#knightofhell!dean

The hallway briefly reverberated to the sounds of Zeppelin when a set of heavy, ornate doors opened, admitting the Queen Consort of Hell. 

The sound system cuts off as she crosses the anterior area to the bedchamber, where she flung herself face down onto the oversized bed in frustration.

“Something vexes thee?” The whiskey-roughened voice of the Queen’s fraternal polyandry consort inquired, and she lifted her head, seeing black instead of green eyes.

“I didn’t tell you to stop!” He soundly smacks the naked female demon riding his cock bare thigh, leaving a vivid red handprint, and orders her to turn around.

The Queen Consort shifts to observe the demon, hands bound in a pair of binding cuffs behind her back, awkwardly maneuvering around on the mattress and into reverse cowgirl whimpers. 

“What did I say about no noise!” 

The Knight of Hell’s voice vibrates in staccato and abruptly sits up, grabs his current sex toys braided hair in one hand, yanks the demon into a painful arch while gripping his engorged member, glistening with their combined fluids, and notch his cockhead between her swollen pussylips forcibly slides her back down onto his shaft then shoves her head down to touch the mattress between his bowed legs again reclines in repose against the bed’s pillows.

The demon quietly straightens up and resumes bouncing. 

The Queen watched her consort close his black eyes, breath puffing out from between his slightly parted, succulent lips as his toned muscles flex periodically under the slight softness of his stomach in response to the hot, slick, velvety channel intermittently clenching around him.

The Queen Consort briefly flicked her eyes back to the demon who was striving to hold off orgasming until permitted, closed hers, listening to the rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh and occasional squelch, felt herself becoming aroused, rubbing her thighs together, desiring friction felt his hand sliding in between, his thick fingers stroking over her mound.

 “I can smell how wet you are,” that made her reopen her eyes, watching his shift to their sultry chartreuse. “I wanna taste your sweetness,” Dean runs his tongue slowly over his plump lips, wetting them to emphasize how much he wants her riding his face. 

The Queen Consort removes the Knights hand, slides off the bed, and exits without a backward glance.

“All right, meetings over..everybody out!” 

Several members of Boykings council jumped in their seats, spinning to see the Knights Of Hell standing in the doorway with black eyes and red flannel-clad arms crossed, conveying he was not joking. 

They nervously turn back to his elegantly dressed brother seated at the head of the table, reading the document in his hands.

 “We are in the middle of something. Whatever it is can wait.”

“No.”

The Boyking’s kaleidoscope eyes focused on his older sibling. 

Dean could be a pain in the ass on a good day, but today wasn’t a good day, and Sam was not in the mood to deal with him.

“What was that you said?”

“You heard me..”

“..come back later.”

“No.”

Except for the set of his shoulders conveying his annoyance, the Boyking sat expressionless, allowing his vantage point to notice the visible outline of his brother's substantial cock straining against the jeans material. He was now curious as to why.

“Fine, state your business.” 

“That’s the problem.”

“What problem?”

“Family Business.”

The Boyking blinked, not following his knight's train of thought. What did Family Business have to do with this?

 “Dean, I don’t have time to decipher your nonsense.”

The Knight walked to the table, placing his hands on the edge and leaning forward, “Fallen can into my room.”

“Dean.”

 “Where I was breaking in my latest toy..”

“..Dean.”

 “Turned down fun time, and we both know how much Fallen loves..”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DEAN!!!” 

Sam’s eyes transformed into glistening onyx as his chair flew backward, shattering upon the stone wall in a fury created by his brothers' flagrant disregard of his mandate that what happened in private stayed private, mimics Dean's stance.

The council members didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash, knowing that drawing either Winchester's attention would result in their demise. They were finally ordered to leave and, as silently as possible, gathered their items and escaped the oncoming storm.

“Crowley,” the former King of Hell stops, “finish going over those details we discussed, and any discrepancies you find, notify me immediately.” 

“Of course, Sam,” the contract-savvy demon replied, smirking, “Squirrel,” and departs.

“Now that you have my undivided attention, we’ll finish this discussion privately.” Pushing off the table, Sam walked passed his brother, knowing he’d follow.

The word spread fast among the Citadels residents when there was trouble between the Winchesters, not a damned soul was to be found in its vast hallways. 

