Help! the four Alpha's are obsessed with me.-Chapter 190 Party with dick’s...

Charles bent lower, his hips swaying with a confident, rhythmic swagger that sent a ripple through his muscles before he straightened up.

With a sleek grace, he snatched a wine flute from a passing waiter’s tray. He drained the glass greedily, the liquid fueling his fire, before he suddenly hauled Norman flush against his body.

Without a word, he slammed his lips onto Norman’s, drinking him in and slickly transferring the remaining wine from his mouth to the other man’s in a bold, intoxicating exchange.

The heat intensified instantly as Thomas moved in to claim his share. Both men crashed against Charles’s lips, their tongues tangling and exploring every corner of the young man’s mouth. It was a wild, desperate collision of breath and desire.

Without breaking the tension, Thomas swept Charles off his feet and carried him away from the crowd, heading straight for the VIP section—a secluded, hidden room tucked away from the noise.

They dropped him onto the bed, where Norman and Thomas stood over him like predators. A dark, primal hunger danced in their eyes; it was obvious they were madly craving the newcomer.

His presence and those luscious lips had awakened a fire they had kept suppressed for years. Even though they had walked away from the underworld to live a different life, they had never truly prioritized passion—only quick, transactional sex.

They were used to picking up strangers to satisfy a need and moving on, but the moment they laid eyes on this beauty, everything changed. It was as if an immediate, inexplicable bond had formed. Most puzzling of all, they couldn’t catch a scent from him; he was either masking it perfectly or something was strangely different about his nature.

Thomas raked a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and wild. He looked dangerously hot as Charles stared up at him. The room was bathed in a dim, moody red light that made Charles uneasy.

He wanted that annoying crimson glow gone so he could fully appreciate the gorgeous specimens standing before him. He wanted this night to count—who knew if he would ever be desired like this again? He intended to make the most of every second.

"No one will disturb us tonight, beauty," Thomas rumbled, his voice low and commanding. "Tonight, we will show you exactly what heaven and hell feel like. You’ll finally understand why we are feared."

Charles blinked, momentarily startled.

"Excuse me? Feared? In what way?"

Norman stepped closer at the question, his hand reaching out to cup Charles’s cheek.

"Feared in the bedroom, of course," Norman grinned playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gently tugged at Charles’s legs. "Both men and women find they can’t walk straight after an encounter with us."

"Should we get this started?" Norman asked.

Charles felt a surge of adrenaline. He was thrilled at the prospect of losing his virginity to two breathtaking, mysterious men rather than some random loser. The air of danger around them only made his body tingle more with anticipation.

"Yes... let’s start," Charles consented, and he could have sworn he saw Thomas’s eyes darken to a near-black.

"Oh, don’t say we didn’t warn you, Daniel."

And with that, both men descended onto the bed. They rushed Charles, claiming his lips simultaneously and leaving him breathless as he fell back against the pillows.

Norman took the lead on his mouth, sucking on his lips with an intensity that felt like he was draining the very soul out of him, while Thomas nibbled and teased at his lower lip. They moved in perfect synchronization, a rhythmic, dual assault that left Charles reeling.

"Fuck... I could feast on this all day," Norman moaned against his skin.

For Charles, this was the most electric kiss he had ever experienced. Despite his inner playboy, he rarely let people get this close, but Charles was a magnetic exception. Even his name felt strangely familiar.

Charles McCall... The name echoed in his mind as if he’d encountered it before, but that was a puzzle for later. He would dig into the boy’s background when the sun came up.

"Oh fuck... I can’t breathe..." Charles gasped, falling back fully as his chest heaved.

The two "beasts" took full control. Thomas stripped away Charles’s pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

The tight fabric could barely contain the hard bulge beneath, and as Thomas reached out to rub him through the cloth with his muscular palms, Charles caught his wrists, stopping him.

"Please... turn on the lights properly," Charles pleaded. "I want to see you."

Thomas smiled, enjoying the boy’s bold, naughty request. "Oh, you bad boy. You want the full view? Be our guest."

Thomas stepped away for a moment to flip the switch, flooding the room with light. Finally comfortable, Charles watched them with wide, hungry eyes. This might be his only time, and he didn’t want to miss a single detail or sensation.

Returning to the bed, Thomas began to fondle the bulging weight behind the fabric, his touch shifting from gentle caresses to firm, deliberate strokes. Charles’s head rolled back, his mind fracturing under the pleasure of those expert hands.

Meanwhile, Norman focused on Charles’s upper body, tugging his shirt off to reveal his smooth chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling deeply while his hands wandered, rubbing Charles’s navel and fondling his other side.

Charles tightened his grip on the sheets, swallowing hard as his body turned to liquid fire. But as the intensity peaked, a sudden heaviness settled over his eyes. The sheer volume of alcohol he’d consumed at the bar was finally catching up to him. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, and it was a miracle he’d stayed upright during his "feminine" dance on the floor—a dance fueled by a shot-induced confidence he usually lacked.

Just as Thomas was about to slide the boxers down to finally finish what they started, he noticed Charles had gone still. He looked up, and Norman did the same, realizing the responsiveness had vanished.

There he was, tucked against the pillows, fast asleep.

"Fuck! He left me hanging like this?" Thomas exclaimed, his voice thick with frustration.

Norman let out a ragged breath, his own hand gripping his pants to try and soothe the ache. "What are we supposed to do? I can’t leave it like this, but I can’t touch him while he’s out cold."

Norman facepalmed. The alcohol had clearly won the night, leaving them both stranded. "What if we get someone else to replace him? We just need to satisfy the urge."

Thomas grimaced, the idea sitting poorly with him. After tasting something as exquisite as Charles, anyone else would feel like a cheap imitation. He felt a strange, protective pull toward the sleeping young man—a feeling he couldn’t quite explain.

"Why am I even thinking this way? What the hell did this kid do to me?" Thomas ranted.

Norman, misinterpreting Thomas’s inner turmoil, offered an alternative. "Let’s just take care of it ourselves. I’ll help you, you help me. We’ll just picture Charles; it’ll make it easier." He shrugged. "It’s not like we’re actually brothers, regardless of what people think."

Norman was more than ready; the discomfort in his pants was becoming unbearable. Thomas nodded in agreement, but before they began, he added one thing.

"After this, we stick to the plan. We need to contact that Michael Lewis guy."

Thomas finally pulled his pants down, his heavy length springing free, followed quickly by Norman.

They settled in, their hands moving as they began their own "party," their eyes occasionally drifting to the beautiful, sleeping boy who had started it all.