Center of Attention

by R. J. Moray

  Jack, meanwhile, was dressed in black slacks and a black button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows and his collar open to show a little dark chest hair. He was barefoot, and Channon suspected he was going commando. It wasn’t much of a ‘costume’, but he was so devastatingly handsome that it made it hard for Channon to breathe, just looking at him.

  Now Jack spoke into the intercom again, and Channon took a deep breath, reminding himself of the rules Jack had laid down for tonight.

  Channon wasn’t allowed to talk, and he wasn’t allowed to resist. Anything they did to him he had to submit to, not fight back or struggle. Just let it happen. Unless, of course, he didn’t want it to happen—he knew exactly how to communicate that.

  He was supposed to be good, and obedient, and wordless, but he could moan and scream as much as he wanted. And, most importantly, while he was not allowed to get himself off, he was allowed to come.

  “I want you to,” Jack had said, his fingers firm on Channon’s jaw. “Before the end, I want you to come. So only hold out as long as you want to. No one’s going to be mad. In fact, I think they might be flattered.”

  So. No talking, no resistance, total obedience, and he was allowed to come. Easy.

  He glanced sidelong at the futon on the floor and shivered. It was a bit bigger than a king bed, thick and firm enough to kneel on, and made up with some ridiculously high thread-count linens and some cushions for, Channon suspected, the look of them. It took up the middle of the living area, the sofa and some chairs ranged around it for viewing. Channon shivered, thinking about what, exactly, was going to happen on that mattress. Any minute now.

  “Do you normally keep your guests waiting in the cold?” Nate demanded the second he walked in.

  “You’re early,” Jack drawled. “Fractionally.” He offered Nate his hand, but Nate dragged him into a hug and then sauntered into the condo like he owned the place.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m guessing that’s a non alcoholic drink,” Nate teased. “Which, you know, isn’t a bad idea.”

  Jack grinned. “Tea?”

  Nate made a face. “Got any soda?”

  “I have,” Jack said, sounding like he disapproved. “Channon,” he said, and Channon pushed himself jerkily to his feet. “Get Nate a Coke.”

  Channon filled a glass and offered it to Nate, and Nate took it with a little chuckle, but Channon refused to look up.

  “Aw, is daddy’s perfect angel feeling shy?”

  Channon’s ears went red-hot, but he managed to keep his eyes down and was rescued by the chime of the intercom.

  Nate’s laugh was low and dirty. “Okay. We’ll see how long that lasts.” He took his soda to the sofa, and Channon breathed out, relieved.

  But then the door opened, and Tom Lockwood walked in.

  Nate, from what Channon had seen without really looking at him, was dressed in black jeans and a sleeveless tank that clung to him like snakeskin, and both he and Jack could easily have walked into a regular bar with no questions asked. Tom was in leather, boots high up over his knees, and a jacket he stripped out of to reveal the breadth of his bare chest, furred with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore leather gloves, and cuffs around his biceps, and Channon bit his lip, fixing his eyes on the floor to keep from staring.

  “Now, I don’t much want to take my boots off,” Tom said, after he’d shaken hands with Jack like this was some kind of business meeting, “but I figured your boy could clean them up for me and save the upholstery. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds just fine,” Jack said, and then— “Channon, you heard the man. Get on your knees.”

  Channon knelt in the entryway. Tom put his boot on Channon’s bare thigh. It was pretty clean, a little damp from outside, and Channon wondered for a wild moment whether Tom meant him to do it with his tongue, but Tom just hummed deep in his throat and said, “Give them a brush and a wipe with a cloth. There’s a good boy.”

  Relieved, Channon did just that, brushing them clean and wiping over the soles. Tom made a gruff sound and ruffled Channon’s hair before accepting Jack’s offer of tea, and then Channon had to get up and make it.

  He had his back to the door when Danny Moretti showed up. Channon remembered him mostly as the guy Jack had sent around to stick his dick in Channon’s mouth while Jack was in Tokyo—a decent-enough guy with a wicked grin, who looked at Channon like he was something to be eaten alive. The other two who walked in with him, though, Channon didn’t know. At all. He peeked over his shoulder. One of them was dark-haired and beardy, the other a little scruffy around the chin, his hair blond and floppy—like a young Nate, but twinkier. Or was that twunkier?

