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Resting atop Grian’s desk, in view of the naked eye, is a fleshlight - a pretty nice one from the shine of the sleeve and how life-like the material looks and the detail of the mould… 

For a time, Jimmy finds himself standing [more like swaying, he was a bit of a lightweight] in the hallway, his full bladder sinking into the depths of his body’s wants as he stares at the fleshlight so brazenly displayed and fills his mouth become heavy with drool at the amount of cum oozing through the intricately moulded sleeve. 

The way it’s propped up on the cap, cum oozing past the moulded lips - it’s taunting Jim. Taunting him with the knowledge that Grian sat in that chair and stroked himself with that sleeve just before they arrived - it did take him a moment to answer the door - and left a pretty mess oozing out of it. The mental image of his friend, his very good friend for multiple years mind, pulling his slacks down and sliding his cock into the sleeve, feeling it stretch and mould around him as a little fleeting sound of pleasure comes out - but he knows he has guests coming, so he’ll have to be quick… coming. Thrusting his hips up, the squelch of lube and the toy against his hips filling his office, balls slapping repeatedly against the sleeve as he vigorously fucks into it and his face tighter and tighter with his climax crashing into him as the door bell rings again. The mould hugs and squeezes his cock until he’s cursing into the empty air of the office and filling the sleeve with his load.

Jimmy was not about to become jealous of this piece of plastic. 

But staring at the tight slit, shiny with sweat, Grian’s cum bubbling out with all the grace of magma seeping from a dying volcano, Jimmy can’t help but feel himself strain against his denim when he thinks about that being his hole. Of Grian oozing out of him, looming over him, both of them panting for breath, his hands so commanding and firm on his body so slick with sweat, the thick musk of sex in the air, his own cock neglected but leaking into a pooling a mess on the bed that Grian will yell at him about. 

It’s not the first time he’s thought about Grian like that. Truth be told he has lost count of how many times his friend has floated into his fantasies - he did have to stop himself from moaning for him while having sex more than once. 

The last time was when he found himself staring at the premiere photos for far too long. It was hard not to notice the way the suit pants emphasised Grian’s bulge, whether it was he was at half-chub all day or his balls were large, or perhaps both, Jimmy floated between the options based on whatever his fantasies demanded. 

The sight of the fleshlight does summon an errant fantasy from a lonely night earlier in the month: of Grian - dangerously handsome, despicably mean, and charmingly pesky Grian - pulling out of some faceless hole. It could have been Kirsty, could have been Joel, could have been anyone, and yanking Jimmy up to the mess he’s left in them, his cock throbbing and neglected and making him like up the mess like a misbegotten mutt… he hasn’t cum that hard in months. 

Okay, maybe Jimmy is a little jealous of this piece of plastic. 

And before he knows it, he’s leaning into in Grian’s office, hard as a rock, staring at the fleshlight spilling a mess onto the desk. 

He really should just go use the bathroom. It is why he was up here. 

It would be wrong, so very wrong to do anything with this, and Jimmy feels his stomach knotting like a metal hook is catching in his intestine and is trying to pull him to the lavatory, but his feet don’t move. That glistening release, the thick globs of Grian’s climax taunt him and dare him to move closer into the heavy sweat of pleasure staining the air around Grian’s workspace. 

It would be wrong, right? What a gross invasion of privacy… but when is he going to get a chance like this again…

A quick lick for curiosity sake and then he can go.

Stepping into the room, Jimmy finds his feet crossing over each other in rotten excitement - landing on his knees with a thump in front of Grian’s desk: eye level with the used fleshlight. 

Tipsy, Jimmy runs his thumb through the mess spilling onto the table and shudders at the lingering warmth of the cum collecting on his finger - so recent… Rubbing the spilt mess over the fleshlight, Jimmy is slow in how he thumbs the mess into the sleeve and he can’t help but shudder in the slick feeling and sinful squelch of his friend’s load against the soft skin like material. 

It’s still so warm: Grian’s cum filling up much of the sleep but more so the heat of the friction clings to the interior and it’s perfectly moulded grooves that must feel so good around his cock. 

Probably feels just as good on his lips [Holy moly, he’s disgusting… but he can’t stop]

Jimmy leans close and places a soft kiss to the sculpted lips still clinging to the phantom warmth of Grian’s cock. The lingering musk of his body is rubbed bare into the soft skin, and he can’t help but moan into the sleeve as it dances on his lips. 

