Treavor was nervous…
That much was obvious to the young woman seated across from him and she knew the tell-tale signs of his nerves well.
Firstly, he continuously avoided eye contact, looking anywhere but her, from the window drapery to the ceiling to the door to the floor his eyes wandered, but he never looked at her.
It was how she had known something was wrong in the first place, when she had answered the door to find him head bowed, looking to his shoes, cheeks rosy. Not so much as glancing to her as she invited him in for tea, which was arguably quite rude.
She let it slide this once.
Secondly, much like his gaze, his hands were in near constant action, whether it be wringing his wrists and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, tapping his fingers to a tuneless melody, folding and unfolding his arms. No matter what it was, it did not stop. His legs similarly jumped about, crossed and uncrossed, his feet tapped.
It would have been endearing if it weren't so bothersome.
Waverly had known Treavor since they were in diapers, since before they were in diapers really, Treavor was some few months older than her and their mothers were old friends, they would sit for tea nearly every afternoon together and chatter with heavy stomachs swelled with children.
Lydia, being two years the twins' senior and Esma one year their junior, were naturally and simply drawn to the Pendleton twins rather than their younger brother. And seeing the four older children already clicking as most children their age tended to, it was expected for Treavor and Waverly to become friends as well.
The arrangement worked well enough as Waverly took to the youngest brother like a duck to water, they being hardly months apart made their friendship unquestionable to the point where their parents used to joke that they would be wed before they knew it.
When they were young, they would playfully gag at the thought before running off to play away from the prying eyes of the adults, typically out in the garden if their elder siblings were occupying the lounge.
When together, they were two peas in a pod and neither of them could see being more or less as better or worse.
As they grew older however, messily and uneasily progressing through those horrible years of change and questions, they tried to see one another in different lights. Their parents, and by that point many of their friends, expected them to wed and for a brief week they tried to align themselves with said expectations.
Nothing felt right however, not their interlocked hands, not the quiet, questioning, begging looks of, 'is this alright?' And certainly not the shy brush of lips mere moments before they simultaneously agreed that, no, this was not alright.
Their parents still made the occasional remark of their apparently stagnant 'relationship', but they learned to feverishly ignore the comments.
And as they were, Waverly saw Treavor as a close friend, or perhaps the brother she never thought she wanted. Treavor likewise saw Waverly as a sort of sister or confidant, someone he trusted absolutely, thought perhaps a bit too well.
Waverly had a plethora of secrets she dared not breathe a whisper of. Perhaps if she were cruel, she would use it against him, and perhaps one day, she would, but for now... Whenever something happened, good or bad, in Treavor's life, the first person to know was Waverly. Always Waverly.
Treavor trusted Waverly.
And Waverly could not, nor could she see herself breaking that trust.
"What happened?" Waverly finally breathed as she lowered her teacup to look to the nobleman before her, Treavor jolted at the sound of her voice, his eyes went wide and a feathery pink hue settled over his cheeks.
Oh shit, it was bad.
"E-excuse me?" The nobleman stammered, STAMMERED, nervously. "What makes you think something happened?"
Waverly cocked a brow and Treavor shied away from her gaze.
"Treavor, I have known you for nearly twenty years." Waverly chided calmly, "I think I can tell when something has happened to my best friend." She raised her teacup to take another sip to allow her companion to rebuttal her statement, when Treavor refused to speak, she carried on.
"Besides, you've hardly said a word since you got here and that means your thinking, which means something has happened."
Treavor gently set his teacup back onto the coffee table between them, half full, before melodramatically groaning and burying his face in his hands.
"Oh boy…" Waverly sighed, "What did you do this time?"
Treavor heaved a sigh as he sat back against the sofa he occupied, eyes downcast and cheeks still rosy.
"I lost a bet…" He mumbled quietly. Waverly narrowed her eyes, "You lost a bet…" She repeated slowly, not at all liking where this conversation was headed.
"It was a stupid bet." Treavor began, "I made it last year at the New Year gala, I remember taking the bet and being drunk enough to not think it through and now I've lost the bet and you are literally the only person I am comfortable asking for help."
Waverly took the final sip of tea in her cup as she waited for her friend to catch his breath, Treavor had a habit of rambling whenever he got too nervous.
"Do your brothers know?" Waverly finally sighed as she set her now empty teacup down, Treavor, to her surprise scoffed, "Of course they know, they're who I lost too."
Waverly nodded slowly.
"What do you need?" She sighed calmly. Treavor stilled at that, his appearance reminded Waverly of a deer, wide eyes, confused expression, stupid yet endearing.
"What?" Treavor asked slowly, tasting the word as it passed his tongue, Waverly rolled her eyes.
"What do you need to pay off your bet? I still owe you for that time you paid for my dry cleaning after that drunkard dumped his drink on my lap."
Treavor in response blinked once, twice, sighed and shook his head. "I don't need…" He paused, "Well… I do need something, but it's more…" Treavor sighed, "I need… A favor."