  The three of them seemed to know each other and Jack, but not Tom, so Channon listened in on the introductions: the older man was Max and the blond was Adam. Max ignored Channon so completely that Channon was almost certain it was an act. Adam, though, caught Channon’s eye and winked at him. It made Channon nearly fumble the mug in his hand; hastily he took it to Tom and handed it over, just to get it out of harm’s way.

  Danny was in blue jeans and a pristine white undershirt, the only kinky things about him a studded belt and his wicked smile. The two strangers were both wearing leather, Max in suspenders and Adam in a harness that showed off his lean-muscled chest. He was waxed, creamy smooth, with a chain around his neck as thick as Channon’s thumb. Max was hairy but manscaped. Channon tried not to stare at either of them, and mostly succeeded.

  “Adam’s feeling toppy,” Max said, running a hand up Adam’s back. “So I think we’ll go with that tonight.”

  “That’s great,” Jack said, and he offered Adam a hand to shake. “Have fun.”

  Adam laughed, a high, breathless sound. “Thanks! I’ll do my best.”

  “I told them your kid’s pretty good at sucking dick,” Danny put in, drawling the words out slow enough it made Channon’s throat go tight and hot. “But that’s not why you invited us over, is it?”

  They all turned to look at Channon. Channon dropped his eyes and then dropped to his knees on his cushion, his breath coming fast. If they were going to look at him like that, he didn’t know if he could take it.

  But then Jack said, “No. Much as I’d love to tie his hands to his ankles and give you his mouth to use, I think my boy’s aching for something else.”

  “A little buttered bun,” Tom said wryly. Channon shivered. God, they were all looking at him now. It made everything seem so much more real, like it was really going to happen, and the enormity of it swept over him. Five of them, one after the other, messy and wet. No, six—because there was no way Jack was going to watch that and not join in.

  His face felt hot enough to cook an egg, his belly a mess of confused arousal. He could feel himself getting hard, his panties tightening. He knew they could all see it, could see him shrouded in lace, knowing they were turning him on.

  All of them.

  “Channon,” Jack said, and Channon’s chin jerked up like Jack had tugged on a leash. “Offer our guests something to eat.”

  That he could do. He stood up, pushed his shoulders back, and walked to the kitchen.

  There were several trays of finger food, courtesy of a catering service. It was all delicious—Jack had fed him some before the others arrived—mini smoked brisket pies, BLT canapes, crumbed nuggets with chicken potpie filling, smoked pork and apple sliders. Everybody took something. Most of them ignored him, chatting about people Channon didn’t know. Max was apparently building a deck, and Tom was giving him DIY advice.

  Adam was crushed up against Max’s shoulder, leaning on him in a way that made Channon pretty sure they were a couple. Adam was the only one who looked at Channon, a sly little glance under his long tawny eyelashes. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, taking a chicken nugget.

  Channon didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that, so he moved on. Finally, he took the tray to Jack, kneeling at his feet because Jack was his Sir.

  �
��Aw, that’s cute,” Nate said. “The menace never does that for me.”

  “That’s because your brat is a brat,” Jack said, ruffling Channon’s hair. He helped himself to the tray. “But I hear you like that.”

  “I do,” Nate agreed. “He’s an acquired taste. Tom, back me up.”

  “Your boy needs a good thrashing,” Tom said in a low growl.

  “Which I give him whenever necessary,” Nate conceded. “He’s pretty well behaved these days.”

  Tom snorted. “I heard. I’d pay money to see that.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m selling tickets,” Nate said with a grin.

  Jack tapped Channon on the shoulder. “Take the tray around again,” he said.

  It was much the same, being ignored while they chatted. None of them paid him much attention, which felt weird but also gave him a chance to settle his nerves. But then Channon offered the tray to Nate a third time, and his boss looked right at him, his mouth curled into a smirk.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting a hand to run it casually up the outside of Channon’s thigh. “You look good enough to eat.”

  It was a tease, and a mild one at that, but Channon’s face flamed with embarrassment. He was aware of Danny turning to look as if he’d only just noticed Channon was there. Nate’s hand was hot, his palm dry and smooth, and he danced his fingers up to trace the lace edge of Channon’s panties.

