Cole’s Plan

[DNG999]

Great story. Got me twitching!

[LaLatin]

I can't get enough of this story. Reminds me of time I was played with by two tops. 

[Pnp-pig]

Damn part5 is hot tease for what is to come!!!!
cannot wait to see where this goes

i hope that Cole also get it learns about slamming😉🦯

thank you @Ultraviolence

[Chibboiperv]

Fucking hoT!!! Can't wait for more! Great writing!

[Ultraviolence]

Part VI: Cole’s POV

The door clicks shut behind them.

I don’t move.

My arms are trembling, knees sore against the rug, back arched the way Moses told me to hold it—ass in the air, face flushed, mind swimming in syrupy heat. Every second they were gone stretched out like it might last forever. But I didn’t move. Not an inch. He told me not to, and I didn’t.

The air shifts when Nico and Moses return.

Footsteps. Slow. Confident. Moses first—I know that walk. Measured. Mean. Nico’s heavier, more reluctant, like he’s not sure he should be back in this room.

I don’t lift my head. I just listen. Feel the thick silence rewrap around us.

“You stayed,” Moses says, low behind me. Closer now.

His voice does something to me. Cuts through the fog of the G still slow-dancing in my bloodstream and makes my stomach clench. It’s approval—but dark, sharp-edged. Like being praised for letting yourself drown.

Then a pause. Just long enough for my body to start buzzing with the silence.

“Good,” he says again. Quieter.

I hear something. A rustle. Then the sound of fingers tapping plastic. No words. Just movement.

Moses crouches behind me. I can feel the heat of him there, radiating toward my skin.

“You want your reward, baby brother?”

My breath shudders out. I nod.

“No,” he snaps. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. “I want it.”

He lets out a hum—something between approval and amusement. I hear plastic again, a rubber plunger. My mind tries to piece it together but everything’s blurred around the edges. I feel hot and light and hungry in a way that terrifies me.

“Arch deeper,” he says. “I want that hole begging.”

I push my chest closer to the rug. Shift my knees wider. My spine curves down and back until I’m fully open—every part of me exposed, stretched, waiting. Humiliated. Fucking ready.

Then I feel his hand—firm on my hip, grounding me.

“You know what boofing is, Cole?” Moses asks, almost casually.

I don’t answer. Can’t.

A slap. Sharp, fast, across the same spot he hit earlier.

“Answer.”

“Y-yeah,” I choke out. “Kind of.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, dangerous sound.

“Good. Then you know this isn’t just for fun. It’s going to hit hard. Fast. No going back.”

My pulse skitters.

He spits on his fingers. Rubs the slick mess between my cheeks. Then his fingers press—just at the rim. Testing.

Behind me, I hear Nico shift. Still silent. Watching. Like he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t want to kneel down beside Moses and help.

“Hold still,” Moses murmurs. “One push.”

And then the syringe.

The cool tip of it replaces his fingers. I freeze—everything in me locking up with tension—but I don’t move. He warned me.

“This is mine,” Moses mutters. “Not some watered-down club shit. This’ll light you up from the inside.”

The tip slips in. Deeper than I expected. My breath stutters. I grip the rug, jaw clenched.

Then the pressure.

He plunges it.

I feel the warmth immediately. Not like drinking. Not even like a hit. This is different—intimate, violating, invasive in a way that makes my vision go white at the edges. My body jerks once, instinctual, but his hand clamps down on my lower back.

“Stay,” he growls. “Let it hit.”

The burn turns to heat. The heat turns to fire. And suddenly everything inside me is moving too fast—my heart, my breath, my thoughts. I let out a sound—half moan, half whimper—but I can’t stop it.

Moses pulls the syringe out and gives my ass one more slap. Not hard. Just enough to say, you’re mine now.

My arms give out. I collapse halfway, forehead to the floor, moaning through clenched teeth as the rush slams into my bloodstream like a bullet train.

Everything is liquid. Everything is sharp.