Dean threw himself on the oversized leather couch as Sam crossed to a tall cabinet pressing on an ornately carved panel, opened a hidden compartment, pulled out a crystal decanter, and, after pouring two fingers of a liquid into a matching tumbler, moved to stand before the lit fireplace still fuming. 

“You interrupted a congress that has been in progress since I acquired my Consort.”

Dean gets up, “I don’t think our Consort, the Queen Of Heaven, Hell, and Earth, would appreciate being referred to as acquired like one of those goddamn dusty tomes you still collect.” Snatching the glass from his brother swallows half its contents in one go.

 “And for the record, you got to give her a name, not me. So as I see it, since she favors both of us in sexual congress, I’m entitled to call her whatever I want.” 

“You named her after a fucking Jessica Drake porno!”

“You know Jessica Drake’s stuff?” 

“You damn well know I watch porn too!” Sam huffed, “figured you’d pick something more like what was her name? The one you nailed from those Casa Erotica videos.”

Dean bites on his full bottom lip remembering the Good Faith Church’s APU chastity counselor Suzy Lee and ex-porn star Carmelita.

“Even if Y/N permits it, it still doesn’t give you the right to call her that publicly.”

Dean smirked, “So what’s it to be, Sammy? Cutting out my tongue or,” running a finger across his throat, making a wet noise.

“One day, I might have to.”

That stopped the smartass retort forming on the Knights lips watched Sam's broad shoulders sag before softly inquiring, “Remember how I was before her?”

Dean threw back the rest of the drink, recollecting his brothers' suffering.

Their existence in the Underlands progressed from months to years to decades; they found the Knight couldn’t replenish his superior blood fast enough, forcing Sam too, once again, resort to feeding from inferior demons during the in-between times. 

Dean even briefly flirted with bringing Ruby back from the Empty for his brothers' exclusive use in whatever manner of choosing but scrapped the idea after observing Sam’s increased feeding leading to his excessive overindulgence in pussy and, much to his displeasure, others' cocks. 

It began a cycle of spiraling the Boyking into physical pain and melancholy and knowing Ruby, the demon, would manipulate him for gains like before.

 “Yeah, Sammy, I remember,” he replies in such a quiet tone his brother pauses before switching back to the initial reason his anger kindled.

 “I guess I can’t keep this a secret from you anymore. That meeting you interrupted was the latest counsel referendum about options to fortify our defenses.”

“Fortifi..what the fucks going on, Sam?”

“Cas received a message from Joshua warning Heaven's incursion is imminent.”

“We have an ironclad deal with those dicks to stay outta each other's realms!”

“When we were in that prison realm, Y/N indicated there was a chance that the Angels would interpret removing her as a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

 “God wants her restored upon all the thrones.” 

 “You brought her here knowing that and said nothing?!”  Dean twists his free hand into his short hair, a leftover trait from his human days, indicating he’s freaking the fuck out. 

“That wasn’t a referendum, Sam, it was a Greek Referendum…and you’re taking the rest of us down with you!!” He barked in a tone that once would have brought his kid brother to a heel then Dean's expression shifted to trepidation.

 “Did Joshua say how much time we have before those dicks attack?” The Boyking started to divulge when, “Holdup, did he say anything about Chuck coming back?”

“Chuck never left, and some time ago, someone resumed publishing his new writing...” 

“All this goddamn time, you knew and said nothing!” Dean's eyes flared black and threw the empty tumbler into the fireplace hearth, followed by a swing toward Sam's jaw, but it ended up quashed when a sensation flairs deep within, doubling the Knight over, and falls to his knees. 

“You never learn.” 

Dean peered up as Sam loomed over him with his imposing stature, and his eyes changed, not into the common onyx or the occasional yellow, denoting his actual status.

Instead, they transitioned into an ethereal luminosity. 

“You’ve gotten away with things not because you’re a Knight of Hell but my brother,” Sam sighed, “but today you undermined my authority in front of the entire counsel because you never could shut the fuck up!”

The Boykings' attention transferred as the Queen Consort entered the chambers and glanced at the kneeling Knight moves to stand beside Sam, tipped her head back eyes fixated on him. 

Sam cups his Consorts jaw, and leaned over, gently kissing her before responding to her inquiry, “Yes, it’s time.”  

Y/N walked backward, motioning for Sam to follow began removing her clothes, and smiled as he stripped off his jacket and began unbuttoning the shirt. 

