Dirty Dining (NSFW) — Part 3

Copyright 2013 EM Lynley. Please do not share or repost without author’s permission.

Dirty Dining

from Dreamspinner Press

Jeremy’s a grad student who’s always short of money. When his fellowship gets canceled he’s tempted to take a job at a men’s dining club as a serving boy. The uniforms are skimpy and he’s expected to remove an item of clothing after each course.  He can handle that, but he soon discovers there’s more on the menu here than fine cuisine. How far will he go to pay his tuition, and will money get in the way when he realizes he’s interested in more from one of his gentlemen?

Read Part 1 (NSFW)

Read Part 2 (NSFW)

Chapter SIX

Jeremy’s week was full of disappointments. Suddenly, finding instrument time was impossible, potentially putting his research behind schedule, and he didn’t get any tutoring appointments. His research was now stalled, mainly because he found going to the lab frustrating. He didn’t have the hours to do all the experiments he needed for his dissertation, which meant he might need to stay an extra semester or two. He needed to discuss these problems with his adviser, but Dr. Morrell had been scarce around the department, and he wasn’t returning e-mails or calls. He was probably speaking at a conference; he was one of the world’s foremost authorities on VLPs.

To make matters worse, Jeremy found himself thinking of Mr. Green. He was sexy in a sort of shy way, like he wasn’t aware of how hot he was and didn’t want anyone else to pay attention to his looks. But Jeremy could also tell he was smart. Smart enough to find the artifice of the Dinner Club a little overwhelming. The other boys poured on the sex appeal and compliments, and their gentlemen ate it up like it was foie gras.

Jeremy sensed Mr. Green wouldn’t want that kind of treatment, and it wasn’t Jeremy’s personality to lavish unearned praise on anyone. Even for money. Though it would certainly work better for tips at the Dinner Club than it did with PharmaTek—the biotech start-up was rumored to be planning to further cut funding to the grant covering Jeremy’s research. They blamed their venture capital investors. Too bad he couldn’t just fawn all over the start-up and VC guys and get his grant back.

Early Sunday Jeremy headed back to the lab. Plenty of other doctoral students were there, checking on experiments or prepping others. The faculty rarely came in on weekends, so the atmosphere was relaxed and fun. Someone had the radio on so they could listen to the Giants play in Atlanta.

Jeremy put on his protective gear and set his materials up at his workstation. He carefully rinsed the cells in the petri dish; he needed to change the cell media before adding the latest sets of antigens that he wanted to test. It wasn’t hard, just time consuming and somewhat tedious. Most grad students got their undergrad assistants to do this work for them, but Jeremy enjoyed the chance to let his mind wander. Once the new media was on the cells, he started adding the tiny amounts of antigen to each well of cells. They would need to incubate for several hours before he could analyze them on the flow cytometer.

He spent the rest of the day at the lab and finished two experiments. The results looked pretty good, and he was eager to analyze the data further and show them to his adviser. Another month of this kind of progress would mean he might get additional funding and have enough data to publish in one of the top journals. In this haze of semicelebration, Jeremy raced down the steps—all six floors, because the elevators were a little untrustworthy and the last thing he needed was to get stuck in one on a weekend—and out the front door of the lab building, realizing it had gotten dark while he was working.

He turned right and headed for the bike rack. There had been four other bikes when he’d arrived hours ago, and now there were two. But neither of the two were Jeremy’s.

“Fucking bike thieves!” He kicked at the metal rack and pain shot up his leg and continued to radiate through his foot. Stolen bikes were one of the major issues on campus. Last thing he needed right now. He dug in his pocket for his cell phone to open the app for campus shuttles. The last one had come by five minutes earlier, and the next wasn’t due for an hour. He’d just walk back home. He could use the fresh air and exercise after being cooped up in the lab all day.

He’d have to spend hours the next day with police reports, and he didn’t relish the waste of time. Especially because it was his morning at the tutoring center. With the probability he’d need to buy a new bike looming over him, he wondered if a police report was worth the time. Stolen bikes were rarely recovered, and it hadn’t been insured.

