Something uncomfortable twists in my gut—jealousy? Disgust? I can’t name it, but I hate how it feels. I pour another generous portion, focusing on the amber liquid rather than Theo’s perfect pout or the way Julian’s watching me now.
“Perhaps Victor should do the honors,” Julian suggests, his voice curling around me like smoke. “Fuck Theo’s ass, since you didn’t get the chance to claim anyone during the Hunt. Seems wasteful to let your... talents go unappreciated.”
The whiskey goes down wrong, burning like fire as I choke and splutter. It sprays across my shirt as my brain short-circuits. Did he just—? Are they fucking with me? Heat floods my face, equal parts embarrassment and something darker I refuse to acknowledge.
“I’m not gay,” I growl, the defensive words bursting out before I can stop them. My heart hammers against my ribs, betraying me.
Theo laughs, and the sound crawls up my spine. “Such a narrow worldview. This isn’t about sexual orientation. It’s about power and pleasure.”
I can’t move as he rises from the couch with fluid grace. My mouth goes dry as he approaches, and I hate myself for not being able to look away. I should stand up, walk out, punch someone—do anything but sit here feeling my pulse quicken as he gets closer.
“Don’t be so provincial, Victor,” Julian says from his perch, watching me like I’m some experiment he’s conducting.
My hands grip the glass so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter when Theo’s fingers move to his shirt buttons. One by one, deliberately slow. My eyes follow each movement against my will, transfixed.
“Julian’s right. Sometimes, the most powerful men enjoy trying something new. Even if just for a night.”
I’m paralyzed, every muscle locked tight as Theo drops his shirt to the floor. His body is lean, all subtle muscle underneath smooth skin. Nothing like my bulk. Nothing like what I should want. But I can’t look away, can’t move, can’t even fucking breathe right as he stands before me.
“I don’t—” I start, but my protest dies in my throat as Theo unfastens his pants and lets them pool around his ankles.
Fuck. Me.
My entire body goes rigid. Blood rushes in my ears as I stare at what can only be described as my secret fucking fantasy come to life. Theo stands there wearing nothing but a black lace thong, the delicate fabric stretched obscenely over his cock. The swollen tip peeks out above the lace, visibly wet.
“Christ,” I mutter, my fingers digging into the armrests like they’re the only things keeping me anchored to reality.
My mouth goes desert-dry. Every rational thought evaporates, replaced by a primal hunger that claws at my insides. I should look away. I should get up. I should fucking leave. But I can’t move, can’t tear my eyes from the lean lines of his body, the contrast of that feminine scrap of lace against his masculine form.
“See something you like?” Theo asks, his voice like velvet as he turns slowly.
The sight of his perfect ass framed by those thin lace straps sends a jolt straight to my cock. It throbs painfully in my pants, betraying me completely. I’ve never been so hard in my life.
Julian’s voice cuts through my haze. “You’re both guests in my home. Feel free to enjoy yourselves.”
I barely register his words. All I can focus on is Theo stepping between my thighs. The size difference between us is stark—my heavy frame dwarfing his. I could snap him in half, yet I’m the one trembling.
When he drops to his knees, I grip the leather tighter, feeling it creak under my fingers, fighting the urge to grab him.
“Don’t fight it,” Theo murmurs, his fingers working my zipper down. “Everyone’s allowed to indulge during Hunt week.”
My breath catches in my chest as he frees my cock. The cool air hits it for a moment before Theo’s warm hand wraps around the base, measuring me with a low whistle of appreciation.
“Fuck,” I growl when his lips wrap around the head.
Holy fucking shit. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire as Theo’s mouth services me with an expertise that has me seeing stars. I’m making these sounds—these desperate fucking groans that I barely recognize as my own. My fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him now, no longer fighting what my body so clearly wants.
“Fuck,” I grunt as he takes me deeper than I thought possible. The wet heat of his throat constricts around me as he swallows, and my hips buck upward of their own accord. “Jesus Christ.”
Theo doesn’t gag, doesn’t pull back—just adjusts to take me deeper, those dark eyes looking at me with a satisfaction that makes my cock throb. The sight of him—this beautiful man on his knees, those delicate lace straps framing his ass, my cock disappearing into his mouth—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m vaguely aware of others in the room, of Julian watching us, of the twins and Jenson on the couch. But they fadeto background noise against the symphony of pleasure Theo’s creating.
When he pulls off me with an obscene pop, I feel bereft. Empty. My hips chase his mouth instinctively, my cock glistening with his saliva in the dim light.
“Ready for more?” Theo asks, rising gracefully.
A growl rips from my chest, my hands reaching for him, desperate to maintain contact. I watch him cross to Julian’s bar cabinet and retrieve a bottle. Every step he takes highlights the curve of his ass in that fucking thong that’s driving me insane.
