In that instant, Felix froze so completely it looked as though someone had swapped his nervous system with ice. Every muscle locked at once—no gradual stiffening, no heroic attempt at composure—just total, catastrophic stillness, like a wind-up doll whose key had snapped mid-turn.
The abruptness of it was so absolute it carried a faint air of insult, as if his body had independently decided that movement was no longer a service it wished to provide.
His dark eyes blew impossibly wide, pupils dilating until they nearly consumed the delicate rings surrounding them, his mouth falling open around a gasp that couldn’t quite escape his paralyzed lungs.
The color drained from his face with visible speed. His already pale skin faded toward porcelain delicacy, the sort collectors handled with white gloves and anxious expressions, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and upper lip as panic set in with devastating efficiency.
His hands trembled at his sides, fingers twitching with the kind of nervous energy that had nowhere to go, his breathing coming in short, shallow gasps that made his chest rise and fall in rapid succession beneath the thin fabric of his nightclothes.
Just then, as if choreographed by some unseen director with a taste for dramatic timing, every head in the room turned toward him.
Not casually. Not gradually. They aligned with unnerving precision, attention converging on Felix all at once, the full collective weight of it settling onto his frame with the density of something almost tangible.
His knees began to wobble.
The motion was unmistakable now, delicate tremors running through his legs as though they were reconsidering their contractual obligations to remain upright. He swayed slightly, just enough to suggest the floor beneath him had become an unreliable narrator, and that gravity, too, might be plotting betrayal.
The terror radiating from him was palpable—not the kind that preceded violence or danger, but the adorable variety that came from being thrust into a spotlight he’d spent his entire life avoiding, his natural shyness amplified into full-blown stage fright, making him look like a startled rabbit caught in lamplight, frozen in the fragile hope that if he remained perfectly still, reality might forget he existed.
I moved then without conscious thought directing my body, sliding up next to Felix with fluid grace before wrapping myself around his arm in a possessive embrace that pressed my chest against his shoulder.
Then I turned my attention to Lloyd.
My smile unfolded slowly, carefully constructed—warmth layered over calculation, charm lacquered in sweetness, every degree of expression chosen with the precision of a jeweler setting stones.
When I spoke, my voice slipped effortlessly into a register designed to persuade rather than insist, soft and inviting but threaded with quiet certainty.
"If you’re going to choose Felix, you’ll have to take me as well. Package deal, non-negotiable, both of us or neither of us."
Lloyd raised his eyebrow with the kind of skeptical interest that people employed when hearing proposals that sounded too good to be true. "That’s an unusual request. Care to elaborate on why I should agree to this arrangement?"
"Oh, I’m so glad you asked," I purred, my free hand gesturing with theatrical flair while the other maintained its grip on Felix’s trembling arm. "You see, Felix here has only been having sex with me so far. I’ve been his sole partner, his introduction to physical intimacy, the person who’s been carefully training him in how to please another person without completely dissolving into adorable panic."
I paused for dramatic effect, letting that information settle. "Which means he’s not properly suited to handle someone like you on his own—not yet, not without guidance and support from someone who knows exactly how to work with his particular... sensitivities. He’s delicate, Lloyd. Beautifully, wonderfully delicate in ways that require careful handling to fully appreciate."
I leaned forward slightly, my expression shifting into something more earnest beneath the playful veneer. "I mean just think about it... you’d get two performers for the price of one review, which is objectively excellent value regardless of how you calculate the return on investment. Plus, watching me tease and guide this precious boy while you enjoy us both? That’s entertainment you can’t replicate with a solo act."
Lloyd hesitated visibly, his jaw working silently as an internal debate played across his features in micro-expressions I cataloged with satisfaction.
His fear of me remained prevalent in the way his posture stayed defensive, shoulders slightly hunched, hands positioned where they could react quickly if I made any sudden movements. He glanced toward Julius with a look that clearly asked is this a good idea, receiving only an eager nod in response that provided no actual guidance.
Julius’s eyes darted between the two of us with barely contained anticipation, his theatrical soul clearly delighting in the drama unfolding before him. Lloyd’s crew remained uncharacteristically silent, apparently recognizing that their boss needed space to make this particular decision without additional input.
Then Lloyd sighed with the resignation of someone who knew they were making a choice that couldn’t be unmade, his shoulders sagging slightly as he met my gaze with something between wariness and reluctant intrigue. "Fine. Both of you. But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you specifically for whatever chaos results."
I let out a little squeal of pure delight that echoed across the lobby with embarrassing exuberance, my composure shattering entirely in favor of unrestrained excitement.