It’s a little clammy, how could the synthetic skin not be with how ardently Grian appears to have used it, but Jimmy finds something comforting about the tacky material sticking to his lips and sprinkling his tongue with the artificial flare of the sleeve. 

Breathing in the moment and every sensation that flutters across his nerves, a shiver ripples through Jimmy’s body as he presses his lips to the toy’s, slotting together like they were made to be. 

Getting lost in the motion of peppering kisses on Grian’s fleshlight shouldn’t be as easy as it. Jimmy should really have more shame about this right? His legs grow weaker and weaker and his chest roars with a clawing disgraceful want that spurs his tongue to slide along the moulded folds. 

Tenderly, Jimmy slowly laps at the fleshlight as if it were the pussy of his most beloved. He savours the slightly gummy texture sticking to his tongue soaked with Grian’s sweat and the pungent musk wafting up his nostrils. His tongue glides through the lips with a strangled little moan, shaky hands desperately clasping around the shell of the toy and keeping it at his lips as if he were chained to it. 

Then, his tongue pokes into the sleeve and a thick glob of Grian’s cum slides down his tongue. A keening whimper rolls up his ribs to meet it in his mouth, swirling on his tongue. He can already feel some of the mess sticking to his beard - he will definitely have to go to the bathroom to clean up now. 

The taste is intense - salty and sharp and weirdly sweet mingling on his tongue and Jimmy can’t help but drool as he gulps it down with a shivering moan. He really is eating his friend’s load out of his used toy…

He does not, in fact, stop at a quick lick. 

The mess spills onto his tongue like an avalanche, Jimmy’s desperate whines echoing into the depths of the toy as he laps at his friend’s mess with such little shame that he really should be ashamed. But with the want roaring in his gut like an unrestrained flame, he can’t bring himself to feel much beyond the pounding heat in his chest and the ache of his leaking cock oozing pre into his underwear straining against his trousers. 

Lapping at the hole, Jimmy swallows mouthfuls of Grian’s cum with a dizzy smile and an increasingly fuzzy head as the taste becomes increasingly savoured. It’s thick and sticky dropping down his gullet, and if he closes his eyes he can feel the distant heat of Grian’s cock in his mouth: the underside of it throbbing on his tongue as he spurts into his throat, treating Jimmy like the cum-drunk whore he is acting like. 

Strangled, secret sounds of pleasure spill into the toy as Jimmy gulps down the cum with a shaky smile, savouring each ridge and squeeze of the cushioned tightness on his tongue. Swirling over the sculpted clit and hole like he’s trying to orchestrate the most soul shattering climax from this toy, Jimmy let’s his mind wander to the thought of this being Grian’s cunt, of Jimmy getting to fuck him and not pulling out, and being dragged down to clean up the mess he’s made like a misbehaving pup. 

He does think about Grian with a pussy every so often and licking at the mess spent in this toy stokes those embers. 

His tongue thrusts in and out of the sleeve where Grian’s cock was less than a hour ago [it’s far too easy to imagine an approximation of his friend’s cock sliding in alongside his tongue somehow] and he feels himself slipping to a puddle on the office floor, legs splaying out, tilting the fleshlight against his lips and savouring every drop like a fine vintage.

“So this is where you scampered off to Tim…” The low, half-disappointed, half-amused tone catches his ears like an owner calling his dog name. Jimmy’s head swivels to look towards the doorframe, thick ropes of saliva and cum connecting his lips to the tip of the sculpted end and stick in his beard. 

Grian’s standing in his office doorway. 

Grian’s standing in his office doorway, leaning against it like he’s been there for a while. 

Grian’s standing in his office doorway, leaning against it like he’s been there for a while, watching Jimmy make out with his used fleshlight whose mess is splattered across his beard and glossy over his lips.

Panting for breath - apparently he forgot to breathe when he was making out with Grian’s used toy - the embarrassment rushes through his body like churling magma of a volcano about to erupt. His eyes, soft browns, melt like chocolate until they are dewy and hazy. Widening as much as the heavy lids will permit in recognition of Grian’s presence, Jimmy stares at him: and his pointed eyes and devilish smirk at the sight in front of him.

“Oh please Tim, don’t let me disrupt,” Grian steps into the room with his voice catching a dangerously low purr, like a panther stalking in the brush, and Jimmy can feel his heart jump up his throat with each step. 

