Smutceptember 2025

“You’re so pretty underneath me,” Wes mutters, hands wandering up and down Leon’s sides. He shudders, cock already leaking from the praise and gentle touches- Wes wants to know what he’ll look like when he breaks. 

“Wes- haaahhh-” Leon pants when he licks another wide strip across his nipple, teeth scraping the already swollen bud. He cups Leon’s dick with his hand, and the man instinctively bucks his hips, whining when he pulls his hand away. 

“Patience, princess.” Wes grabs a clump of his hair, giving it a little tug that he knows will restart Leon’s brain. His darling moans, clearly fighting the urge to thrust as he goes back to stroking him, slow but firm.

He leans over, now attacking Leon’s other nipple with his tongue. With his other hand, he glides his nails along Leon’s sides, earning him a delicious whine.

His breath starts hitching, and when his boyfriend starts whimpering in a familiar way, Wes pulls away. Leon groans, still on the edge but no longer having any friction, hips twisting as he searches for some relief. “Wes- Wes- Wes-”

He presses a kiss to Leon’s neck, still refusing to touch him where he wants it. “You know what to say.”

He shivers, mouth opening and closing as Wes continues to lightly touch his abs. Eventually he says, “Love, please-”

Leon yelps when he sinks his teeth into his stomach, at the same time as he pushes a wet finger into his darling. Wes holds Leon’s hips down with his other hand as he fingers him open, keeping his mouth busy by sucking more hickies into Leon’s stomach.

He hears Leon whimper again and pulls away again, earning a frustrated groan as he pinches the base of his cock. “Ah ah ah, not yet.”

He keeps his hand there as he gives his own neglected dick a few strokes, only moving it to firmly grasp Leon’s hips. “Say it.”

His boyfriend pants, and Wes can see a few tears slip out from under the blindfold. “Please-”

“Please what?”

“Plea- EASE!” Leon’s voice cracks as Wes pushes his cock in, legs trembling from the strain of keeping them open. Wes sighs, finally feeling pleasure running through his veins as he feels Leon quiver around him.

Wes starts moving, purposefully keeping his thrusts just shallow enough to never hit Leon’s prostate. The feeling of Leon writhing and squirming around him almost breaks his resolve, but Wes keeps a steady pace as Leon keeps begging, just repeating the word ‘please’ over and over again until-

“Master, please, let me cum!”

Finally, Wes stops holding back. His next thrust has their hips crashing together, which is all it takes for Leon. He screams as he covers his stomach and chest with cum, thrusting back against Wes as he rides out the rest of his orgasm. Wes keeps going until he joins Leon, his entire body on fire as he spills into his darling. 

It took several minutes for them to still, with Wes still balls deep as he slumps over. His heart is still racing as he smears Leon’s cum onto his cheek, and he swears that his brain needs a minute to restart. 

Although based on the fact that when Wes pulls out, Leon is still boneless beneath him, he may have accidentally broken his brain. Oops.

At some point in between Wes freeing Leon of the bondage and cleaning him up with a towel (helpfully left on a nightstand within arm’s reach because after Wes tops his legs become jelly and he didn’t want to crack his head on the floor again), Leon emerges from the foggy haze he’d been in. “Holy shit, that was good.”

Wes snorts, helping him sit up and letting Leon help wipe him down. He presses a gentle peck to his boyfriend’s lips, melting as he starts to take over the clean up duties, throwing the dirty towel into the hamper and grabbing their pajamas from the nightstand. “You took such good care of me. Let me handle this.”

“You don’t have to-”

He leans down, whispering into Wes’s ear as he slides a pair of boxers up his legs. “Master shouldn’t have to worry about such silly things as cleaning up, that’s what I’m here for~”

He shivers, eyes wide as Leon guides him into his pajamas. “Wh- you- that’s not- you can’t do that-!”

He chuckles, turning the lights off and pulling him close. Wes may be a mortal man, but he isn’t that easily distracted by cuddles and cozy sleepy time. He is a little more distracted by the kiss on his forehead, and Leon muttering, “Goodnight, love.”

Obviously Wes is nervous, given his history, and Leon will always reassure him. But the motion is also for himself; they’ve been making tentative forays into closer and closer intimacy, a world where Wes has been horribly abused in before. Every time, Leon has been terrified of fucking things up and hurting Wes more, and he thinks he’ll never not feel that twinge of anxiety when they lay together.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, love,” he mutters, feeling how Wes’s heart races in his embrace. He knows Wes feels guilty for not being able to give him “real sex,” as meaningless as that is, but how Wes truly feels is more important than any obligation he feels he has to fulfil.

