Cole’s Plan

[BestCatcher]

OMFG 🍆💦

[Pnp-pig]

I did not see the lost line cumming it pushed me over!!!!! blow my load thinking about what is next for the three of them.

your fucking hot story teller @Ultraviolence

[LaLatin]

Wholly fuck. Please let there be more. 

[Ultraviolence]

Part III: POV Rewinds

Moses’ POV

The room’s thick—smoke coiling through the air like it’s alive, curling around Nico and Cole tangled up on the couch. Nico’s body moves slow but heavy, deep thrusts punctuated by Cole’s breathy gasps, those little choked sounds that sound too pure for what’s happening.

And then I see it.

A flash of glass. Small. Clear. Nestled next to the TV remote like it belongs there.

GHB.

I blink once. Twice. My high brain clicks into gear, slow but razor-sharp. I know what I’m looking at. I’ve used before—but never with Cole in the room. Never with him involved.

I grab it from the coffee table, eyes narrowing. “Whose is this?”

No one answers. Just the sound of skin on skin, breath and heat. Then, a soft voice—barely audible over the wet grind of Nico’s hips.

“It’s mine.”

Cole.

My little brother, fucked out on my best friend’s cock, just claimed that vial like it’s no big deal. Like I didn’t just walk in on something that should never be happening.

I should be angry. I should be pulling Nico off him and throwing punches.

But all I feel is heat. A low, deep kind of hunger curling through my chest.

“Can I take some?” I ask, like we’re at a bar ordering shots, like it’s nothing. But my voice comes out lower than I expect. Rough. Curious.

Cole doesn’t even look up. Just nods, soft and distracted, like he’s floating in Nico’s rhythm.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Sure.”

That’s all I need.

I grab the vial like it’s fragile—like it’s holy. Step into the kitchen, the cold linoleum grounding me just enough to focus.

I grab a clean glass, juice—orange, bitter enough to hide the taste. I unscrew the vial slowly, watching the viscous liquid cling to the dropper.

I draw 2.5 mL. Not too much. Just enough for a slow melt.

Drop. The clear liquid kisses the juice and disappears.

I swirl the glass, watching it blend, then knock it back in one smooth motion.

Chemical bitterness lingers on my tongue as I sink back into the chair across from them, grabbing the pipe for another hit.

Nico’s still going, slow and possessive. Cole’s head is tilted back, lips parted, sweat trickling down his neck. His eyes flicker but don’t open. He’s gone—melting, unraveling, taking it like he was meant to.

And I feel it start.

That slow G bloom. Warmth spilling from my chest outward, loosening muscles, unclenching fists I didn’t realize were tight. My thoughts slow but sharpen, laser-focused on one thing.

Him.

Cole’s body moves with Nico’s now, like they’re synced. Like Nico’s rhythm is etched into his spine. Every breath, every shift, every fuck-drunk sigh from his lips goes straight to my cock.

I take a long pull from the pipe, watch the vapor thicken, turn in the bowl, dance like it’s alive. I blow out a slow stream, eyes never leaving Cole.

He’s beautiful like this. Vulnerable. Obedient.

And he doesn’t even know I’ve already decided.

It’s not just that I want him.

I want to claim him.

I watch Nico’s hips stutter, see his shoulders tense—he’s close. Too close.

And I move.

I stand, slowly walk over to them—like I’ve got all the time in the world. My hand settles on Nico’s shoulder, firm.

He tenses.

I lean in, voice low enough to vibrate in his spine.

“Don’t get too excited there, Nico. You may have popped my brother’s cherry, but I’ll be damned if I’m not the first one who busts a nut inside him.”

Nico freezes. Still buried in my brother. Still gripping his hips like he owns him. But his eyes snap to mine—wide, disbelieving, furious.

I don’t blink.

Cole doesn’t move, either. He just breathes—shallow, fast—and I know he heard me.

And I know he wants me to mean it.

Cole’s POV

I can’t breathe right.

My chest is tight, heart hammering in my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Nico’s hands are locked on my hips, fingers digging into skin, and his cock—fuck, it’s buried so deep inside me I can’t tell where I end and he starts.

