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“My gift to you,” Chris heard the dominatrix say to George in the hallway. George had seen her out and now re-entered the room, eyes wide, Chris’s internal confusion mirrored plainly on his face.
“What a surprise,” George said, eyes flickering across Chris and back to the monitor where the others looked on, still in a state of shock from the dominatrix’s visit. “The longest I’ve ever heard him be quiet for,” George remarked, finger tracing over the gag earning him a muffled protest from Chris. “Harry, I ought to thank you. What’s your bank info?”
Harry smiled, a wicked thing drifting across his face that reminded Chris of too many nights out gone too far. “I have a better idea of how you can repay me,” he said.
Will looked up from his phone, and Stephen said, “I like where this is going.”
Chris watched George smile in the monitor as he traced the strap around his head, a teasing touch that made Chris’s mind flash to innumerable other places that finger might go.
“Say it,” George said, voice more gravelly than Chris was used to. The sound went straight to his cock.
Harry’s expression was half giddy and half embarrassed. “Make use of the gag,” he said. “Show our Chris a good time.”
“Chris could use the loosening up, like,” Will concurred.
George pressed a finger to Chris’s jaw and turned his face toward him. “Chris,” he said, eyes intense, “Do you want me to touch you? Yes or no.”
Chris swallowed and his eyes swung over to the screen.
“We’d watch,” Harry warned.
“And be jerking ourselves raw, some of us,” Stephen muttered.
“All of us, don’t lie,” Will said.
Chris looked back at George.
“My hands on your dick, that’s it. Nothing else unless you want it.”
Chris felt the press of his cock against his trousers and looked at himself again in the monitor. Hands tied in front of him, mouth stretched wide and drooling, George standing behind him, tall and confident, and three mates watching, riveted, darkness in their eyes and hands below the desk.
“Yes,” Chris said, but it came out muffled. Recognizable, but muffled.
George didn’t look convinced, eyebrows furrowing. “Two grunts for yes, one grunt for no.”
“Yes please,” Chris said, figuring it fit the bill.
“Please is a fucking lovely touch,” Will said. “Harry, you’ve cooked us up a right treat here.”
“Real treat is in those little trousers of his,” Stephen said.
“Little big trousers,” George laughed. He held the waistband out and pretended to examine it. “These say extra-small, would you believe it?”
“Shut the fuck up and do something,” Chris attempted, but all the others could hear was syllables.
“Eager little puppy,” Stephen giggled.
Harry wrinkled his nose. “Eugh, didn’t like that.”
“Shirt open,” George mumbled. “Here, in front of the camera. One snap for no, two for yes. Three snaps for me to stop.”
Chris snapped twice.
“Safe words, an experienced man,” Stephen said. George winked into the camera at Stephen, a devastatingly good look on him, and got to work on Chris’s buttons, breath ruffling the hairs on his neck and the heat of his hands seeping through the shirt. He seemed to be touching Chris rather more than he needed to, tiny brushes against his skin through the fabric that no one else could see but Chris felt like sparks from a campfire.
“Cor, what a sight,” Will said, leaning forward as Chris’s chest was bared. George reached the bottom of the shirt and pulled the two parts away, showing Chris off. Chris stared at himself in the monitor. He was pale, in serious need of a holiday, but his pecs looked good and his mates were drooling. Much like himself with this fucking gag.
“How are you not touching him?” Stephen said. “Asking for a friend.”
George rested a hand on Chris’s stomach, thumb stroking over his skin, pads of his fingers digging in gently. “Hands are in the way,” he murmured.
“Sit him down,” Harry recommended. “Hands behind his head.”
Will vehemently agreed with that suggestion.
“Sit,” George said. “Good. Behind your head, like that.”
Chris instantly felt the strain in his shoulders. He leaned into it, enjoying it. He hoped none of them could tell, but—well. He was tied, gagged, and being tortured for pleasure. They knew already.
