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There’s a tray of sweets sitting in front of him. Sam counted a total of thirty on the silver platter - cupcakes, cookies, donuts, and scones. He notices that most of the sweets are covered in frosting or filled with cream. Understandably, Sam was confused.
“You have me tied up… for this?” He scowls, glaring up at the King of Hell before him, “what are you going to do, exactly? Eat them in front of me and hope that it’s torturous enough to hear your godawful chewing and relentless smacking like the pig you are?”
The King of Hell aka Crowley acts offended, pressing a hand over his heart — if he even has one, Sam thinks bitterly — and Crowley puts upon a frown, yet his eyes glittered with amusement, “how you wound me so, moose. After all I went through to acquire the best sweets to feed you with.”
Wait.
What?
“What?” Sam says outloud, sputtering, “you… you tied me up to feed me sweets?” The idea itself was so ridiculous that Sam just had to laugh. At first, it was just a chuckle, but then it hiked up to a full-blown laughing fit. It was just fucking ridiculous to think that the King of Hell kidnapped him, tied him up, and put him in this eerie empty room… just to feed him?
Alright, Sam’s no longer amused.
Looking up, he stares at Crowley, as if he hadn’t laughed himself silly, “you’re joking, right? There has to be an actual reason why you kidnapped me and tied me up like this.”
“That is the actual reason,” the demon rebutted, now actually sounding offended, “I took you because you’re in dire need of sustenance!”
“Sugar is not sustenance,” Sam retorts brattily, rolling his eyes, “salad is sustenance.”
Crowley sighs dramatically, waving a hand around, and tightens the restraints on Sam, “right, you’re a vegetable freak,” he puts a disgusted emphasis on vegetable which gets scoffed at, but Crowley pays Sam no mind. Instead, he chooses to pick up a strawberry cupcake; the frosting was a soft pink on top of a vanilla base. He then turns around and starts walking towards his victim.
Sam starts to squirm in his seat, resisting against the restraints, but nothing gives. He supposes that Crowley learned his lesson to not be loose with ropes after the many interactions between them. Crowley continues to walk towards him until they are only a few inches apart, towering over him, and Sam can feel a swoop in his stomach at the rare height difference. He ignores it.
“I thought you were interested in my brother,” Sam drawls, looking up at the King now that they’re so close, “you know, the whole affair while he was a demon… and even before that, you were pretty obsessed with his approval. Why me now?”
There’s silence, a sputter, and then a clear of the throat — Crowley stares in surprise at him, “oh, moose, you’re one poor, oblivious sucker, aye?”
Quickly forming a scowl, Sam glares at him, “what?” The demon continues to stare at him with… wonder? in his eyes instead of answering him, but then it clears up into a smirk that Sam could only describe as trouble. Well, he feels like he’s going to regret opening his mouth pretty soon.
“I’ll show you,” Crowley finally says, lifting up the cupcake, and he presses the tip-top of the frosting up against Sam’s lips which the frosting smears against, “take a bite.”
At first, Sam considers not doing so. But that expression earlier… the one that reeked of wonder and surprise at the idea of Sam not knowing why he was in this position. Seriously, this is so weird. Not only is Crowley acting out of character, Sam is about to be acting out of character as well.
He opens his mouth and takes a bite of the frosting, his teeth scrape against the base, and he gets a faint taste of vanilla with the strawberry frosting. Sam swallows while keeping eye contact with Crowley, watching as the King swallows along with him, and Sam feels something click for him.
He’s seen something similar like this before. Sam just can’t pinpoint where.
Sam runs his tongue across his upper lip, making sure to get every bit of the frosting, and he swallows again.
Crowley suppresses a shudder at the sight and he makes up for the lapse of action by offering the cake base to the man below him. He watches with barely hidden desire as Sam parts his pretty lips again and takes a bite. Sam’s teeth end up grazing Crowley’s thumb which causes him to shiver; he stays still while watching with rapt attention at how Sam chews and swallows.
This boy has no idea what he does to me, the King of Hell thinks, not a clue in the world.
Overcome with an urge, Crowley presses the rest of the cupcake against Sam’s mouth, pressing it inside with his thumb, and he almost pushes his thumb down on Sam’s tongue. He chooses not to and removes his hand as Sam chokes down the remaining bits of the cupcake while glaring at him.
“What was that for?” Sam snaps.
Crowley comes alight as he witnesses Sam’s ire, “you looked delightful, moose, you didn’t really give me a choice.”
Sam scowls, “I didn’t give you a choice? Wow, Crowley, really going there with the victim-blaming already, huh?”