“Gri - I ummm I was just looking for the bathroom,” Jimmy’s feeble attempt at rationising his tongue being stuffed in his friend’s used fleshlight comes out in long measured breaths, chest heaving up and down. Only now did he realise just how out of breath he is. 

The creaking of the door closing comes to Jimmy as the potential death knell of his friendship and likely life. 

“Funny, don’t think my bathroom is at the bottom of a used fleshlight,” Grian says pointedly and Jimmy can feel the shame race up his spine like a chilling dread. 

“I, Grian I’m sor-” 

"Oh please, don't stop being a slut on my account Tim, you and that gross used toy seem to be hitting it off" the humiliation shouldn’t feel so good - shouldn’t make a viscerally depraved moan wither and die in his throat like Grian’s gaze is choking him out. 

“Really that desperate to taste my cock you have to sink to lick at my toys? God Tim, just when I think you can’t get anymore pathetic.” Grian purrs, low and dangerous, eat word twisting around his neck like a noose: tighter and tighter until he’s left with a dull pressure at the the back of his eyes that only builds as Grian leans down to him. 

“Grian - I-” Grian’s hand seizes his jaw and yanks his head upwards to demand his undivided attention. 

“I asked you a question slut.” He growls with a smile, a dangerous softness beneath the sudden rush of gruffness that seizes his voice which makes a visceral shudder rush from his spine to his cock. 

Jimmy whines. Whine might not be apt for the sound that spills past his lip: it’s visceral and wet and so unbelievably feeble and pathetic that it is more at home coming from a wounded songbird than a man.  

Grian’s words rake across him like coals as his cock throbs and heart hammers: he could probably cum from the words alone, and the revelation of that fact just makes his cock jolt.  Hearing Grian say the words he only imagines in the dark of lonely nights, feeling his fingers dig into his jaw, stake their claim, and threaten to bruise is all he has ever wanted. 

Jimmy summons what’s left of his brain with rosy cheeks and a slack jaw. “Yes… I… I think about you a lot and,” Jimmy pants, Grian’s eyes become more pointed and dangerous from behind his rims, “I just wanted to know what you taste like… just the once and… got carried away…” 

Grian clicks his tongue as he inspects the toy and drops Jimmy’s chin, wiping the accumulated mess of spit and cum thick and sticky on his hand against his cheek. “Well, keep going Tim, I want it spotless,” there’s a growl of danger in his voice as Grian sits in his office chair, eyes falling onto Jimmy with all the grace of the headsman axe. 

He wants a show. Wants to see how far Jimmy will deprave himself… He is eager to please. 

With a trembling lip, chest tight like his lungs can’t fill, beneath the watchful obliterating gaze of Grian leaning back in his chair like some monolithic arbiter, Jimmy hungrily laps at the fleshlight, letting sopping wet moans soaking with desperation spill alongside the drool and cum catching his chin. 

He makes out with the toy ardently, tongue lapping and rolling it its depths, swirling in the spilt mess still clinging to the sides of the synthetic skin. Without even realising it, his hips start rolling with each sloppy exchange with Grian’s fleshlight. 

He can feel Grian’s eyes on him tracing the bob of his Adam's apple with domineering appreciation, as he gulps down mouthfuls of his increasingly stale cum with just as much excitement as the first taste. “You really are disgusting Tim, you know that right, sneaking into my office and lapping at my cum like a filthy mutt,” Jimmy can feel each humiliation, each degrading sneer served with a smile, stoke the heat at the end of his spine. He should feel embarrassed and disgusted, and part of him does, but the thumping heat filling his body with each rising beat of his heart swallows any of that for the moment. 

Each lap and thrust of his tongue under Grian’s watchful gaze feels electric - he can feel his cock pulsating, unbearably uncomfortable against the denim squeezing him tight enough to threaten an orgasm. 

Grian, evidently, notices this. Without a word, he presses a socked foot forward and bears down on Jimmy’s cock. He almost chokes on the mouthful of cum he was half-way through swallowing when he feels the weight of Grian’s sole on his needy cock, toes curling around to squeeze the head. 

He cum with a strangled desperate whine. His orgasm seizes the hazy corners of his soul as he spurts into his boxers, feeling his own release soak into the fabric and cling to his throbbing shaft. 

“Really Tim, already. Should have now a whore like you would be a quick shot.” Grian sighs dismissively, bearing down his foot enough to pull a pained overstimulated sob out of Jim before cruelly dragging it away.

