Angel Eyes | B x B x B |

Twenty

O W E N
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It didn't really surprise him that he'd only just finished his contract when the caterers arrived to bring their food--he was a slow ass reader, he'd always struggled with getting sidetracked and misplacing his spot. It was less embarrassing for him because David had way more of a problem focusing on it than he did. David shifted a hundred times an hour, and clicked his pen repeatedly whenever he got confused. David seemed really frustrated and Owen could sympathize to a degree because he had the same problem with focusing, only to a lesser degree.

Owen slowed his reading even more when he noticed David's struggle to keep up with him, and managed to hold off finishing until David was finishing. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, because Wyatt's implication had been that he would collar them after dinner and he didn't have anything better to do until then anyway. Wyatt had sat with them off and on, but he eventually disappeared to finish getting ready before the caterers arrived. Owen wasn't really sure what else Wyatt could really do to 'dress up' more because he already looked so fucking fantastic Owen had to fight the urge to stare.

When Wyatt returned, the urge was even more present.

His ashy blond hair was styled into a bun of some kind, his slim, beautiful face was framed by the bangs he carefully arranged around his face. His full, pouty lips looked absolutely devilish with the bright red lipstick on them. Owen wasn't even sure he was fully comfortable using male pronouns for him at the moment. He just didn't know. The respectful thing was always to be considerate, right? But, Wyatt... well sometimes he dressed in stuff Owen saw mostly girls wearing, but most of the time he just wore his idea of neutral.

He was always beautiful, but Jesus fucking Christ. Owen had never seen someone so easily blur the lines of gender like Wyatt, it was a little intriguing to him. He wasn't the type to cross-dress, but it really turned him on when Wyatt did.

His fingernails were painted a deep red to compliment his lips and the stones on the heels he was wearing, and Owen was a little mesmerized by the contrasting colors--he was easily entertained. Every time Wyatt's lips wrapped around his fork, Owen felt his dick jump in his pants. His eyes couldn't decide if they wanted to follow his delicate fingers or his lips, and his mind was definitely lagging out as he tried to focus on anything other than Wyatt.

He couldn't help it, it was Wyatt. By the time that dinner was finally over, Owen felt like his dick might just explode in his pants. Wyatt seemed to know exactly what he was doing to him, and to David, because he kept running his eyes over them and giggling a little, a mischievous glimmer in them. Halfway through the meal, Wyatt had slipped his shoe off and put it in Owen's lap, applying pressure and rubbing. Owen had his suspicions that Wyatt may have been doing similar to David, based on the inhales and soft moans that David kept letting out, failing to mask them.

The devious little smirk on Wyatt's face had Owen's breath racing a little, excitement and arousal pooling in his chest. By the time dinner was finally over, Owen was leaking precum into his pants way more than he'd like to admit. Wyatt smirked and stood up, walking around the table and stopping at the head of the table.

"Gentlemen," Wyatt teased, motioning for them to go in front of him. Owen stood and quickly moved, walking in front of him, pausing when he realized he didn't know where to go. Once David was up beside him, Wyatt smiled. "Strip and kneel boys." Wyatt motioned towards the carpet on his floor, where he'd moved the coffee table out of the way to make room for them. Owen jumped to action without much of a thought. He quickly pulled his clothes off and tossed them out of the way, piling them on the floor by the armchair before he dropped down to his knees and rested his weight on his heels.