Dorian can feel himself stiffen. He can feel his prick grow stiff and hungry with lust and he knows full well that if they were to linger like this, if they were to have this continue, he'd be coming in her mouth sooner rather than later.
"I'm ready," he says, gently trying to move away from Rose. He is very hard, sweaty with lust, and giving her a dopey little smile. "On the bed," he gestures, not really wanting to talk right now. He's throbbing with pleasure and wants to go ahead and get himself towards release.
Rose grins up with pride, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She sits back and puts her hands on the edge of the bed to push herself up onto it, a reverse of the motion that had brought her to her knees.
A coy smirk invites him to join her, and her exaggerated squirm backwards rocks her fully onto the side of each hip in turn. It's an offer and inquiry; after all, Sweeney hadn't been forthcoming about a particular position, just the intensity. Rose keeps her eyes locked on Dorian's as she bites her lip. Each twist promises he can have her however he wants; she'll delight in how he takes her.
Dorian matches her coy smirk with an enthusiastic one of this one. He's bursting at the seams, he just desperately wants to release all this. So when Rose climbs back on the bed, Dorian happily climbs in on top of her. He adjusts his prick, sliding it in her with a grin.
"You're still wet from earlier," he teases. But once he's in there, Dorian starts thrusting, moving back and forth, absolutely enjoying himself as he starts to fuck Rose, enjoying the feeling of his cock in her cunt.
She gasps at the eagerness of his want, but it's immediately obvious that she is exceptionally appreciative.
"How--how could I not be? All that--that effort--" Rose whispers on shallow breaths. She wraps her arms around his neck, trying to anchor herself to push against his thrusts. He pulls soft moans and muffled cries from her as she shoves her head back into the pillow.
"Please," she whimpers. "Please--don't stop."
Sweeney rubs his tongue over his teeth beneath his lip, trying to loosen the tension in his jaw. There's fuckall he can be doing to fix it elsewhere in his body. Not yet, anyways.
"I won't," Dorian breathlessly laughs, as he continues fucking Rose. "I won't."
He moves his hands to her side, gripping the sheets with so much intensity that he's fit to rip them as he continues fucking, moving in and out, thrusting inside Rose. He hopes that Sweeney's watching. He can't tell. He's too focused on the moment, on this beautiful creature beneath him.
His actions are something a bit closer to animal magnetism than anything gentle. He wants to fuck her and he wants to fuck her as hard as possible. He knows that he's going to spend soon and he can't help but rasp, "Oh darling, I'm almost there."
Rose barely cares. Already sensitive from his last victory, it doesn't take much to get her ready to crest again. And he's giving so much more.
By the time he's warning her, Rose's fingers are tangled in his hair, and she yanks back as she clenches hard around him, every muscle taut in that moment. She desperately fights to suck in the air in, but only manages a strangled cry.
Sweeney is most certainly watching. Watching and wanting and barely blinking. His cigarette lingers at his side, smoldering. Fuck. This prick best finish soon. He's not really good at waiting.
Sweeney doesn't have to wait much longer. Dorian lets out one last groan of pleasure as he spends himself inside of Rose, releasing himself with a very shameless moan.
He looks down at her with a tired smile before Dorian removes himself from inside her and, not at all caring that he's a sticky, sweaty, naked mess, flops down on the bed next to Rose.
"You weren't so bad yourself, Mr. Gray," she offers with a tired grin, panting happily. Rose turns her head a touch more, dropping her voice to a faint whisper. "Anytime." Her smile grows, and she looks back to the ceiling.
Sweeney's shoulders coil as the pair start to recover. His tongue rubs roughly against the roof of his mouth, and he remembers his cigarette, buying them some time with a long drag.
Not that much time.
His eyes are fixed hard on Rose, watching her ample bosom heave. Sweeney remains rooted where he is. The hunger is obvious in his voice, but it comes clear enough.
"Be back here in fifteen." Another rub of his tongue.
Dorian moves his head enough so that he can look at Sweeney. Initially he looks like he's about to complain (leave? Really?). But then he sees the man looking right at Rose's breasts and hears that hunger in his voice and Dorian puts two and two together.