Every thrust is slower than I expect, but deeper. Heavy. Like he’s fucking through me, not into me.

I can barely think. The G is curling through my veins like honey, sticky and warm, turning everything soft and dangerous. My skin feels electric. Nico’s breath hits my shoulder, hot and sharp, and I moan before I can stop it.

Then I look up—and Moses is still there.

Sitting. Watching.

Holding the fucking pipe.

His eyes are locked on us, and I know what he sees: me, bent over, spread open, taking my first fuck with my big brother’s best friend. He should be pissed. Disgusted.

But he’s not.

His face is unreadable, but his eyes are hungry. Dark.

I see him clock the vial. Fuck.

Then his voice cuts through the room. “Whose is this?”

My brain stutters for a second, then I answer without thinking. “Mine.”

It’s barely a whisper. Doesn’t matter. He hears it.

He stares at me like he’s seeing something new. Something broken. And for a second, that weight hits me—this thing I’ve done, what I’ve become, what I want.

I’m not sure what Moses asked next, or what I replied with. Too fucked out of my mind to make sense of anything. I only see Moses disappearing into the kitchen, hear the sound of the fridge, a glass, the quiet suck of a dropper.

Then he’s back, pipe lit again. He takes a hit like it’s nothing, like this is normal. Like me being wrecked on the couch by my brother’s best friend is something he sees all the time.

His lips part. His fingers flex around the pipe.

Then he stands.

My heart stops.

Moses steps toward us. Nico’s still inside me when Moses leans in and says:

“Don’t get too excited there, Nico. You may have popped my brother’s cherry, but I’ll be damned if I’m not the first one who busts a nut inside him.”

My breath catches. The G buzzes hard in my ears. Nico freezes—his grip tightens—but Moses?

He’s calm. Certain.

My voice shakes. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me like he owns me already. Like I’ve always been his. Then he leans in.

“You want this, don’t you, baby brother?”

[Ultraviolence]

Part IV: Moses’ Plan

“You want this, don’t you, baby brother?”

Cole’s breathing is ragged, skin flushed, still bent over the couch. Nico pulls out slow, like he’s reluctant to let go. His cock slips free with a wet sound—a slick, messy echo of how deep he’d been. Spit and sweat cling to the open swell of Cole’s hole, glistening under the low light.

It wasn’t just sex. It was a handoff.

Cole shudders. His back arches just slightly, and his thighs tremble. I’m still standing beside him. Watching.

Cole tries to move—shifts like he’s going to push himself upright, maybe find a blanket, maybe pretend this didn’t happen.

“No,” I say quietly.

He freezes.

“Stay.”

My voice is calm. Not a bark. Not a command. Just final.

Cole slowly sinks back down, palms flat against the cushion, body slack and waiting. His head drops a little, like he’s embarrassed—or maybe just floating. Either way, he obeys.

Good.

I step back finally, circling around, grabbing the chair again and sinking into it like a man settling in for a show that’s only just started. My hand finds the pipe again—habit—and I flick the torch once, then let it die.

Not yet.

I look at Nico. He hasn’t said shit. Still catching his breath, but I can feel him watching me. Watching us. Guilt in his eyes, but also heat. He knows I’m taking over now. He knows he’s already out of this dynamic.

I look back at Cole. He’s still slumped forward, holes twitching, chest rising and falling like he just ran ten miles barefoot. But there’s a stillness in him now—like he’s waiting for someone to decide what happens next.

So I do.

“Nico,” I say without looking at him, “did you give him anything?”

There’s a beat. Then Nico answers, voice tight.

“G. Just G. I measured it.”

I measured it—I thought mockingly.

As if I care.

My eyes drop to Cole again. His body is loose, lips parted, eyes heavy. I clock the microtwitches. The way his fingers dig into the couch. The lag in his blinking.

Yeah. He’s on it.

“You took G?” I ask him directly.

He nods once.

“First time?”

Another nod.

“How much?”

“Only a little,” Cole replies.