Waverly sighed through her nose, oh boy…
"Look, this is going to sound really weird, but you are the first and maybe only person I could think to help." Treavor stated quickly, "Just… Promise me you won't laugh, alright?"
Waverly slowly set her hands in her lap as she cocked a brow expectantly. Treavor drew a breath.
"I need to borrow a pair of high heels for this year's New Year's gala." He stated; Waverly could hear him straining to keep his voice steady, she knew how fast he could speak if his nerves got the better of him.
"What kind of bet did you loose?" Waverly asked exasperatedly.
Treavor ran his hand through his hair nervously, "Last year, Montgomery made some remark about how I'm still the smallest member of my family so of course, Morgan and Custis started a belittle Treavor tangent."
Waverly resisted snorting in a most unladylike manner. She remembered that tangent, there were some very entertaining snippets of drunken banter that she would not soon forget.
"I was already drunk by then, so when Morgan proposed we make a bet on it, I stupidly agreed. If I grew to even standing with the twins by the end of the year, I'd win… And if not…" Treavor trailed off.
"Alright…" Waverly mused slowly, "Why heels though?" She asked, "I know your brothers well enough to say that making you wear a pair of heels for an evening is far more… Lax than their typical penalties."
Treavor rolled his eyes, "The heels are so I can 'experience height' as Morgan put it." Waverly stifled a snicker at that, "Hey! No laughing!" Treavor chided, "You only get to laugh at the gala with everyone else when I inevitably fall down and break my neck!"
Waverly scoffed at that and stood, "Oh please Treavor, what kind of friend do you take me for? Come along." She called as she all but skipped to the door, needn't bother pausing as she heard the seat Treavor occupied groan as he stood to follow.
Waverly's own heels clicked as she walked through the halls up the stairs and to her sister's room, Treavor couldn't help but watch and wonder how the hell he was ever going to survive an evening in those torture contraptions.
"Esma! Esma have you a moment?" Waverly called as she knocked on the door.
Treavor moved to shuffle just behind the Noblewoman, "What are you doing?" He not quite hissed before standing upright as the door opened. Esma looked between her youngest sister and the youngest Pendleton.
"What happened this time?" The older sister drawled tiredly as she moved to lean against the frame of the door, Treavor averted his eyes nervously while Waverly stepped around her sister whilst chiming a playful.
"Treavor needs shoes."
"Waverly!" Treavor most certainly did not squawk from the hall. Esma slowly turned to the younger Nobleman before her, brow arched.
"Shoes?" She questioned slowly.
"Treavor lost a bet!" Waverly called from her sister's closet, "He needs to wear high heels to the new year's gala this year."
Esma turned to Treavor and crossed her arms, "Alright… What does this have to do with me?" She asked calmly, Treavor shrugged helplessly, "Waverly just told me to follow her." He mumbled sheepishly.
At the mention of her name, Waverly appeared once more, holding a sleek black set of heels.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Esma scolded as she held her arm out before her sister, preventing Waverly from leaving the room.
"What do you think you're doing with my shoes?" Esma asked coolly, Waverly cocked a brow, "Giving them to Treavor?" She responded slowly, "You two should have the same foot size so it won't be like he'll break his neck."
Esma rolled her eyes, "You can't just give Treavor my shoes Waverly. Especially shoes like those." The elder sister removed the pair of heels from Waverly's grasp to hold them up to the young Nobleman before her.
The heels of the shoes were as thin as a pencil, maybe three or four inches tall.
Treavor could feel the blood leaving his cheeks.
"He'll kill himself with his first step Waverly." Esma chided lightly as she retreated further into her room.
Waverly looked to Treavor and shrugged, "I thought they'd look good on you." She offered, Treavor huffed, "Maybe in my coffin."
Esma returned with a different pair of shoes, very dark blue with thick wedge heels hardly taller than the shoes Treavor currently wore.
"These should fit you just fine without the risk of you breaking your neck." Esma hummed as she handed the Nobleman the shoes, crimson painted Treavor's cheeks as he offered Esma a sheepish smile and a nervous thank you before he stepped out of the shoes he was wearing and into the low heels.
"They fit alright?" Esma asked casually as she watched her sister pout.
"Well… I don't think I'll die in them." Treavor chimed sheepishly as he offered the older sister a small smile.
"I was thinking of something taller…" Waverly mumbled primly as she stepped closer to Treavor. Treavor, who was naturally a tad bit taller than the Noblewoman, was only just slightly taller than normal wearing the heels.
"I'll probably die in anything taller Waverly." Treavor replied bluntly, Waverly shrugged, "We have a week before the party Treavor!" She most certainly did not whine, "That's plenty of time to practice!"
Treavor all but withered against Waverly's insistence before he bemoaned a strained, "Fine…"
Esma sighed.