At that, Crowley snatches a frosted sugar cookie, and he shoves it inside of Sam’s mouth, “we really should do something about that brattiness of yours…” Crowley trails off, pretending to think as Sam struggles to eat the cookies with muffled groans, “oh, I know! Why don’t I stuff you until you’re nice and pliant, hm?”
Chunks of a chewed up sugar cookie are spat on Crowley’s shoes in response.
“Oh, calm down, Samantha,” Crowley rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers for a handkerchief to appear in his hands, and he uses it to smack Sam across the face which results in a surprised gasp. It really was fun to see the little Winchester like this.
He knows he should be pissed, and he is, but at the same time — Sam is starting to enjoy this. Although, he would never admit that to anyone, especially to Crowley. Quite a few wires are crossed in his head; pain and pleasure was one of them. The uncomfortable swirling in his gut… the sugar rotting in his mouth… the stinging on his cheek… Sam was on his way to becoming aroused.
Sam hates it.
Crowley witnesses the brief haze that passes over Sam’s hazel eyes, but then it’s overshined by defiance, and Crowley decides to leave it alone. He picks up another sugar cookie, “now, let’s try this again, hm?”
The Winchester snaps his jaw at him which is kind of adorable, but Crowley only smacks him with the handkerchief again, “moose, moose,” the King clicks his tongue in mock disappointment, “open your mouth for me or I’ll open it for you.”
Sam had made no sound when he was struck again, restraining himself from reacting, but he couldn’t suppress the shiver that wracks through him when Crowley threatens to open his mouth. He hates that he likes this so much. Sam is supposed to despise Crowley, not get turned on by him!
Flushed with embarrassment, Sam slowly opens his mouth.
“Poke out your tongue.”
A wave of rebellion comes over Sam at hearing this new demand and he snaps his mouth shut while staring defiantly up at Crowley, “no,” he says stubbornly.
Sam had expected another smack with the handkerchief, but no, Crowley apparently wanted to play a dangerous game. A foot is shoved against his crotch, dress shoe stepping right on top of his dick, and Sam arches, letting out a loud, untamed moan.
Crowley blinks for a second, having not expected that reaction, but then his lips curled into a satisfied smirk and he presses his shoe forward again, grinding the ribbed soles against Sam’s clothed cock.
Biting his lip, Sam keeps his head down, trying to not let himself make too much noise, but the pleasure and pain was so intense that he couldn’t help squirming in his seat. A harsh grind of the shoe against his quickly hardening cock makes him throw his head back, biting down on his bottom lip so hard that it starts to bleed, and Sam feels so sensitive. It’s been so, so long since he’s played like this.
Even if it’s not supposed to be happening.
He completely forgets about the sweets, but Crowley reminds him by forcing the second and now crumbled cookie into his mouth and Sam can’t even fight him because that delicious grinding on his dick is making his eyes roll back, mouth staying open because he doesn’t even want to fight it anymore.
The grinding stops and his tongue is pulled as his tastebuds are overwhelmed with sugar. Sam tearfully stares up at the flushed demon above him, tongue out and covered in frosting and cookie bits, and he tries not to choke on it.
Crowley leans down, putting more weight on his foot, and swallows Sam’s keen with a kiss. He feels the surprised flinch underneath him, but he doesn’t give. Crowley replaces his fingers with his tongue to caress Sam’s and the cookie swirls around in their joined mouths. He uses his tongue to push the sweet treat deeper down Sam’s throat, forcing him to swallow.
Sam doesn’t bother to fight, overwhelmed with painpleasurepainpleasure, and he keeps swallowing until all of the crumbs are making their way to his stomach. He whines when Crowley backs off completely, mouth and foot, and Sam huffs for air.
“You really do put the S and M in Sam, don’t you?” Crowley teases, incredibly pleased with the outcome. He watches as Sam, formerly feisty, was now disheveled and flushed all because Crowley stepped on his cock.
He runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, brushing it out of his face, and Crowley smiles crookedly at the unshed tears in Sam’s eyes, “you are a magnificent boy… tell you what, if you eat everything I give you, I’ll make you cum with my foot. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?”
Sam’s headspace was all muddled and fuzzy. He stares up at Crowley and his suggestion sounds like angel music to his ears, but there’s a part of him that still wants to deny Crowley. It’s been forever since he’s been in a situation like this, though, and he kind of misses it.
“Yeah,” Sam says deliriously, agreeing without thinking another thought about it, just wanting to get off, “okay.”
