Page 86 of Love Language

Yes, Keeper. Very. Greg just couldn’t get over Marco’s dramatic, beguiling look. He had all of Greg’s attention and probably everyone else’s.

You like all those eyes on you? Everybody watching?

It felt different, bigger, when Marco pointed it out. Greg knew he was blushing. But he did like it. It made him feel squirmy and shy and so damn hard. I like it.

Marco smirked. How much do you like it?

Ugh. There was something about saying it that still made him feel a little embarrassed, God knew why. People had seen him whipped in this very circle. People had taken turns using him under Richard’s watchful direction.

And still, he blushed. I like it a lot.

Marco looked skeptical, but it was an artificial skepticism, letting Greg know that they were entering a scene. I don’t believe you.

No, I do like it. It’s just… embarrassing.

Marco stroked him through his tiny blue jockstrap. I can see that.

He could feel his blush spreading down his chest. He must look like a lobster. And if Marco told him to come now, he probably could just from this squirmy, terrible awareness of being watched.

But none of them can see how hard you are, can they?

He was facing Marco, their bodies turned in together. No, Keeper.

You want to show them, don’t you?

Did he? When Richard did scenes with him here, he was focused on his Sir, on what he wanted. Knowing that there were people watching him dialed things up a notch, but he’d never really thought about it that much. It turned out, there were a lot of things he hadn’t really thought about with Richard.

His belly was quivering and turning itself inside out. His cock was rock hard. How was it, at the age of fifty, that Marco was still prying out new kinks that had been locked inside him?

I want that.

Make me believe you.

Please, Keeper. Please… let me show myself to them. He saw Marco nodding, but in this way that said it still wasn’t enough. Please, play with me while they watch. Let them see what my Keeper wants to do with me. He was feeling desperate for it now, the begging making it real.

Marco seemed to consider. Better. I almost believe you. But maybe you should voice. So that they can hear you. He started stroking Greg with a deliberately light touch.

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Why was Marco so cruel and magnificent?

He took a minute to find his voice, then started quietly. “Please, let them see me. Please show them while you play with me.”

Louder.

Dammit. Marco couldn’t even hear him. But he was well aware that other ears could.

“Please, Sir, show me to them. Let them see me.”

Louder.

Oh God. This was mortifying. Debasing. People were listening to him. He could see them out of his peripheral vision, and he knew that Marco was watching them start to gather around behind him. And Marco still hadn’t stopped that damn stroking, when he was already so on edge…

“Please, I want them to see me.” He could hear his own voice getting whiney. Desperate. Crackling. “Please, play with me while they watch.”

I think I almost believe you now. Stand up.

Greg stood, still straddling the chair with Marco’s guiding hands on his hips. Marco shifted over to sit on just half of the chair, one of his legs down the middle and the other hanging off the side.

Hands on the back of the chair, knees here. He pointed.