"Get used to the wedges first." She ordered with a 'shoo-shoo' flick of her wrist, "Come bother me once you can handle stairs.
Esma closed the door just as the young Nobleman murmured a fainthearted, "Stairs?"
[]
Treavor wanted to laugh.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" Morgan hissed as he looked up, up, to his younger brother. His voice was soft as to not draw more attention to the already baffling sight, but strained with something that made heat coil in Treavor's stomach.
Treavor merely grinned, broad and with a good amount of cheek as he discreetly tugged on the flowing pant leg of his evening outfit.
"Heels." He chirped lightly.
Said heels were a dull earthy black, design-less exterior, indiscriminate other than their height, and surprisingly not entirely out of place at the gala.
What was out of place however was the wearer.
Treavor was small… Well, smaller than most. He stood a full two inches below his brothers and nearly a head beneath Lord Shaw, Esma Boyle stood just taller than him and Lydia taller than Esma, the only person Treavor could proudly say he was taller than was Waverly…
Not that being taller than Waverly was much of an accomplishment, she was the youngest of their generation and unfortunately, still had some growing to do.
Whilst wearing the heels Waverly had convinced him to wear and Esma had so graciously supplied, Treavor stood a full three inches over his brothers.
"Why?" Custis asked slowly, something thick and unchaste clinging to his very breath as he spoke.
"You two did say I was supposed to wear heels to this year's gala for losing that bet." Treavor reminded his brothers cheekily as he allowed his pant leg to fall, "And I believe there was some remark about me 'experiencing height' as you put it?"
Morgan gave Treavor a look, a very heated look which described in silent specifics just how torn he was between clearly wanting to relate in detail just how much he hated his younger brother then and there…
And dragging Treavor upstairs for some quick, bruising romp.
It wouldn't be the first time one or both of the twins squirrelled him away from the crowd, either upstairs or in some quiet corner to seek his warmth and leave him a slick mess for the evening.
And if they chose to take advantage of their baby brother that evening, they'd find themselves pleasantly surprised...
Custis merely continued to look his younger brother over, clearly not comprehending what exactly was standing before him.
Treavor smiled and patted his brothers on their shoulders.
"Look on the bright side Morgan, Custis, in all likelihood, I'll be leaving home in a hearse after I break my neck."
With that, Treavor walked. Not stumbled or limped or staggered. Walked, off into the crowd.
Morgan and Custis were most definitely not distracted by the saunter of their brother's hips before he disappeared.
[]
Treavor knew he had eyes following him all throughout the evening.
The pants he wore were long, feminine, rising snuggly over his hips and falling low to cover his ankles, for all intents and purposes, hiding the heels he wore, to most attendees that night, as far as they knew, Treavor had finally hit a growth spurt.
Many eyes begged silent questions, many mouths exchanged hushed whispers and certain hands appeared keen on feeling out, so to speak, the answer.
Which was how Treavor had come to his particular predicament.
Heated lips and heavy breath, laced with the spiced rum from behind the bar counter trailed along the back of the smaller man's neck. Large hands pinned Treavor's to the smooth bathroom countertop while firm arms created a cage to hold the younger nobleman in place.
Treavor's hips were caught between the edge of the countertop and one Lord Montgomery Shaw's looming bulk.
Admittedly, Treavor himself could not say with conviction that he was sober, it was the New Year gala, he was supposed to get drunk. Fight him.
However, Treavor's lack of soberness was not the reason for his inaction of resistance, it was the second reason out of three.
Firstly. The bathroom Treavor was currently trapped inside pressed right against the wall of the main bar, and the wall of the second lounge, he could recall previous parties where, through the walls, the sounds of drunken coupling could be easily heard if one were to pay attention or stand too close.
People tended to watch the bathroom door, especially if whoever was inside showed no particular desire for secrecy.
Despite his intoxication, Treavor knew that he could not go about shouting to the high heavens, his social standing was already on thin ice and he doubted he would be able to live down being heard, let alone found in such a compromising position.
Furthermore, Treavor was somewhere between pretty drunk and that mellow stage of intoxication where things stop mattering. He knew what was happening, he knew that he should have been abhorrently against the very thought of it…
But really, was it much worse than anything his brothers had put him through?
His brother's who had, for the past three weeks, seemingly forgotten his existence. Not a single promising glance had been cast the young man's way, no touches lingered, Custis had even stopped pestering him with his stupid little kisses whenever he got the chance.
Where before Morgan and Custis would drag him off every few days or some few times a day, they had left him high and dry.
Treavor figured he should have been happy about it, happy that his brothers seemed so disinterested in his body, in him…
But all if left him feeling was… Irritation, longing…
Treavor should have been glad his brothers had lost interest in him, but he wasn't, yes, he hated his brothers, and their sick, sick games and pleasures… But it was far more difficult to convince his body of his minds loathing…
Treavor never realized just how needy he was until his brothers stopped supplying him…
But even then, in his borderline desperate state he knew, he knew, that Montgomery felt wrong against him.