He wound his way through campus rather than walking along the perimeter. The paved paths were deserted, and the scent of pine trees and grass calmed his frazzled nerves. His stomach growled; he couldn’t remember the last meal he’d eaten. Breakfast probably. He’d make something when he got home rather than stop at one of the tempting restaurants. Ramen or pasta or salad. That’s what was in the kitchen. Not very appetizing.

By the time he arrived at his apartment—located on a quiet tree-lined street just three blocks off the northern perimeter of campus—he’d formulated a plan to get a new bike and at least one decent meal this week. He wanted to sleep on the idea before he committed himself.

By the next morning he’d decided. He called Thomas at the Dinner Club and asked if there were any open slots this week.

“Glad to hear from you, Jeremy,” Thomas said as if he meant it. “I have one on Sunday and… oh, hang on. Steve can’t do his shift tomorrow. Do you want to fill in for him?”

“Sure. I can make it tomorrow.” He hesitated for a second, wondering if he should ask whether Mr. Green might be there, then decided against it. “Thanks, Thomas.”

“No problem. Let me know if you want the Sunday shift too.”

“Yeah, I’ll take Sunday also. See you tomorrow.” He put the phone down.

It was done. He wouldn’t second-guess himself or his motives beyond needing cash. He wouldn’t spend the next twenty-four hours wondering if he’d see Mr. Green again or not. But if he did… well, best not to contemplate what he’d do—or how far he’d go—if Mr. Green was dining again the following night.

Chapter SEVEN

Jeremy had to set out earlier to get to the city Wednesday night. Without a bike he was forced to use the campus shuttle to BART and arrived at the club’s staff dressing room with barely enough time for a quick shower. Three guys from his previous shift were here: Kit, Rand, and a slim Asian guy named Law—short for Lawrence.

“Hiya, my tasty macaron, nice to see you back again.” Kit gave Jeremy a European-style double kiss, though the second one landed on his mouth and not on his cheek. “Have fun last time?” He asked with innuendo dripping from each word.

“Fun enough.” Jeremy grinned and gave the other boys a wave. “What’s with Kit and the bakery talk?”

“Oh, he’s on a diet and can’t eat any of that. It’s the only way he can handle the deprivation.” Rand shook his head. “Anyway, glad you’re back,” Rand said and introduced Jeremy to the two boys he didn’t already know.

“Tonight’s costume theme is sailor boys.” Thomas handed out costumes. They were all variations of blue and white, with caps and blue or white shorts. He had a handful of sailor scarves in different colors, but he held onto those. “Need to get the assignments first. You’ll get a scarf to match your gentleman.”

Jeremy went to one of the stations and slipped into his: tiny white shorts, a sleeveless white shirt with buttons down the front, and a little white cloth cap. He practiced sitting in the tight white shorts so he could find the most comfortable way and not risk pain and damage to his balls. Kit noticed and came over.

“You can let your cock hang down below the shorts, or….” He paused and cupped Jeremy’s dick through the tight, thin fabric. “Or you can arrange it so it points up and over the waistband when you’re hard. You’re big enough for that. The little guys look better hanging down.” He gave Jeremy another wholly unnecessary squeeze. “To get you started.” He winked and went back to fixing his own costume.

Like last time some of the guys lubed up or played with dildoes or butt plugs before getting dressed. Jeremy again passed. He hadn’t decided what would be on the menu tonight.

“Remy!” Kit came back over. “Your Mr. Green’s here again tonight. He was delicious. Probably tasted as good as he looked, huh?”

Jeremy felt his cheeks warming. He shrugged. He hadn’t tasted much of Mr. Green, but he’d certainly like to. “Am I serving him again?”

“Can’t see the assignments yet. But usually you’ll get the same gentleman unless they didn’t like you. But if that happens, they generally don’t schedule you at their table again. Avoids any uncomfortable situations.”

Rand came in. “Thomas needs to know if you’re on the menu tonight, Remy? Any extras at the dinner table this time? Kissing, hand job, blowjob, boy-on-boy play?”

Jeremy hesitated. He looked to Kit. Kit was no role model. He seemed to enjoy anything and everything. But he did enjoy working here and playing with the gentlemen and the other boys. “Yeah, okay.”