His beloved shakes his head, lifting it to meet Leon’s gaze, and he can see both nerves and a steely determination in his eyes. “I’ll never be ready. I want to do this, I want you, I just…”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to push yourself…”

Wes grumbles a little. “No, its not… You’ve shown me so much. I- Sex hasn’t been good for me in the past, but I’m sure you can make it feel good.”

Oh. That’s a lot of faith- a lot of pressure. “Don’t- Don’t call it that…” Leon starts stammering and waving his other hand around as he tries to find the words he means. “And probably but it’s not like- I’d need some time to explore and figure out how to make you feel good.”

“Oh. Well, you can do that… However you do that…”

“Are you sure?” Leon asks again, his nerves getting the better of him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Wes gently reaches out and grasps Leon’s hands, raising them to his lip and pressing a gentle peck to his knuckles, sending Leon’s heart racing. “I trust you, Darlin.”

“Okay.” Leon sighs. “You’re going to need to get undressed then.”

Wes curls his fingers, digging his nails into the skin of Leon’s palms, and he can see how his boyfriend tenses up. “Can- Can you also…?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They separate, moving to opposite sides of the bed. With years of practice, Leon strips quickly and efficiently, tossing his clothes into the hamper next to the closet. After he grabs the lube from the nightstand, he turns back around and takes a moment to take in Wes’s body.

There’s a twinge in his heart as he can see the ribs peeking out of his sides, the tattoo above his pelvis, the myriad of scars that cover his beloved’s body. But it’s overridden by seeing the lean muscles that he’s built up, the little bit of fat that they’d managed to work up around his thighs, the hickies that Leon had left earlier in the day around his neck and jaw. Like always, his boyfriend is a jewel from the desert, clearly worn and polished from the sand but gleaming brightly despite it.

“Come here,” Leon says, scooting to the middle of the bed. When Wes moves to meet him, he reaches out his free hand to pull him the rest of the way. He pulls him as close as body, making sure as much of their bare skin is touching as possible when he lays Wes down on the blankets beneath them.

He sees the initial fear in Wes’s eyes, so he closes the distance between them, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. He tastes the gasp on Wes’s tongue when he opens his mouth, and Leon presses deeper as he lets his hands move on autopilot, wandering up and down his body. His beloved is hot to the touch, rutting against him when Leon slides a leg between his, and he can feel Wes relax as he continues to touch and grope.

When he pulls away, Wes is panting, a hazy glaze over his eyes and fear nowhere to be seen. Gorgeous; and Leon doesn’t realize he said that out loud until Wes moans.

“You’re so perfect for me,” Leon continues talking as he spreads Wes’s legs, massaging his thighs as he does his best to keep his boyfriend in that relaxed state. “So beautiful. Just relax, you’re so tense for me… that’s it, good job, love.”

Another pang goes through his heart when he sees the scars around Wes’s entrance, remembering the glimpses into the horrors of his past through bits and pieces of Wes’s nightmares. But as he warms the lube on his fingers, seeing how his beloved’s dick is hard and how he shudders under his touch, he reminds himself that Wes is here with him now, and Leon intends on giving him the best damn orgasms of his life.

He circles his finger around Wes’s rim, but pauses when Wes takes a shaky breath. With his other hand, he lifts Wes’s leg so he can press a kiss to the inside of his knee. “You doing alright, love?”

Wes nods, curling his fingers into the bedding beneath him. He’s still relaxed, so Leon gives him another kiss as he presses his finger past the ring of muscle and actually entering him. He keeps his pace slow and steady as he pushes it further in, occasionally pausing to let Wes adjust, until his finger is fully encased up to his hand.

Leon keeps an eye on Wes as he starts rocking it in and out, making sure he can move without resistance before pushing his second finger in. There’s no sign of pain or discomfort, although he can tell that his boyfriend isn’t enjoying himself. Well, now that Wes is fully opened up, Leon can fix that.

It takes a few minutes for Leon to find his prostate, but after he twists his wrist and curls his fingers just right, he finds the little bundle of nerves. Wes shrieks, bucking his hips into his hand as he shakes with pleasure. Just to make sure he remembers where it is, he pumps his fingers in and out and curls them again, watching as his beloved stops thinking.

“That’s it,” Leon says, watching Wes tremble and a bit of drool slip out of the corner of his mouth. His cock is leaking onto his stomach, and he’s flushed red and panting. Beautiful. “I bet you could cum just from my fingers.”

