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Corvin sighed. They’d been planning this gathering for months, and while nothing had gone wrong, precisely, nobody was having sex. Most of the guests were gathered around the refreshments. Amanda and John were engaged in an intense discussion of some political figure and how he ought to be caricatured; Phil and Guy were discussing the latest beet harvest; and, unbelievably, Sherry had produced yet another stone horror which he was explaining with great enthusiasm to a nervous-looking young man Corvin hadn’t yet been introduced to.
He knew this was a danger of orgies. The side table was filled with snacks, which everyone had to sample before getting down to business. Perhaps the snacks were too good, and he ought to cut back next time. They had invited the whole Murder, so there was no shortage of open-minded and attractive people, but the problem was everyone was so interesting and knowledgeable that you ran the risk of what was happening now—intelligent conversation and spirited debate taking over instead of sexy shenanigans. Not that Corvin had anything against intelligent conversation or spirited debate, of course, but they were all nominally here to fuck, and Corvin alone among the crowd was apparently serious about that purpose.
They had invited some others, too, people that were vetted by someone they trusted, to be like-minded and open to new experiences. Corvin had been looking forward to the possibility of new partners. He loved John and Phil, and never got tired of going to bed with them, but it was exciting to meet new people, to have a change and get out of the long-established patterns the three of them always fell into. Even the addition of Guy to their polygon, making it a four-sided triangle, was by now a comfortable familiarity. They’d gone to the trouble of seeking out additional attendees to this party, and now the new guests were going to think Corvin was a fake rake and his orgies all smoke and bluster instead of sex.
There was no point in admonishing his friends; they’d only become annoyed with him and perversely more attached to their conversations. Corvin instead turned towards the nervous young man that Sherry had cornered.
“I’m sorry, Sherry, but I must beg an introduction.” Corvin put out his hand to the young man.“I’m Corvin.” He put on his most inviting and disarming smile. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.” The youth’s handshake was firm and confident, but his face blushed a pleasing rose hue, which set off his tumbled brown curls beautifully. “My name’s, er, Gordon. Harry Gordon.”
Corvin glanced back at Sherry a moment. “Oh dear, another Harry? Well, I’m afraid I simply must entice this one away from you, he’s far too lovely to be wasted on talk of archaeology.” He turned back to the young man. “May I call you Harry? We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Y—yes. Thank you.” Harry was staring at Corvin. When Corvin met his eye, he went even pinker, and looked at the floor.
A first-timer, Corvin deduced. Or perhaps he was just shy around new people. Well, Corvin would have to make him feel welcome. “As you can see, the fun is a little thin on the ground at the moment. Some of my friends are far too easily distracted into conversation.” He shot a glance at Sherry, who had tucked the stone thing back into his pocket and was looking back and forth between Corvin and Harry. “You don’t mind me depriving you of Harry’s company, do you, Sheridan?” Corvin knew Sherry preferred to watch at these gatherings, saving his own intimacies for the other Harry, his husband, in private. He probably struck up the conversation about rocks because he’d noticed this Harry was feeling out of place—they both looked a bit relieved to have been interrupted.
Sherry nodded with a kind smile, tipped his glass towards them, and left them to it.
Corvin turned back to Harry. “Would you care to assist me in getting the party started, as it were?”
Harry’s mouth opened, but he seemed to be having trouble speaking.
Corvin leaned in a little bit closer, put a hand on Harry’s arm, and said, “By that I mean, do you want to start the sex part of the evening. Someone’s got to, and it’s usually me, and you’re beautiful, and nothing would be a more appropriate welcome to my home than a fuck.” He stopped, waiting a beat to see Harry’s reaction, but Harry still said nothing. Corvin waited for a full breath in and out, reminding himself that there was a room full of others he could ask if Harry refused, even if not being able to kiss those soft pursed lips would be a terrible disappointment. And Harry was new, and didn’t know him. He must make things clear. “Of course, if you don’t fancy the idea, please do refuse me, I shan’t take any offense.”
At that, Harry’s beautiful mouth split into a grin. “But I do fancy the idea. Very much, in fact.” He stepped forward, into Corvin’s arms, and tilted his head up.
Corvin leaned down, hands around Harry’s waist, and kissed him. Oh, his lips were as soft as they looked. Simply delicious. And Harry didn’t kiss like an innocent—he kissed back, eagerly and thoroughly, and before Corvin knew it, he had been maneuvered onto the chaise long, with Harry’s leg between his thighs and Harry’s tongue in his ear.
“What do you like?” Harry said, voice husky.
He didn’t have a ready answer; the urgency of Harry’s kisses had put all the usual smart remarks out of his head. He only knew that his cock was hard and he was aching for more. “Anything. Whatever you want. Will you touch my prick?”
Harry smiled again. It was a delicious smile, like cherries and summer, with just a hint of vulpine lasciviousness, and Corvin felt warm all over as Harry unfastened first Corvin’s trousers and then his own, reached under their shirts, and put a fist round both their erections. Corvin exhaled sharply at the touch, firm and sure, his own hands moving under Harry’s shirt to stroke his sides, his back, to pull him closer. There was absolutely nothing sophisticated or even distinctive about this act, but the exhilaration of a new partner, so clearly enthusiastic, made every touch exquisite. He came apart under Harry’s hands.
When Corvin opened his eyes after his last spurt of release, Harry was still holding him, and still smiling. He glanced quickly around—Amanda and John remained fully clothed and gesticulating wildly, but many other guests were beginning to go about their own pleasures, while a few had gathered to watch him and Harry. It had worked wonderfully. He loved to see his friends happily enjoying one another in his house, unconstrained by hesitation or nerves. Corvin felt his own face crack into a grin, flush with pleasure and happiness, and pushed up to give Harry another kiss.