While Sweeney might be fine with voyeurism, Dorian idly wonders if he's not fine with others watching him.
"Let me at least get my trousers on first," Dorian sighs as he pushes himself up off of the bed. "I'm not going to give everybody out there a free show. That's bad for business."
Even though he's letting himself complain, to his credit, Dorian is looking for his trousers and putting them on as he does so.
"An' clean up." As if that was a question for some reason. He's just trying to keep his focus. He's questioning his plan as much as he can with what little blood is in his brain at the moment. His free hand clenches and releases, looking for focus enough to wait out Dorian's task.
It's not easy.
He forces himself to swallow, stretching his neck to each side. Sweeney's an animal on a leash, and he's increasingly straining against it.
Dorian slips his trousers on before giving Sweeney a little nod. "See you in fifteen."
Because he can tell that the man's going to throttle him if he dilly-sallies any longer.
As he slips out, he returns to his room. All in all it takes him about ten minutes to get himself cleaned up. And so, for the last five minutes, Dorian leans against the wall outside of the room Sweeney and Rose are in, smoking a cigarette and not-so-subtley trying to eavesdrop through the door.
Sweeney doesn't need the ten. The moment the door clicks shut, his hands are on his trouser buttons and another later his hand is in her hair.
When Dorian's back, he can hear light giggling; a man with his experience can tell it's likely not one offered mid-fuck. Shortly thereafter, there's the sound of the chair being drug a short distance. A couple minutes later, the door opens, and Rose is on her way out. She's got the layers of underthings back on, though the corset isn't properly laced. The bulk of her dress is draped over her arm. She looks no worse for wear than when he left her, save perhaps a bit of extra glisten to her lips. She looks surprised to see Dorian and immediately finds a coy smile for him. "See you later, Mr. Gray," she pokes playfully before starting down the hall.
Shortly thereafter, Sweeney appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame on his forearm. He's halfway through a fresh cigarette. Nothing seems in disarray, except a slight flush to his cheeks. It's easy to guess he didn't waste that skilled mouth either.
His eyes drop to Dorian, and his jaw briefly cocks to the side as he stretches the tension from it.
"Yer early." His tone is dry. It's another slow drag before he steps aside to let Dorian in. Sweeney doesn't shut the door, because on his heels is Thomas.
He's a tall, slender fellow with sandy blond hair, pale eyes, and a reputation for flexibility. Sweeney had had to hire him on recommendation alone, but Rose had seemed confident he'd get the job done. Most importantly, he looks nothing like Godric. Thomas offers Dorian a polite tip of his head.
Sweeney shuts the door behind him and pauses, leaned against the wall while he smokes.
"Presume ya know each other." Thomas gives a tight nod before turning his attention to Dorian. At the very least, they've seen each other around, and really, that's close enough when it comes to that question and johns.
When Rose exits the room, Dorian gives her a grin and a small little wave before leaving.
And then there's Sweeney. "My shirt's still in the room," Dorian points out in response to the question about him being early. And, considering that he's shirtless still, he hasn't bothered to put on a new one. He enters the room but turns around when he sees Thomas enter as well.
Another one? Christ. Sweeney's voyeurism kink really must be something.
"We've met," Dorian says, with a little nod. He takes another drag of his cigarette before continuing, "I assume this round isn't going to be exactly like the previous one, as Thomas here doesn't have Rose's equipment."
"I want ya ta take yer clothes off, then I want ya ta take his clothes off." He's just as blunt with things as the first time around.
"I want ya ta suck his cock, then I want him ta fuck ya. Hard." Sweeney's brow lifts with an air of proposal, even though the terms of their agreement were settled at the bar. He's not going to force the man.
His hand slides into his pocket, producing a small, ornate bottle of oil. He's done his best to get something high quality, though given his ignorance requiring a recommendation, he can't be sure.
He's moved the chair against the wall where he's perpendicular to the bed; similar to how he'd repositioned earlier, but further back. The table with the rum and tumbler are next to it.