Wes moans, bucking his hips. “Please please please please please-”

“As you wish.” Leon thrusts his fingers in again, watching Wes’s eyes roll into the back of his head and legs start to tremble. He deftly strokes his prostate, memorizing the feeling of Wes’s ass as he brings him closer and closer to the edge. Without thinking, he uncurls his thumb, and it brushes against Wes’s balls-

His beloved cums, a whine that’s borderline animalistic falling from his lips as he spills all over himself. No longer able to ignore it, Leon uses his free hand to grab his own cock, and one stroke is all it takes for him to join Wes in orgasming.

The sight of Wes, covered in both Leon’s cum and his own, body fully relaxed and a glaze over his eyes as he has a dopey smile on his face, the most at peace that Leon ever sees him; something within Leon is pleased that he’s the one who made Wes feel so good.

He lets his boyfriend rest as he works on cleaning them both up, smiling at the little satisfied noises Wes makes when he wipes him down with a towel. Once they were both in pajamas and the dirty towels and bedding had joined their clothes in the hamper, Leon scoops him up and tucks them both into bed.

“Holy shit.”

Leon can’t help but chuckle, brushing his fingers through Wes’s hair as he cuddles closer. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

His sentence is ended with a yawn, and so he decides to close his eyes and let sleep take him, basking in the warmth of his beloved and the pleasant haze that still clings to him. As he drifts off to sleep, one thought crosses his mind.

Leon cuts him off, pressing a gentle kiss to Wes's lips. "I love you very much, which is why I don't want you to get arrested."

"It's self defense, it's justified-"

"Love." Leon presses a finger to his lips. Now that Wes is closer, he can feel how his Darling is trembling, how his eyes have a glassy sheen to them.

"I'm sorry," Wes mutters, a pit opening up in his stomach. "I should've broken that bitch's fingers before she got too close, not afterwards."

"Wes." Leon says, tone firm and steady. "I'm okay, really. I just wanna move on."

Wes presses closer to him, feeling the boner through his shorts. "Well, let me make it up to you, hmm?"

Leon flushes suddenly, looking over Wes's head in a panic. "We're in an alley- someone could-"

Wes shushes him, letting his hands wander beneath the waistband of Leon's shorts. "Someone could see what a Champion time you're having?"

He drops to his knees, finally freeing Leon's cock from his boxers, and meets his eyes. His boyfriend gasps and squirms just from his breath, and his voice is shaking. "Are you sure?"

Instead of answering verbally, he opens his mouth, taking the tip of Leon's cock. Above him, his boyfriend moans as Wes slides forwards, head spinning as he's surrounded by Leon's scent. He doesn't have a gag reflex, so he can take his entire dick in his mouth.

As he kneels there, looking up at his Darling, seeing him whine and fall apart just by the movements of Wes's tongue, the tilting of his head, the glide of his lips up and down the shaft; Wes doesn't think he quite gets why Leon likes doing this so much, but he can understand seeing his boyfriend enjoy himself and feeling all the blood rush to his dick.

"Fuck- fuck- Wes I'm gonna-"

He pulls off of Leon, hearing a frustrated groan above him. Instead, Wes closes his eyes, and licks a long stripe on the underside of Leon's cock.

He feels the hot cum splattering across his face, grinning as his boyfriend ruts against his face riding out the rest of his orgasm. He licks his lips, pleasantly surprised at the taste of Leon's cum. He didn't know it could taste good.

"Love-" Wes feels Leon grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet, and his eyes flutter shut as he feels Leon wipe his face with a handkerchief. "Let me clean you up."

"Mmm, let them see how good I treat you~"

"I love you so much, but you are absolutely not going to walk around with cum on your face."

"But then they'd know I'm yours-"

Wes is on his back, his skin crawling as hands hold him down. He kicks and squirms, trying to escape, but all he hears is laughter as the hands pull his pants off of him. He can't do anything as the older grunts grab his ankles, spreading his legs for the leering crowd.

He chokes as someone yanks on his collar, forcing his lips open as someone shoves the barrel of a gun into his mouth. He stills instinctively, eyes tearing up as the cold metal pushes towards his throat.

"Stop squirming, brat!" Agrev snarls, using one hand to keep the gun in place as he rips his boxers off with the other. "Actually... keep him still."

The hands strengthen their grip on him, keeping him pinned as his stomach sank and he realizes what is happening. Wes thrashes, screaming and crying as the gun is pulled from his mouth and his legs are pulled further apart.

"Stop, please!" He begs, fully sobbing now. "Please stop please please stop don't stop don't stop please no-!"

"WES!"

Something snaps in his mind, and suddenly he's no longer a scrawny teen trapped in a dingy room by Team Snagem. He's in Leon's penthouse, sitting on the plush bedding across from his boyfriend.

Leon is crouched across from him, eyes intently watching him with a Corviknight's gaze. He relaxes a little when he sees that Wes's eyes meet his, silently holding his hands out, palms up, offering without demanding.

