Gabriel pulls back to see his handiwork, or, rather, his hand-and-mouth work, and nods approvingly; Sam’s cock is swollen, overfull, glistening with saliva and precome. And Sam himself is straining, barely able to stay still as he sits on the bed and clutches the balled-up sheets in white-knuckled hands.
“Fuck,” he manages to hiss out, “fuck, take it off, Gabriel, I’ve gotta come—”
Gabriel hefts his balls gently, making Sam jerk hard, his muscles locking up; “yeah,” he says finally, “yeah, it’s about time I let you go a little.”
He unfastens the ring, and his mouth is barely over Sam’s cock again before Sam is letting loose with a spurt of come onto his tongue, and another following that; his balls are still burning with want, though, and after the headrush of the orgasm is through he finds himself still pumping his hips up into Gabriel’s soft mouth until another orgasm wracks its violent way through his body and leaves him collapsing backward onto the bed.
Sam sobs as Anna worms her way between him and Cas, patiently pushing the other angel back just enough to get her mouth on Sam’s straining erection —hard and angry, nearly too much for the cock ring they’d had to use— and the resulting twitch makes the two cocks in his ass shift in a way that draws a deep groan from Dean behind him.
“Yeah, Sammy, that’s it,” Dean presses burning kisses against Sam’s neck as he grinds up into Sam, the hand not holding Sam’s hips down stroking soothingly across his chest, “you did good, just let us take care of you now, okay?”
Cas can’t get close enough to kiss, not with Anna working Sam’s cock so perfectly, but he reaches out to cup his face, thumbs sliding sweetly across his lips and gathering up the sweat sliding down his face, he doesn’t say anything, but with Cas, as always, his intent can be read in his penetrating gaze.
It’s awkward and claustrophobic, none of them can move like they want without upsetting someone else out of their fragile tangle of limbs, but they can rock and move just enough to set Sam’s every last nerve on fire with pleasure, he’s mindless with it when he throws his head back and cries out at the burning intense gaze he finds staring him down.
Lucifer gazes down at him, intangible fingers following Cas’ as he stares, gaze bitter and sad and fired up with plain jealousy, he leans down and presses an angry kiss that Sam frantically swears he can’t feel —not real, not real— to his lips, hissing out, “You lucky bastard,” even as Sam chokes as thin fingers flick open the leather wrapped around his dick and he comes with enough force to make his vision and the devil swim.
“You’ll beg,” Dean had said with an arrogant confidence that had made Sam sneer at the beginning of the night and scoff, wordlessly daring his brother to try his best.
That was before Dean tied him to the bed, before he teased Sam’s dick fully hard and slipped on the cock ring, before he brought out the tiny egg-shaped vibrator; Sam’s resolve took an embarrassingly short time to give.
Dean didn’t so much as touch him, trailing the smooth plastic of the vibrating toy up the shaft of his dick to the head and holding it there, circling the tip, pressing it lightly into the slit and refusing to move anywhere else; Sam writhed as much as he was able to, trying to get more, trying to get less, his mouth open on series of excessively high moans even as he fought a losing battle to not say anything.
“Please,” the word stuttered out on a moan, mangled and barely there but they both heard it as Sam broke, “Please, Dean, please more- I need more!”
“Told you ya’d beg,” Dean lifted the toy, a shit eating smirk firmly in place as he shifted to lay out —still fully clothed— along Sam’s side, he pressed a hard kiss to Sam’s neck before pulling back until they were barely touching, placing the toy back onto the head of Sam’s slick dick, “But I wanna hear you scream for it.”
“Big tough-guy god,” Clint murmurs, “and there’s still something that can get you to beg, isn’t there?”
Thor twists the sheets in his fists and humps up into the air; his cock, swollen with the ring’s tight fit, is flushing purple-red, and the skin is stretched smooth and gleaming over the head. “You’re driving me mad,” he half-whispers, “let me go, archer, let me have release, please.”
But Clint’s not about to let that happen anytime soon, not when it’s so satisfying to wash his mouth over the swollen skin and tease at Thor’s heavy balls with wicked fingers. The god tosses his head back and forth, damp hair matted to his face and the pillow, and thrusts up into Clint’s mouth, begging over and over in an all-too-human whine for the release he’s being denied.
“You can’t break me,” Gabriel sneers, “I’m stronger than you by far, Dean-boy, you’re not gonna beat me into submission.”
