Work Text:
Will lay on the bed, a black fake-leather collar with the words Property of James Marriott imprinted bold and his arms pinned by rope to the bed.
Moans drip from his mouth as he hopelessly tries to find friction, arousal thumping through his veins, the purple vibrator grazing his prostate.
Feeling the hungry eyes of his friends, analysing his body he squirmed slightly, second guessing not only his physique, but the whole idea.
Arthur Hill and George Clarke they've definitely got better things to do than stare at his worse than mediocre-
"Christ look at that." Arthur broke the silence, his voice breathy.
George inhaled deeply, "Such a pretty thing isn't he."
Being talked about, like he wasn't even there but in such a positive light, it made him feel desirable.
"Awww look at that, he's blushing."
"Like a virgin." George mocked
"I heard he's more of a nymph."
Will tried, he really did, honest, not to whine at their conversation. He wasn't even involved.
Didn't matter. His efforts were in vain.
George and Arthur pounced warm insults scattered Will's brain he really just wanted someone to "Touch me! Please!"
The two men looked to each other, acting as if the bulges in their joggers wasn't even there.
Arthur chuckled before saying "I'd love to see those lips round me, see what James taught him."
"Please Arthur!"
"We can't be sayin' no to that pretty thing now can we?" George mocked, undoing the knots and letting Will free. He leapt off the bed and pressed his lips to Arthur's briefly, before dropping to his knees, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out flat.
Arthur stripped himself of his clothes slowly, letting his joggers hang loose only to
drop
Will ran his tongue along his own lips in anticipation, feeling his mouth salivate.