Awareness trickles in as Wes reaches back, placing his hands in Leon's. His back is against the headboard (which is also plush), with his legs curled up against his chest, and he's shirtless but otherwise his pants are still on.

"Love," Leon mutters, gently running his thumbs over Wes's knuckles. "Are you back?"

Wes nods, making some sort of noise as he does so. Leon pulls his hands to him, pressing a few gentle kisses to his knuckles. "Can I hold you?"

"Yeah." Leon lets go of his hands, scooching over and pulling Wes into his lap. A jolt of fear goes up his spine as he feels Leon's boner when he slumps against Leon's chest, but it quickly passes and is replaced by a stab of guilt. Fuck. He asked Leon to have sex and then freaked out and now he has to comfort him.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, Wes." Leon wipes away the tears gathering in his eyes. "No, I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry. What did I do wrong?"

Wes tries to cast his brain before the flashback, but he shakes his head. "I- I don't remember. Sorry."

"That's alright." Wes relaxes in Leon's arms as he starts rubbing his back. "We don't- you don't need to do anything else, just take it easy, okay?"

You don't need to do anything else.

As he listens to Leon's heartbeat, something occurs to him. Wes said stop, and Leon stopped. He had told him before, that if Wes told him to stop his boyfriend would always stop, but its as if his brain didn't really believe him until it happened.

Wes feels tears running down his face, and Leon holds him close as he sobs into his embrace. He can't explain why, how the world seems to be tilted on its side suddenly, but Leon doesn't say anything as he continues to rub Wes's back. He can't explain how its both terrifying and freeing that Leon is right, that the people who hurt him in the past were wrong and that his voice shouldn't have been trampled over.

//

It was a hard day on set, or a hard week rather. Link coped by making it harder for everyone around him. However, sometimes that’s just not enough, and he needs actual R&R. Hence his lingering outside past his scenes, and the pills he washes down now with a swig of carbonated water. He sprawls on the bench he’d been littering around to mess with the prop guys, and runs his fingers down his archaic costume as his lids start drooping and his body gets heavier. Now, he can only hope Secro delivers.

He’s been waiting around enough that he’d be tapping his foot if he wasn’t effectively paralysed, by the time he hears hoots and calls that tell him he’s slumped enough his tunic has ridden up. He spares a thought to thank the costume people that decided he’d go without modesty shorts for realism as he feels himself hoisted up and then the edge of a table digging into his hipbones. Voices overlap for a minute, and stop making sense, but it doesn’t really matter because it doesn’t take long for someone (Secro? Someone else, capable of independent thought for once?) is spreading his arse with rough fingers and pushing inside him with no care and insufficient lube. The sensations are somewhat dulled by the drugs, but he knows that won’t be a problem for long.

A rush of air leaves his lungs, the only reaction afforded to him in his semiconscious state, as hands move him forward and back on the table in rhythm with the dick thrusting inside of him. It’s a rocking, almost dizzying motion, that adds to his haze. It’s pathetically soon when the man comes inside him, but he’s appreciative all the same for the hard spank that lands on him as he pulls out. The sound resonates through the room, and the men watching on turn to each other, ready to pretend ignorance in case the actor wakes up.

‘What the hell,’ shrugs one of them. ‘He didn’t wake from that, I say we’re safe.’

He replaces Secro behind the drowsing man, and figuring the former’s sperm is enough lube, unceremoniously pushes in. There’s been muttered jeers and the usual rumours around the set about whatever Link does in his off nights, but he figures if he’s not using his hole to get ahead with the producers he’s twice the fool. Even knocked out like this, the muscles on his channel try for a tenuous grip on his cock that has him ramming it in harder, sparing a quick thought to what he’d do if Link were to wake up, after all, and concluding the indignation on his face would be worth it all the same. His movements are careless, obviously not trying to please anyone but himself, and he comes inside the unconscious man soon enough.

That seems to give the men that have started crowding around some sense of security, and it takes less time for someone to take over, feeding his cock into Link’s unsuspecting arse. He’s just getting used to the situation when another man steps up opposite him, considering the blonde’s lax expression for a moment before he’s pulling out his dick to press it against his mouth. Initially, he just rubs himself against those parted lips, but there’s something about seeing the calm in his attractive face unaware of the defiling his body is currently going through, and he can’t hold himself for long before he’s holding his mouth open with his thumbs and experimentally pushing inside. Link’s breath becomes laboured as his head is held in place so the cock in his mouth can reach deeper, but he doesn’t wake up.