He laughs when Jimmy’s hips chase his foot. 

“I bet you were hoping Joel would find you like this, oh he would never have let you live this down,” Grian purrs as Jimmy’s lips stretch around the circumference of the toy and buries his tongue in the toy, desperately flicking at the increasingly cold globs of cum stuck at the back, “not like I’m gonna let you live this down either: but your secret’s safe with me Tim… as long as you are a good boy.” 

The implication haunts him, the lingering promise of more at Grian’s whims only encourages renewed dedication in cleaning out his toy, even as his orgasm fizzles to white noise in his body. 

Pulling back from the toy, lips glossy and a little swollen, Jimmy presents the toy to Grian as if he were spreading his legs and showing off his cunt - as if the things were part of him. Without prompting, he opens his mouth and lets Grian see the swill and dregs of his last orgasm collecting at the back of his mouth. 

The way Grian’s eyes subtly widen fills Jimmy with pride. The sight of Grian’s cock throbbing against his trousers gargles out a needy whine that has cum rolling sticky against his throat. 

Leaning forwards, Grian gently takes his chin and holds his bottom lip captive with his thumb. 

“Good boy, now swallow slut.”

Eye’s half lidded and wet, the disgust and affection, the crumb of praise dusted atop a mountain of degradation like dress fallen snow, all swirling in Grian’s voice haunts him like a spectre. Panting, drooling spilling into his lap, Jimmy rolls his tongue back, wills his throat to tighten and squeeze, and maintains bleary eye contact as he swallows the last of Grian’s cum down his throat with a shuddering moan. 

Jimmy holds his mouth open so Grian can approve of its emptiness, of his cum staining Jimmy’s throat and swallowed down to his gut. Grian’s cock strains against his trousers as he does, and Jimmy can’t help a satisfied smile catch the corner of his arching, shiny, lips. That’s approval enough for him.

Panting, still clutching the fleshlight in his hand, Jimmy remains transfixed by the disgustingly pleased look on Grian’s face as his hand leaves his chin and suddenly it’s as if he’s foundationless and crumbling.

“Blimey G… you cum a lot…” Jimmy mumbles deliriously, swaying back and forth and about to become intimately acquainted with Grian’s office floor if he didn’t scoot the chair forward and catch him on his thigh. 

“Was pretty pent up.” He says flatly, a hand carding through Jimmy’s dishevelled quiff. A low hum of appreciation rolls up his throat as he realises just how unbelievably heavy his eyes are.

“You don’t… hate me right?” Jimmy manages, nesting closer to the simple comfort of Grian’s thigh like it’s a liferaft despite the question lingering in the air. 

Grian’s fingers tickle at the bristle as the bottom of his hair in an unfocused spiral as he lets the question linger in the air - definitely to be a pesky little bugger. “No Jim, I don’t hate you. Think you’re a little gross when you could have just asked to suck me off, but no hate,” the bluntness of Grian’s admission momentarily pulls him from that thick haze of pleasure, but as soon as Grian’s fingers catch on his hair and pull at his roots he sinks back down as if he’s been pulled under. 

But before he can get comfortable, Grian is standing up and ushering him up. “Now, let’s get you to the loo before you piss all over my office floor.” 

“Like… like you wouldn’t want to make me piss myself.” 

“Next time maybe.” 

“So there’s a next time?”

“If you don’t piss all over my carpet, yeah sure.” 

What started out as a place to have a drink, come down from the day that passed, ended with a young thing walking up to him nervously, phone in hand. “Hi—ahem- hi!” You wave at the older man that is leaning against the bar. Skizz perks up, downing his whiskey before putting the glass down and smiling. “Hi there! You alright?” He hums and you nod. “Yeah I uhm—you’re-you’re Skizzleman right?” Your heart is racing in your chest. He’s so much bigger up close. You’ve heard the stories of course. The way he looms over anyone, the way he can swamp anyone with one of those hugs. But you didn’t realise how true those stories were until right this moment. Everything about him screams big. Broad torso, strong arms and long, muscular legs make him look even bigger than already he is.

“Yeah, buddy!” His face lights up and you can’t help but feel a little giddy. You fiddle with your phone a bit.