  “These are so cute. They really show off your ass.”

  “Channon’s not allowed to speak,” Jack called across the room, “so don’t expect an answer.”

  Nate’s grin widened, his eyes flickering with mischief. “Oh, really.” He trailed his hand over Channon’s hip and down one ass cheek, working his fingertips under the cloth and pinging it sharply against Channon’s skin. “I guess that means he can’t say no.”

  Channon tried to even out his breath, but it was hard with Nate’s eyes fixed on him and all the others watching to see what he’d do.

  Nothing. He would do nothing except what he was told. Just the thought of it shivered under his skin, this delicious helplessness. He could do nothing to stop them, no matter what they did, and he already knew what Jack intended for them to do.

  All of them. He swallowed, hot shame flooding his chest. God, he wanted… Was it okay to want this? Should he be more ashamed, more afraid? His eyes went to Jack, pleading with him. Jack smiled and nodded, just once. That was all the reassurance Channon needed.

  Jack had said it was okay for Channon to like things. It was okay. Everything was fine.

  Nate’s fingers slid into the back of Channon’s panties, caressing his ass. He tugged; Channon balanced the tray as Nate pulled him up until Channon straddled his lap. “Put the tray down,” Nate said, so Channon did. Nate pinched him hard, right under the swell of one cheek. “There we go. That’s a good boy.” He slipped the waist of the panties down, exposing Channon’s ass, and trailed his fingers into the cleft of it. All the while he held eye contact, smiling faintly under that hot blue stare. Channon shivered, caught by his gaze.

  “Look at me, pretty boy,” Nate said, low enough it was just for Channon. “Relax. I’m going to warm you up, okay? It’s just you and me right now. You don’t have to look at anyone else.”

  It made something in Channon’s chest loosen. Nate wasn’t going to hurt him. Nate only ever hurt him as much as Jack would let him, and tonight Nate wasn’t supposed to hurt him at all.

  The hand he slipped between Channon’s thighs was sure and firm. He stroked Channon’s balls with the backs of his knuckles as his other hand palmed Channon’s chest. “God, you’re just as fucking fit as Jack,” Nate sighed. “I bet he makes you work out. I bet he works you hard.” He played with Channon’s balls, his mouth twitching in the corners. “Ewan told me to give you something.” His grip tightened, and Channon went still as Nate’s fingers twisted, just enough to threaten. “Don’t move.”

  His hand caught Channon’s chin, angling him into a kiss that Channon had half expected. He opened up for Nate’s tongue, taking him in and allowing himself to be plundered. Being kissed by Nate wasn’t like being kissed by Jack. Nate was good at it, made Channon’s skin shiver and his cock twitch, but it wasn’t like giving himself up to his Sir. He liked it, all the same. Nate’s beard was soft with oil and smelled like cedar and cinnamon, and his tongue in Channon’s mouth was comfortingly familiar.

  When he was finished, Nate leaned back to give Channon a look of lazy satisfaction. “I can’t wait to shove my dick in you,” he said, low and intimate like he was telling Channon a secret. Channon’s face was already hot. Nate grinned, all white and shark-like. “I’d love to spank you first, but apparently I’m not allowed, so I guess I’m going to have to get my fun some other way.”

  That was ominous. Channon tried not to show how it twanged his nerves. Nate’s hand was in his panties at the back, fingers teasing between his cheeks. One fingertip brushed his hole, and he twitched. Nate stroked him there. He tried not to react, but Nate was insistent. He worked his way in, just one finger, and Channon was slick enough and open enough that it didn’t take Nate long to bury it all the way to the knuckles.

  “God, it’s like debauching an angel,” Nate said, watching Channon avidly as he fucked Channon with his finger. He stroked Channon inside until Channon couldn’t keep quiet anymore, whimpering and moaning in Nate’s lap. “Yeah, that’s it. There we go. Up you get,” and he slid his hand free to smack Channon on the ass.

  Channon clambered to his feet. He could feel the eyes on him, burning into his exposed skin. Nate had pulled his panties down so they tangled around his thighs; he cupped a hand over his barely covered junk and blushed so hot he felt incandescent.