Rand handed him the signup sheet. There was a list of activities and how much he would be paid for each one. He could easily get a new bike if he signed up for two or three. He checked off a few boxes and signed his name at the bottom of the sheet. He wouldn’t mind kissing any of the other boys or hand jobs. And he’d certainly enjoy a hand job from Mr. Green or another toe-curling blowjob. Green might not want to play in the dining room, but if he did, it would be a win-win-win situation. Getting paid was just icing on the cake.

Thomas came in and took the scarves from Rand. “We had to switch a few boys around. Here’s your assignment.” He handed out the first four scarves, still holding a sky blue one and the green one as he approached Jeremy. He gave Jeremy the blue scarf.

“Hang on. I thought I’d be getting Mr. Green again.”

Thomas looked at Jeremy head-on. “Sorry, Mr. Green asked for someone else tonight. I double-checked because I thought you two worked out well last time.” He spoke softly, but the others could see which scarf he had been given. It was obvious what had happened. Kit looked away.

Jeremy’s stomach felt like it sank through the floor and kept going. “Didn’t he like me?” He whispered the question, ashamed to have his rejection so public, despite Thomas’s obvious attempt to spare his feelings.

“Yes, he did. But he wanted variety. We can discuss this in private later if you want.”

Jeremy blinked. Why did he take this so personally? This was supposed to just be a job for quick easy cash, not a matchmaking service. He wondered if he’d like some other man putting his hands on him. “Shit, I signed up for extras. I don’t know now….”

“Mr. Sky Blue is a regular. He’s nice, and he keeps his boys happy.” Thomas winked.

“I like him a lot,” Kit said. He came over and put a consoling arm around Jeremy. “You’ll like him too.” Kit cocked his head. “Despite what you may think, I don’t like everyone.”

“Jeremy, if you work here, you don’t get to choose. The gentlemen choose who they want,” Thomas said. “You need to understand this. But we have strict rules, and the men are all approved. Sky Blue’s a regular, and if he likes you, he’ll be a good client.” Code for he’ll tip a lot.

Jeremy nodded, reminding himself he was only here for the money. When he scheduled the job tonight, he didn’t even know Mr. Green was coming. It had been a nice surprise, but now he felt the pain of a rejection he hadn’t expected. “I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll get used to this.”

“If you don’t like the system, that’s understandable and you don’t have to come back. Not everyone is suited to this job,” Rand said, and Thomas nodded.

“We start serving in five minutes, so get yourselves ready to go,” Thomas said and left the dressing room.

“I feel like an idiot,” Jeremy said as he tried to tie his scarf. His hands shook. Law came over and helped him knot it.

“I’m sorry. If we could switch, I would.” Law rubbed Jeremy’s upper arm. He pulled at his own scarf—the green one. “But that’s against the rules. Only Thomas can change assignments.”

So damn many rules! But Jeremy nodded. He shouldn’t take this out on Law or any of the others. He’d do this one night and then decide if he could keep coming back here and taking the luck of the draw.

Kit sprinkled a little glitter over Jeremy and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You look great. We’ll have fun tonight. Don’t worry.”

“Servers, line up!” Thomas called, and they filed out of the dressing room. The dinner gong sounded, and they were on.

The prospect from Missouri, Red Cathcart, was excited about the dinner from the moment Brice collected him from his hotel in a taxi.

“You been here before, right?” he’d asked before he’d even shut the taxi door.

“Yes. Just once.”

“What do the boys do?”

“Serve dinner and they take off a piece of clothing—”

“Yeah, I know that. What else do they do?”

Brice tried to hide his frown. “It depends on the boy. You’ll get a menu of activities, and you choose what you want to do.”

“Can you fuck ’em at dinner?” His tone was half-shocked and half-excited.

“No.”

Cathcart’s face showed disappointment. “No fucking?”

“Not at dinner. After dinner, if you want.” Brice sighed. “You do whatever you want after dinner. I’ve arranged an overnight room for you.” He put on a brighter smile than he felt. “Have fun. That’s what tonight’s all about.”

“I will. I’m gonna have a great time.” He clapped Brice on the shoulder and started whistling.