Behind me, I hear him say to Nico: “You do the other.”

My heart skips.

“What?”

“The T.” No hesitation. Just command.

“I’ll hold him open,” Moses says.

I feel his hands on me—firm, practiced. Thumbs pressing into the dip of my ass, spreading me for another time tonight. I flinch at the contact but don’t pull away. I can’t pull away. Not when my blood is fizzing, my hole still slick from earlier, still burning from what Moses just pushed inside.

I sense Nico crouching behind me. Same feeling as before. The tip of a syringe sliding into me.

“Plunge it.” Moses demands.

Nico complies.

My vision sharpens, blurs, then sharpens again. Every nerve in my body lights up like someone flipped the switch from human to live wire. My tongue goes numb. My cock throbs painfully. My fingers flex against the rug like they’re digging for stability that isn’t there.

Moses watches me like a craftsman inspecting a fragile thing mid-transformation.

“There he is,” he murmurs. “There’s my good little slut.”

The words melt into me. Mine. He said mine.

I don’t speak.

Can’t.

All I can do is exist—naked, split open, drugged and desperate and wanting more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

Nico pulls out the syringe like he’s been burned.

I hear his breath. Short. Clipped.

He’s trying not to let it show.

But I know what he sees. He sees me, wrecked and perfect.

Moses stands.

He unzips.

Finally.

I look up just as his cock springs out from his jeans.

Uncut, rock hard, dripping with pre cum. Framed by a thick black bush.

I look further up and see him grinning at me.

I let out a whimper.

My brother—I shouldn’t like this.

But fuck. He looks so fucking good.

“Move” he says to Nico, breaking our gaze.

I turn my head and watch him get to his knees—positioning himself behind me.

He bends over me, whispering in my ear,  “You ready for this cock, baby brother?”

The G and T plunged inside me makes me let out a desperate moan.

Moses’ hand wraps around my throat in response.

“I asked you a question, faggot.” His grip getting tighter with each word. “You ready for your big brother to fuck you raw? You ready to feel every inch of me inside you?”

“Fuck, Moses,” I let out, “Fuck yes.”

Moses snickers and pulls back, then I feel the head of his cock press low against me—hot, heavy—like it’s always meant to be there.

“Last chance,” he says, not because he’s asking, but because he wants to hear it.

My voice cracks.

“Take me.”

A beat.

Then—

Pressure.

Stretch.

Invasion.

His cock pushes in slow. My body protests—tight, too tight—but I don’t run. I don’t clench. I accept. It’s not Nico’s rushed fuck. It’s not about getting off. It’s about claiming. About being filled until I don’t belong to myself anymore.

Moses sinks in deeper.

Deeper.

Until I feel his hips flush against my ass, his breath thick and steady behind me.

He doesn’t move.

Just stays there, buried.

One hand gripping my waist.

One planted on the back of my neck, holding me down.

Owning me.

“Fuuuuck yeah baby brother. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Edited yesterday at 01:07 AM by Ultraviolence

[Tempusfuget]

Incredibly hot and well written. Keep up the good work!

[bottomboyam]

I consider myself a decent writer of sex stories, but you are an amazing writer. I don’t have the patience to drag things out so slowly., so deliciously. You have a gift for tension and internal conflict that makes this all much more arousing. Fantastic!

[Pnp-pig]

I absolutely agree with @bottomboyam, your story telling is fucking hot!!! I start out hard as rock and I get harder and harder along with my cock dripping wet with precum and cum!

WOW and thank you @Ultraviolence

[hotguynkansas]

SO hot and SO well written! More, plz!!

[Ultraviolence]

Part VII: Moses’ POV

“Fuuuuck yeah baby brother. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He told me to take him.

So I did.

Buried to the root now—inside my baby brother, inside this filthy little body that used to be polite and clean and untouchable. Not anymore. Now he’s just skin and heat and G sweat and open hole. His back is arched just how I told him. Ass high. Face low. Moaning like a whore at a party with no name.

