Bennett climbed onto the bed behind Arthur. He ran a large, rough hand down Noel's trembling flank, from the dip of his waist to the curve of his ass. His fingers brushed against the place where Arthur was buried inside Noel, and he felt the slick heat, the tight ring of muscle. "He's tight," he observed, his voice thick with lust.
"He will be," Arthur said, and with a final, deep thrust, he pulled out. The sound was wet, almost obscene. Noel gasped at the sudden emptiness, a hollow ache that was immediately replaced by a raw, stinging sensitivity.
Bennett manhandled him onto his hands and knees with efficient, ungentle hands. Arthur moved to kneel in front of him, positioning himself so Noel's face was level with his groin. His cock was still wet, slick with Noel's own juices and the oil, glistening in the dim light.
"Open," Arthur commanded.