George ran his hands over Chris’s chest and stomach. It made his skin goosebump and tingle, and he leaned into the touch.
“Can’t neglect the nipple,” Stephen said. “Just the one, ignore the other.”
He was joking, so George rubbed a thumb over the one and flicked the other. Chris groaned.
“Jesus, so fucking hot,” Harry muttered, transfixed.
“Not Jesus, it’s Chris. Silly Harry,” Stephen said, but he was distracted so the delivery was shoddy.
“Looks like Jesus to me, mate,” Will said. His lips were bitten red-raw. “Godly.”
“Can I put my mouth on your stomach?” George asked quietly.
“Yes,” Chris said, momentarily forgetting he was gagged, and then snapped his fingers twice.
A grin flitted across George’s face and he knelt down in front of Chris. He licked a stripe up his stomach, making Chris buck in his seat, then dragged his tongue over Chris’s nipple. The other he tugged at before switching.
Chris had never felt it feel so good. It was the world’s worst tease, not enough to get him off but enough for the pressure in his groin to grow hot and insistent.
“Chris, is it fine if we jerk off to you?” Harry asked.
Chris snapped his fingers twice. Twice again. Twice again. Twice again.
“Think he likes that idea, boys,” George said, just in case the sound didn’t carry.
“Oh, fuck,” Will sighed, slouching in his chair.
“Sight for sore eyes and aching cocks,” Stephen said.
George nipped at Chris’s nipple and he nearly rose off the chair. His fingernails dug into his own palms and he knew he was on the precipice of begging. He knew he looked good, and what George was doing felt good, but his need was growing by the second and damned if the others could come but he couldn’t.
He mustered up the courage to, stammering, ask George to get him off.
George licked his lips and looked at the boys on screen, not at Chris, when he repeated, “You want me to get you off?” There was a twist to his mouth that looked almost like the start of a laugh, but his expression was dead serious when he looked back at Chris for his response.
Chris snapped twice, and George’s eyes darkened.
Harry shifted in his seat, leaning closer to his screen. “What is it you want, mate? Hand job? Blow job?”
Fucking anything, Chris wanted to scream. He shrugged and snapped twice.
“Will we ever get him to say no?” Stephen teased.
Chris’s cheeks heated. They kept talking about him like he wasn’t there, and he knew that they all could see that he was so needy, he’d say yes to anything. At this point, he didn’t care.
He snapped once and they all laughed. Good-natured, not teasing, but Chris’s mind made the jump. George’s hand rubbed his shoulder and Chris leaned into it gratefully.
Will smiled. “Given the situation, wouldn’t have thought he knows how to say no.”
“Fuck off,” Chris said.
Stephen laughed. “Think I caught that one.”
George was appraising Chris, visibly thinking. Chris felt naked under his gaze, even though he was nearly fully dressed.
“Handjob alright?” he asked.
More than alright. He nodded and tried to express with his eyes how grateful he was. He snapped twice, and George’s face lit up.
“It’s getting good,” Stephen said, leaning forward.
“It’s been good, what the fuck are you on about?” Will retorted. His arm was visibly moving, but his lower half was hidden beneath the desk. Chris thought it was wildly unfair that the others got to hide everything while he was—or soon would be—on full display.
Although he didn’t mind that much, because he could hear muffled wanking through the Discord call. As strange as the situation was, he liked to be found so titillating that his mates couldn’t help themselves.
“Get him naked,” Harry said.
George gestured to Chris’s bound hands and said, “He’s got to keep the shirt on.”
“Let the trousers fall,” Stephen advised.
“They’re made to come off him,” Will said.
“Stand,” George said.
Chris stood and, with his arms over his head, they did indeed fall straight down. Chris watched them fall, cheeks burning. He couldn’t even pick them up—no, he could, but he wouldn’t, and that set a sickening ball of shame alight in his gut.
“Those stupid fucking boxers,” George said, laughing to himself.