The taxi dropped them off, and they entered the club, where a young man wearing a white bow tie and apparently nothing else greeted them from behind a podium. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Paris. Welcome to the Dinner Club. Your colors?”

Brice told him. Cathcart rubbed his hands together in a disconcerting manner. “I like this color-code name thing. Mysterious. Fun.”

Paris—who was in fact wearing microscopic white shorts revealing more of his impressive anatomy than they concealed—escorted them to an office off the entry hall. Brice had been here his first time for a short discussion before dinner. Thomas, the dining-room host, greeted them. He welcomed them into his office and explained the ground rules to Cathcart, then turned to Brice.

“Just wanted to double-check with you about the boys. You didn’t want to have Remy serve you? Is that correct?”

Mention of the name stirred something in Brice’s chest and something far lower. A bad sign. “No. Just want some variety.”

“Fine. I’ll keep that in mind with the seating arrangements tonight. Sometimes it can get awkward.”

“Awkward? How?”

“I’ll put his gentleman at the other end of the table to minimize any contact. Don’t worry.”

“Remy’s working tonight?” Brice felt a stirring settle somewhere in the middle, in his gut. He hadn’t expected Remy here tonight.

“Yes. I’ve got it under control.” Thomas handed each of them a colored lapel pin with ribbon: a hunter green one for Brice and mauve for Cathcart.

As Brice attached his pin, he turned over his options in his mind. He could still ask for Remy after all. Should he? Before he had a chance to say anything, Paris entered and asked them to follow him to the dining room. Brice paused in the doorway, but Thomas was gone—he’d apparently left out of a back door to the office.

Brice and Cathcart sat at the table as the gong sounded. This time Brice arranged to sit next to Cathcart, with the boys in between, so he wouldn’t have to watch or be watched.

As they waited, Brice wondered whether he’d made the right choice. He remembered how Remy felt sitting in his lap, feeding him, the warmth of his body through the fabric of Brice’s pants. Whose lap would he be in tonight? Who would be touching him the way Brice wanted to touch him but hadn’t? Was it out of prudishness or some misplaced respect for Remy?

He glanced around the table at the other men’s faces. Which one of them might share his bed with Remy that night? Brice remembered how he smelled and how he’d felt cuddled up during the night. And the way he’d tasted when he’d finally decided to let Remy know what he wanted. Why did he have these thoughts about a guy who took his clothes off—and probably more—for money?

Next to him, Cathcart sipped a single-malt Scotch and grinned like he’d won the Powerball jackpot. Brice felt like a different kind of whore, bringing a client here so he could close a big deal for his firm.

The gong sounded, and Cathcart put his glass down with a thunk, sloshing some of the amber liquid onto the table. The men turned their attention to the door at the far end of the room.

Cathcart grabbed Brice’s knee. “Oh, the boys are coming now!”

The first one entered, wearing a blue-and-white sailor suit and a dark blue scarf. Cathcart sucked in his breath. “Which one’s mine?”

“He’ll be wearing a scarf the color of your lapel pin.”

“Oh, right.”

So far Remy hadn’t entered the room. He’d been last when he came in with the green armband destined for Brice. Who here would have Jeremy tonight? He didn’t think it would be Cathcart, since he was Brice’s guest. Thomas understood that wouldn’t be very acceptable to a new member. The second boy out the door, a lithe blond, wore a mauve tie. He brushed a hand along Cathcart’s shoulders as he filed past on their circuit of the room before they would sit down with their gentlemen.

“Oh, he’s pretty, Brice. I like him.”

Four boys had entered. So far Brice hadn’t seen either his green boy or Remy. Then a slender Asian boy entered wearing green. Brice couldn’t recall if he’d been there the previous week. He was as attractive as all the others, and his exotic looks made a few of the gentlemen let out a soft gasp. Last was Remy, wearing sky blue. Brice couldn’t take his eyes off him, and not just because the tight sleeveless shirt or the tighter white shorts showed his anatomy to its best advantage.

Brice’s gaze followed Remy around the room. As Remy was opposite him, their gazes met for a flicker of a second. Brice had to look away, but he hadn’t missed the hurt he saw there. Could it be real? Or just another ploy these boys used on their clients? Brice broke the eye contact first but wished he hadn’t. He watched the boys move around the room, smiling and showing off their costumes. Then the green boy sat down, and Brice couldn’t keep watching Remy.