“Dean, do you remember the last time we punished you for insubordination?" Sam glanced back and saw his brother's cock once again straining against the material of his jeans. "How we bound you, used you as nothing but a toy for our pleasure? Then Y/N inserted something that kept you orgasming.” 

Dean closed his eyes at the memories and felt the sensation that’d dropped him morph into that long-ago pleasure. Groaning, he groped for the zipper and, in frustration, ripped his jeans open, freeing his turgid cock starts stripping wire.

“Guess you’ve figured out she didn’t remove it,” Dean's eyes snapped open and saw Sam, lying naked on an oversized chaise chair with Y/N leaning back on his chest, legs splayed over his playing with her dripping pussy, stripped his cock faster, “Or what it's intended for.” 

Pausing his self-pleasure watched his brothers vast hands wrap around his consorts' hips and her face contorts into painful pleasure as he roughly fucks his substantial cock into her cunt repeatedly, using her as nothing more than a fleshlight rasped...

“If you’d have just done as asked Dean, freely consume her grace, wouldn’t have had to resort to this.”

The Knight's hand froze as his brother's words penetrated his pleasure-clouded mind, “What’d you do?”

“It’s the only way to get you to join us.” 

The Knight, hearing the Consorts ethereal voice after years of silence, watched her double-tap Sam’s hand, and he slowed his thrusting into a gentle rolling motion. 

“That drink was..wasn’t only alcohol,” she stumbled over her words as the Boykings' long fingers teased her clit, keeping her on edge, “infused with my grace to act..activate the Ovi in you...”

“THE WHAT IN ME?!”

”You inspired the idea, your erotic anime thing, which led her into hentai,” Sam says, “and Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“That Ovi she implanted contains an undiluted dose of her grace,” Sam sighed, ”If you’d only supped from each other, it would’ve been...”

“Would’ve been what, Sammy?”

“When the casing finish’s deteriorating, your body will absorb her Grace which won’t be pleasant, be far worse than the Demon Curing Ritual.” His brothers' countenance pitched darker than the Empty, “But I’ll do anything to keep those feathery dicks outta here.” 

The Boyking snapped his fingers, and a clear, squishy orb encapsulated the Knight felt his consorts' confusion answers..

“You’re the one who inquired about vores.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid

    Castiel’s heart clenched at the jet black of Dean’s eyes.  His grace keened, filling his own, nearly white-hot.  Through his own powers, he could nearly see their light splashed on Dean’s blood-soaked chest.  Gleaming against offal that threatened the man’s sanity.

    It is not too late.  I have not lost you yet.  “Dean,” he breathed.  From the corner of his eye, he could see that vile mark, bright as blood, singing in tandem with Dean’s rapid heartbeat under his crimson-streaked fingers.

    You will not take him, he stated.  Impulse drove him then.  He fed his grace into every inch of skin that touched Dean’s.  Pushed his power against the bond of Hell, clawing at it like a wildcat. This man did not deserve such punishment.  His choices were driven by love and loyalty.  A thing to be honored.  He would not let Dean be destroyed by the very kindness that simmered so sweetly in man’s injured soul.

    I will not lose you.  He leaned in, a twitch of hesitation, before he kissed Dean’s jaw with feather-light touches.  Tasting iron, sweat, skin and Dean as he moved.  Dean’s heart began to slow; still rapid but nowhere near the timpani from before.  He shifted again, lips brushing Dean’s cheekbones and forehead.  He whispered Enochian that would bow the greatest of religious acolytes.  Rained his grace upon a man so lost, he thought only his end would protect him.

   You deserve to be saved.  Tears spilled from his eyes, each drop a hiss of pain on Dean’s fevered skin.  He swallowed and shifted to lay a single kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose, meeting those darkened depths again.

   A gem of green broke through, rays of warmth that drove the darkness back.  Under him, Dean screamed, writhing violently, as the last of that prison shattered.  The Mark flared, anger in its energies as it shriveled on Dean’s arm. Fell away like ash, leaving skin whole and unmarred.

    Drawing in great draughts of air, Dean stared up blindly.  His lashes fluttered as his eyes refocused, meeting Castiel’s.  “Cas,” he rasped, confusion crystal clear in the single word.  He raised a shaking hand, touching his brow, fingers curved as though to claw his eyes free. “What?  How did . .?”