Chris made a noise of indignation that made all the boys laugh.
“No wonder you’re single, honestly,” Will said, and he was one to talk. Chris glared at him but thought the effect was probably ruined by his spit-slicked chin and watering eyes.
“Going to touch you now,” George said, voice deep in Chris’s ear.
“Do it,” Will said.
Chris snapped twice.
George’s breath puffed across the top of Chris’s head where he stood behind him, presence loud in the stillness of the room. George slipped his hands into Chris’s shirt, running them down his sides. His hands were hot and searching, moving with intent. They wrapped around the open panels of Chris’s shirt and pulled it open further.
Chris and George made eye contact in the monitor, almost-smile playing at George’s lips. Still holding the shirt open, he stroked at Chris’s skin with his thumb, causing a muscle in Chris’s stomach to jump. Chris pulled tentatively at his bound hands, feeling the rope cut into his skin. He couldn’t pull the shirt together if he tried; he’d be exposed for as long as George wanted him to be.
George’s hand went to Chris’s dick, palming it. Chris’s hips jerked involuntarily making George laugh softly, hands going to Chris’s waistband. He turned questioning, puppy dog eyes to Chris that Chris couldn’t look away from. Chris snapped twice.
“He’s never this obedient,” Will said.
“World class brat,” Stephen agreed.
“Chris, how are your arms feeling?”
Chris shrugged, not sure how to answer. George pulled Chris’s arms down with one hand. Although Chris liked the look of George’s big, square hand covering his own wrists, he couldn’t help but picture George’s hand covering his bare cock, the thought of which set a helpless shudder through him.
George knelt in front of Chris, fingers curling under his waistband, and asked if he was ready. Chris snapped twice. George pulled his pants down torturously slow, letting them drag, rough and catching, against Chris’s cock. Chris felt every centimeter of movement and bit back a whine.
George’s back was to the camera, so it was for Chris only when he said, low tone and bashful smile on his face, “You look good.”
Chris could only blink at him. George stood and moved out of the way, allowing the others to ogle him.
“Fucking stunning,” Will said.
“God, Chris,” Harry groaned.
Their words warmed Chris’s gut and urged him on. He sat in his chair, making sure he was fully in shot, and George knelt beside him.
“Ready for me to touch you?”
Chris snapped twice and vigorously nodded. He raised his hands back over his head and didn’t miss Stephen’s sharp intake of breath or the way Harry’s eyes darkened.
“Fucking hell, Chris,” Harry muttered, raking a shaky hand through his hair.
“Lotion on the desk, what a slut,” George said.
Chris glared at George, trying to say something about how he gets dry skin but it came out jumbled and messy. He looked at himself in the viewfinder. Chin shining from spit, skin blotchy and red.
No one could hear him when he muttered, “Fucks sake.”
George pumped the lotion onto his hands, rubbing them together so that it squelched. Chris couldn’t fucking wait. Everything George did set him more on edge: licking his lips, shifting his weight, hand drifting to his shorts. Breathing on him, brushing his shoulder, speaking to the boys on the call.
George was giddy with anticipation, looking between the monitor, Chris’s dick, and Chris’s face. The boys on the monitor were transfixed, looking at the scene playing out with the perfect cocktail of lust and jealousy.
They looked fucking amazing, all of them.
George grinned up at Chris and wrapped a loose hand around his cock. The feeling was so fucking heavenly that Chris’s eyes closed without his noticing, and he bucked into the touch.
“Jesus, mate,” Will said.
Chris groaned around the gag. George’s other hand went to the gag, pretending like he was adjusting it, but it was abundantly clear to everyone that he was toying with it, with Chris. Showing them all that he was in control of the situation, reminding Chris of his forced silence.
George’s hand sped up and Chris pulled his hands further behind his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders.
George wanked him off with a practiced hand, and Chris would’ve made a joke about it if he could fucking speak. If he would have been able to string any two words together that weren’t Please and George.