Dorian raises an eyebrow slightly before giving Sweeney a nod. Those terms seem fine with him. "Fair warning though, if there's a round three after this, I might be a teensy bit wiped out."
But he turns towards Thomas and gives the man a roguish grin. "Now. Let's get you out of those clothes, you delightful little thing."
Dorian goes through the routine relatively the same way that he did with Rose. He takes his own clothes off a bit faster than Sweeney would probably like, but slows down when he gets to his partner. There's a lot of sensual touching, a lot of 'accidentally' brushing his hands against the man's chest, a few quick little pinches here and there. If Sweeney was looking for a difference in the way Dorian undressed men and women, he'd be disappointed.
Thomas is less playful than Rose, if only because he doesn't know Sweeney. Nevertheless, Dorian's grin is met with an easy smile and quick nod.
"Let's."
He's still enough to let Dorian work, though it doesn't hinder soft murmurs of pleasure when the man indulges him. The sensuality of the thing isn't overly common in his work, and he's grateful for the soft hand, even if he won't be returning it later. As such, he takes this opportunity to steal touches of his own; a delicate kiss of his fingers up Dorian's side, from hips to ribs, a lean in to a touch as he shifts to let to fabric slide off of him.
Dorian's efforts aren't without reward, and by the time he's naked, Thomas's body is already showing some interest. His eyes linger on him, as does his smile.
Sweeney makes no protest about the acts; he's content to watch Dorian's process. The similarity of things is a boon, as it helps him have a better understanding of how things might go, should Dorian take him as a client again. He's content to drink while he watches the pair. There's no hunger, but there is enjoyment; he's quietly studying while his mind starts to flicker with inspiration.
Given Sweeney's silence, Thomas gives them a beat after he's naked before lifting his hand to Dorian's cheek and tracing his thumb slowly over his lip. His smile curls a little while his brow lifts, like he's proposing a mischievous encounter between friends.
When Thomas traces his thumb over his lip, Dorian parts his mouth slightly, to plant a tiny little kiss instead. "You look exquisite," he grins. "I'm going to enjoy having you take me. But remember—don't ruin the fun and spill in my mouth."
He pulls back slightly so he can give Thomas a kiss on the neck. Dorian goes down on one knee, so he can kiss the man on his chest. He then goes down on both knees, kissing him right along the pelvis before he adjusts his position so that he can take Thomas's cock in his mouth.
And Dorian knows how to give a blowjob. He moves his head back and forth, lips and tongue working the other man's prick. There are moments when Dorian takes Thomas as deep as he can, moving his head forward so that he can almost choke on the thing. And then there are moments when he leans back, still sucking the man's prick, but adjusting things so that the cock bulges out one of his cheeks like a chipmunk storing nuts—Sweeney's watching, maybe he'd like that. But Dorian moves with the confidence of someone who's sucked plenty of cocks in his life and is absolutely certain he knows what he's doing.
"Then you best be careful," he teases softly. It's not like there are secrets about other worker's skill sets, especially when those workers are the competition.
Thomas sinks his hand in Dorian's hair, giving the vague illusion of guiding him down, though he's perfectly content for the man to drive and settle into things. There's plenty of time to be rough.
Oh. How absolutely lovely.
Another thing Thomas is not accustomed to in his normal day to day is having a beautiful man with a talented tongue wrapped around his cock. Dorian earns an occasional moan before Thomas presses his lips to attempt to muffle them. His hand never leaves his hair, though he manages to keep the other at his side to make sure he doesn't obscure any view.
Sweeney had calculated some of the risk at least. He had purposefully put this activity after Rose's, just in case. The flick of the lighter heralds a fresh cigarette, and he just observes with a keen eye. Dorian's right, after all. He's not Sweeney's type. But that doesn't mean he isn't curious about him. That said, he rather not be desperate to get off during this particular show.
The longer Dorian's at it, the less Thomas's grip is for show, and he starts to urge him to stay deeper. The fingers of his free hand twitch, wanting to join there companions and shove Dorian down, but he manages not to. There is one nudge of his hips and a faint whimper. Thomas knows better.