Which was another thing.
Lord Montgomery Shaw was big.
Typically, conversations between Montgomery and Treavor involved Treavor craning his head back depending on how close they stood and Montgomery either looking down over his nose like a dick, or actually looking down.
With the shoes, the gap between their heads was diminished, not entirely, but more than enough to be noticeable. Montgomery still had some few good inches over Treavor, Montgomery still loomed over Treavor.
Montgomery at the moment, had Treavor pinned to the bathroom counter.
And Treavor, despite the wrongness of the situation… Found that he did not mind Montgomery being pressed so close to him.
It was nice to have someone against him, Treavor had undeniably been lonely the past few weeks as, apart from his brothers, he had very little in the way of human contact. So, wrongness aside, Treavor could admit that Montgomery was a suitable replacement for the time being.
Montgomery slowly laced his fingers between Treavor's, squeezing the smaller hands gently as he leaned closer, trailing his lips up along the left side of the smaller man's neck before settling to nip at a particular spot just below Treavor's ear.
Heat began to spread across Treavor's cheeks as, with once glance at the mirror, he noticed the other nobleman's stare.
Treavor shuddered and bashfully averted his gaze, Montgomery's gaze was wrong… Too intense, too heated. still, Treavor shifted his head ever so slightly to allow the other nobleman better access to his neck. Montgomery chuckled lowly and obediently followed, pressing closer to the man beneath him.
Everything felt too wrong… But at the same time, very, very nice.
Treavor sunk his teeth into his lower lip as Montgomery grinded against the cleft of his clothed ass, it seemed that the nobleman behind him was… In proportion to say the least.
Teeth and lip latched onto the side of Treavor's neck, providing an obscenely pleasant distraction as Montgomery switched hands, allowing the larger nobleman to hold both of Treavor's wrists together with a single hand to free one of his own.
The whimper which threatened to escape Treavor was muffled by his lips and teeth as Montgomery's hand curled around his waist, a startled sort of gasp did manage to crawl from Treavor's throat as the hand on his hip moved to paw at his stiffening prick.
"You're very pretty…" Montgomery murmured heatedly as he popped the button of Treavor's pants before slowly running his thumb over the teeth of the zipper, teasing the heated flesh below.
"Like a little bird, did you know that?" The zipper was tugged down, finally drawing a real whimper from Treavor as the hand slipped between the fronts of his pants and the incredibly thin lingerie he had decided to wear that eve just in case his brothers decided to final-fucking-ly pay him any mind.
Montgomery's hand froze as it came into contact with the blissfully soft material before his fingers began to ever so slowly trace along the outline of the cock beneath his palm, a titter of hysterical laughter muffled by teeth escaped Treavor's throat as he grinded into the hand.
"Oh…" Montgomery purred slyly as he tugged the hem of Treavor's pants down past his hips, Treavor shuffled his legs apart a way, creating a large enough distance between his thighs to prevent his pants from falling completely to the floor.
"Aren't you a treat." Montgomery cooed as he ran his hand over one of Treavor's thighs, hooking his thumb over the thin strap before allowing the material to snap back against the smaller man's skin, causing Treavor to jolt.
"You were waiting for someone tonight, weren't you?" The spiced rum on the taller man's breath was thick he spoke against the back of Treavor's ear.
"I hope they don't mind if I take you first."
Oh Morgan and Custis would mind, will mind, horribly. Just as horribly as the time they found Treavor slinking off to the Golden Cat that one time, if not more so.
Treavor shuddered at the memory, it was before he came to understand how much easier it was to comply with his brother's whims than struggle and hurt.
It was a birthday 'present', an introduction to the pleasures of nobility, Morgan had said as they bought him a girl for an hour. He would admit, shamefully, to himself, in private, that as nice as the girl was, with her pretty hazel eyes and rolling umber hair…
Her touch did little to rouse him, her lips were too soft, to… Hesitant, she too was a new worker, not yet practiced in the arts, and he had never been allowed to take the reigns anytime in bed.
He finished down her throat at the insistence that he didn't want to risk an accident, and they spent the remainder of the hour speaking casually until his brothers came to collect him.
They fucked him proper that night, sharing him between them at their leisure in their bed. He was made to scream and cry and sob for his brothers, left a mess in the morning and unable to so much as limp to the bathroom. They found him like that some few hours later, still in their bed, still a mess…
Treavor could hardly put up a struggle against their wandering hands as they fondled him greedily atop the stained mattress, pushed him down against the pillows and took, took, took, over and over until they found him a vacant husk, so wrung out on bliss he couldn't even beg.
The one girl at the cat did little to please Treavor, but that didn't dry his curiosity any less. He knew that his brothers felt like… As loathsome as it was to admit it, addiction.
Was Treavor addicted to his brothers? Possibly, most likely. He was young then, and not old yet so sex and physical intimacy had yet to loose their excitement… And once he ceased resisting his brothers and their whims, he found himself… Enjoying their time together.