“Speed it up, mate,” Will said. His fist was flying over his dick.
George looked at the screen and chuckled, not altering his speed. “Ready to come already?”
“Yes,” Stephen said, visibly breathing heavy.
“Been ready to come since he first got tied up,” Will said. It was unclear whether he was referring to himself or Stephen, but it seemed the sentiment stood. “If I was there, I swear to god,” Will said. He’d scooted his chair back, full cock in view, and Chris could see him holding the base of it tightly, empty hand gripping the chair arm.
At Will’s words, Harry got a dangerous look on his face.
“Chris,” Harry said, and Chris knew that tone: wheedling and faux-innocent. “I’m coming over later, anyway.”
Chris shot a questioning look into the Discord camera.
“Explain,” George said lightly. George was fucking domming him, or something, Chris realized; taking care of him because he couldn’t take care of himself. Demanding respect from the others. Fuck, if Chris wasn’t careful, he’d let George take complete control, allowing himself to slip into the comfort of not having to make decisions since he could trust George to do it for him.
“I was going to say,” Harry said, stammer betraying his cool tone, “that I’m coming over anyway. If he wanted more than this.”
Chris’s first thought was that the ‘this’ Harry was referring to was perfection, but then he thought that anything else would be perfection, too. From the moment he’d been bound, he’d felt the stirrings of arousal. The dam had broken with George’s handjob and he found, yet again and unsurprisingly, that he did want more.
“What kind of ‘more’ are we talking?” George asked, lazily stroking Chris’s cock. Chris glared at George, wanting him to jerk him off faster, but George ignored him.
“Whatever he wants, I want to give it to him.”
“That dick,” Will chortled. “Step in line, Chrissy.”
The clamor of Stephen and Will talking over each other drowned out Chris snapping his fingers.
George interrupted them: “Guys,” he said. “Chris snapped twice. At Harry’s dick.”
“Call him that turtle in Florida,” Stephen said half-heartedly, looking in shock at his screen.
“Fuck,” Harry said, mussing his hair. “Fuck, Chris, really?”
Chris snapped twice.
“Now?”
Chris snapped twice and twice again, dizzy with the prospect of Harry touching him.
George grinned at Harry. “Looks like I’ve been upgraded,” he said good-naturedly.
Chris snapped once. George laughed and briefly, seemingly without meaning to, leaned his head against Chris’s chest. Chris’s cheeks flushed. He tugged at the restraints and felt the pressure of it against his skin, helpless to touch George like he wanted to.
“This night is turning into proper porn,” Will said, but Chris barely heard it. His world was quickly narrowing to touch and his friends’ lustful words, all else fading into a meaningless haze.
“Chris, Chris,” Harry said, and the haze lessened. Chris concentrated on the screen and at Harry’s beautiful face. (His!) “Alright if they watch?”
Chris snapped twice and twice again.
“Should have made one snap ‘yes, fucking yes, harder, faster, and ASAP’,” Stephen said.
Chris laughed as best as he could around the gag and snapped twice.
Harry leaned in close to the camera. “Chris, listen to me,” he said. “I’m coming over now, yeah.”
Chris snapped twice.
Harry bolted out of his chair, not even bothering to turn his camera off. There was a moment of stunned silence where the weight of it all hung in the air. Imagining Harry with him and touching him and fucking him, Chris’s hips jerked forward automatically, seeking relief in George’s fist.
George shot him an amused look and, to Chris’s horror, let go, sitting back on his heels. “Maybe take off the gag,” he mused aloud.
A debate was sparked, but Chris hardly listened. It was quickly sinking in that Chris didn’t care what happened to him; in knowing that he would accept whatever his friends chose, he realized that he had no opinion either way. Their word was law that Chris would bow to.
“Just for a break,” Stephen suggested, and the others agreed. “Harry and him can decide when he gets here if he wants it on.”