A twist of his fingers, and he yanks back, pulling Dorian off him as he looks down with eager want.
Sweeney gives both of them a few seconds before his voice comes clear.
"Oi, Thomas." Sweeney lets the man look to him before he tosses him the bottle. Thomas is grateful; he's ready to get to burying himself in Dorian properly.
Dorian is obviously taking pleasure in the idea of other people taking pleasure in him. After all, he wants people to love him. That little narcissistic part of himself wants to give people an experience so lovely that they'll want to come back on their own—an experience so memorable they won't even think of looking at anybody else. At his core, Dorian's selfish.
When Thomas pulls back, Dorian looks up at him with a savage grin, as if daring him to thrust his cock back in Dorian's mouth and finish things then and there. Sweeney calling out and tossing the bottle of oil towards Thomas puts an end to that. But it doesn't put an end to the smug aura that Dorian's radiating as he gets back to his feet.
He'll have this man coming back for more and he knows it.
"Come see me tomorrow and I'll let you spend in my mouth," he grins. "But do you want to take me on my back like a girl?" Dorian asks, as he clambers up on the bed. "Or on my knees, like we're two animals rutting?" It's obvious what position Dorian wants: he's positioned himself so that he's lying on his back, quickly stealing a pillow so that he can prop himself more upright for easier access.
The proposition of being back in Dorian's mouth is clearly well met, and he gives a tight nod with curled lips. Thomas can readily imagine what he could do with both hands in his hair.
"Knees," he purrs. Even if he shares the preference, rough sex has an implied position, unless Sweeney speaks up. Thomas is ready and aching to see them both slicked up so he can shove deep and ride hard. Fuck, that's all he can think about at the moment, and his prick is already twitching at the phantom sensation.
Sweeney swallows carefully and sets his drink aside. He pulls deep on his cigarette, holding the breath longer than he needs to. Arguably, this is the most important act for him to enjoy watching.
Well then! He doesn't mind that. Dorian shifts his position, getting on his hands and knees, positioning his ass right in Thomas's direction.
He lets out a murmur of pleasure as he feels himself start to get slicked up. And he lets out an outright groan of pleasure as Thomas slides his prick inside. Dorian obviously doesn't like this position as much: he's not doing as much blatant flirting and teasing as he was when the two of them could lock eyes. However, he's still receptive and still having a grand time.
As he feels Thomas thrust in and out of him, Dorian lets out a small groan of pleasure. "When you're ready, spend inside me," he purrs, grin on his face. "I want to walk back to my room with you dripping from my ass."
It's probably for the best there's less flirting; it hardly sets the proper tone. Unless Sweeney enjoys some brattiness. Thomas doesn't know, so he errs on the side of caution.
With the first thrusts, his fingers dig into Dorian's hips. Sweet fuck. He worries about being able to provide a show that's long enough to be presentable. The request is enough of a distraction, and he's grateful for it.
Thomas grabs him roughly by the hair and pulls his head back as he curls over him a bit. "You know I will," he growls huskily.
He manages a few sharp thrusts with his hair still in his hand, but he ends up abandoning it so he can catch his hips again. His hard thrusts start to find an eager pattern, and it's not long before it's building to a fevered pace. It's work but no burden; he'd happily do this whenever Dorian lets him.
Grunts and muffled moans escape his throat, and soon they're giving way to raspy, shallow breaths. Thomas tries to keep his focus, but eventually it's too much. With a full thrust and a sharp cry, he loses himself. Shortly thereafter, he rests over Dorian and plants a soft kiss on his shoulder while he's still twitching inside him. He turns his head enough to whisper into Dorian's ear. "That was glorious. You're exquisite."
Sweeney allows the men time to recover; there's no sweet brunette to shove himself into, nor is there the urge to find one. He takes the time to finish his cigarette.
Dorian certainly enjoys some brattiness. When Thomas pulls him by the hair, Dorian deliberately strains against it, making things so that Thomas has to essentially pull harder, yanking him and giving him a bit more pain. He's a jerk and he knows it.