“Who knew a little dick stepping was all it took for you to become a pliant slut, hm?” Crowley seems to croon, grabbing a jelly-filled donut this time, and he lifts his foot to push against Sam’s crotch again. This time, he doesn’t grind it forward since Sam will have to earn it, “be a good boy and eat a couple of these and I’ll give you the friction you desire.”
Poking out his tongue, Sam takes a bite of the donut. He quickly chews it and doesn’t hesitate to go for another bite. Sam scarfs down the jelly donut, causing jelly to be smeared on his mouth, but he ignores it in favor of staring up at Crowley in wait for another sweet.
Crowley can feel himself starting to get hard at the sight of Sam eagerly waiting for another sweet when he had been so defiant about it before. God, he’s glad that he decided to do this. He swipes his thumb across Sam’s mouth, collecting the jelly, and watches as Sam watches him. Crowley lifts his thumb and licks the jelly off.
Sam trembles at the sight.
Snatching another sweet, a cream cheese scone this time, Crowley watches as Sam devours it from his hand like a dog. He throbs in his trousers when Sam even goes as far as to licking the cream cheese off his fingers.
Twenty five more to go.
It doesn’t take much longer for Sam to start slowing down, having barely been able to swallow the thirteenth sweet, and Crowley reaches a hand down to pet his belly. Sam was a mess. His hair was all over, lips covered in all sorts of different flavored cream and jelly, and his face was positively flushed. It was a wonderful sight.
With the help of Crowley, Sam was able to burp, lessening some of the ache in his tummy. He swallows the nausea back down, the sweets going to rot in his mouth, and his tastebuds overwhelmed with sugar. It was to the point that when he was offered the fourteenth sweet, he had to turn his head away. What was he doing this for again? He couldn’t think straight. He was so full.
“Just one more,” Crowley soothes, grabbing Sam’s jaw and making him look into his eyes, “just one more and I’ll give you the friction you so desire.”
Sam whines, shaking his head because he doesn’t want to, “‘m full,” he tries to say, but his response is having his mouth stuffed of chocolate cake. His stomach rumbles in protest, but he chokes the nausea and the cake down. He was about to beg no more —
Crowley steps on his cock again.
Sam half-shouts, half-moans as he arches violently in his chair. He would’ve knocked himself over if not for Crowley’s foot pinning him and his dick down. The boy could only sob as his legs tense and he tries to buck up against the pressure, but the restraints make him unable to move the way he wants.
Another cupcake is pressed against his lips and Crowley stares down at him imploringly.
Sam shakes his head again, but that results in a backhanded smack, and he moans at the impact. He doesn’t even have a moment to collect himself before his jaw is snatched again and pried open this time. While still disoriented, vision blurry, Sam doesn’t fight it when frosting is filling him up again.
He tries to spit the frosting out, but Crowley covers his mouth and plugs his nose. Sam tries to outlast the King, yet to no avail, he’s swallowing the frosting in exchange for air in one minute. His head was so floaty; he thought briefly about flying away. Crowley lets go and Sam coughs, taking a deep breath.
“Keep eating and I’ll keep moving,” Crowley ordered, grinding his shoe against the wet spot where Sam’s cock was leaking in his boxers, and Sam was quick again to eat the rest of the vanilla cupcake.
Crowley pets Sam’s hair, his own cock also throbbing, but he pays it no attention. What was in front of him was more important. He snatches up another donut and presses it up against Sam’s waiting lips.
They settle into a routine. Every bite that Sam takes is rewarded with a grind of Crowley’s dress shoe against his cock; every bite that Sam refuses is punished with a slap across the face. Delightedly for Sam, he’s only been slapped three times since settling into this routine, all in all, he’s doing pretty good.
They’re down to ten sweets left when Sam’s stomach starts to rumble again. Tears are streaming down his face as he begs, “t’ full, Crowley, please,” his begging is interrupted by a belch and then he’s swallowing down vomit, all the sweets wanting to come up, “n’ more,” Sam shakes with the effort to hold in his nausea.
Crowley stares down in pity at him, but Sam doesn’t find the relief that he’s looking for because Crowley only says, “you won’t be done until the platter is finished, darling. Do you want me to help you eat them?”
Thinking that Crowley was going to eat the rest of the sweets and Sam only had to eat a couple more, he’s eager to agree. Sam watches as Crowley eats a scone and he feels temporary relief at knowing that he could momentarily take a break.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Once the scone was all chewed up in his mouth, Crowley lifted Sam’s head and that pretty mouth opened all on its own, trained to open up for him, and he takes advantage of it by closing their mouths together. Sam tenses, but Crowley keeps going. He pushes the chewed food in his mouth into Sam’s, plugging his nose again so Sam couldn’t spit it out. Crowley hears Sam swallow and he smiles.