He takes me perfectly.

Tight, but not resisting. Like his body was waiting for this.

I grip his hips. Hard. Just to hear the little gasp he makes when I dig in.

Behind me, Nico’s silent. I don’t have to look to know he’s watching—cock probably half-hard, pride trying to keep it down.

He should’ve known I’d take it from him.

That’s what I do.

I fuck better. I fuck meaner. I own what he thought he was borrowing.

I drag my hips back. Slow. Then slam forward. One long stroke that makes Cole choke on a sound.

Again.

He whimpers.

Again.

He moans.

“Listen to yourself,” I growl, leaning in, mouth close to his ear. “You were fucking born for this.”

Another thrust. Deeper. Sharp. His ass swallows me whole.

“Used to sit there at the table, legs crossed, manners perfect.” I reach forward and grab a fistful of his hair, forcing his head up. “Now look at you.”

I slam into him again. “Drooling on the rug.”

Another. “Split open.”

Another. “Faggot little hole twitching like it wants to get bred.”

He sobs something into the floor. I don’t care what it is.

“You wanna cum from this?” I ask. “You wanna shoot all over yourself while your big brother breaks you in?”

He whimpers. Nods.

“Say it.”

His voice is raw. “Yes, sir—please—I wanna cum—wanna come while you—” he cuts off with a cry when I slam in again.

“While I what?”

“While you fuck me—while you ruin me.”

That’s better.

I glance over my shoulder.

Nico’s still there. Leaning against the wall. Watching with that tight jaw like he’s still deciding whether this counts as a betrayal or a blessing.

“Strip,” I say, without turning.

Silence.

“Now.”

I hear the rustle of fabric. A belt buckle. A zipper. His shoes hit the floor.

Good.

I grip Cole’s hair tighter, forcing his back to arch harder. His hole clenches around me, fluttering like it’s close. Not yet.

“Come here.”

Nico steps closer. I guide him with a gesture. He kneels. Same place he was before. Right next to Cole. In front of me.

He won’t look me in the eye.

Fine.

“Open him up again.”

His hands obey before his mind catches up. Thumbs spreading Cole’s hole wide around my cock. The stretch makes Cole whimper again—louder this time.

“Good boy,” I murmur—not to Cole. To Nico.

He flinches.

I slow my thrusts, grinding deep, keeping Cole right on the edge.

“Say something to him,” I say to Nico. “Tell him what he is.”

He hesitates.

So I slap Cole’s ass hard enough to make his hips jolt.

“Now.”

Nico swallows.

Then, low:

“You’re a faggot, Cole.”

Cole moans.

“You’re a dirty little faggot who got his brother to ruin him.”

He moans louder.

I nod. “Again.”

Nico leans closer.

“You wanted this. You planned this. Got me to fuck you, got Moses to claim you.”

I thrust into him harder—once, twice—just to hear him gasp under the words.

“Say it, Cole,” I snarl. “Tell us what you are.”

His voice is broken glass.

“I’m a faggot. I’m yours. I’m—fuck—I’m a fucktoy—please, I’m gonna cum—”

“Not yet.” I bend over and wrap a hand around his throat. Just enough pressure to pause his breath. Hold him there.

He shudders.

Nico’s still staring. I can see it in his eyes now—jealousy, hunger. The kind that eats at a man when he realizes he’s not the apex anymore.

I lock eyes with him.

“You miss this hole?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You want it back?”

Still nothing.

“Too bad,” I whisper. “This faggot’s mine now.”

Then I slam into Cole and don’t stop.

The rug muffles the sound of skin on skin. Cole’s breath breaks into sobs—pleasure and drugs and overstimulation ripping him apart. I fuck him through all of it.

Faster.

Deeper.

Nico’s still kneeling.

Still watching.

And when Cole finally cums—shaking, screaming, shooting mess all over the rug—I don’t let up.

Because this isn’t about his orgasm.

This is about mine.

And I always take what’s mine.