Liar. But I’ll let it slide—for now.

“Did you smoke any T?”

Cole hesitates. Then, quieter than before: “Yes. But tonight was my first time with that too.”

I glance at Nico. He doesn’t react.

Two liars.

That tells me everything.

“Come here,” I say.

Cole shifts—starts to get up, one leg moving under him, weight shifting onto his foot like he’s going to stand—

“No,” I say again. Sharper this time. “On all fours.”

His eyes flick to mine, wide for a second.

Then, slowly, he lowers back down. Curls his fingers against the floor. Crawls.

And fuck, it’s good.

The sight of him moving like that—post-fuck, half-high, obedient—is better than any hit I’ve taken tonight.

When he reaches me, I let the silence linger.

He kneels in front of me. Legs parted slightly, body swaying. Sweat slicks his chest. His cock’s soft now, but twitching. Still needy.

I reach out and tilt his chin up. Two fingers under his jaw.

“You feel good?”

He nods.

I wipe a smear of spit from his bottom lip with my thumb. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

“How high are you?”

He breathes out. “I don’t know.”

I smile, just slightly. “You’re about to find out.”

His throat works, swallowing that.

Good.

Behind me, Nico doesn’t move. He’s just watching now—silent, hands in his lap, mouth drawn tight. Maybe regretting what he started. Or maybe just jealous I’m doing it better.

I reach for the pipe—holding it up where Cole can see.

His mouth opens—lips parted, eyes soft, expecting me to raise the pipe to his mouth like it’s medicine.

Like I’m here to take care of him.

I click my tongue, smirk, and hold his eyes—half scold, half praise.

This tells me everything I need to know about how Nico’s been treating him.

Like he still deserves gentleness.

But I’m not Nico.

I’m not afraid to break him.

“You want more?”

Cole nods again. Quicker this time.

I raise an eyebrow. “Then beg, faggot.”

Edited Saturday at 10:04 PM by Ultraviolence

[Slzybtmldn]

Amazing and so well written. Can't wait for the next installment 

[GAwhoreSub]

"I'm not afraid to break him."

Just a beautiful line at this point in the story. I can hardly wait for more. 

[Bttm2go]

Damn, this is so fucking hot.

[Medwaym]

Fuck, I need more 😈😈😈

[Pnp-pig]

This just keeps getting hotter!!!!
Thank you for another chapter @Ultraviolence

Letting each person tell their story is really cool!

[Ultraviolence]

Part V: Moses’ POV

“Then beg, faggot.”

Cole’s lips part. His throat works like he’s choking on air. Then—

“Please. I want more. I… need it.”

Still on his knees. Eyes glassy, staring up like I’m holding salvation. Like the pipe’s communion and I’m the fucking priest.

Then an idea struck me.

I set the pipe down, watching the disappointment flood Cole’s face.

I nod to the floor.

“Turn around. Bend over. Hands down. Arch your back.”

He hesitates.

Then obeys.

He folds forward like he’s done this before. Like submission is muscle memory. His knees spread, arms planted, back curved—head hanging low, waiting for whatever I decide to do to him.

“Look at you,” I mutter. “Fucking perfect.”

I move in behind him. Crouch low. Let my hand hover—then slap his ass. Just a tease. Just to hear the sound.

“Jesus,” he gasps.

I smirk. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

I slap the other cheek harder—watch the skin bloom red. His hips jerk. His fingers dig into the floor. But he doesn’t move away.

“That’s it. Stay just like that.”

I run my hand down his spine until my thumb brushes the slick edge of his hole. Raw. Glistening. Used.

He flinches.

I spread him open with two fingers, just enough to see the damage done.

“Nico’s a greedy fuck,” I whisper.

I lean closer—not touching, just hovering. Letting the heat of my breath skim over the most wrecked part of him.

“You always been like this?” I say. “All quiet and preppy at the dinner table, but the second someone opens you up—”

I slap him again. Sharper.

“—you turn into a fuckin’ faggot.”

He twitches. Doesn’t deny it.

“Still high. Still wanting more. You even know where you are?”