But before then, when he still fought at each and every turn, he figured that the Golden Cat whores would be a good… Distraction? Looking back Treavor wasn't exactly sure what drove him to slink from the house and to the brothel.
Regardless, an ugly twist in his gut settled hardly a block from the house, Treavor couldn't understand why he felt so anxious, his brothers were off at the cat every other weekend and it wasn't as if he was bound to the house.
As it turned out however, he was bound to his brothers.
Oh, they were furious when they caught him in the brothel, chatting easily to the same girl they had purchased him hardly a month ago.
They dragged him home casually by the arms, their voices chiming and light as they carried on a one sided conversation between the three of them. To an onlooker it would appear as though Treavor had a bit too much to drink in good company and his brothers had come to fetch him.
But to Treavor, every smile bore fangs, every gaze cut like ice and every word held sinister promise.
Needless to say, Treavor never dared step foot near that brothel again…
However…
His brothers had been terribly rude these last few weeks, ignoring him so coldly. Treavor wouldn't dare return to the Golden Cat, the carefully constructed mess which hung in the balance of his brothers and himself could not be trifled with…
But this?...
Treavor however hummed low in his throat and arched his back with what little space Montgomery offered him, pressing his ass back against the heat behind him, only to shudder as cool air passed over his backside once Montgomery took half a step back to fiddle with his own belt.
Treavor huffed, irritated and tipsy as he made some move to turn around only to be met with a playful palm falling against his thigh.
"Oh, don't be like that." Montgomery scolded playfully as he soothed the area his palm had just struck with his thumb as the larger nobleman returned to press against Treavor's back, lips pressed to the smaller man's neck and Treavor threw his head back, stifling a gasp as a cock, hot and heavy, thick and big and wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrong, settled between his legs.
"Put on a good show with that pretty face of yours and I may even let you come."
Treavor whimpered as he glanced at himself in the mirror, he was beginning to look a right mess, forehead damp, cheeks crimson and eyes blown wide.
"You'll behave now, yes?" Montgomery pressed lightly as he slowly rolled his hips against Treavor, sliding his cock just between Treavor's thighs as he spoke. Treavor nodded feverishly as he pressed back against the solid body behind him.
Montgomery hummed approvingly.
"Close your legs a bit, would you?" The nobleman murmured against the shell of his ear, Treavor did so, until the warm cock nestled between his thighs was snug, Montgomery pressed a heated kiss to the back of his neck before he slowly began to roll his hips.
The position of Montgomery's hips allowed his cock to slide and brush against Treavor's with every motion, though the position offered Treavor little else, it certainly seemed more than enough for Montgomery.
The nobleman behind Treavor alternated between scattering heatedly drunken kisses and bites to the back of Treavor's neck, pressing his forehead against Treavor's shoulder or resting his chin over Treavor's shoulder to watch the younger man's expression in the mirror.
Treavor on the other hand kept his lower lip caught between his teeth to stifle whatever whimpers threatened to escape, he rolled his head, pressed against the body behind him and quaked borderline violently beneath Montgomery.
"Will you sing for me?" Montgomery cooed heatedly as his hand returned to idly tease Treavor's stiffened cock, drawing a low mewl from the younger man's throat which Treavor for the life of him could not stop.
"Just like that." Montgomery moaned as he pressed himself impossibly closer to Treavor's back. Treavor shifted his legs ever so slightly closer, drawing a strained groan from the nobleman behind him.
"Oh, you are so lucky I found you first." Montgomery hissed against Treavor's ear, "So many other gentlemen wanted to try their luck tonight, but the lot of them are cowards you know."
Most of his words were lost to Treavor as the younger man merely grinded back against the larger Lord's hips, drawing a barked chuckle from Montgomery before his hips began to stutter against Treavor's own.
"I'm going to ruin you." Montgomery huffed as he finally settled against Treavor's backside, thick ropes of seed splattered against the cabinets before them, with some catching on Treavor's thighs to leave a heated trail of spend running down his legs.
Montgomery pressed his forehead to the back of Treavor's neck, breathing heavily against the smaller man as his prick dribbled some few feble spurts, his hold on Treavor's wrists slackened.
Treavor looked at himself in the mirror as he caught his own breath, finding himself most certainly looking as though he had just had rough company, his clothes smelt strongly of rum and smoke and bold bruises were beginning to blossom across his neck.
If this did not tell his brothers that he was done waiting for them, Treavor doubted anything would.
Treavor found himself not even minding that Montgomery wasn't keeping with his end of the bargain as he spread his legs, releasing the flaccid cock from between his thighs as he moved to step away.
The had their fun, but it was time to leave. Treavor pondered whether or not he ought to get a bit cleaned up first, obviously he'd have to fix his hair and straighten his clothing, but should he perhaps run upstairs to try and cover the bruises?