‘What did I tell you all?’ The man huffs in disdain as he pokes the inside of Link’s cheek so the outline of his dick is visible from the outside. ‘Bitch’s drooling around my cock, and asleep like a log. Bet if he had this every night he wouldn’t need those damn sleeping pills, huh?’

No shit, Sherlock. The internal roll Link’s eyes give at that doesn’t stop him from revelling in the degrading words. And they seem to break some sort of spell that was holding the others back, as soon there’s more hands on his body. He’s groped and slapped, nails dragged across his chest and fingers pinching his arse. His limp hands are wrapped around dicks he hopes won’t spill until they’re inside him, even as he’s filled again.

Link splutters and coughs when the man fucking his face comes, the reflex making him tense around the cock in his arse, and even as he feels the warm liquid trail down his lower lip he’s got the werewhital to hope that won’t scare the men away. He shouldn’t have worried, the men have decided he’s apparently not waking up until morning, and all that happens is the man getting ready to use his leaking mouth rolls his hair around his fist to hold him up and slaps his cock firmly across his face twice before pushing inside. He’s so thick Link’s cheeks hollow on their own whenever he pulls out. The tears that spill from his eyes as his body tries to gag around the head do nothing but entice the men waiting their turn into rubbing their cocks on their trail.

Link lets his body be overtaken by the sensations, he knows he can’t get hard like this and it will still take more for him to come at all, but he also knows it will be all the better when he does. After the man who first claimed his mouth there’s been sadly a drop in the degradation, not that he expected much from the guys whose creativity’s stumped at SFX, so he spaces out for most of it and focuses on the relentless fucking instead. A door opens heavily, and the hands holding his hips hesitate, but he’s got an idea of the location security team and this is only confirmed when the newcomers opt to join.

‘I always knew that arse was made for taking cocks.’

‘Just look at that face, that’s what you call sweet dreams.’

‘Wonder what the little slut would say if he could see himself.’

‘How many loads has he taken?’

That, Link wouldn’t be able to answer. The sperm drying on his face is just a distant sensation, and whilst he can feel his hole dripping with it he’s too drunk on pleasure to even try and guess the number, even if he could speak. When the men around him can only hazard a guess, the man who asked gets a marker from somewhere to keep the tally. The man fucking him comes, and Link feels the cool felt tip against the back of his thighs before he’s flipped onto his back. He snores at the change of position, which elicits laughter from the crowd.

‘See, this is the most comfortable environment for this whore.'

With that, his legs are folded over himself so he can get mating pressed as two men try to beat each other at coming in his mouth. His lips strain with it, and he gasps for air to no one’s concern. When he’s taken both loads deep in his throat with minimal gagging, someone straddles his chest to fuck the shallow valley between his pecks. If he was conscious and had an available mouth, he’d open to catch his release. As is, with the biggest cock he’s sucked bulging out his throat, it merely lands over the swell of it.

Even with the constant of the marker on his skin, he loses count of how many times he’s taken like this. His hole is so sore it twitches with every thrust, his throat is raw but can’t stop swallowing around the ever revolving lineup of dick and his nipples can’t stiffen no matter how hard they’re pinched; he’s in paradise. He’s unbalanced momentarily as the man fucking him shifts him around, and before he can understand what’s happened he finds himself suspended by the legs midair, a second cock pressing against the stretched muscles of his arsehole. It’s big, and Link wonders if they’re purposefully doing this as hard as they can, thinking he’d hate it. When he finally gets a grip inside him and enters him so brutally he can feel his bollocks against his skin in one stroke, Link feels his soft prick dripping. So how’s that for hating it?

Either the men don’t realise or they don’t care, fucking into him like they’ve got something to prove. He rides out his pleasure as he’s used like a fleshlight, each of the men trying to give it to him harder than the other. When the first one comes, he’s so put out he slaps his arse a couple of times before pulling away. Link figures it’s a good enough tradeoff for not having a dick in his mouth right now. This gets solved quickly, as he’s laid over another man on the table so both his mouth and his hole are accessible. His hands are occupied soon enough, and it progresses until he’s taking two cocks on each end more often than not. The stretch on his arse is sublime, and the constant demand to be in his mouth is overwhelming in the best way possible.

After a while, an hour or five really; these men never last nearly enough, his hole is left empty for the first time since this started. If he had any control on his muscles he could try and clench himself closed. As is, he can only guess the gape he’s presenting to the room of men that in all fairness work under him, with his choked breaths as a background, for at least some of them seem to think they can work themselves to hardness again using his mouth. A finger presses down on his rim, stretching him more as the flow of sperm increases.

‘He looks so blown out, like a pussy.’

‘What, you’ve never seen a pussy before or something?’

‘Whatever, I wanna eat that out.’