I bounded up to Lloyd with an energy that made Nara’s usual bounciness look restrained by comparison, throwing my arms around him in a hug that pressed my entire body against his considerable frame.
I nuzzled my head against the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his vest and shirt, the solid muscle beneath providing a surface that felt surprisingly comfortable despite the abrupt intimacy.
A wild flush crept up Lloyd’s neck, deep crimson spreading from his collar to his jawline then straight to his cheeks in waves that betrayed exactly how affected he was by the sudden physical contact.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my smile bright with mischief, and caught one of his hands before he could decide what to do with the situation. My fingers slipped between his, weaving together in a grip that was firm but easy, anchoring rather than claiming. Then, without giving him time to object—or recover—I tugged him gently along.
"Come on," I said, voice warm with anticipation, guiding him toward where Felix stood frozen in adorable terror.
My other hand shot out to seize Felix’s trembling fingers, his skin cool and slightly damp from nervous sweat, his entire arm going rigid when I made contact. He blinked in surprise as I began pulling both of them toward the bar and lounge area.
Moments later, the room exploded around us with familiar warmth, its plush velvet aesthetic bathing everything in shades of crimson that ranged from deep wine to bright arterial red. The space looked dramatically improved from when I’d first seen it.
The battered furniture had vanished, replaced by pieces that looked not only elegant but structurally trustworthy, and the old torn wallpaper had been stripped away and renewed, its fresh surface gleaming faintly as if pleased with its promotion.
To our right stood a new addition I hadn’t seen before, a stone chimney built with professional craftsmanship, flames crackling steadily in the pit, throwing dancing shadows across the walls and radiating a heat that made the air feel pleasantly warm.
I released their hands once we’d cleared the doorway, turning on my heel to face Lloyd, the motion quick and bright, animation lighting my features. "Have a seat," I said, gesturing toward the large couch stationed at the room’s center, its velvet upholstery drinking in the firelight until it glowed with an almost decadent softness.
A low table sat before it, the surface polished to a mirror shine, completing the intimate setting with the kind of understated elegance that turned ordinary furniture into a deliberate invitation.
Lloyd lowered his shovel with surprising care, the movement unhurried and precise, as though the tool were less an object and more a trusted companion that deserved proper handling.
He leaned it gently against the wall where it wouldn’t slip or clatter, then dropped onto the couch with a long, defeated sigh that seemed to travel through his entire frame.
The cushions welcomed him with enthusiastic compliance, swallowing his weight until he sank into them like a man briefly surrendering to gravity’s better ideas.
Both arms draped themselves across the back of the couch in a pose that aimed for casual authority, though the relaxed sprawl didn’t quite disguise the quiet tension still threaded through his posture.
His legs stretched slightly apart in that instinctive, territorial way men adopted without thinking, claiming space with the unconscious confidence of someone used to occupying it.
I stepped up to Felix, letting the bright playfulness slip gently from my expression, replaced instead with something softer, steadier. I took both his hands in mine, careful with the pressure, grounding rather than gripping, my thumbs brushing lightly over his knuckles as though I could smooth the tremors out through touch alone.
When I spoke, my voice dropped to a hush meant only for him, warmth threaded through every word in the quiet hope it might penetrate the panic freezing his thoughts.
"You’re going to be fine. Better than fine—you’re going to be absolutely amazing. I’ll be right here the entire time, guiding you, making sure nothing happens too fast or gets overwhelming. Just follow my lead, trust that I know what you can handle, and let yourself feel good. That’s all you need to do."
I could feel the tremors running through his hands like tiny earthquakes, his entire body vibrating with a nervous energy that threatened to shake him apart. But he nodded anyway—a tiny, jerky motion that barely qualified as agreement but carried determination beneath the terror.
His trust in me was absolute despite his fear, that faith making something warm bloom in my chest even as I prepared to thoroughly corrupt him in front of an audience.
I guided Felix forward with gentle pressure, positioning him directly in front of Lloyd while my hands settled on his body—one on his hip, fingers splayed possessively across the curve, the other resting lightly on his back between his shoulder blades where I could feel his racing heartbeat transmitted through trembling muscles.
Lloyd watched with an anticipation so intense it made the air feel charged, his eyes tracking every micro-movement with the focus of someone witnessing something genuinely special.
I took a deliberate step backward, my hands sliding away from Felix’s body to give him space. "Show him," I whispered with encouragement wrapped in command. "Let him see how beautiful you are."
Felix’s hands rose with agonizing slowness, trembling fingers finding the hem of his nightshirt and gripping the fabric like a lifeline.