“Who said anything about beating you?” Dean says, and holds up the plug; Gabriel’s eyes widen, but that’s all he can do before it’s vibrating inside him, and his cock is swelling to fullness at the good feelings rushing through him.
Dean waits until he’s started gyrating his hips, murmuring “yes, fucking yes,” and then slips the ring on, watching as it tightens until the blood flow is cut off and Gabriel’s cock and balls are both swelling dangerously.
“Oh, come on,” Gabriel groans, “that’s not fair,” and Dean just smirks and kneels, taking Gabriel’s dick in his mouth and sucking hard.
When Gabriel is reduced to crying out, begging Dean for release, Dean lets go and looks up; “so,” he says, “what was that about me not being able to break you?”
Derek’s never quite sure where things will go when Stiles gets a hard, almost vicious look in his eyes and something in Derek curls up and bares its throat and goes quiescent. Quiet, and happy, and content with not being in charge for once, and Derek’s not going to analyze that at all.
“You’re not paying attention,” comes the grunted voice from above, and a stinging bite to Derek’s nipple has him refocused on the situation - of his hands chained with runic handcuffs, sapping his strength to human levels until Stiles unlocks them which will break the runic circle; of his body, completely naked, bared for the world to see while Stiles has only removed his pants and boxers, the over-sized hoodie preserving some modesty because Derek can’t see where his cock his riding the cleft of Stiles ass, can’t see where Stiles fingers work in and out of Stiles himself.
“You want inside, big bad?” Stiles gasps, and he grips Derek’s cock - cock-ring tight and uncomfortable but the pinch is so, so good - and sits down on it, a slow, torturous movement that has Derek throwing his head back, whining in his throat, wiggling desperately but Stiles doesn’t care, Stiles is looking to ride and ride hard and who the fuck cares if Derek’s balls are purple, if Derek begs and pleads for Stiles to remove the cock-ring, if Stiles pulls up the hoodie long enough to stripe Derek’s chest and neck and lips with his cum?
It is precisely that thought at the forefront of his mind when Stiles undoes the cock-ring, runs the very tips of his fingers against the copiously leaking head, that makes Derek come hard enough to pass out.
“Did you see it coming; see youself coming?” Sam teases, hands pressed on top of Chuck’s on the back of the couch as he pounds into the prophet from behind. Chuck feels like his trembling legs are going to give out beneath him; and the most disturbing part about being completely owned by Sam Winchester is that, yes, he did see this coming, and he did nothing to stop it. Chuck wants to come, he’s wanted to come for hours now, but he can’t do anything but groan and grind and gape as Sam’s talented fingers stroke over his cock and balls - and the painfully tight ring holding Chuck exactly where Sam wants him. It’s not like Chuck was going to tell anyone that Sam didn’t have his soul, or that he had anyone to tell really since everyone thought he was done writing; but the fact that Chuck didn’t even bother to defend himself when Sam shoved him against the wall and started throwing accusation probably says a lot about the kind of man he is deep down under all that writer-prophet crap. Sam grips Chuck’s cock hard enough to make him squeal as the soulless-hunter comes for the third time, making Chuck feel so full he’s not sure his ass can take anymore; but with no signs of relief from Sam, and an almost pleasant sort of pain all over, Chuck’s not going to bother complaining to a guy that he knows doesn’t care about his comfort or his release right now (possibly ever).
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.
It feels like hours that Dean’s been sitting there on the precipice of pain and pleasure, watching and waiting while Amy takes what she wants again and again, and his patience is wearing thin - worn away, in fact, because he didn’t have much to begin with - but this is his own fault and he’s not about to go back on his end of the bargain. The ring is tight around his swollen cock, pinching the base, holding him full and thick and throbbing against his stomach, making him gasp as he rolls over and it brushes the rough fabric of the cheap motel sheets. Amy comes again and again, he’s lost count of the times she’s clenched around his fingers, spilled down over his lips, squeezed his cock until he was practically screaming with the need to come with her. But he holds back, both because of pride and the obvious fact that he can’t, not now, not until Amy’s reached twelve, not until he can satisfy his ego with her pleasure. Those last moments, lips and teeth and tongue working her up and over the final peak, feel like they last forever; but when Amy finally comes, Dean practically rips the ring away, gasping and growling with pain before climbing up her body and fucking into her with hours of pent up frustration and desire.