“Arms down,” George muttered. Chris dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders, sighing in relief. George reached behind Chris’s head and undid the gag.
“Fucking hell,” Chris said. He worked his jaw. “Oh my god.” Reality came rushing back to him now that he wasn’t gagged, and he looked, shamefaced, at the screen. But Will was disheveled and Stephen was pink-cheeked, and Chris was reminded that he was not alone in this scenario.
“So fucking hot, mate,” Will said, seeming to notice Chris’s thoughts. Chris smiled faintly at him.
“You did so good,” George murmured, running a thumb along Chris’s jaw and wiping away the spit. “And looked so hot doing it.”
“I’m going to pay Chris for a repeat performance every Friday when I’m lonely,” Stephen said.
George’s hand stilled where it was stroking Chris’s jaw. “It did record.”
“Fuck off,” Chris muttered. “Fuck off. We’re all deleting that.”
“Like hell we are,” Will said.
Chris relented, because of course he did.
And then he accepted staying tied, accepted staying mostly naked and on show, and accepted George edging him, bringing him to the brink of tears as Chris babbled a litany of praises before George slowed his hand down to nothing, leaving Chris begging shamelessly.
George laughed along with Stephen and Will, but it was soft laughs that reminded Chris of late nights, just the two of them, the same laughs that George made with his little cousins on FaceTime or when playing with the neighbor’s new puppy.
The next few minutes were the sweetest of tortures as George brought him to the edge again and again, unmoved by his begging.
Chris looked at himself in the Discord call, at how disheveled he was, how put-together George was in comparison, at the lust on Will and Stephen’s faces. A picture in contrasts, but he wouldn’t change it.
Harry arrived with a click of the door that felt like a gunshot. He called a greeting and Chris told him to come in, heart newly pounding. George’s hand rested on his shoulder, possessive, but Chris found that the weight of it soothed him.
“He speaks,” Harry said, eyebrows raised as he entered the room.
“Thought we’d give him a rest, like,” Will said.
“You wanted him stay gagged,” George noted.
Harry smiled lightly and rubbed a finger over the red indent near Chris’s mouth. “Keep it off,” he said.
Chris nodded, unable to take his eyes off Harry. He’d changed clothes, Chris noticed first. He was still in his black joggers, but he’d thrown on a soft green tee overtop. His hair was messy and his smile loopy, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.
And, fuck, the lust in Harry’s eyes through the screen was nothing compared to the reality of having him here. Since meeting him, Chris’s eyes had danced across Harry, careful not to settle for too long, but now he allowed himself the luxury of lingering. Harry was doing the same, eyes trained on Chris’s face.
George, who had been looking between the two of them, face unreadable, broke the silence. “Well,” he said, standing. “I’ll just…” He jerked his thumb to the door.
Chris’s heart dropped. “Stay,” he said, and it was worth it because George’s face broke into a shy grin the split second before he turned around to sit on the bed.
“Oooh,” Will laughed like he thought he knew what was on Chris’s heart.
“He always did like an audience,” Stephen said.
“I’ve fucking had an audience through this whole thing!” Chris was antsy, suddenly. “Alright, I’ve lost my fluffer, let’s get a move on.”
George huffed a laugh.
“Fluffer?” Stephen repeated.
“Don’t mind that,” Will said, waving his hand. “Although do come on, Harry.”
“Oh, he’ll be doing that in a minute,” George said. One of his hands was rested within his shorts. Chris watched George hold himself. He thought he could watch George for an eternity.
“Good with your hands tied?” Harry asked, tearing Chris's attention back to the matter at hand.
Chris shrugged. “Don’t mind it. Shouldn’t need them, really.”
“Kinky,” Stephen said, eyebrows raised.
Will laughed. “We’re well past that, my friend.”
Harry told Chris to stand with a firm pat on the back and ran his eyes over him. Chris, cheeks burning and avoiding eye contact, looked to George, whose gaze was heavy. He bit his lip, seemingly subconsciously, and Chris shut his eyes with the wave of lust that overcame him.