“Yes, sir.” Voice ragged.

I glance at Nico. Still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on Cole like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion.

“You call him that too?” I ask.

Silence.

I slap Cole again.

“I asked you a question.”

“No,” he gasps. “Just you.”

I pause. Let that sit.

Then palm his ass again. Knead it once. “Good answer, baby brother.”

I flick my chin toward Nico. “Come here.”

He doesn’t move at first.

Then he does.

“Spread his hole.”

Nico crouches without a word. Uses both hands to pull Cole open, thumbs wide.

I turn to grab the vial of G off the coffee table and—

Empty.

I click my tongue, but it doesn’t matter.

I’ve got better.

I stand slow. Cole’s still bent. Still twitching. Nico crouched next him, holding him open like a display.

“Don’t move a fucking inch,” I say to Cole.

Then to Nico—calm, cold:

“Come with me.”

He stands. Follows.

We move down the hall, into my bedroom. The door clicks shut behind us, sealing the heat in. The tension’s different here—private. Quieter. Worse.

I head straight to my dresser. Bottom drawer. Locked.

Click. Open.

I pull out a vial. Dark glass. No label.

Stronger G. Pure. Got my bitch high off it just the other night.

Instead of a dropper, I pull out two oral syringes with it.

Behind me, Nico shifts his weight. That silence—the pause just before something dangerous happens.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

Voice flat. Not fear. Just that low-end dealer instinct, sniffing out volatility.

I don’t turn.

I draw the syringe full. G clean inside the barrel. Enough to tilt the night off its axis.

“You saw him. He crawled to me,” I say. “Begging for it.”

“You gonna dose him that heavy?”

“Hell yeah. This time though? Straight up the ass. I’ve already got him in position.”

That lands.

He adjusts his stance. No longer cool. Just… alert.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Yeah?” I turn. “You gonna cry about it?”

Nico’s jaw ticks. “I don’t cry. I just don’t waste good product on someone who’s gonna pass out before the fun starts.”

“He’ll handle it,” I say. “Then again, so what if he doesn’t?”

We lock eyes.

Two wolves.

And something soft, broken, and ready waiting in the other room.

“You don’t think this is overkill?”

I step in. Real close. Smell the sweat on him. The testosterone he tries to wear like armor.

“You thinking about tapping out?”

“I’m thinking this looks like obsession.”

“It is.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m fucking hard because of it.”

He glances—just once—over at the supplies on the dresser.

“You gonna hit him with T too?”

“Stacked,” I say as I walk back over to the dresser, putting a second syringe together. One part water. One part T. “One plunge after the other. Straight into the hole you just fucked. Straight to that faggot’s brain.”

“I don’t know, Moses. That’s a big fucking dose of G.”

“That’s the point.”

His brow furrows.

“You squeamish now, Nico?”

“Fuck off.”

“Nah. You flinching? After you fucked him like he belonged to you? What? You got feelings for him or something?”

He squares up.

“You’re playing dirty.”

“So leave.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You won’t.”

“Why not?”

I press one of the syringes against his chest. Lean in. Voice low, like a secret.

“Because you wanna watch me break him. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

That gets him. He grabs the syringe.

His mouth curls. A grin. A snarl.

Right where I want him.

“I already broke him.”

I laugh, clicking my tongue.

“You think I won’t outdo you?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

We hold that moment.

Then I pull back, grabbing the other syringe off the dresser.

“Then come watch me ruin this faggot.”

[Ultraviolence]

This started off as a true story, then I decided to make it into my own fantasy. I have the rest of the story written and I’ll release it in parts. It gets darker, and darker... and darker. Been trying to slim it down for readability while keeping the sexual tension there. Let me know if you guys like the format. 🙂 Oh and feel free to message me with cock pics for inspiration. 😈

Edited Sunday at 10:17 PM by Ultraviolence

[foryouruse]

Just. Don’t. Stop.

[Bttm2go]

You write very good stories. This one is excellent. Long format is fine with me. And the darker it is, the better.

[Cumdumpryguy]

Love this. Keep it coming.