[Ultraviolence]

Part VII (cont.): Moses’ POV

Cole’s still twitching—every little movement makes my cock throb harder inside him. He’s so fucking tight. Still leaking, still high, still split open around me like he knows he’s just a hole now.

And I’m going to fill it.

I slow down. Grind instead of thrust. Deep rolls of my hips, dragging every inch along his raw nerves. I can feel his body fight between begging for mercy and begging for more.

“Still with me, faggot?”

He moans something wet and broken. I slap his ass hard, just to watch him flinch.

“Didn’t fucking hear you.”

“Y-yes, sir.” It’s breathless. Slurred. Perfect.

I lean down, chest against his back, lips to his ear.

“You feel that?” I whisper, thrusting deep, staying there, letting the weight of my cock sink into the ache inside him. “That’s mine. Your big brother’s cock. My fucking name tattooed inside your guts.”

He whimpers. Fists the rug.

“What are you, Cole?”

He shudders. “Your faggot.”

“Whose hole is this?”

“Yours, sir—fuck—only yours—”

I grin. Pull back. Slam forward again.

He screams.

I keep going.

Slow, then fast. Long, brutal strokes that leave him twitching under me. Then slow again—just to hear him cry for it.

I grip the back of his neck. Force his head down into the rug. My other hand spreads him wide, thumb digging into the bruises I’ve left behind. I watch his hole swallow me over and over, slick and red and obscene.

“You know what I’m gonna do now?” I mutter.

He shakes his head.

“I’m gonna cum in you. Deep. Messy. So fucking much it leaks out for hours.” I lean in. “So next time you sit at the dinner table, you’ll feel it drip down your thigh.”

He moans—wrecked, open, used.

I look at Nico.

I smirk.

“You watching this?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You see what I’m doing to your little project?”

I slam in again. Hard enough to make Cole jerk forward on the floor.

“He’s not your boy anymore.”

Thrust.

“He’s not a good kid.”

Thrust.

“He’s a cum dump for his brother.”

I let the words hang.

Then I grab Cole’s hips. Plant my feet. Roll my neck.

And fuck him.

For real this time.

No games. No teasing. Just relentless, claiming rhythm—balls slapping, sweat dripping, breath hissing through my teeth. I feel my orgasm build low in my gut, heat curling around my spine.

“You ready for it, faggot?”

Cole sobs into the floor. Nods. “Please—please—I want it—fill me—please—”

I bare my teeth.

Then I thrust one last time—deep, deep, fucking deep—and unload.

Groaning. Guttural. A full-body exhale that rips through my chest as my cock jerks inside him, spurting rope after rope of cum into his wrecked little hole. I stay there, buried to the hilt, gripping him like he might run—like he could—but we both know he won’t.

Not now.

Not ever.

When the last pulse fades, I don’t move.

Just lean over, breath hot against his ear.

“You’re full now,” I whisper. “Say thank you.”

His voice is raw.

“Thank you, sir.”

I smile.

Pull out slow.

Watch my cum leak down his thighs.

And feel every ounce of power settle where it belongs—on me.

[Ultraviolence]

Part VIII: Nico’s POV

Moses pulls out slow, and I watch it all.

Cole’s hole, red and open, still fluttering. Moses’ cum dripping out of it, down the backs of his thighs. Legs twitching. Back arched like he doesn’t know how to un-curve anymore.

He’s fucked.

Properly.

But not completely.

Not yet.

Moses stands there, breathing heavy, cock slick, eyes locked on his brother like he just saw God bleed. Like he finally figured out how much he likes breaking pretty things.

Good.

He’s getting it.

But he’s still holding back. Still playing like that load he dropped means the game’s over.

It doesn’t.

⸻

Moses has always had a god complex.

I’ve watched it swell over the years—quiet at first, then louder, heavier, consuming every room we walked into. And in a way? I built it. Fed it without him noticing. Even tonight—my hesitation, my withdrawal—was part of the plan. Every step, a nudge to push him deeper into the role he thought he owned.

