“I—” George began uncertainly. “I suppose.” Already his cock was pressing against the placket of his trousers, just from Theo’s disconcerting and sudden proximity and from the sight of the two naked men—one silver-haired, the other dark—yanking the third man’s shirt over his head. This man was younger and very handsome, with fair hair. He writhed shamelessly between his more mature companions, moaning with eagerness.
Theo took hold of George’s hand, startling him with the unfamiliar intimacy of the touch, the warmth of his bare fingers entwining with George’s disturbingly erotic. He tugged George forward. "Come on. Let’s sit.”
Mouth dry, George let himself be led further into the room, but balked when Theo gestured at him to take a chaise longue in front of the cleared area. “I can’t lie down there,” he hissed, appalled.
Theo looked amused. “Why not? If we’re going to watch, we may as well be comfortable. A chaise is best—I guarantee your trousers will soon be feeling too tight and it’s easiest to loosen them lying down. Easier to take a hold of your cock too.”
George’s face flamed so hot he knew he must be scarlet. “Fine, you lie there,” he muttered. “I’ll take this armchair.”
“As you wish,” Theo said with a shrug, and began, unbuttoning his coat. “But I wager you’ll be squirming in that chair before long."
While he deposited his coat over the end of the chaise longue and laid himself down, one arm casually bent behind his head—George squeezed into the regrettably small armchair beside him.
Immediately, he felt out of place and buttoned up with his coat still on. Especially with three naked men standing only feet away, the blond one now exchanging passionate kisses with his two older companions, neither of whom seemed the least bit put out whenever he broke a kiss with one to turn to the other. A pang of envy went through George as he watched them. They were, all of them, entirely immersed in what they were doing, caught up in mutual desire, unhampered by shame or fear. Theo had said they wanted an audience, and perhaps they did, but at this moment, they didn’t seem even to be aware of anyone else.
The dark-haired man went to his knees while his companions kissed. They shifted their stances, making room for him to move closer, and he pressed his face first to the groin of the silver-haired man. George couldn’t see what he was doing, but the lewd, wet sounds he made were unmistakable.
He stared, fascinated. What would it be like to be that man, there on his knees, serving his companion? George took him in, the whole picture—the powerful lines of his back and shoulders, the round musculature of his buttocks, the tender, pink soles of his feet—kneeling there, bared and vulnerable, yet unafraid, seizing what he wanted. Saying, look if you want. George swallowed hard, wanting that. All of it, but most of all, not to be afraid.
After a while, the man on his knees shifted, turning his attention to the younger fellow. And this time the angle was such that George could see exactly what he was doing. Saw him take his companion’s hard, bobbing cock into his mouth, eyes closing in apparent bliss as his hands gripped the man’s slim hips and took him deeper.
Fuck.
Theo had been right. George was not comfortable in the small armchair. His cock was already painfully stiff and cramped in his trousers. He shifted, face flaming, as he tried, fruitlessly, to find a position which would give his shaft room to swell. It wasn’t just his cock. His clothing felt too tight all over. He wished he’d removed his coat, as Theo had done, except now he was reluctant to do so, paralysed by lust and embarrassment.
Instead he continued to stare at the tableau before him, his fingers tightening on the arms of his chair as he watched the desire between the three men grow more frantic and rougher.
“George? Are you all right?”
Startling at the sound of Theo’s low voice, he turned to find the man watching him with concern. For a moment, he wondered why, then realised how he must look: teeth gritted, brows knotted, body stiff, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles were white.
“You look rather tense,” Theo said gently. “Why don’t you take off your coat, at least?”
George swallowed. He was tense. Tense and desperate and horribly unsure of himself. Embarrassed. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, breaking off when he struggled to find the words to explain himself. His relief, when Theo’s eyes flickered with what looked like understanding, was intense. And when Theo rose unhurriedly from the chaise and offered his hand, saying, “Stand up,” he allowed Theo to lever him up and out of the chair till they stood toe to toe.
George was tall, but Theo was a bit taller and George needed to raise his chin, just a little, to meet the man’s gaze. Was it strange that he liked that? That he liked how Theo dwarfed him in other ways too, the breadth of his shoulders and powerfully-made body so much bigger than George’s leaner frame?
“Do you want to leave?” Theo asked quietly, his gaze very direct.
George swallowed, then, mutely, shook his head.
“You’re sure?”
George nodded, though he added, miserably, under his breath, “I just don’t know what to do.” When Theo frowned in puzzlement, George added, his face scorching, “I’m hard. I fear I’ll spend in my drawers.”
Distantly, he knew it was an absurd thing to worry about. The three men performing in the middle of the room were naked and probably about to publicly spend for all to see, so really, who cared if George quietly climaxed in his drawers? Why else was he even here?
And yet he felt paralysed and horribly exposed.
Without thinking it through, he whispered desperately, “Help me, Theo.”
Something shifted in Theo’s gaze at those words. Unmistakably… softened.
Quietly, he said, “Come and lie down with me.”
He tugged George’s hand, urging him towards the chaise. George automatically opened his mouth to protest—then closed it again. He had just asked Theo to help him, hadn’t he? So he should let him.
“Let’s get this coat off,” Theo said firmly, reaching out to undo the buttons of George’s evening coat. He eased it from George’s shoulders, then set it beside his own discarded clothing. “Waistcoat now.”
