The mirrors around us multiply our anticipation, reflecting it back at us from every angle. My breath feels shallow in my chest. I can almost sense Victor approaching—that awareness I’ve developed of his presence.
“Remember,” Elliot whispers, barely audible, “let them think they’ve caught us unaware.”
I give the slightest nod before we lapse into silence.
Seconds stretch into minutes. The quiet grows heavy, charged with expectation. I watch the door through the reflection of the mirror opposite me, grateful for the multiple angles that allow me to monitor every approach.
A shadow passes beyond the doorway. Then another.
My muscles tense involuntarily. I force myself to relax, to appear oblivious.
When they finally enter, it’s with the controlled stealth of predators. Julian comes first, his lean frame accentuated by fitted black clothing. The full-face silver mask he wears catches the light, gleaming metallic and expressionless. It reveals nothing while somehow projecting absolute authority.
Victor follows a half-step behind, his massive frame filling the doorway. His half-face gas mask covers his nose and mouth but leaves his eyes exposed—those dark, intense eyes that instantly find mine in the mirror. The mask gives him an apocalyptic appearance, something between warrior and monster.
They stand there for one lingering moment, framed in the doorway, watching us through their masks as we pretend not to notice them.
The Hunt is truly on.
Victor crosses the room in three strides, his hand finding my throat before I can speak. The gas mask gives him somethinginhuman—all dark eyes and controlled menace. I let him think he’s caught me.
“Found you,” he growls against my ear.
Across the room, Julian has Elliot against the mirrored wall already—one forearm across his chest, lips at his throat. Elliot’s eyes are closed, his earlier composure entirely gone.
Victor’s hands slide to my hips and drag me to the edge of the bench with a certainty that makes my breath catch. No preamble, no performance. Just him, pushing inside me in one slow, devastating thrust that draws a sound from my throat I don’t bother hiding.
“There you are,” he says against my ear, his voice stripped of everything except need.
Across the room, Julian’s rhythm is unhurried and deliberate—each thrust measured, Elliot’s gasps building with quiet precision. Julian’s eyes find mine over Victor’s shoulder, and he smiles the smile of a man who has all the time in the world.
“Look at them,” Victor growls, angling his hips to hit that spot that makes my vision blur. “Even now you’re watching.”
“Aren’t you?” I manage.
He doesn’t deny it.
We find our rhythm—Victor deep and relentless, my hands gripping the edge of the bench as he fills me completely. The mirrors multiply us endlessly: Victor’s broad back, my legs wrapped around his waist, our reflections fractured and repeated until the room feels infinite.
Julian’s voice carries across the space, unhurried despite the flush spreading across his throat. “There’s something almost ceremonial about this, isn’t there?” He drives into Elliot slowly, watching us. “Two men who fought so hard against what they wanted.” His eyes move to Victor. “Finally embracing it.”
Victor’s jaw tightens, but his rhythm doesn’t falter.
“You fought harder than most,” Julian continues, his voice dropping to something intimate despite the distance between us. “I watched you at Purgatory, circling Theo.” A pause, punctuated by Elliot’s sharp intake of breath. “And now look at you. Buried inside him. Unable to imagine being anywhere else.”
“Julian,” Elliot breathes, his fingers white against Julian’s shoulders.
“I know,” Julian says softly, his composure finally fraying at the edges. His pace quickens, controlled rhythm giving way to something rawer. “I’ve got you.”
The room fills with the sounds of all four of us—ragged breathing, the creak of the bench beneath us, Elliot’s muffled cry as Julian drives deeper. Victor’s hand finds my throat, tilting my face toward the mirror.
“Watch,” he commands.
I watch. Us, them, all of it reflected back infinitely—two couples stripped of pretense, every wall between who they were and who they are finally, completely gone.
Julian’s eyes find mine again. His voice has dropped to barely above a whisper, but the mirrors carry it perfectly.
“Imagine it,” he says, his gaze moving between Victor and me. “Victor inside you, Theo. And me inside Victor. All of us connected—one chain of pleasure, each thrust rippling through all four of us simultaneously.” He groans against Elliot’s shoulder. “Giving and taking at the same time. Controlling and surrendering in the same breath.”
