How’d a country boy from Bon Temps end up sighing with pleasure when a collar got put around his neck? Hell if Jason knew, but he was that guy sighing as Master laid hands on him, filled him up in every hole and showed him off like a prized possession. He could barely remember a time when he put on that orange vest and dug ditches for a living… that wasn’t living, this was living best he could figure.
Roman looked up at him from their huge bed, tugging on Jason’s collar and then pushing his thumb in across Jason’s tongue. He never did anything too rough; Jason could take it, and Roman gave him so much… For now, he was letting Jason ride him and all he wanted to do was try ‘n be just a little bit of the sun for his Master.
Thor has never thought it prudent to get into a war of words with his slaves, but this man, who claims to have no belief in the old gods, is impudent beyond tolerance. And, though Thor doesn’t want to believe his own body, handsome beyond tolerance too, with a rugged build and a noble face that speaks of lessons hard-won.
So Thor summons the slave to his chambers, bids him sit, and after some verbal jousting, leans in to kiss him. And the way this slave melts against him is beyond Thor’s most fevered imaginings; he’s anxious, eager to fight his way out of his garments, passionate as he presses his body to Thor’s and allows himself to be pushed down onto the bed. When Thor whispers a heated, “Will you allow it?” with his fingers curled around one ass cheek, fingertips teasing the slave’s hole, he gets a hurried nod in return, and another kiss that sears him from toes to crown — and he knows he’s never made such a good decision as he did when he chose to go to war with this slave.
A/N: Under a cut for dubcon related to slavery.
A/N: Under a cut for dubcon due to slavery.
Perhaps it was never intended to happen this way; they were, of course, purchased for their Master’s pleasure, never for each other’s. But from their first glance at each other in the close quarters of the slaves’ dungeon, Lucifer and Gabriel knew hunger like they had never experienced in all of their slaving life; no sooner were the lights out than they had found their way together, bodies twining tight, chuckles of rebellious triumph muffled in each other’s skin as they pushed together, panting and sweating and desperate for release that came bright as a starburst between them.
And no sooner had they found their way together than they were found out; Michael brought them both up in chains, but his expression was one of amusement, and he asked them both if they would be interested in a simple exchange.
"Please me," he said, "and you may then proceed to please each other."
Two nods were never so hastily given, and when Michael lay out naked and willing for his slaves, the hunger between Lucifer and Gabriel grew, encompassing him as well, until they were all three folding over one another in desperate and seemingly endless caresses and thrusts and panting cries; perhaps they did not wait until Michael was satisfactorily pleased before setting on each other like rabid animals, but by that point, it didn’t seem to matter so long as they were all touching each other.
They called him The Devil, and when Crowley bought him, he’d thought he’d be taming a wild beast — but Lucifer is all silver and honey, eager to please, and while Crowley doesn’t for a minute believe any of the adoring platitudes that come from his new slave’s mouth, he’s more than happy to use it while he can.
"Master," Lucifer murmurs, pushing boldly into Crowley’s embrace at the end of a hard day, "I’ve been so hard all day, just thinking of how well you were going to fuck me tonight, thinking of your cock inside me."
"As you should be, pet," Crowley says, and when Lucifer strains downward for a kiss Crowley gives him one — not because he cares but because he wants Lucifer to think he does.
That is, after all, The Devil’s plan — to cause Crowley’s heart to melt, to use him by being used until Crowley is ready to give him the world, then to take control; it’s a ploy Crowley’s used himself, or he might just as easily fall prey to it.
But he doesn’t, and when he pushes Lucifer down and slams into him, he doesn’t let himself break a sweat; he will not shed tears or blood or even perspiration for this silky seductive slave with his catlike smiles, but he will keep Lucifer thinking he’s falling in love, until the very last minute, and then he will break The Devil for good.
Behind a cut for simulated dub-con
He hasn’t learned the proper respect yet, but Sam knows ways to break the hardest of slaves (just look at Lucifer, gazing at him hungrily, in the corner, desperate for attention), and he expects this one will be no different. Gabriel is a sucker for sweets, Sam has learned, and he begins his conditioning by letting Gabriel have a lick of his chocolate-coated fingertips, but only if he goes to his knees. When Sam reaches between Gabriel’s legs with his other hand and tugs his cock, Gabriel moans and sucks hard on Sam’s fingers, but Sam withdraws them a minute later, making his slave whimper and complain.
"If you want more, you’ll be silent," Sam says, pressing a kiss to his slave’s spine, and Gabriel forces himself to relax — Sam knows his mind is racing now, trying to control the want that’s ripping through his body. But soon Gabriel will learn that submission isn’t necessarily defeat, and when his hole swallows the meat of Sam’s cock and he starts to arch back into the touch, Sam thinks he may just end up a surprisingly quick study.
He’s proud; his chin lifts and his eyes look down on Castiel, even when they’re at equal heights — no, even when Dean is on his knees he’s looking down at him. He thinks he’s too good for this life, and Castiel has to agree — he’s like wild horses Castiel has seen, even proud once they’ve been broken, and the last thing he’d want to do is break this beautiful stallion’s spirit.
So he offers himself up as sacrifice, sprawls out nude on the rug by the hearth and utters the command “Please me”— and Dean is well-enough trained as a slave that he obeys, lowering his mouth to Castiel’s bare form with brushfire-whispering lips that give way to savage teeth and tongue. He’s masterful, and Castiel’s almost ready to let him do whatever he will, when the hard lump of Dean’s cock brushes against him in passing and he knows he must turn the tables. He orders Dean to still, to relax and open his arms to Castiel’s own pleasures, and by the time Castiel is done Dean is brought down enough to shudder and whimper a plea— looking up to Castiel at last, if only to drag him down with demanding hands and trap him in a kiss.
Under a cut for offensive language.