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“You smell nice,” Quinn murmured.
Will scratched Quinn’s scalp lightly, and Quinn made a mewling noise that went straight to his heart.
“You do too,” he whispered with an open-mouthed kiss against Quinn’s hair.
Quinn chuckled, a low, quiet sound that vibrated against Will. “No, I don’t.”
Will breathed Quinn’s scent in. “You do,” he said, his voice deepening as his body woke up to the smell and feel of Quinn against him. “Like man and like you. It’s quickly becoming one of my favourite smells.”
Quinn mumbled something unintelligible, snuggling further into Will’s chest. Will gave him another lingering kiss to the top of his head; Quinn wasn’t tired, he was exhausted.
He walked them backward, refusing to let go. He kicked the door shut with his foot and fumbled with the locks, still refusing to let go of Quinn.
“I need to shower,” Quinn slurred.
“You hungry? We have some food for you.”
Quinn groaned. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll heat it up?” Will suggested.
“What service,” Quinn teased.
Will tipped Quinn’s chin up and leaned down to kiss him, coaxing his mouth open so he could taste. Quinn’s fingers curled in his waistband, the tips of his fingers caressing Will’s skin and making him shiver. Will pushed him against the door and deepened the kiss.
“Stop mauling our guests,” Peyton said.
Will smiled against Quinn’s lips. “Am I mauling you?”
“I like it.”
“Good.” Will slanted their lips together again, every stroke of his tongue against Quinn’s fuelling the flames flickering inside him. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t know how he could when Quinn tasted so good, felt so warm and fucking solid against him. His fingers were already unbuttoning Quinn’s shirt, sliding them inside to caress his skin.
Quinn’s stomach growled, forcing Will to pull away. Their men needed feeding and care. Happiness burst inside him at the idea that he could do that. He could provide that for them at the end of the day.
“You know where the spare towels are,” Will said before going back in for one more quick peck of the lips because he was irresistible.
He put the bowl of the remaining leftovers into the microwave to heat up while Quinn went and showered.
He was back at the table and contemplating his hand—mostly trying to remember what was good and what the hand options evenwere—when Quinn came back. He was sans jacket and tie, his white sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the top three buttons undone, giving an enticing glimpse of his chest tattoo. His hair was still dripping a little, a thick strand sticking to his forehead and a single drop of water running down his cheek. He looked more awake and fresher than he had when he’d arrived.
He also looked delectable. Will licked his lips as he watched him approach. When Quinn put a hand on the back of his chair and smiled down at him, his heart skipped a beat. Peyton had been in love with Quinn basically the entire time that Will had known him, and it was never more obvious that it had been mutual than when the two men were in the same room together. Never in Will’s strangest fantasies had he imagined that Quinn would look athimlike that too.
Quinn raised a brow at Will’s hand and then pointed to the steaming bowl at the end of the table. “Mine?”
“Yeah. There’s juice in the fridge if you’re thirsty,” Will said. “Or water. Some wine, I think. And Coke. If it’s in there, you can have it.” He wiggled his lips in contemplation as he glanced between his hand to the five Smarties he had left. “I want to go all in.”
“You can’t just go all in,” Peyton said, not even looking up.
“Is… that a rule?” Will was pretty sure it wasn’t. The rule was that hecouldif he wanted to when it came time to either call or raise. And he wanted to raise, to all in. They were his Smarties, and if he wanted to bet them all, he was allowed to.
“It’s not a rule,” Sebastian said. “You can do whatever you want, William.”
“What hand do you have?” Peyton asked, sounding exasperated.
“I think it’s funny that you’re coming atmefor breaking the rules when I know for a fact that demanding your opponent show them your hand iswaybad form,” Will said. “Like ‘get the fuck out of my casino’ bad form.”
“Just show me the cards, Will.” Peyton’s gaze was equal parts frustrated and charmed.
