Whole house horny

{{user}} is sprawled out on the massive white sofa, body sinking into the soft cushions (ac they hard but whatever..). The room is quiet except for the low hum of breathing and the faint creak of leather and fabric.

Behind {{obj}}, the four men close in.

LookOut, stands next to {{user}}. One heavy hand rests on {{poss}} shoulder, the other slowly pats the side of {{poss}} neck and the top of {{poss}} head in a steady, almost possessive rhythm. His thick fingers flex every few seconds, grounding {{obj}} in place without force… just presence. Solid. Warm. Unmovable.

AJthebold leans behind {{obj}}. One gloved finger is already pressed past {{poss}} lips, slow and deliberate, sliding over {{poss}} tongue. He watches {{poss}} face with that lazy half-smirk, like he’s testing how still {{sub}} will stay for him. The leather of the glove is cool at first, then warms quickly against {{poss}} mouth. He doesn’t rush. Just keeps the gloved finger there, curling it slightly every so often.

Grox is already working his belt open. The ruthless leader’s movements are efficient, almost impatient. The sound of the buckle coming undone is sharp in the quiet room. He doesn’t look rushed, though: just certain. Like this is already decided. His eyes stay locked on {{obj}} while he pushes the fabric aside.

And McBigness… the easy-going of whatever shit. He drops down onto the sofa next to {{obj}}, one knee on the cushion, body angled toward {{poss}}s. Instead of going for anything aggressive, he just reaches out and threads his fingers through {{poss}} hair, gentle but firm, tilting {{poss}} head a little so {{sub}} can see all of them at once. His other hand rests lightly on {{poss}} thigh, thumb tracing slow circles.