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He stopped to take in the sight of Will bending Sebastian over, Sebastian pressed into the blanket beside Jericho’s head, before he went back to his task. Adding in the third finger was tight. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as Quinn did the same. It was almost like he was fucking himself, twin sensations from either side.
“Just put it in,” Jericho said, a pained edge to his tone. “I don’t need prep.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Peyton told him, twisting a finger.
“I like when it burns, Peyton,” Jericho said. “So how about you put your thick cock in me, just like you want to? Make me feel it.”
“That’ll happen, whether I prep you or not,” Peyton retorted. He was wider than his fingers, and he wasn’t planning on putting his whole hand in there.
Jericho worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “Promises.”
Peyton wanted to tell him to take out his contacts so he could see his real eyes, hisrealresponses. But that level of emotion had no place here. Just sex.
Just sex.
“Is that what you want to do?” Quinn whispered into Peyton’s ear. “You want to make him take it, Peyton? I think he needs to be shown who’s in charge, don’t you?”
Christ.If Peyton died right now, he’d go happy. Or maybe not. He wanted to finish this first, at least.
He abruptly pulled his fingers out, enjoying the way that Jericho hissed. “You think you’re ready for this?”
Jericho spread his legs wider. “Show me what you got, soldier.”
That was a challenge that Peyton couldn’t ignore. He gripped Jericho’s hip tight enough he knew there would be bruises. Quinn’s fingers slipped out of him as he buried himself in Jericho’s hole in one hard thrust, both of them crying out as he bottomed out.Fucking Christ!He was so fucking tight. Peyton hadn’t spent nearly enough time to get him ready for the full width of him.
He pulled out and then pushed back in, hard enough that Jericho’s body jolted, taking Peyton in like he’d been made for him.
“That what you wanted?” Peyton asked harshly. He did it again just to see Jericho’s Adam’s apple bob as he tried to control the noises he was making. The veins were pulsing as red flushed across his skin.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be good,” Jericho said, sounding half drunk. “That strength is fuckingdamn.”
Peyton took that as a resounding “yes.”
He stilled, buried completely inside Jericho. Quinn plastered himself to Peyton’s back.
“Are you ready for me?” Quinn purred, kissing Peyton’s shoulders with a light peppering that sunk deep into Peyton’s bones. He pushed three fingers inside Peyton, emphasising the point.
Peyton found Quinn’s lips with desperate need. He gyrated his hips, his groin tightening in pleasure as their tongues slid against each other.
“Do I need a condom, Peyton?” Quinn asked against his lips.
Holy shit.Did he—? “No,” Peyton moaned, lust swirling in his gut until there wasn’t room for anything else. He was so fucking turned on he was aching with it. “No. Please.” He wanted to feel Quinn dripping out of him.So fucking much.If Quinn was teasing him, Peyton would riot.
“Good,” Quinn said before Peyton felt the tip of his cock sliding up the crease of his ass. Up and down, catching on his rim without pushing inside. He chased it, pushing back and trying to force him inside. The anticipation, accompanied by the sounds of Will finding his pleasure inside Sebastian, was too much. He was too stimulated, too needy, for slow to do anything but frustrate him.
Peyton was about to snap and fuckingbegwhen Quinn finally slid into him, gliding in easier than Peyton had in Jericho. His open slacks brushed against Peyton’s sensitive skin, and he shivered.
“Fuck,” Peyton breathed, squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from coming too soon. Being in the middle of the sandwich was indescribable. He was in heaven; it was the only explanation. This was what wet dreams were made of.
Every time he pulled out of Jericho, Quinn was right there, filling him. When he pushed back in, heat wrapped around his cock while his ass clenched, missing the feel of Quinn inside him.
“How’s your shoulder?” Quinn asked. “Is this position okay?”
What shoulder?
Quinn ran a hand down Peyton’s sling and tightened it a fraction. “Not moving?”
Was Quinn seriously thinking about that right then? How was he eventhinking, period?