His brothers would be upset one way or another, whether by the fact that someone else had dared touch their brother, or by the fact that Treavor had let them.
Montgomery's grip on his wrists tightened suddenly. Painfully.
Sirens went off in Treavor's head.
Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrong.
"Where do you think you're going?" The older lord's voice had taken on some heated edge. There was no playfulness in his voice, only something that screamed 'danger'
"I told you that I was going to ruin you." Montgomery growled lowly as he roughly reached between Treavor's thighs, forcing his legs apart as a strained whimper, a small noise of confusion and fear escaped Treavor's lips.
Montgomery's fingers were dry as he tugged the thin, hardly excusable strip of fabric to the side, he hadn't even bothered collecting a smear of his seed to act as lube.
The only times Treavor could remember taking fingers dry was when he first began… Experimenting on himself and when his brothers thought to experiment on him.
Neither times were pleasant, but it seemed as though Montgomery had lost any interest in easing Treavor's pain.
Montgomery's hand froze the moment his fingers pressed against the plug at Treavor's entrance.
What started as a quiet chuckle gradually grew into a deep rumbled laugh.
"You really were waiting for someone tonight, weren't you?" The older nobleman purred as his fingers traced around the handle of the plug, tugging and twisting it idly as he watched the smaller nobleman twitch and writhe in the mirror.
Montgomery leaned close, pressing his chest to Treavor's back as he lazily trailed his lips along the smaller man's neck. This time, any illusion of pleasantness was replaced by a sickening knot of anxiety.
"You really are lucky I found you first." Montgomery murmured heatedly as he tugged the plug from Treavor's entrance, drawing a subdued whimper from the smaller man.
"I'm going to fuck you." Montgomery hissed coyly, "Leave you open and sopping for the next gentleman at the door, you'll be loose as a whore at the Golden Cat by the time I'm done with you."
Treavor whimpered something horrified as he shook his head.
"I'm going to spread you open on my cock." Montgomery promised as his tongue traced the outside of Treavor's ear.
"And you're going to love it."
Treavor swallowed dryly as he heard the tell-tale crinkle of foil wrap before the condom package was tossed into the garbage beside the toilet.
A hand suddenly hoisted his leg up onto the countertop before the heated head of dry cock pressed against Treavor's entrance.
Treavor tensed, like a rabbit staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
"Wait." His voice was a fragile wheeze of fear, but it was enough to stall the inevitable. Treavor glanced over his shoulder nervously, he looked between Montgomery's eyes.
"D-Do you have any oil?" He stuttered quietly. The smile Montgomery offered him was devilish and cruel.
"Now Treavor." The older Lord scolded ruefully, "Do you think the whores at the Golden Cat get to beg for such commodities?" A tear fell from Treavor's eye.
"I'm not a whore…" Treavor hissed, his voice was small, and his effort drew a chortle from the man behind him as Montgomery pressed himself closer to the smaller man, gently rutting his prick against Treavor's entrance.
It was wrong.
Morgan and Custis had never been wrong. They were wrong, yes, but they never felt wrong.
Their touches, while unwanted, never brought about such rolling anxiety as the man behind him did. At the very least, with Custis and Morgan, Treavor knew he wouldn't be needlessly butchered.
His brothers knew exactly how rough they could be with their toys, how far they could push Treavor… How they could turn their baby brother into some desperate, begging thing for them, just them.
And as wrong as Morgan and Custis were… They were all Treavor knew.
Morgan and Custis felt right.
His brothers knew him well enough to bring him to tears with their hands alone. The games they played were sickening yes, but no matter how well fucked Treavor felt after each encounter, despite the blood the bruises the shame…
His brothers felt right.
And the first press of the cock felt so abhorrently wrong that it burned.
The sensation was something Treavor was only vaguely accustomed to, the lack of lubricant or proper preparation left the younger man tight and seeing as he was already tense, the stretch of his entrance around the intruding prick… Hurt.
Treavor heaved agonized breath after agonized breath the further Montgomery sunk into him, the pain was unrelenting, the pressure, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. His legs quaked, his lips bled and his eyes watered.
Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong.
"So pretty around my cock…" Montgomery chimed tightly as he pressed flush against Treavor's backside. The smaller man shuddered and shook his head, his breath was labored as he actively struggled to repress the little noises of pain and shame which threatened to escape.
Montgomery hummed as he moved to rest his chin atop Treavor's shoulder, looking at the younger nobleman in the mirror.
Treavor's lips and chin were stained red with blood, as was the front of his shirt, he had bitten through his lip while Montgomery was pressing into him, and he doubted the blood would stop before Montgomery finished.
His hair was plastered to his head by sweat and tears stained his cheeks. Montgomery grinned widely before roughly pulling his hips back, likewise, drawing his cock from Trevor.