“Hi, Mr. Green. I’m Law,” the Asian boy said with a sweet smile.

“Law?”

“Short for Lawrence.” He grimaced, clearly not enamored with his given name.

“Hi.”

Law sidled up to Brice so their thighs were pressed together. “Here’s my menu.” He leaned forward, picked the small leather folder from the table and handed it to Brice. “And nightcaps.” He whispered the last into Brice’s ear with a warm breath and a soft brush of lips against the lobe of Brice’s ear. It was a sexy touch. Before Brice’s brain could process the physical stimulation, Law was gone.

Cathcart’s boy had gone too, to bring in the first course, and he grabbed at Brice’s elbow. “Jee-sus, we don’t have anything like this back home. Nothin’! My boy’s called Kit.” Cathcart held Kit’s menu out. “Look at what he’ll do. Damn, I don’t think I’m gonna have time to eat.”

Brice laughed. He couldn’t help it, despite finding Cathcart’s prurient interests somewhat disconcerting. But down at the other end of the table, Brice wondered what the man with the sky blue lapel pin was reading in Remy’s menu. Last time he didn’t have one, but tonight, apparently, he was prepared to do more than serve dinner. Trying to ignore those thoughts, Brice opened Law’s menu.

It wasn’t extensive. Hand job, blowjob, and some boy-on-boy action: kissing, hand job, blowjob, and toys. Brice hadn’t planned on ordering anything during dinner, but he wouldn’t completely rule it out.

As the first few courses were served, Cathcart got into the swing, removing his boy’s clothes between courses. Brice left him to his own devices and chatted when the boys weren’t in the room. If Cathcart’s enjoyment had any correlation to his interest in investing with Brice’s firm, they were set for at least the fifty million and possibly more.

Brice kept his attention on Law, who straddled his lap and fed him seafood—in keeping with the nautical theme. He avoided watching Remy, but couldn’t completely ignore him since the boys made a circuit of the room with each course, slightly surprised when Cathcart asked his boy if he would go and kiss the pretty sky blue boy. Remy clearly made an impression on everyone.

Remy nearly stopped in his tracks when he spotted Mr. Green at one end of the table. He wore another well-tailored dark suit with a brightly colored, expensive-looking silk tie. Versace? That was probably the only designer whose work Jeremy could recognize. But it contrasted pleasantly with the somber look of the suit. Jeremy made sure not to look directly at him. He couldn’t bear that. Instead he looked for his gentleman.

The man with the sky blue lapel pin had well-cut salt-and-pepper hair and a wide smile. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he gazed at Jeremy. He wore a navy suit and a tie with green and blue dots. As he moved around the room, Jeremy found Green watching him. Their gazes met for a split-second before Green glanced away. Jeremy pretended it never happened and tried to act interested as he sat down and introduced himself to Mr. Sky Blue.

Sky Blue shook his hand, then brought it up to his mouth and planted a soft kiss on the back of Jeremy’s fingers. Then he turned the hand over and placed another kiss on the palm as he looked up into Jeremy’s eyes. It was a look full of pleasure and lustful promises. The caresses sent pleasant tremors up his arm, and Jeremy couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued by what this man might do next. He sat down, and Sky Blue smiled and traced a line up Jeremy’s thigh from knee to crotch with gentle fingertips. Despite the possessiveness of the gesture, Jeremy felt a thrill travel to the base of his spine, and his cock thickened and felt heavy. Oh, damn. If the man could do this to him with a single touch, what else would happen at dinner?

As Sky Blue traced his way back down Jeremy’s thigh, he couldn’t wait to find out.

At the first course, Jeremy’s gentleman had him remove his shoes. At the second course, he pulled off the socks. The cap came off at the third course.

In between, Jeremy sat on Sky Blue’s lap, letting the man touch him through the thin fabric of his shirt and shorts. The caresses were firm, but gentle. He unbuttoned the top button of the little shorts but didn’t move to grab at Jeremy’s cock. Across the way, Mr. Brown had his hand down Rand’s shorts while he sucked at Rand’s nipples, his shirt long ago discarded. Kit wore only his scarf and cap and socks. His gentleman was Green’s guest, and he’d gone directly for the shorts and barely let go of Kit’s cock since the first course.