At long last, and to Chris’s immediate relief, Harry’s hand went to Chris's cock, jerking it a few times that had Chris pulling at the ropes, not because he wanted out, but to distract him from the enormity of the pleasure he was feeling.
Harry let go and Chris groaned and the others protested, but his hand emerged from his pocket with a bottle of lube and a condom. The scene seemed to sharpen, reality sinking in.
Chris hesitated and Harry noticed, pausing and looking Chris in the eyes. Chris gave a minute nod and Harry smiled. He set the items on the desk and trailed a warm, calloused hand down Chris’s side.
“I wish you weren’t wearing the shirt,” Harry said, “but I like your hands tied too much.”
Chris laughed, flexing his hands in their bindings. “Me too, honestly.”
Will and Stephen laughed and Chris returned his eyes to the monitor to see what they were seeing. The red marks around his mouth were fading, but his hair was a mess. His cheeks were pink and eyes bright, and he looked fucking sexy. Licentious, but sexy.
Behind him, Harry seemed large and dominant, moving with a surety that Chris found utterly appealing.
Will was kicked back at his desk, feet up, appraising it all. “My view’s great, I cannot complain.”
Stephen and, surprisingly, based on his position, George, made a murmur of assent.
Chris had noticed a change. Although he had enjoyed being mocked and teased, left helpless as he was shown off to his friends, his ego appreciated the freely given compliments accompanying the unabashed lechery.
Harry kicked the desk chair away and moved behind Chris. Harry and Chris both watched Harry’s hands fiddle with the shirt, grip Chris’s waist, and send goosebumps skittering across his skin.
Will let a grin slip onto his face, hand still moving slowly over his cock. Stephen licked his lips, so close to his screen that his nose surely had to be nearly touching it.
“About ready?” Harry asked. Chris nodded, head turned to look at Harry. Harry’s eyes were gentler than Chris was used to. Potentially more significant than might have been true hedonism was the restraint in Harry’s movement. He didn’t take too much nor say too much, which felt to Chris like an offering of respect and gratitude.
Chris wished to run his hands over Harry’s arms, placed so close to him, and was happy, at least, to have the monitor so he could see Harry throughout.
He wasn’t the only one.
“Harry, show us the goods,” Will said.
“You don’t want to see this,” Harry assured him.
“You’d be wrong there,” George said, not looking away from Chris. “They haven’t shut up about it.”
Harry half-smiled and addressed the screen. “Well, don’t get too excited. Top’s not coming off.”
His bottoms weren’t yet, either, but Stephen still said, “Donald and Daisy Duck look different.”
“And I guess he’s Donald,” Chris said.
“What gives you that idea?” Will muttered, still staring, transfixed, at his screen. His hand had paused. Chris could see the tip of his cock, flushed red, shine of precum visible under the bright ring light.
Chris swallowed hard, feeling an inexorable need within him to be satiated. “Harry,” he murmured, softly enough that he hoped no one could hear it, but he saw the mic spike anyway.
“How…” Harry started, then looked at George. Chris realized just how central George was to everything: that without George, none of this would have happened.
“Chris,” George said slowly. “How do you want it?” His voice was even, but Chris could see a thin sheen of sweat on his brow that gave him away. Chris's ego would never recover. He'd reduced his mates to nothing by his sheer sexual magnetism.
That's what he'd tell himself, at least, because they were just as likely to be getting off to him being shut up and restrained.
“Bend him over the desk,” Will interrupted before Chris got the chance to respond.
When Chris met George’s eyes, which were wide and sultry all at once, an electric shock ran through him. He nodded, which Harry saw and, leaning in close to Chris’s ear, hot breath puffing over him, told him to bend.
Chris did so, shirt hanging open, bound hands and elbows cool against the surface. Harry’s hand brushed admiringly across Chris’s arse.
