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Reeve found an inconspicuous spot by the wall where he could scan the crowded room. It was early; most people were still just drinking and chatting, eyeing up prospective partners or simply enjoying congenial company. A few had already got down to business. The group nearest him were playing with some new toys, to judge by what he could hear of the conversation, laughing at one of their number who'd bitten off more than he could chew. Someone was sprawled over the bar, waiting for someone else to take an interest in her exposed backside, which seemed rather unhygienic. Reeve was glad to see that the barman agreed, insisting that the woman remove herself and then cleaning the bar surface. He couldn't hear the conversation over the noise, but the barman pointed to the far end of the room.
Ah, that was why. There were beer barrels on pedestals over there--empty, presumably--of just the right size and height to be used by someone wishing to offer themselves for use by anyone who cared to take them. Twee, in Reeve's opinion, but still, it was a pub. One was already in use, as was the person who occupied it. Very in use, a man at each end.
He'd found Frampton.
He tried not to stare as he checked for signs of force. No, Frampton appeared to be there of his own free will, nothing tying him down, the two men enjoying him holding him in position but no more than that. Frampton had his hands around the thighs of the man at his mouth, pulling him closer or using him for balance; it wasn't clear which. It was clear that he was enjoying himself, eyes closed as he gulped cock.
Reeve was hard instantly.
He took a mouthful of beer to give himself time to think. This wasn't agood place to stand; Frampton might see him if he opened his eyes. Not that that seemed likely until he'd finished servicing at least one of his newfound partners, but still ... Reeve shuffled along the wall, bringing him closer to Frampton but taking him a little behind, out of Frampton's likely field of view. He stopped when he reached a couple of men who were propping up the wall while they commented in low tones about the performance. He joined them, trying to listen unobtrusively, distracted by the sight in front of him. Frampton sprawled over a beer barrel, black leather trousers pulled down to expose his arse, taking it in both ends at once.
"You'll have to wait your turn, mate; we were in line first," one of his fellow voyeurs said cheerfully.
"Huh?" was the most intelligent reply he could think of.
"Don't worry, I don't think he's going to run out of stamina before it gets to your turn. Not the rate he's been going."
Oh. Stupid of him. He'd seen something like this before, had it explained to him by the man he'd gone to meet, who had seemed to have more than a passing interest in what had been going on in the pub they'd met in. Frampton was making himself available to anyone and everyone who wanted him. Or any man, at least, judging by what he seemed to be after.
"Set time, or until he runs out of energy?" he asked, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. That, and trying to assimilate the fact that it was Frampton he was talking about.
The other man joined the conversation. "Marched in about fifteen, twenty minutes ago, announced that he had no idea when he'd be hauled back to his ship on some so-called emergency, and intended to get as much cock as possible before he was. Plenty of people were happy to oblige him."
"Pretty little thing like that?" the first man said, and chuckled. "Of course they were, even if he didn't want anything else. Oh, looks like my turn."
Reeve turned his attention back to Frampton. The man at his rear had finished, was stepping away, his cock limp. He slapped Frampton lightly across the backside. "Next!"
Reeve's erstwhile conversation partner went over, shoved himself in. Not before Reeve had a good view of a trim white arse perfectly presented, hole invitingly on display, a hint of balls dangling beneath. Only a hint, because the trousers pulled down around Frampton's thighs held his legs together quite nicely. Come trickling out, down over his balls, down his legs. Meat for the taking.
Reeve burned for it.
His companion nudged him with an elbow. "Any preference for which end? I'll wait if you want his mouth."
He shouldn't want either end, but he did. And he was going to have to go through with it--after the interest he'd shown already, it would look odd if he turned, walked away. Or so his cock said.
"No, you go first." After all, he could leave while this man was otherwise occupied. That would be the decent thing to do. He'd followed Frampton here without Frampton's knowledge; he had no right to do this thing even if Frampton was looking for anonymous sex. Because Frampton was looking for anonymous sex.
"As you like." The man drained his glass, set it down on a nearby table. "Myself, I'd like a little time with him in one of the private rooms, but that wasn't what he wanted. Pity--I wouldn't mind having him as my personal property."
Neither would Reeve, but that seemed a most unlikely prospect.
His new acquaintance went on, "If he's not willing to be tied, I think I'd prefer his mouth anyway. Gives a man a nice feeling of submission, that does."
Reeve tried not to choke on his beer at the idea of Frampton trussed and willingly submissive. By the time he'd recovered, he'd been left alone. Nothing to do but watch his two recent companions using Frampton's body, his mouth, his arse, filling him. He should walk away now, leave them to it. Instead, he walked closer, pulled by his cock, fascinated by the sight. Then closer still, as the man at the rear stiffened, cried out in triumph. A few seconds more, and Frampton was exposed to him, vulnerable, needy, wanting cock up his arse and not caring who it belonged to as long as he got it.