Then it happened. An order off Jeremy’s menu. Mauve wanted Jeremy and Kit to play. Sky Blue gave Jeremy permission, and the whole table watched as Kit and Jeremy moved together at Jeremy’s end of the table and started kissing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.” Kit winked and gave Jeremy a very sweet, sensual kiss. The kiss deepened, and he put his arms around Kit’s waist and slid one down along Kit’s ass the way Kit had instructed him if he got invited to kiss. Then Sky Blue told Kit to unbutton Jeremy’s shirt, and Mauve wanted Jeremy to play with Kit’s cock.

Jeremy was embarrassed at first to enjoy having his new friend touch him—and more embarrassed to be stroking Kit’s dick. But he soon released his inhibitions and got into the play. The gentlemen cheered and commented as they played, and Jeremy was almost impossibly hard by the time the bell sounded for the next course. Kit winked and tweaked a nipple as they pulled apart.

Sky Blue grabbed Jeremy’s hand as he moved toward the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you wait too long.” He slid a hand up Jeremy’s thigh and stroked his balls, exposed beneath the minuscule shorts. The small touch sent additional stimulation Jeremy hardly needed, but it felt good. Too good. The tiny shorts felt like they’d shrunk another two sizes as he noticed his cock stuck out a good inch over the waistband.

Jeremy wasn’t sure what Sky Blue’s comment meant as he made his way back to the kitchen.

“Good job, Remy.” Rand came up to him as he grabbed the plate for the next course, coconut shrimp with a spicy dipping sauce. “You and Kit were great. You feeling okay, then?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy glanced at Kit, who was smiling slyly. “It was fun.”

“It’s supposed to be fun,” Kit said and gave Jeremy’s scarf a little yank. “You’re a good kisser. Thanks.” He winked again. Kit’s cock was still hard, standing nearly straight up and bouncing with each step. He gave himself a few tugs before he reached the dining room.

Jeremy glanced over at Law, who was wearing shorts, his scarf and cap. He had dark brown nipples that looked even bigger because he had small areoles. He was only half-hard. The little white shorts didn’t hide anything. Clearly Mr. Green hadn’t been pawing at him.

Law rubbed himself and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think my gentleman’s really into me. Remy, he’s been watching you.”

“He has?” Remy glanced down at his erection straining to escape his shorts and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Well, Mr. Green could have had him.

“Ready, boys?” Thomas called them to attention and opened the door.

Back in the dining room, Remy slid into Sky Blue’s lap and fed him shrimp, letting the gentleman feed him a few pieces. The food at the club was unexpectedly delicious. Sky Blue tugged on the scarf and pulled Jeremy in for kiss. It was spicy and not sloppy or aggressive. He opened his mouth and enjoyed the kiss as Sky Blue pinched a nipple. His cock swelled even more, and he let out a little moan.

“Those shorts are just too small for you, aren’t they?” Sky Blue asked playfully. “Time to remedy the situation. Stand up.”

Jeremy backed off his lap and stood in front of him, breath catching in his throat as Sky Blue slowly popped open the buttons on his shorts and finally freed his aching cock. He yanked the shorts, and they slid down Jeremy’s legs. A little cheer echoed around the room as Sky Blue moved Jeremy around so he faced the others The gentlemen always cheered or clapped when someone’s shorts came off, admiring the boys’ cocks, with extra cheers for impressive hard-ons.

Jeremy felt Sky Blue pulling him onto his lap, his back to Sky Blue’s chest with Jeremy’s legs straddling his.

Oh shit. Now what? Jeremy wondered as Sky Blue slid his hand under the shirt and across his back, then around the front and started moving down his abs. With a hand on each hip. Sky Blue pulled Jeremy tight against his body.

Chapter EIGHT

Brice tried to look away, but it was impossible. Remy was the center of everyone’s attention, even before his gentleman pulled his shorts off. He’d been aroused from the first course, and Brice couldn’t suppress the jealousy coiling through him as Sky Blue slid his hands along Remy’s skin. Brice remembered how soft that skin was.