But it’s time to pull the mask off.

I let Moses be the first to fill Cole. Because it was the right move. A gesture. An offering.

And now?

Now I’m about to answer the question he didn’t think to ask—

What’s hotter than this?

His best friend, pumping a second load into his baby brother.

⸻

I step forward.

Crouch beside Cole.

Drag two fingers through the slick mess Moses left between his cheeks.

“You stopped too early,” I say.

Moses looks at me. Not defensive. Curious.

“He’s wrecked.”

I smirk. Shake my head.

“He’s ready.”

I reach for the pipe again, load it with muscle memory—fast, clean, practiced.

Moses watches. No protest this time. He gets it now.

I glance at him.

“Hold him open,” I say. “Let him feel what he is.”

He does.

Big hands, one on each side of Cole’s hole, spreading him wide again. His hole is still twitching, a little gape showing pink. Fucking obscene. Exactly how I left him the first time. Now worse.

Now better.

I bring the pipe to Cole’s mouth.

“You with us, baby?”

He moans. Doesn’t talk.

That’s fine.

He doesn’t need words for this part.

I light it. The crystal blooms in vapor. I watch his lips part. Watch him inhale. Deep. Like he knows exactly what this is. What it means.

His eyes roll back. His chest jerks. Arms trembling.

There it is.

That sweet, perfect surrender.

I stand. Step between his legs. Look down at the wreck we made.

I press the tip of my cock to that slick, used hole.

He flinches, then pushes back.

Begging without words.

I push in.

Slow. Stretching him again. He’s loose, yeah—but still tight enough that I feel it. The heat, the slick slide of Moses’ cum already inside. It coats me. Makes everything dirty in the best fucking way.

I groan.

“Fuck. He’s addicted to it now.” Moses says, his voice low, sharp.

“He’s nothing but a faggot.” I reply.

I thrust deeper.

He moans under us—high and broken.

I fuck him steady. Not fast. Not yet. Just enough to hear the squelch every time I sink into him. Just enough to remind him that this hole isn’t his anymore.

I glance at Moses as he watches me. Really watching.

Not jealous.

Not territorial.

Just impressed.

“You feel it?” Moses asks, voice low. “How his hole grabs when you say his name?”

That makes me quicken my pace.

Moses leans in. Grabs Cole’s throat. Just enough to hold him.

“Say thank you,” he growls.

Cole tries. Chokes it out.

I drive deeper.

Harder.

He twitches around me. Muscles spasming. Cum now pouring out of him like he’s trying to hold on to both of us and failing.

Good.

I shift my weight. Snap my hips harder. His body rocks forward under me.

I’m close.

Fucking close.

“You want it again, don’t you, faggot?” I mutter. “Want me to fill you up just like your brother did.”

He sobs something—yes, please, more—it doesn’t matter.

I slam in deep.

Balls flush. Heat rising. Chest tight.

I groan through my teeth as I cum inside him, cock jerking hard, pulse after pulse shooting into the mess already inside. I hold there, pressed in deep, grinding it all into him like I want to leave a scar.

Moses is staring at me the whole time.

Like he’s watching art happen.

When I finally pull out, Cole doesn’t even close up. He just stays open. Leaking. Breathing like he ran a fucking marathon on his knees.

I drag my thumb down the center of his back. Feel the heat.

“Now,” I say, voice calm, breath slowing. “He’s owned.”

Moses nods once.

And smiles.

Edited 18 hours ago by Ultraviolence

[Tempusfuget]

Excellent story writing @Ultraviolence. I cannot wait to see what happens next to Cole or the interplay between Moses and Nico.

[Pnp-pig]

@Ultraviolence I just finished reading parts 6-8 fucking hot as hell!

great writing will there be more story about Moses, Nico and their fuck toy (Cole)?

[LaLatin]

I hope this story continues. One of the best I've read. As a writer, all I can say is, perfection.