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Peyton used his hold to haul Jericho up just enough to meet him in the middle and slanted their lips together. He expected a fight. For Jericho to push him, to challenge him, to attempt to dominate and take control.
None of those things happened. Jericho opened for him and playfully coaxed Peyton’s tongue into his mouth, inviting him in to take what he wanted. Peyton moaned and shifted his hand, wrapping it firmly around Jericho’s throat.
One of Jericho’s hands tangled in Peyton’s hair while the other drifted down his sling, the barest hint of pressure before moving around his front to cup his painfully hard dick through his pants. Peyton leaned into the touch, canting his hips.
Peyton pulled back, breathless and dizzy. He searched Jericho’s eyes—hisfakeeyes. They weren’t really blue. What colour were they? Anger curled in his stomach. He wanted therealJericho, wanted to peel back the mask and see the man underneath. If it was for one night only, he wanted it to be with a real person, not some fake persona created to trick the underworld into letting him through the curtain.
“What’s your real eye colour?” he asked again.
Jericho’s gaze didn’t flicker, and he remained silent.
Peyton’s next kiss was harsh. He poured his frustration into Jericho. He couldn’t properly articulate where the frustration was coming from, what he wanted,neededfrom Jericho.
Jericho seemed to understand. Or maybe he was just so good at being a chameleon that he could be whoever his partner needed at any given time?
“Are you real?” Peyton gasped. Need clawed at him, and he bit down harder on Jericho’s neck than he ever would have with anyone else.
Jericho made a strangled sound that was a cross between a groan and a cry. His head fell back so that Peyton could bite above where his fingers were curled around Jericho’s throat.
“Yes,” Jericho said, panting. “Can’t fake it here.”
Whatever “here” meant. Here with them? Sex? Outside of his many personas? How many other people’s lives had he lived? Did he even know what itmeantto be real?
A hand ran through the hair at the base of Peyton’s neck, tingles erupting across his shoulders. His hair got swept to the side and warm lips were pressed to the back of his neck. A hand cupped his ass before moving down his thigh, the air shifting as someone slid to their knees in front of him, the hand moving to his calf. Hands undid his shorts and pulled them down. Peyton stepped out of them without breaking from Jericho’s lips.
Another pair of lips kissed the opposite side of his neck, and he gasped into Jericho’s mouth as he was marked from both sides. Wet heat engulfed his dick, and his knees almost buckled.
Lips trailed up Peyton’s jaw—Peyton knew instantly that it was Will—and he and Jericho opened for him, their three tongues tangling together. It was messy, it was tentative, and it should have been awkward; it was hotter than it had any right to be.
Peyton let go of Jericho’s throat and rested his hand on the head that was sucking him off. Sebastian. The texture of the strands and the length of the hair was unmistakable. Peyton shifted until his fingers pressed against Sebastian’s lips, stretched around him. He ran them across the softness before he cupped the back of his head. He thrust his hips enough for Sebastian to choke. Sebastian took it before pulling off with a gasp. He took a few sharp breaths before he swallowed Peyton down and let him do it again.
Jericho pulled away, and Peyton turned enough for Quinn’s lips to settle over his fully, allowing Will to continue the kiss with Jericho alone.
Peyton melted against Quinn’s touch, the kiss gentling as he took over. Quinn’s tongue teased him, licking and retreating, over and over until Peyton was whimpering, chasing it.
The small whine that left him when Quinn lifted his head was swallowed as Will took his breath away with his enthusiasm.
Peyton pressed deeper, wanting to share the mingled tastes with him.
Will skirted his hands across Peyton’s shoulders and unclipped Peyton’s sling gently. He kissed the corner of Peyton’s mouth as he moved back.
Sebastian stood in a smooth motion and supported Peyton’s arm as they all helped to carefully lift his shirt over his head before putting his arm back. They didn’t need to be so gentle; he wasn’t porcelain, and he wasn’t going to break. The way they treated him, like he was worth the special treatment, stopped him from saying anything. He liked it too much.
He kept his eyes locked on Will the entire time. Everything had started with Will. It would always include him. Peyton couldn’t imagine any future without him.
Will smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily before he was distracted by Sebastian drawing him into a kiss. Will bent to give Sebastian full access to his mouth. Fuck, that was an exquisite sight.
“You got supplies?” Jericho asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or are we just gonna…” He made a jerking-off motion with his hand. “I like a good circle jerk.”
“Been in many, have you?” Peyton asked mildly. Every time Jericho mentioned his experiences with someone else, Peyton wanted to shut his mouth. He had no desire to hear about them. Jericho was here withthemright now, and no one else belonged in this room.
“I don’t have to experience something to know I’d like it. I can use my imagination. For example, I’ve never had a twenty-five-year-old, mouthy, ex-special-forces soldier fuck me into the bed with his three boyfriends watching, but I know I’m gonna like it.”
Peyton splayed his hand on Jericho’s chest and shoved him back onto the bed. “Take off your pants.”
Jericho didn’t argue with him. Every time Peyton expected a certain reaction, Jericho kept surprising him. Instead of mouthing off or giving him that impossible smile, Jericho immediately undid his belt and shucked everything, leaving his lower half exposed while still wearing his hoodie.
His cock was hard, resting against his abdomen. The vein on the underside was thick and throbbing. He was clean shaven around the base of his dick and his balls, and the hair above the base was neatly trimmed. The sight of it made Peyton swallow hard.