Not that Law wasn’t attractive or very touchable. He had smooth, nearly hairless skin, and the hair at his crotch was so dark it was visible even though the shorts. Brice had kissed him and stroked his chest and nipples, though it hadn’t done much for either Law or Brice. But watching Remy with Kit and then with Sky Blue had Brice squirming as his pants got increasingly tight around his swelling cock.

Now he watched Remy settle back against Sky Blue’s chest, legs straddling the man’s thighs. Sky Blue moved his knees apart, opening Remy’s legs even wider, showing his cock and balls to everyone. And everyone was watching. At least Brice wasn’t the only voyeur. Law shifted on his lap, no doubt keenly aware of Brice’s sudden hard-on. He slid a hand up Law’s thigh so the boy wouldn’t feel ignored, and Law pushed another bite of seafood into Brice’s mouth. He chewed without tasting the morsel.

Remy’s eyes were shut. Sky Blue wrapped one hand around Remy’s thick shaft and stroked a few times, then whispered to the boy to his right who splashed some olive oil onto his palm. He returned to smooth, slow strokes. With the other hand, he cupped and squeezed Remy’s sac, rolling it around, and even at the other end of the table, Brice could hear Remy’s soft sighs. The sight of the pale hand sliding up and down the hard swollen flesh made Brice’s breaths shorten. Then Sky Blue let go of Remy’s balls and played with his nipples, causing Remy to arch into the touch. Brice remembered how they felt between his fingertips, and in his mouth, and his own nipples hardened and ached at the sight.

Then Sky Blue grabbed an ice cube and slid it up Remy’s thigh, just grazing his balls and up his abs, leaving a shining wet trail before circling each nipple. Already tight and hard, Remy’s nipples reacted, and his entire body shuddered at the obvious pleasure Sky Blue lavished on his body. His chest heaved, and his eyes fluttered. His sighs became gasps and precome trickled from his cockslit.

Brice licked his lips. He glanced around and saw everyone else’s gaze still glued to Sky Blue and Remy. As Sky Blue stroked, Remy’s balls swung back and forth, low and heavy. He sped up, then slowed down the movements, and Brice could see him whispering against Remy’s ear and Remy smiling and nodding, ecstasy plain on his face even with eyes closed.

Any remnant of jealousy had long since passed, and Brice was overcome with growing desire and pleasure at the sight of Remy’s enjoyment. He’d also given up any sense of shame or modesty at becoming completely aroused at the scene playing out a few feet away. Video porn had never done much for him, but watching live was completely different.

Sky Blue’s strokes sped up, and Remy’s balls tightened. He trembled and shuddered, and nearly everyone else sucked in their breath with anticipation. A few more slow strokes and Remy gasped before he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and the fireworks started. His lids fluttered open for a split second, and Brice realized Remy was staring at him, a glimmer of something darker than passion—shame or regret?—flickering before he shut them again and his body’s reactions overpowered him.

Sky Blue watched intently as the first thick splashes hit Remy’s chest—one nipple—and his chin. Then he grabbed his empty Champagne flute and angled Remy’s cock so the rest of the pearly strands went into the glass.

He squeezed Remy dry, which took at least another dozen strokes. Brice wondered if he would come in his pants watching. Law wriggled again, providing friction, but Brice didn’t want to cross that line in the dining room. He’d booked a room purely for show again, but now he considered the possibilities with Law. Later. He turned his attention back to Remy.

Remy lay limp and spent in Sky Blue’s lap, leaning against his chest. He sucked in gulps of air. Another boy poured Champagne into Sky Blue’s glass, mixing it with Remy’s semen, and handed the glass to Sky Blue. He took a few sips, then held the glass to Remy’s lips and helped him drink.

Brice wasn’t sure if that was the hottest thing he’d seen tonight—or the most depraved. The consensus around the room seemed to be the former. Once the action was over and they’d gotten their fill of watching Remy, the men turned their attention back to their own boys, pinching and stroking and playing. But Brice kept watching as Remy recovered.

 * * * *

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