleading silently.
Nate’s moans are obscene when pushes into his mouth slowly for Nate to adjust, then Godfather tightens his grip and fucks him harder, Nate gasping for breath and eyes watering, and Godfather gives Nate exactly what he wants.