“Oh my—gosh uhm—would you m-mind taking a photo with me?” And he nods happily. The two of you snap a picture, something you will cherish forever. To your surprise, the man sits you down next to him and invites you to talk about things. You’re…surprised but not a lot. He’s always been described as a sociable guy and who are you to turn down a conversation between your favourite content creator?

As the evening goes on, as the two of you enjoy a drink or three, you slowly make your way over to the dance floor. You feel looser and so does he, from the way he’s dragging you over. A small part of your brain is telling you this is wrong, that an older man -let alone someone with arguably more power and influence than you- is spending this much time with you. But you aren’t thinking straight. You haven’t been ever since you caught a whiff of musk lingering on his button up.

The club is warm, and smoky. Bright lights obscure almost any view of people who aren’t standing closer than three feet from you.

Luckily for you, Skizz is amazingly close.

You shudder when he places a hand on your side, moving you to the rhythm of the music. You should pull away, you should tell him it’s late, you should say you’re not 21 yet, you should—his hand moves lower. Ghosts over the small of your back and you look up at him. He leans down, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, “you think I should let you go?” One bad decision after another, you shake your head.

“Please. Don’t let go.” You whisper back.

You can feel the way his lips curl up into a smile from the way his stubble brushes against the side of your face. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

For a moment nothing happens, you and him move alongside one another to the music. Your heart skips a beat when you feel a bulge prod against you. One part of you hoped it would go this way. But you never dared to imagine it, it’s such a filthy thought. It’s so wrong.

He knows you know. His hands roam over your body. One reaches up to the back of your neck, squeezes and forces a groan out of you. The other moves from your waist to—your breath hitches when his fingers brush against your cunt through your jeans.

“You’re so easy baby. Just lettin’ me do whatever I want huh? How many old men do you let feel you up this way?” Your knees buckle, pushing down into his touch.

“I’ve never—done anything like this..” you whisper out after a tick of silence. Skizz’s breath hitches.

“Is that so, sweetheart? Am I special? Hm? I bet you came up to me hoping this would happen. Hoping I would touch you? Tell me, love, do you touch yourself to my voice when you’re watching my stuff?” You chew your lip—what an invasive, hot question. You nod and a deep chuckle rumbles from Skizz’s chest.

Deft fingers undo the buttons of your jeans and they ghost over the waistband of your underwear. Surely he has noticed you’re trans by now but it doesn’t seem to matter to him.

You let out a low whine as his fingers trail closer and closer to you. The had previously on the nape of your neck has now travelled down, slipping down into your trousers and squeezing at the soft flesh of your bare ass.

His hand teasing your underwear move away and you can’t help but whine out. It’s quickly stifled by two fingers being pressed into your mouth though. You gag on them, tongue flicking between the digits. Eyes half lidded, you look up at Skizz. He’s not much better. Pupils blown, rosy colour dusting his face.

“Suck baby. Gotta make sure this all goes smoothly.” And you do just that, sucking hard on his fingers and leaving the coated in spit.

He pulls away, hand on your ass moving back up to hold you steady by your back. His now slicked up fingers move down to your underwear again and—fuck- they—they slip in. They prod at your hole before pushing past your rim. You shudder, knees buckling again. He holds you up skillfully, full of experience.

“Do you even touch yourself baby? Fuck you’re tight…” The angle is a little akward but he manages, curling up against your walls. You whine, burying your head in his chest and breathing in his scent. The smell of sweat and a hint of cologne fill your senses.

“N—not a lot. Not there—“ You gasp when his fingers curl again. “Shh…shh baby. Can’t have anyone hear ya losing your virginity to some random old guy. How embarrassing would that be?” Suddenly the room feels a lot more compact, you’re hyper aware of all the people around you. Potential eyes that would catch a glimpse of you falling apart.

Nevertheless you grind down on his hand, ball of his thumb brushing against your dick. It feels heavenly, fucking yourself on his fingers. A third finger worms its way in and you—you don’t know how long you can keep yourself standing. Skizz notices, clearly.

“Here.” His free hand pats your behind and the other pulls away. You whine but he tuts. “Shh sweetheart. Just come with me. Trust me.” And trust him you do- god you would trust him with your life if he asked you to.

He stalks his way over to one of the free couches, pats his lap and oh. Oh. It all clicks in your mind. You sit down on his lap carefully, letting his hands roam over your body like before until he whispers in your ear to tug your trousers down just enough. And you do, wriggling out of your trousers. It looks as though they’re still on for anyone facing you but in reality your cunt is now exposed to him. When you turn your head to look at him you see it, him licking his lips at your fresh, virgin pussy. All for him.