Incredulous laughter follows, and Link doesn’t know what to expect when something cold and smaller than he’d like is pressed inside him. He doesn’t think he can actually fully wake up, but the men seem willing to risk anything at this point, if the fast flow of water inside him is anything to go by.

‘Dude, is that safe?’

‘Of course it’s safe.’ A hand presses over his – less flat than usual now– abdomen. ‘How else do you think sluts like him get clean?’

There’s the shade of nausea mounting in Link at the dual pressure on his belly. Too soon that’s over, and he makes a note to try that on his own later as the hand presses down until he’s spilling the water. It feels worse going out than it did when it was pumped inside him, and he doesn’t know how he’s not blushing, semiconscious or not. He’s still coming to terms with being washed out like a sextoy when he feels the press of a mouth on his sensitive hole. And he didn’t expect anything they’d do to him to be gentle, but he’s still surprised at how aggressibly even this can be. Between the rough sucking on his abused flesh and the strain on his mouth, he comes again. They notice, this time.

‘Did he just–’

‘He wasn’t even hard, was he?’

‘Look at the size of that thing, like we’d notice if he was hard!’

Link is smackdown average, thank you very much, but he can’t decide whether that makes the men’s disdain better or worse before the man working his arse switches his tongue for his hand. Not two fingers or three, but his entire hand pushing into him without stopping. It stretches him until he’s crying again and settles inside him against his beat up prostate.

‘Now he’s got something to cum about!’

And this is why Link insisted it had to be this way. He’s never been fisted with so little preparation, and he can feel his cock dribble because it’s so good it hurts. He lets out a sound between a snore and a groan around the cock hardening in his mouth, someone gives his untouched cock a slap and the fist inside him pushes further in. Link sighs when he feels what must be a watch bump past his prostate.

‘Be careful… I mean, he’s still got some scenes tomorrow, doesn’t he?’

‘Shut up, I could puppet him like this and his lines would have more credibility.’

‘What do you mean, lines? Whore like him doesn’t need lines to sell a movie.’

‘I don’t know about that.’ His mouth is freed as he’s hoisted up somewhat, and fingers pinch the corners of his swollen lips in turns to make them imitate speech as the man pitches his voice close to Link’s register. ‘I’m never happy unless there’s a fist up my–’

‘God, you sound too much like him!’ The hand on his arse starts nigh punching into him. ‘Pissing me off.’

‘How can you be mad at this cocksucker?’ Fingers press inside his mouth idly. ‘After he’s doing all this to please us.’

The fingers withdraw, and then a quick succession of men land their spit on his open mouth, or face if their aim sucks, which doesn’t surprise Link. He struggles swallowing, and so his mouth is tilted forward so it drips over his chest. He only registers the jeers distantly, mind melting at the constant assault of the fist inside his arse that twists and pushes like it wants to break him in two.

‘Look, you can see how good you’re ruining him!’

Someone calls, and the men that were losing interest after fucking a couple of loads into the blonde make a circle to see his belly bulding out as the man fisting him struggles to get the more muscled part of his forearm in him. The marker that had been left to the side after someone gave up trying to figure out for how many did the fist count makes a return, in careless words scribbled all over his front. Finally, the fist relents after Link’s cock drips an amount that promptly gets called pathetic and forgotten. But the show has imbued some energy into the attendants who leave the beers they were passing around to go another round inside him.

‘You said he was blown out, but look how you’ve left him!’

This is merely a token protest, for the man who complained is the first to slide under him, leaving room for someone else to go in with him. And he’s back to taking two cocks in his arse as someone holds his face up, as if examining him.

‘You brought that hose all the way here and couldn’t wash his face?’

‘What do you mean, he looks better like this!’

‘I guess…’ He flicks the corner of Link’s mouth with his cock, and it’s so derisive he’d come if he wasn’t drugged and wrung out. ‘What do you think he’d say, if he woke up like this?’

‘Like, once he’s done screaming from the doublestuffing? With a cock in his mouth?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Yeah. It’d be real fun, let me tell you that.’ As if imagining it, the man fucks into his arse harder. ‘I can just picture him, trying to lecture us between moans.’

‘Like he’d try. I think he’d just accept his place as a fleshlight.’ The marker again, this time in his face and Link can guess what they’re writing. ‘He’s passable at it, at least.’

‘Passable?’

‘Yeah, now that this idiot’s stretched him out.’ The man interrupts himself with a groan, as if to gainsay himself, as he comes into Link’s stretched arse and is promptly replaced. ‘Feels like fucking a water balloon.’

‘We should get a horse to fuck him.’

‘Are you stupid?’