Stepping back, Crowley sees Sam staring at him in confoundment, “what? I said I’d help you,” the demon sing-songs, another sweet appearing in his hand, “we’re down to nine now, darling, I really think you can do this. I can keep helping you like this or you can be stubborn and try to eat it all on your own.”
It really… even though it was unethical, it really did help.
Sam feels embarrassed at what he was about to do, but he tilts his head up and opens his mouth once more.
Crowley’s smile grows wider.
Three more sweets are eaten that way — Crowley chewing each sweet and kissing Sam in order to have him swallow it like a mother bird feeding her baby bird. It was disgustingly intimate, but Crowley loved it. His foot was still paused from where it rested pressing against Sam’s cock, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind too much.
Another sweet swallowed and five more to chew, Crowley started to grind his soles up against Sam’s dick again because… well, he really was being a magnificent boy for the King of Hell. It was only right for Crowley to reward him.
Little huffs of air and moans fell out of Sam’s lips, muffled by another swap of tongues and sweets, and Sam is getting louder. Crowley can tell that he’s close to cumming, but it wasn’t time yet so Crowley releases the pressure which results in a high keening whine.
“I know, my boy, I know,” Crowley soothes, petting back Sam’s hair, “we just need to get through five more and then you can cum.”
Sam nuzzles against his hand, far gone and deep into his headspace, and he tilts his own head back with his mouth open. Ready to receive more.
Overwhelmed with the rare feeling of fondness, Crowley smiles softly down at him; he continues the process of chewing, swapping with Sam, and watching Sam swallow. He wondered what that mouth would feel like around his cock.
Another time. Not today.
This was all about stuffing Sam full of sugar and love.
Once they get to the last one, Sam makes a sound when Crowley goes to eat it.
“What, boy?” Crowley asks, quirking a brow in confusion at his boy, all tied up and beautiful.
“Can I…” Sam swallows, most likely holding his nausea back again, “can I eat the last one?”
Again, Crowley is overwhelmed with fondness, but since Sam is staring right at him, he tamps it down. Crowley collects himself and nods with a playful smile, “of course, magnificent boy, you can have the last one.”
When he reaches his hand out which has the last scone, Sam shakes his head.
Crowley tilts his head, “now what?”
If possible, Sam seems to flush a darker red, and he shyly says, “with… with a kiss?”
Oh. It’s not like Crowley could ever deny the Winchesters anything, especially Sam, no matter how much of a hardass Crowley is about it sometimes. Crowley can’t even find it in himself to be mean to the boy.
After all, Sam’s the reason why Crowley feels even a little bit human at all.
“Of course, darling,” Crowley can’t keep the fondness at bay this time as he bites one side of the scone and leans down, holding Sam’s jaw, and he pushes the dessert into Sam’s waiting open mouth.
Sam rapidly chews through the scone, trying to quickly get to Crowley, and before the demon could pull away, Sam connects their mouths in a passionate kiss. Crowley seems to startle, but it doesn’t take long at all for the King to get on board.
After one deep, jelly-filled kiss, they separate with a string of saliva attached to each other. Crowley licks his lips first, ridding of the string, and Sam stares with desire shining in his eyes.
“Now?” Sam asks, voice breathless, and eyes pleading.
How could Crowley say no?
Crowley puts all his weight onto his foot and starts grinding it against Sam’s soaked, clothed cock with a steady pace. The ribbed edges drag along the large tent in his boy’s pants and Sam makes a soundless cry, shaking underneath Crowley’s vigorous shoe-grinding.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Sam moans, twitching and straining against his restraints as the pleasure and pain builds. He keeps trying to kick his feet for purchase, but there’s nowhere for him to go, and he has to sit there and take it.
His bloated, swollen belly tightens.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum, s’ close!” Sam babbles and thank the devil, Crowley doesn’t stop.
If anything, it seems to spur Crowley on because the next thing he knows, Sam’s clothed cock is getting stepped on again and he screams as he cums in his pants. Spurt after spurt of cum is contained in his boxers yet quickly soaking through.
Crowley moans above him and Sam watches as Crowley’s pants become darker.
It takes a second, but it clicks, and Sam is overwhelmed with arousal when he realizes that Crowley just came in his fucking pants.
From stuffing Sam full of sweets and stepping on his dick.
They both take a moment to catch their breaths and come down from their high.
Once he was able to collect himself, Sam sighed, “well… now what?”
Crowley blinks at him before smiling and he says,
“Well, what about another round?”