He knows that he's not going to spend this round—after all, Dorian came not that long ago. He's up for constant fucking, but losing himself twice in two hours just isn't going to happen. But he can enjoy the sensation, enjoy the feeling of being used and, more importantly, enjoy being stared at and adored.
Dorian lets Thomas stay inside him as long as he wants—though he visibly preens at the compliment of being called exquisite. Damn fucking straight he's glorious. "It's a pity you don't have a plug with you," Dorian murmurs right back. "I'd have you shove it up me and I'd wear it the rest of the day under my trousers. You'd watch me serving drinks and flirting with all the other pretty boys, knowing full well that I'm stuffed full of your cum."
"Tease. Maybe next time," he purrs and nips Dorian's neck before sitting back on his heels with a wince. Thomas looks to Sweeney while he continues to work on deepening his breaths.
Sweeney gives a meaningful glance towards his clothes and produces a gold coin with a lift of his brow. Get the fuck outta here. Thomas pushes himself back off the bed on shaky legs and starts to gather his clothes. Once he gets his trousers on, he starts towards the door, trading the bottle of oil for the coin.
After, Sweeney gives Dorian a few. The man's had a long night, after all. He kills the last of his rum.
Dorian just enjoys the sensation of resting for a moment, that beautiful blissful post-coital afterglow—and, just as importantly, the grand feeling of not being on his knees. That sensation is absolutely ruined when Sweeney starts talking. Dorian can't help it: he lets out an annoyed little groan.
"Right, I've got to ask: why me? If this is just pure voyeurism, you could get your kicks with anybody here, but it seems like you're going through all this just to watch me come undone."
He's getting up off of the bed, though. And as he complains, Dorian is reaching for his trousers to put them back on (once again, he is leaving his shirt behind). He's definitely going to come back here in fifteen minutes, but he's going to get his complaining in before he does.
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"I'm ready," he says, gently trying to move away from Rose. He is very hard, sweaty with lust, and giving her a dopey little smile. "On the bed," he gestures, not really wanting to talk right now. He's throbbing with pleasure and wants to go ahead and get himself towards release.
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A coy smirk invites him to join her, and her exaggerated squirm backwards rocks her fully onto the side of each hip in turn. It's an offer and inquiry; after all, Sweeney hadn't been forthcoming about a particular position, just the intensity. Rose keeps her eyes locked on Dorian's as she bites her lip. Each twist promises he can have her however he wants; she'll delight in how he takes her.
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"You're still wet from earlier," he teases. But once he's in there, Dorian starts thrusting, moving back and forth, absolutely enjoying himself as he starts to fuck Rose, enjoying the feeling of his cock in her cunt.
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"How--how could I not be? All that--that effort--" Rose whispers on shallow breaths. She wraps her arms around his neck, trying to anchor herself to push against his thrusts. He pulls soft moans and muffled cries from her as she shoves her head back into the pillow.
"Please," she whimpers. "Please--don't stop."
Sweeney rubs his tongue over his teeth beneath his lip, trying to loosen the tension in his jaw. There's fuckall he can be doing to fix it elsewhere in his body. Not yet, anyways.
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He moves his hands to her side, gripping the sheets with so much intensity that he's fit to rip them as he continues fucking, moving in and out, thrusting inside Rose. He hopes that Sweeney's watching. He can't tell. He's too focused on the moment, on this beautiful creature beneath him.
His actions are something a bit closer to animal magnetism than anything gentle. He wants to fuck her and he wants to fuck her as hard as possible. He knows that he's going to spend soon and he can't help but rasp, "Oh darling, I'm almost there."
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By the time he's warning her, Rose's fingers are tangled in his hair, and she yanks back as she clenches hard around him, every muscle taut in that moment. She desperately fights to suck in the air in, but only manages a strangled cry.
Sweeney is most certainly watching. Watching and wanting and barely blinking. His cigarette lingers at his side, smoldering. Fuck. This prick best finish soon. He's not really good at waiting.
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He looks down at her with a tired smile before Dorian removes himself from inside her and, not at all caring that he's a sticky, sweaty, naked mess, flops down on the bed next to Rose.