The smaller man allowed a startled yip to escape his lips as his eyes rolled. The dry, dragging sensation of cock was unpleasant at best, horrendously painful at worst. The only mercy Montgomery offered was the relatively slow roll of his hips, pain plagued each and every motion the larger Lord made, but at the very least, the burning touch of dryness was gradually replaced as something slick began to coat the intruding prick.
Treavor did not want to think about what exactly it was.
Treavor choked on a sour breath as he attempted to lean over the bathroom counter, as far away from the other nobleman as he could.
As far away from the wrongness as he could.
His forehead pressed against the cool mirror before him as his breath fogged the glass and the blood which passed his lips in desperate huffs splattered against the reflective surface in tiny droplets of ruby.
Montgomery chuckled lowly and followed after the smaller nobleman, pressing down atop Treavor, solid and heavy above him, warm and firm and wrong…
So wrong…
Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrong.
It wasn't just the pain. It was the smell of Montgomery's cologne, the weight of the other Lord's hands, the invisible stubble on his cheeks.
Morgan and Custis used some forest spice scented washes, their favorite was a combination of pine and cinnamon, earthy and piquant. Treavor preferred their rarely used sandalwood and vanilla cologne, if any because he liked vanilla on his brothers.
Montgomery however was musky, alcohol clung to his breath and cigar smoke to his clothing. The very air around Montgomery burned Treavor's throat, occasionally forcing little bouts of coughing to accompany the smaller nobleman's sobs.
Wrong.
Montgomery was able to hold both of Treavor's wrists with a single massive paw, the grip was bruising and unrelenting, nails threatened to break skin and Treavor swore he could feel the bones beneath his hands bend to accommodate the weight Montgomery put on them.
Wrongwrongwrong.
Morgan and Custis seldom held Treavor's wrists during their trysts, unless Treavor was being particularly fussy or desperate, they had taught him well in that regard.
Typically, Treavor clung to whatever was available, bedsheets, walls, couch cushions and more often than not, his brother's. Something which his brothers did not mind in the slightest.
Custis, for whatever reason, was always pleased whenever the youngest brother held onto him, perhaps he liked the proximity, the warmth, the feeling of importance, or maybe Custis liked having better access to Treavor's head, Custis was sick like that, always willing to lave Treavor with his lips and tongue.
Treavor would tell himself he hated it, but that was never enough to make him think to put his arms anywhere but his brother's shoulders.
Morgan on the other hand liked to watch Treavor fall apart. Between his elder brothers, Morgan was usually the one to hold Treavor's wrists. But not like Montgomery, never like Montgomery. Whenever Morgan saw it fit to hold Treavor down by his wrists, the grip was never painful, if anything, the hold Morgan would have on his wrists would act as a reminder, as a silent command.
Treavor closed his eyes and sobbed against the cool mirror surface as Montgomery managed to brush against his prostate, and just like everything else, it felt wrong. It wasn't fire dancing in his bones, it was sharp and cutting.
Wrongwrongwrongwrong.
A pained whimper crawled from Treavor's bloodied lips, drawing a cruel chuckle from Montgomery before the larger nobleman's teeth dragged along the back of Treavor's neck.
Treavor was used to biting, Morgan loved to use his teeth, and Treavor, deny it as he may, loved it when Morgan used his teeth… But even Montgomery's bite was wrong.
The evening stubble was coarse and… Not quite painful, but certainly uncomfortable.
Morgan and Custis were adamantly clean-shaven.
The bite itself was bloodless, a mere scrap of teeth along flesh, hardly there but impossibly potent.
Morgan's bites were bloody and bruising, controlling. Quick nips along Treavor's shoulders would leave pleasantly painful blooms of blood while more purposeful, open mouth bites would leave rings of dark purple across Treavor's flesh.
Treavor shuddered beneath the larger man, stifling his whimpers as best he could. Everything was wrong, Montgomery was drunk, everything hurt, and as much as he hated to admit it, not matter the shame, the embarrassment and dishonor he would do his name…
Treavor would have happily cried if anyone, anyone, were to walk through either door leading to the bathroom.
Montgomery grunted above him as he rolled his hips roughly against the smaller man, Treavor cried out in response before returning his teeth to his lip.
Montgomery was close, a small blessing, and for once Treavor was grateful that someone had thought to use protection.
In the heat of the moment, pressed against a wall, a desk, a couch or a bed by his brothers, feeling sinful warmth spread through his gut was bliss.
But the mere thought of Montgomery seeding him sent his stomach rolling in revulsion.
Then, through the walls, voices began to arise, counting back from ten as they had done every year.
Montgomery chuckled above and began feverishly rolling his hips in time with the New Year's countdown.
Treavor sobbed into his arm, he was burning and freezing in a horrible concoction of pain drowned pleasure. He wanted his torment to end, but he didn't want to be the reason for Montgomery's pleasure.
Everything was wrong.
Throughout the walls, he heard people scream and cry and cheer, he knew exactly what was occurring everywhere in the home. People, drunk and in love for the night exchanging kisses, toasts were drunk and poured and raised and drunk again.