“God,” Harry murmured. Chris felt him move, sending breeze wafting across Chris’s back even through the shirt. Harry grabbed the lube, and Chris had only a moment to catch his breath before Harry was squirting lube on his fingers and bringing them to Chris’s arse where he added more lube. It dripped down Chris’s crack, down his legs, making him shudder. It was plenty, surely, but something felt debauching and sexy about the lube leaving its cool, sticky mark on him.
He suddenly needed to see what Harry looked like. In the camera, Harry’s eyes were lowered seductively, lip between his teeth as he touched Chris with cool, confident fingers.
“Why the hell do I live in Manchester?” Stephen bemoaned.
“Forget that, we’re in the fucking nosebleeds here,” Will complained, craning his neck as if that would help him see the back of Chris.
“It’s all you’re getting,” Chris retorted, wiggling his arse out of spite. He swore he heard George choke on his spit.
Harry huffed a laugh and begun fingering Chris’s arsehole. At first it was delicate and gentle, but he soon added a second finger, pumping in and out like he enjoyed the loud, slick sound of it.
“Hang on,” he said, and Chris heard him lube up his cock. He watched Harry’s face in the monitor as he lined himself up and inched in. “There we go,” Harry was saying softly, secretly.
“Jeeeesus,” Will said. “Ah, fuck.”
Chris’s vision was blacking out, or was it his eyes closing? He was lost for words.
“Go on,” George said, voice tense and broken. Chris managed to turn his head and watch him where he was splayed out on the bed, legs parted, hand moving inside his shorts. Chris imagined running his tongue down the trail of hair disappearing beneath George’s waistband. George met his eyes and smiled lazily and—maybe Chris was reading into it—with promise.
He looked back at the screen. Not that Chris was big-headed, but he was surprised to see Will’s eyes closed, not watching what was happening. Will’s headphones were on, though, so he was listening, and Chris couldn’t complain too much because the view was amazing: Will’s feet were on either side of his monitor, camera staring down the center of them at his crotch where he was jerking off, hand flying.
Stephen was as opposite as could be, eyes fixed on Chris, cheeks fluorescent pink, positioned firmly behind his desk. There was a tension in his arms, though, that Chris found appealing, and as his right arm flexed, Chris admired his bitten red lips.
The next few minutes were a blur. Chris couldn’t decide whether to look at George, hair sweaty on his forehead and mouth dropped open, thighs parted invitingly with Chris longing to crawl between them; or at Will, making the most beautiful noises that went straight to Chris’s cock and made him wish to draw them out of him directly; or at Stephen, eyes so intense that Chris couldn’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like if they were in the same room.
If he wasn’t looking at them, he was looking at Harry, whose jaw was set and eyes downcast, but as he fucked into Chris, Chris felt the gentle press of his hands and could see a softness in the curve of his mouth.
Everything faded into rhythm: the breathing, the thrusts, even the words and groans of the others and himself. It could have been any length of time, but eventually, Chris felt himself begging for more, hopelessly close to coming but unable to get himself off with his bound hands. Harry took mercy on him, reaching around and jerking him off. Just a minute of the dual sensation was enough to bring Chris to the edge and over it. He came with a groan that Harry echoed a moment later.
When Harry pulled out and Chris felt coolness wash over him, the ground seemed to shift under his feet. He rested his head on the desk and sighed. An instant later, Harry’s arms were around him, strong, solid, and sticky with sweat.
He raised his eyes to the screen and noticed Will and Stephen, lax and sated.
Will noticed him looking. “God, Chris, fucking hell, fucking amazing, mate.” Behind Chris, Harry smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around him.
“You’ve made Will speechless,” Stephen said.
“Quite the opposite,” George remarked. Chris’s breath caught as he noticed a dark shine on George’s shorts and realized what it meant. Sure, Will and Stephen had jerked off and come, too. But they weren’t here. What they had done wasn’t plain to see.