‘What, now you care about the little slut?’ Someone’s fingers push into Link along with the cocks, tugging on his rim with enthusiasm. ‘Seemed happy to wash him inside out.’

‘There’s no bloody horses in this location, idiot.’

‘Figure we could still find a dog…’

‘What about these?’

The bunker had never felt so warm, so alive. The moment you opened your bedroom door, your breath caught, the glow of candles flickered along the bookshelves and table, painting the concrete walls in a soft amber glow. The room smelled faintly of leather and spice, Dean’s cologne, and the sweet, lingering notes of Castiel’s grace.

Dean leaned against the edge of your bed with that cocky little grin, a wrapped box in one hand, his green eyes gleaming. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice low and warm. “Hope you’re ready for a good night.”

Beside him, Castiel stood straighter, his blue tie loosened, eyes shining like he’d been waiting for this all day. “You deserve celebration,” he said simply, but his words carried that grounding weight that always set your heart aflutter. He held out a smaller package, wrapped neatly, carefully, just like him.

You laughed, giddy, cheeks heating as you stepped closer. Dean shoved his box into your hands first. “Go on, open mine. I wanna see your face.”

Inside, nestled in tissue, was a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny charm, an impala, detailed down to its little windows. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured…y’know, it’s like carryin’ Baby with you...but also me.”

Your heart squeezed. Before you could speak, Castiel’s gift was waiting patiently. You opened it and found a soft leather-bound journal, filled on the first page with his handwriting. His careful script read: Every thought I have of you is a gift. I hope you’ll fill these pages with your own.

You couldn’t stop the tears if you tried. “You two…” your voice cracked, and Dean was already pulling you into his chest, his arms secure, his lips pressing to your hair. Castiel’s hand followed to the small of your back, warm and steady.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Dean teased softly, though his voice was thick too. “We ain’t done yet.”

Castiel tilted your chin, his thumb brushing away a tear. “No…this night is only beginning.”

When they kissed you, Dean rough and hungry, tasting like whiskey and want, Cas deep and slow enough to make you shiver, you knew exactly what they meant. They laid you back on the bed, and together, they worshipped you.

Dean’s hands were hot, calloused, dragging down your sides like he couldn’t get enough of touching you, while Cas’s lips ghosted over every inch of exposed skin, murmuring words of praise that made your breath hitch.

“Look at her, Cas,” Dean growled, voice husky. “Perfect. Our girl.”

“You are divine,” Castiel whispered against your throat, his hand cupping your jaw. “Every part of you.”

They took their time, Dean kissing you fiercely until you gasped, Cas’s fingers gliding over your sides, his voice low in your ear reminding you of how cherished, how utterly theirs you were. Each touch was a vow remade on your skin.

The candles burned low, shadows flickering across the bunker walls as Dean peeled your clothes away with rough, eager hands. His lips found your neck while Cas’s palms smoothed over your bare skin.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Cas?” Dean’s voice rasped against your throat. His teeth grazed your skin, a soft bite making you arch. “She’s ours. All ours.”

Cas kissed just beneath your ear, his hand sliding between your thighs, tantalizingly slow. “Always. And tonight we show her.”

They moved in perfect contrast. Dean pushed your legs apart with a growl, while Cas knelt at the edge of the bed, his mouth trailing open-mouthed down your stomach. When his lips brushed the inside of your thigh, you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets.

Dean smirked, leaning down to kiss you hard, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as Cas’s mouth finally descended, tongue sliding through your wet heat with unhurried strokes.

“Oh, Cas!” Your cry was muffled against Dean’s mouth, and he swallowed it with a low groan.

“That’s it, baby. Let him taste you.” Dean’s hand came up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple while Cas worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue making your hips jerk.

Every time you whimpered, Cas moaned into you like he was tasting something divine, his hands holding you open, steady. Dean pulled back just long enough to watch, his eyes dark with heat. “Fuck, Cas. Look how close she is already.”

You tugged at Dean’s shirt, needy, and he stripped it off in a rush, his muscles gleaming in candlelight. He shoved his jeans down just enough, grinning when you reached for him. “That what you want, sweetheart? Hm? Want us both?”

“Yes...please!”

Dean kissed you again, filthy and rough, before pulling back to guide himself to your mouth. “Open up for me.”

The stretch was so good, your tongue swirling around the thick weight of his cock while Cas kept you pinned, his tongue relentless, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. Dean’s head fell back with a groan, his hand buried in your hair. “Shit, baby, that mouth...gonna make me lose it.”

Your moans vibrated around him, and he gripped your hair tighter. Cas lifted his head, chin wet, eyes blazing as he looked up at you like you were heaven. “She is ready for us, Dean.”