But he couldn't picture any of it.
All Treavor could feel was the sick, wet heat of Montgomery's spend sinking deeper and deeper into him…
Apparently, Montgomery was even more cruel than his brothers…
Montgomery pressed one last kiss to the back of Treavor's neck before retreating, agony ignited and spread through Treavor's gut in a brief flash of hot white pain before the smaller man's knees buckled, and he slid to the floor.
"Happy new years Treavor." Montgomery chimed as he tucked himself back into his pants before patting the kneeling noble on the head as if he were some dog.
"We ought to do this again sometime."
Treavor merely hunched low, shoving his wrist into his mouth to stifle his whimpered sobs. He pressed his head to the cabinet before him, shuddering violently as he brought his free hand to curl around his midsection, where the burning agony was most prevalent.
"Perhaps I'll find you later tonight, once the others have had their fill." Montgomery chimed brightly.
Treavor's stomach rolled.
The door opened.
Voices in the hall laughed and called for Montgomery.
The door closed.
Treavor had just enough time to scramble to the toilet and bury his head into the bowl as bile raced up his throat.
Treavor retched into the basin, sobbing as he felt the too hot, too thick seed Montgomery had planted in him slowly slip down, down, down to his entrance.
Treavor retched again before falling still.
Tears and blood fell from his chin and cheeks, falling into the vile water his head hung over, his shoulders shook with each sob and breath. His throat burned and his mouth tasted of bile.
Voices continued to creep beneath the door as party attendees paraded about, wishing one another a 'happy new year', declaring their new year's resolutions and all around winding down from what was sure to be a memorable party.
Unbeknownst to the horrors that had occurred mere feet away.
Treavor was finally motivated to move as a hand rapped against the door leading to the second lounge, the door closest to the toilet Treavor was huddled over. He reached out blindly and turned the lock.
Whoever was on the other side made some muttered remark before disappearing.
Treavor quaked in the confines of the bathroom, despite the four close walls surrounding him, he felt terribly vulnerable… He prayed that Montgomery had lied about the supposed other people who would try their hand, but the very prospect terrified Treavor to no end.
With a shuddering sob, Treavor braced himself against toilet before slowly shifting his legs beneath him. Treavor dry heaved into the basin once he rose to his knees as the pain returned with a vengeance as well as the sickening feeling of slick warm spend rolling down his thighs.
Treavor was used to some dull aches and pains after a night with his brothers, but not this…
This was so incredibly wrong that Treavor prayed he was dreaming.
It felt like an eternity had passed before Treavor was finally on his feet again, he leaned heavily against the wall by the basin yes, but he was on his feet, so progress. He refused to look down at the mess between his legs as he hastily tugged up his pants, furiously ignoring the smear of red and pink trailing down his thighs.
Treavor breathed heavily once all was said and done…
He felt sick.
Treavor flushed the toilet as an afterthought before he turned to the small closet, opening it quietly, someone else could deal with the horror show he had left behind, all Treavor wanted to do then and there was curl up beneath a mound of blankets and forget the night…
Treavor counted himself lucky that his house was built with servant halls within the walls to allow the hands to move without being seen, as he had no intention to limp between the few remaining attendees in his sorry state.
The servant halls were dark and tight, which for once in Treavor's life, he was thankful for, it meant that there was always a wall within reach. The floors were constructed of leftover wood, rough to the touch and in his state, Treavor did not fancy a splinter in his foot.
He kept the heels on.
With one arm held tightly over his stomach and the other trailing against the wall, Treavor slowly navigated through the darkened halls, sobbing silently as he wandered.
Each step burned, drawing more and more vile purge to crawl down his legs.
When Treavor finally reached the second floor, he briefly glanced down the blackened stairwell and considered simply falling back…
Treavor abandoned the servant's halls to reach his room soon after he dismissed the thought, the hidden door which led to the hall was but a mere panel mounted into the wall, only a few paces from the door to Treavor's room, just across the hall and down a bit…
The distance from one side of the hall to the other never seemed so great.
Treavor swallowed tightly before slowly abandoning the wall on weak legs, clutching his stomach with his arm while stifling his sobs with the other.
Just as his hand settled against the door to his room, twin voices called to him from down the hall.
Treavor turned his head to see his brother's approaching, strides in time, their matching, mischievous smiles faltering as they drew close, concern marring their features as the took in the appearance of their brother.
Treavor knew he looked a mess, with bloodied lips, chin and shirt, matted hair and tear stained cheeks. He choked on a sob and simply shook his head before he opened the door to his room and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he collapsed to the ground.
The feverish knocking at his door and the calling of his name drowned out the sound of his sobbing as he pressed his forehead against the wooden door before him, cupping his mouth with one hand while the other remained firmly planted across his stomach.
Another door opened behind him and Treavor's breath caught in his throat.
He forgot to lock his bathroom door…