"You were brilliant," he laughs.
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Sweeney's shoulders coil as the pair start to recover. His tongue rubs roughly against the roof of his mouth, and he remembers his cigarette, buying them some time with a long drag.
Not that much time.
His eyes are fixed hard on Rose, watching her ample bosom heave. Sweeney remains rooted where he is. The hunger is obvious in his voice, but it comes clear enough.
"Be back here in fifteen." Another rub of his tongue.
"Now fuck off."
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While Sweeney might be fine with voyeurism, Dorian idly wonders if he's not fine with others watching him.
"Let me at least get my trousers on first," Dorian sighs as he pushes himself up off of the bed. "I'm not going to give everybody out there a free show. That's bad for business."
Even though he's letting himself complain, to his credit, Dorian is looking for his trousers and putting them on as he does so.
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"An' clean up." As if that was a question for some reason. He's just trying to keep his focus. He's questioning his plan as much as he can with what little blood is in his brain at the moment. His free hand clenches and releases, looking for focus enough to wait out Dorian's task.
It's not easy.
He forces himself to swallow, stretching his neck to each side. Sweeney's an animal on a leash, and he's increasingly straining against it.
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Because he can tell that the man's going to throttle him if he dilly-sallies any longer.
As he slips out, he returns to his room. All in all it takes him about ten minutes to get himself cleaned up. And so, for the last five minutes, Dorian leans against the wall outside of the room Sweeney and Rose are in, smoking a cigarette and not-so-subtley trying to eavesdrop through the door.
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When Dorian's back, he can hear light giggling; a man with his experience can tell it's likely not one offered mid-fuck. Shortly thereafter, there's the sound of the chair being drug a short distance. A couple minutes later, the door opens, and Rose is on her way out. She's got the layers of underthings back on, though the corset isn't properly laced. The bulk of her dress is draped over her arm. She looks no worse for wear than when he left her, save perhaps a bit of extra glisten to her lips. She looks surprised to see Dorian and immediately finds a coy smile for him. "See you later, Mr. Gray," she pokes playfully before starting down the hall.
Shortly thereafter, Sweeney appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame on his forearm. He's halfway through a fresh cigarette. Nothing seems in disarray, except a slight flush to his cheeks. It's easy to guess he didn't waste that skilled mouth either.
His eyes drop to Dorian, and his jaw briefly cocks to the side as he stretches the tension from it.
"Yer early." His tone is dry. It's another slow drag before he steps aside to let Dorian in. Sweeney doesn't shut the door, because on his heels is Thomas.
He's a tall, slender fellow with sandy blond hair, pale eyes, and a reputation for flexibility. Sweeney had had to hire him on recommendation alone, but Rose had seemed confident he'd get the job done. Most importantly, he looks nothing like Godric. Thomas offers Dorian a polite tip of his head.
Sweeney shuts the door behind him and pauses, leaned against the wall while he smokes.
"Presume ya know each other." Thomas gives a tight nod before turning his attention to Dorian. At the very least, they've seen each other around, and really, that's close enough when it comes to that question and johns.
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And then there's Sweeney. "My shirt's still in the room," Dorian points out in response to the question about him being early. And, considering that he's shirtless still, he hasn't bothered to put on a new one. He enters the room but turns around when he sees Thomas enter as well.
Another one? Christ. Sweeney's voyeurism kink really must be something.
"We've met," Dorian says, with a little nod. He takes another drag of his cigarette before continuing, "I assume this round isn't going to be exactly like the previous one, as Thomas here doesn't have Rose's equipment."
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"I want ya ta take yer clothes off, then I want ya ta take his clothes off." He's just as blunt with things as the first time around.
"I want ya ta suck his cock, then I want him ta fuck ya. Hard." Sweeney's brow lifts with an air of proposal, even though the terms of their agreement were settled at the bar. He's not going to force the man.
His hand slides into his pocket, producing a small, ornate bottle of oil. He's done his best to get something high quality, though given his ignorance requiring a recommendation, he can't be sure.