  Behind him, Jack said, “Kneel on the mattress, Channon.”

  An order. Like a blessing. Channon knelt in the middle of it, ducking his head so he didn’t have to look anyone in the eye, and then Nate was behind him, one hand smoothing over his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just me. We’ve done this before.”

  Channon breathed out, so glad it was Nate and not one of the others. Nate knew him. Nate wouldn’t hurt him or make fun of him. And sure, Nate was going to smirk at him in team meetings, was going to lick his lip and grin, but that was it. Nate would never do wrong by him, not if he told Nate to stop.

  He didn’t want Nate to stop.

  “Give me your hands.”

  Channon did it. Nate caught them and squeezed them, and he ran his palms up Channon’s arms to his shoulders and back. He kissed Channon’s neck, and Channon tilted his head to let Nate in.

  “Relax, angel.”

  Channon tried to relax. It was easier with Nate’s breath in his ear and Nate’s hands roaming over his chest. He kissed Channon’s shoulder, kissed up his neck, caught the lobe of Channon’s ear in his teeth and tugged just hard enough to hurt.

  “Hold still.”

  He felt Nate tug off his tank, and then it was the heat of Nate’s chest along his spine, his arms hot and strong around Channon’s chest, and the scratch of Nate’s beard across the skin of his throat. Channon felt himself melt, slowly, into Nate’s body, a belt buckle pressing cold and hard against the small of his back. It was fine. It was good. It was going to be so much more in a minute, but for now he felt safe.

  “Okay.”

  Nate pushed him forward until his palms were on the mattress, and then laid his palm between Channon’s shoulder blades, weighing on him until he was on his chest, hips up in the air. The panties were still tangled around his junk, but his ass was on display, or would be the moment Nate moved away. Nate just stroked his back, humming lightly, before his hands moved down.

  “Such a perfect fucking ass,” Nate said, stroking his fingers over the cheeks. He took Channon’s panties and ran his hands back up the insides of Channon’s thighs. Then he slipped his thumbs into Channon’s cleft to open him up. “You know, Ewan wanted me to give you this, as well.”

  Channon had a second to think, He’s
not going to— before he felt the heat of breath on his ass, and then the wet slide of Nate’s tongue over him. It shocked a cry from his throat, but Nate either didn’t hear or didn’t care; he licked Channon over with firm deliberation. Channon buried his face in the sheet under him as Nate worked his way in, lapping at him like he was delicious, like he’d been hungry for this. Channon had a wild thought—Ewan wouldn’t let me do this for him. Does he let Nate? Is this something Nate doesn’t get from him?—but thinking was difficult when Nate had him open, was licking around his hole and then pressing inside, hot and wet and filthy.

  It made Channon’s balls throb, the girdle of his hips electrified. If this was how Nate meant to start, then Channon didn’t know how long he’d be able to hold out once Nate had his dick inside him. He had permission to come, but that didn’t mean he wanted to, and it was so soon. If he came on Nate’s cock, would it be disappointing to the others? Oh God, the others, watching this, waiting for their chance. Did they like what they saw?

  Nate thrust his tongue in hard and Channon moaned, thought slipping out of reach just as Nate pushed a finger back inside him. “Yeah? Yeah. Let’s do this.”

  The first cool brush of lube came as a shock. Then Nate had two fingers in him and was teasing him inside, and Channon let his bones go to jelly, sinking into the mattress and making wet, needy noises. He kept his eyes shut. He could hear someone murmuring behind him—it sounded like Adam—and then Jack said something he couldn’t quite hear. Jack was watching this. Jack had planned this. Jack wanted to see Channon skewered on Nate’s fingers, on his cock—God, Channon wanted it too.

  Nate chuckled. “I think that’s enough.”

  His hand was heavy on Channon’s hip, the head of his cock thick and blunt, and he eased in slowly, letting Channon get used to the feel of him before rocking in. Channon let his thighs spread open, his weight shift forward onto the arms he had braced against the mattress, and then Nate rolled his hips, settling into Channon’s body like he was meant to be there. Channon tried to remember to breathe, the hot, bone-melting pleasure of being fucked coming over him like a fever. God, when had he become this cock-needy slut, ready to open his legs for anyone who wanted him?