He pulled it upward with movements so hesitant they almost hurt to watch, revealing his pale skin inch by torturous inch—first the flat plane of his stomach, unmarked and perfect, then the gentle swell of his ribcage where each bone stood out in delicate relief beneath his quivering flesh.
His nipples came into view next—small, rosy buds already swollen into tight, aching peaks from raw nerves and shameful anticipation, the contrast against his pale skin making them look almost painfully sensitive.
The shirt continued its journey upward, exposing the fragile sweep of his narrow shoulders, the elegant hollows of his collarbones carved so sharply they begged to be licked, bitten, bruised by teeth or fingers until purple blooms marked where he’d been claimed.
His arms lifted to pull the garment over his head, the motion making his muscles flex beneath that porcelain skin with subtle beauty, blond hair falling back into artful disarray when the fabric cleared his face.
For one long, trembling heartbeat he clutched the crumpled fabric to his chest like a shield, nipples scraping against it with every ragged inhale—then he let it fall—the whisper of cloth hitting the floor sounding obscene in the heavy silence.
His hands moved to the drawstring of his sleep pants with visible reluctance, fingers fumbling with the knot like he’d forgotten how basic motor functions worked.
When he finally loosened it enough to push the fabric down his hips, the pants slid to pool around his ankles in soft folds that left him completely exposed.
He stepped out of them with careful precision, one foot then the other, leaving himself standing naked before Lloyd’s hungry gaze.
Felix’s cock hung soft between his thighs despite the situation’s inherent eroticism, the small length flushed pink and already glistening at the tip with clear fluid that spoke to arousal his body couldn’t quite suppress despite his terror.
His hands came together in front of him, clasped over his opposite wrist in a gesture of unconscious self-protection, his entire posture radiating a vulnerability that made him look impossibly precious.
His face had gone cherry-red with embarrassment, the blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck to paint his chest in splotches of color that highlighted just how affected he was.
I noticed the thick bulge in Lloyd’s pants swell and pulse with visible interest, the fabric straining to contain what had to be considerable anatomy responding to the sight before him. His breathing had gone shallow, his chest rising and falling with increased frequency, his knuckles going white where they gripped the couch’s edge.
"Fuck," Lloyd breathed with raw appreciation coloring his rough voice. "Look at him. He’s like something carved by an artist who specializes in impossible beauty—those delicate features, that flawless skin, the way he trembles like he’s never been touched. And that blush..." He trailed off with a groan that indicated his vocabulary had temporarily abandoned him in favor of base appreciation.
I stripped myself with considerably less ceremony while Lloyd remained distracted by Felix’s display, my dress sliding off with practiced efficiency, gloves following, boots kicked aside until I stood equally naked.
When I finished, I slipped up behind Felix with predatory grace, my presence making him jump slightly despite having known I was there, his entire body going taut as a plucked string.
I pressed myself against his back, my chest molding to his shoulder blades, my cock—already hard and leaking from watching his strip tease—nestling against the cleft of his ass with a pressure that made him gasp softly.
My hands slid around his body to splay across his stomach, fingers tracing patterns along his sensitive skin that made his muscles jump beneath my touch.
"Look at you," I purred directly into his ear, my voice dropping slightly. "Standing here completely naked, trembling like a virgin sacrifice, that pretty little cock already dripping despite how terrified you are. Your body knows exactly what’s coming, knows how good it’s going to feel when I guide Lloyd’s hands to all your most sensitive places." My teeth found his earlobe, biting down just hard enough to sting. "You’re so fucking cute when you’re embarrassed it makes me want to ruin you completely."
My hands drifted lower, one wrapping around his soft cock with a gentle grip that made him whimper, the other cupping his balls with a careful pressure that had him rising onto his toes.
I stroked him slowly, deliberately, feeling his length begin to swell and harden in my palm. "That’s it," I encouraged with filthy sweetness. "Get nice and hard for me. Show Lloyd what happens when someone touches you the way you like."
Felix’s cock responded with eager obedience, growing in my hand until it stood at full attention—still small compared to most men but perfectly proportioned to his delicate frame, the head flushed dark pink and absolutely pouring pre-cum, making my stroking hand slick with his excitement.
His hips began making tiny aborted thrusts into my grip, seeking more friction while simultaneously trying to hold still, the contradiction making his movements jerky and desperate.
He raised both hands to cover his burning face, fingers spreading just enough to peek through at Lloyd who was watching with such rapt attention it bordered on worship.
Small, broken sounds escaped Felix’s throat—not quite moans, not quite whimpers, something between pleasure and overwhelmed distress that made him sound utterly debauched despite us having barely begun.
"Well then," I said with a smirk, "let’s get started, shall we?"