Something was rather sad about that.
A wave of fatigue washed over Chris, and he saw himself looking pale and sweaty in the monitor. He made to sit in his chair, then grimaced at the thought of dirtying the nice leather. George jumped to attention, leaving the room to, presumably, fetch a towel. Harry cut off Chris’s hand bindings and massaged Chris’s wrists. He hadn’t realized how badly it hurt until the rope was off and he could stretch his arms.
“I cannot finish the video after that,” Will said. He’d pulled his feet back down off the desk, but his sleeves were still pushed up and his hair was mussed.
Chris imagined returning to the recording and pretending like everything was normal as lube still dripped out of his arse and the feel of Harry hadn’t quite faded.
“Guys,” he protested spiritlessly.
“How long do you need, Chris?” Harry asked.
Chris shrugged, mind fuzzy.
“Minimum, 30 minutes; maximum, tomorrow,” George suggested as he entered the doorway.
“An hour,” Chris said.
Will nodded approvingly.
George laid the towel out on the bed and patted it. Chris’s legs felt unsteady as he tottered over and collapsed onto it. He felt suddenly exhausted and weirdly sad; an adrenaline dump, probably. He was grateful for the quiet of the room and the peaceful way George and Harry navigated it. Even Will and Stephen were subdued, Will on his phone and Stephen looking somewhere off-screen.
George stepped out again and Chris’s heart stuttered, but he returned a moment later with a blanket which he wrapped around Chris’s shoulders before sitting beside him on the bed. The blanket’s heavy weight warmed his rapidly cooling skin, the softness of the fleece a far cry from the burn of the rope and tight stretch of the gag.
George wrapped an arm around Chris and pulled him in, and Chris felt himself curling into George’s side, feeling the warmth of him through George’s tee.
A couple mouse clicks drew Chris’s attention to Harry, who straightened and stepped back from the computer.
“Will and Stephen have stepped away,” he said. “We’re muted and video’s off.”
Harry’s video was, of course, still recording his empty room, and Chris was, again, thrilled that Harry had chosen to come here with him.
“Thank you,” Chris said, referring to a dozen things at once. “Both of you.”
George didn’t respond verbally; the rub of Chris’s arm with the hand slung over his shoulders was enough.
“Thank you,” Harry said. He scuffed his foot on the carpet and Chris, realizing that he was about to say something significant, froze. “George, close your ears.”
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”
Harry’s eyes squinted into the briefest of smiles that was gone in an instant. “Chris,” he said. “Since we were nineteen, if you’d said the word, I would have done it.” He swallowed and shifted between his feet. Chris’s breath caught, but Harry’s tone was light and not sullied by expectations or hopes. It was pure expression for the sake of times past. “I’m gonna go now,” Harry said, eyes trained on Chris betraying a tenderness. “George can take care of you.”
Chris watched Harry dress himself, run a hand through his hair, and take stock of the room. His eyes lighted on George’s hold of Chris and lingered there for a moment. Chris tried to read his expression, but Harry’s face was carefully neutral.
As Harry turned to go, Chris said, impulsively, “Me too. By the way.”
Harry’s hand, reaching for the doorknob, halted when he heard the words. He looked back at Chris, ghost of a smile on his face, and then left.
His departure didn’t feel like the closing of a door or the last page of a book. It was the breeze blowing through curtains or one page out of a hundred. Something had been and gone but Chris—and everyone, it seemed—was the better for it.
He leaned into George’s chest, hearing his heart beating and feeling his breath hot against his temple.
When he joined the video again, the four of them would enjoy the looseness that comes from shared experience. Secret smiles and inside jokes. Chris’s cheeks would heat randomly, but he’d feel a kinship with the light in Harry’s eyes, the teasing twist of Will’s mouth, or the piece of Stephen’s hair that wasn’t quite in order.
For now, though, he felt George’s warmth encompassing him and thought that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.