He's moved the chair against the wall where he's perpendicular to the bed; similar to how he'd repositioned earlier, but further back. The table with the rum and tumbler are next to it.
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But he turns towards Thomas and gives the man a roguish grin. "Now. Let's get you out of those clothes, you delightful little thing."
Dorian goes through the routine relatively the same way that he did with Rose. He takes his own clothes off a bit faster than Sweeney would probably like, but slows down when he gets to his partner. There's a lot of sensual touching, a lot of 'accidentally' brushing his hands against the man's chest, a few quick little pinches here and there. If Sweeney was looking for a difference in the way Dorian undressed men and women, he'd be disappointed.
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"Let's."
He's still enough to let Dorian work, though it doesn't hinder soft murmurs of pleasure when the man indulges him. The sensuality of the thing isn't overly common in his work, and he's grateful for the soft hand, even if he won't be returning it later. As such, he takes this opportunity to steal touches of his own; a delicate kiss of his fingers up Dorian's side, from hips to ribs, a lean in to a touch as he shifts to let to fabric slide off of him.
Dorian's efforts aren't without reward, and by the time he's naked, Thomas's body is already showing some interest. His eyes linger on him, as does his smile.
Sweeney makes no protest about the acts; he's content to watch Dorian's process. The similarity of things is a boon, as it helps him have a better understanding of how things might go, should Dorian take him as a client again. He's content to drink while he watches the pair. There's no hunger, but there is enjoyment; he's quietly studying while his mind starts to flicker with inspiration.
Given Sweeney's silence, Thomas gives them a beat after he's naked before lifting his hand to Dorian's cheek and tracing his thumb slowly over his lip. His smile curls a little while his brow lifts, like he's proposing a mischievous encounter between friends.
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He pulls back slightly so he can give Thomas a kiss on the neck. Dorian goes down on one knee, so he can kiss the man on his chest. He then goes down on both knees, kissing him right along the pelvis before he adjusts his position so that he can take Thomas's cock in his mouth.
And Dorian knows how to give a blowjob. He moves his head back and forth, lips and tongue working the other man's prick. There are moments when Dorian takes Thomas as deep as he can, moving his head forward so that he can almost choke on the thing. And then there are moments when he leans back, still sucking the man's prick, but adjusting things so that the cock bulges out one of his cheeks like a chipmunk storing nuts—Sweeney's watching, maybe he'd like that. But Dorian moves with the confidence of someone who's sucked plenty of cocks in his life and is absolutely certain he knows what he's doing.
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Thomas sinks his hand in Dorian's hair, giving the vague illusion of guiding him down, though he's perfectly content for the man to drive and settle into things. There's plenty of time to be rough.
Oh. How absolutely lovely.
Another thing Thomas is not accustomed to in his normal day to day is having a beautiful man with a talented tongue wrapped around his cock. Dorian earns an occasional moan before Thomas presses his lips to attempt to muffle them. His hand never leaves his hair, though he manages to keep the other at his side to make sure he doesn't obscure any view.
Sweeney had calculated some of the risk at least. He had purposefully put this activity after Rose's, just in case. The flick of the lighter heralds a fresh cigarette, and he just observes with a keen eye. Dorian's right, after all. He's not Sweeney's type. But that doesn't mean he isn't curious about him. That said, he rather not be desperate to get off during this particular show.
The longer Dorian's at it, the less Thomas's grip is for show, and he starts to urge him to stay deeper. The fingers of his free hand twitch, wanting to join there companions and shove Dorian down, but he manages not to. There is one nudge of his hips and a faint whimper. Thomas knows better.
A twist of his fingers, and he yanks back, pulling Dorian off him as he looks down with eager want.
Sweeney gives both of them a few seconds before his voice comes clear.
"Oi, Thomas." Sweeney lets the man look to him before he tosses him the bottle. Thomas is grateful; he's ready to get to burying himself in Dorian properly.
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When Thomas pulls back, Dorian looks up at him with a savage grin, as if daring him to thrust his cock back in Dorian's mouth and finish things then and there. Sweeney calling out and tossing the bottle of oil towards Thomas puts an end to that. But it doesn't put an end to the smug aura that Dorian's radiating as he gets back to his feet.