Lifting his own hips up slightly, he tugs his boxers and jeans down a little. Your breathing picks up when you feel his cock, thick, throbbing, hot, rubbing against your underside.

“Here, I’ll help you.”

He takes your hips and move you up slightly just until the tip of his dick is poking at your hole. It’s gonna be a stretch, you can feel it. Slowly but surely he slides you down his cock. With every other inch -every delicious inch- you feel your composure slipping away until—“there we go…all pretty on my dick.” He holds your hips tightly, refusing to let you leave. You feel so incredibly full of him. Your pussy throbs around him. You can’t believe it—losing your virginity here, in public, in some random club, to one of your favourite people in the world. How lucky.

You give a tentative grind down and Skizz chuckles. “So needy baby. You sure you’re a virgin? You’re almost as desperate as a real slut…” he moves your hips up a bit before letting you fall down. The tip of his cock bumps into your cervix, making you squeal.

He repeats that a few times, moving you up and down on his cock. Carefully, so that no one sees. You’re in a secluded corner, surrounded by smoke and dim lights. No one will see, surely. But the thrill makes you impossibly wet around him. He can tell, chuckling in your ear.

“You like this baby? Getting fucked in public like you’re some kind of whore?” He makes you bounce on his cock, just enough to be invisible to anyone else watching. “Ye—yes.” You gasp, clenching around him again. Skizz groans at the feeling.

“I’m gonna cum inside you soon.” It’s not a question, it’s a warning. A statement. He sounds way too put together for someone having sex in public. It makes you wonder how often he does this.

“Please-“ you sniffle, reaching down to your front to tease your cock through your jeans but your hand is roughly pulled away. “Ah ah baby,” Skizz tuts, “don’t want anyone to see, do we?” His hips shock up into you and you whine. “Nn—no…no we d-don’t..” you feel the way his cock pulses inside of you, the way his pubes brush against your folds.

“So close…” he puts his head on your shoulder and breathes in deep, just like you did before. You almost moan out loud when his teeth scrape over the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Say my name-“ he whispers, bucking his hips up rougher by the second. So far for being stealthy. “Skizz—“ he shakes his head. “It’s A…Andy. Say it.” So far for sounding put together, too.

“Andy.” You gasp and he bites down on your flesh before cumming hard inside of you. You feel the way his seed fills you, slowly leaking out of you onto his jeans.

“Shit.” Andy grunts, lifting you up a little to see the damage. “I should clean you up, shouldn’t I?” He sounds winded, out of breath. Lets you fall down on his softening dick and you squirm. “Give you a treat for being such a good boy…” you can’t help but nod eagerly.

—————

"You thought I wouldn't notice?" Skizz snickers, tugging on the little chain connecting three of Impulse's piercings. He said - he swore that he didn't have any piercings - not anymore. But Skizz knows differently. Especially when he caught the noise of slight jingling under Impulse's jersey when he dived in for a hug. Or when he caught the feeling of a beaded chain under said shirt, right under his hand.

"You just can't help but be a slut, can't you, Dop?" Skizz chuckles when Impulse whines softly and leans into the tug on his piercings. A beautiful golden chain connecting looped rings on his nipples as well as a similarly looped piercing that adorns his cock. Every pull Skizz does, every little bit of movement, makes Impulse squirm with need. Pre is drooling from his tip and coating the pretty jewellery until it looks polished.

"Just gonna take our jerseys off, god knows those are soaked after that!" Skizz had told their fellow Hermits after MCC, "especially Impulse's. Haha, darn sweat."

Now both men stood in front of one another, shirts off and pants uncomfortably tight. For Skizz, at least. For Impulse? His trousers are pooled around his ankles and his underwear is neatly tucked under his throbbing balls.

"I can tell you want me to touch you," an evil expression coats his face, "give you a prize for being the big winner today. But honestly? this is such more fun. Should get you a pretty, heavy medal to hang from your sensitive cock and nips. Fuck...when we're home you're in for something, whore."

"Andy...please." Impulse gasps when the Y-shaped chain is being tugged on. His nipples are throbbing deliciously and his cock hurts so good. "You--I'll do anything..." He's leaning against an unused desk that is being stored in the storage closet the two are uncomfortably stuffed into.