Dean pulled free from your lips, his thumb swiping the spit from your mouth as he grinned down at you. “Yeah. Time to give our girl what she deserves.”

They moved you together, Dean sliding behind you, guiding you onto his lap, the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance. “Take me, baby,” he groaned into your ear as he sank in, stretching you wide, filling you to the hilt.

Your cry broke out, and Cas caught your face in his hands, kissing you fiercely, swallowing every sound. “Perfect,” he whispered. “You are perfect.”

Dean’s thrusts rocked you, deep and steady, his arms banded tight around your waist. “That’s it, baby, ride me...just like that.”

Then Cas pressed closer, his hand guiding himself against your lips, his voice rough. “Let me have you too.”

Dean growled in approval, his teeth nipping your shoulder. “Open for him. Take us both. Let us worship you right.”

The world narrowed to the two of them, Dean’s thick length pounding you from behind, Cas filling your mouth, his hand gentle on your cheek, his voice breaking as he murmured praise.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as they gave you everything, Dean snarling against your skin, Cas groaning your name like a prayer. When you shattered, it was earth-shattering, but they kept going.

Dean’s voice was ragged in your ear, a growl wrapped in heat. “That’s it, baby...fuck! You think we’re done? Not even close. You’re gonna cum again. Gonna give us everything.”

Cas moaned low in his throat, pulling free from your lips with a pop. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you. “You are radiant,” he whispered, his blue eyes molten. “And tonight, we’ll worship you until you can no longer speak anything but our names.”

Dean’s fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts, dragging broken whimpers out of you. You tried to squirm, the pleasure overwhelming, but he locked an arm around your middle. “No running, sweetheart. You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna let us love you like you deserve.”

Cas lowered his mouth to your breast, sucking at your nipple, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, while Dean kept grinding you open from behind. You came again, screaming, clenching so hard that Dean’s growl turned feral.

“Fuck, she’s squeezin’ me like a vice,” he snarled, holding you tighter as your body convulsed.

But Cas wasn’t done. His fingers replaced his mouth, twisting and tugging at your peaked nipple, his other hand stroking down between your thighs, joining Dean in working your swollen clit. “One more,” Cas commanded, his voice like thunder. “Give us one more.”

You cried out, the intensity too much, tears streaking down your cheeks as they pushed you over again, your body writhing between them, your throat raw from moaning their names.

Dean groaned through his teeth, spilling inside you. Cas followed soon after, his release painting your stomach as he kissed you fiercely, swallowing your sobbing moans.

Finally, they slowed. Dean eased out of you carefully, murmuring against your hair, “That’s my girl. So goddamn good.” He laid you gently on the bed, his rough hand surprisingly tender as he smoothed it down your thigh.

Cas retrieved a warm cloth, cleaning you carefully while Dean held your hand. Cas pressed soft kisses to your belly, your thighs, anywhere his mouth could reach, whispering, “You are everything. You are loved.”

Dean chuckled softly, still catching his breath, pulling the blanket up over you. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” he admitted, brushing your hair back with a gentleness that didn’t match his earlier roughness.

They settled on either side of you, Cas’s chest a cool, steady weight against your back while Dean tucked your head under his chin. Both kissed you, slow and sweet, until your body relaxed, every tremor soothed.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Dean murmured against your hair.

“Eternally,” Castiel added, eyes heavy but full of devotion.

And out of everything they have given you, you knew there was no better gift than them.

He’s forgotten to eat, say, for a week at least. Although he doesn’t need it, there’s something dizzying about the empty feeling he gets after a couple of days. Just like he doesn’t need to sleep, but he thinks he could use it. Now, however, Adam is comforted by those deprivations. Or rather, their baseline abundance.

He doesn’t know if he starts it or Michael, and he doesn’t notice when his hips begin shifting against the duvet. He hums, pleased, and presses circles over his hipbones with his fingers. His ankles are uncrossed, a knee bending for better leverage as Michael’s grace extends down his body, so soft it’s a step above desultory. Any more and it’d be an irritant. His stomach feels newly empty in a way that leverages the building pleasure.

He doesn’t need the oxygen from breathing, but rather the movement on his airway, and when this becomes difficult from the cotton, or microfabric or whatever it really is, he turns over. The streetlights coming in through his window have him hugging the pillow he just escaped tightly over his eyes.

He lets out a yawn he can’t hear, and squeezes his duvet between his thighs, letting Michael pleasure them in this understated, clement fashion. His mouth hangs open and when he comes it’s in sudden bursts of ecstasy that bloom across his body, warmth radiating from his throat and in his shaking lips, the backs of his knees tingling as they twitch.