He'll have this man coming back for more and he knows it.
"Come see me tomorrow and I'll let you spend in my mouth," he grins. "But do you want to take me on my back like a girl?" Dorian asks, as he clambers up on the bed. "Or on my knees, like we're two animals rutting?" It's obvious what position Dorian wants: he's positioned himself so that he's lying on his back, quickly stealing a pillow so that he can prop himself more upright for easier access.
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"Knees," he purrs. Even if he shares the preference, rough sex has an implied position, unless Sweeney speaks up. Thomas is ready and aching to see them both slicked up so he can shove deep and ride hard. Fuck, that's all he can think about at the moment, and his prick is already twitching at the phantom sensation.
Sweeney swallows carefully and sets his drink aside. He pulls deep on his cigarette, holding the breath longer than he needs to. Arguably, this is the most important act for him to enjoy watching.
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He lets out a murmur of pleasure as he feels himself start to get slicked up. And he lets out an outright groan of pleasure as Thomas slides his prick inside. Dorian obviously doesn't like this position as much: he's not doing as much blatant flirting and teasing as he was when the two of them could lock eyes. However, he's still receptive and still having a grand time.
As he feels Thomas thrust in and out of him, Dorian lets out a small groan of pleasure. "When you're ready, spend inside me," he purrs, grin on his face. "I want to walk back to my room with you dripping from my ass."
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With the first thrusts, his fingers dig into Dorian's hips. Sweet fuck. He worries about being able to provide a show that's long enough to be presentable. The request is enough of a distraction, and he's grateful for it.
Thomas grabs him roughly by the hair and pulls his head back as he curls over him a bit. "You know I will," he growls huskily.
He manages a few sharp thrusts with his hair still in his hand, but he ends up abandoning it so he can catch his hips again. His hard thrusts start to find an eager pattern, and it's not long before it's building to a fevered pace. It's work but no burden; he'd happily do this whenever Dorian lets him.
Grunts and muffled moans escape his throat, and soon they're giving way to raspy, shallow breaths. Thomas tries to keep his focus, but eventually it's too much. With a full thrust and a sharp cry, he loses himself. Shortly thereafter, he rests over Dorian and plants a soft kiss on his shoulder while he's still twitching inside him. He turns his head enough to whisper into Dorian's ear. "That was glorious. You're exquisite."
Sweeney allows the men time to recover; there's no sweet brunette to shove himself into, nor is there the urge to find one. He takes the time to finish his cigarette.
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He knows that he's not going to spend this round—after all, Dorian came not that long ago. He's up for constant fucking, but losing himself twice in two hours just isn't going to happen. But he can enjoy the sensation, enjoy the feeling of being used and, more importantly, enjoy being stared at and adored.
Dorian lets Thomas stay inside him as long as he wants—though he visibly preens at the compliment of being called exquisite. Damn fucking straight he's glorious. "It's a pity you don't have a plug with you," Dorian murmurs right back. "I'd have you shove it up me and I'd wear it the rest of the day under my trousers. You'd watch me serving drinks and flirting with all the other pretty boys, knowing full well that I'm stuffed full of your cum."
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Sweeney gives a meaningful glance towards his clothes and produces a gold coin with a lift of his brow. Get the fuck outta here. Thomas pushes himself back off the bed on shaky legs and starts to gather his clothes. Once he gets his trousers on, he starts towards the door, trading the bottle of oil for the coin.
After, Sweeney gives Dorian a few. The man's had a long night, after all. He kills the last of his rum.
"Ya've got fifteen minutes ta get back here."
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"Right, I've got to ask: why me? If this is just pure voyeurism, you could get your kicks with anybody here, but it seems like you're going through all this just to watch me come undone."
He's getting up off of the bed, though. And as he complains, Dorian is reaching for his trousers to put them back on (once again, he is leaving his shirt behind). He's definitely going to come back here in fifteen minutes, but he's going to get his complaining in before he does.
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