Chapter 4 #3
“Why didn’t you ask? Why didn’t you say something?”
“What was the point?” Quinn said. He ran a hand through his hair. “What did you want me to say? Leave him for me? I would never do that. Not to you or to Will.”
Peyton’s nostrils flared, and he bit his bottom lip. “All this time— all this time. Quinn, I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you.”
“Why do you say that like you think it wasn’t the same for me?”
Will wasn’t sure if he should get up and leave or stay where he was in case he interrupted them. They were like two wild animals, and he didn’t want to startle them. Or stop the chance they could finally put things to rest and give each other a chance at something real.
“Kiss me.”
Quinn glanced at Will and then back at Peyton. “Excuse me?”
“I think I’ve waited long enough, Quinn.”
“Should I leave?” Will asked warily as he stood. It sounded like maybe the two of them needed their privacy now, to sort out the rest of their issues, and Will didn’t want to intrude.
“No,” Peyton said sharply. He turned to Will, and his face softened. “No. Please stay.”
Will’s lips parted in surprise, but he lowered himself back into his chair.
Quinn couldn’t tell if he was turned on or terrified.
The air around them was thick with tension and a hint of arousal that always seemed to follow them around when they were in the same room together.
Tonight there was something vulnerable and open surrounding the edges of it.
It didn’t help that Will was right there, watching them.
He and Peyton might not be dating— ever, which was something Quinn didn’t want to think about because he felt like a fucking world-class moron for making an assumption and sticking to it for so many years—but they were still connected on a level that wouldn’t suddenly disappear.
The idea of kissing Peyton, of taking what he’d dreamed about for years, still felt like he was taking something away from Will.
Quinn stiffened when Peyton rounded the bench and stood directly beside him, so close he could feel Peyton’s body heat.
“What are you afraid of?” Peyton asked quietly.
A loaded question. One that Quinn wasn’t sure he could answer. There were too many variables.
“I don’t do casual,” Quinn said. He wasn’t sure he could handle having Peyton and then dealing with the loss, or the idea of Peyton regretting anything that involved the both of them. Quinn dealt with enough regret in his life; adding something else to that list wasn’t tenable.
“You’ve never been casual to me,” Peyton said. He touched Quinn’s cheek, and Quinn couldn’t help but lean into it, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. “You haunt me. You always have.”
Quinn swallowed around the lump in his throat. His gaze flitted to Will. He’d leaned back in his chair and spread his legs, watching them intently. Somehow, having him here only heightened everything, and Quinn couldn’t even begin to understand why.
Peyton pressed his palms against Quinn’s stomach, and the warmth of them made Quinn feel like he was being burned.
He’d always done his best to never get this close, to never tempt fate so thoroughly.
He’d thought Peyton was taken, and he wasn’t a home-wrecker—he respected both Peyton and Will far too much to ever wish anything bad for them.
He’d been happy for them both. It might have been mixed in with grief and regret, but he’d never wanted anything for Peyton but for him to be happy.
Quinn tugged the side of Peyton’s collar down and traced his finger around one of the red marks. “Who did this?”
“Uh—Sebastian, I think,” Peyton said breathlessly.
It didn’t matter how long it had been; Quinn would always remember what Sebastian’s lips felt like against his skin. He knew what it would have done to Peyton. And Will. He doubted Sebastian had kept his mouth limited to just one of them.
Quinn pushed his thumb against it, and Peyton moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as his head tipped backwards.
No amount of rationalising in the world could have stopped Quinn then. He bent and bit down on the curve of Peyton’s neck, right over the spot. Pleasure rocked through him like a tidal wave as though he were the one that had been bitten.
Peyton gasped, and Quinn bit down harder, sucking on his sweet skin.
He had almost expected it to taste like caramel, like the smell that always lingered whenever Peyton was in the vicinity.
The fact that he was deepening the mark that was already there, that Sebastian— of all people—had created, caused his blood to heat.
What would it be like if it had just been newly made, still spit slick and shining?
Did Will press his lips to the same spot?
Had they taken turns marking up Peyton’s fair skin?
Quinn settled his hand on Peyton’s hip and squeezed as he sucked and licked the bruised skin.
“Kiss me, Quinn, please,” Peyton begged.
Quinn pulled away, breathing heavily. He couldn’t help but look over at Will.
Why had Peyton wanted him to stay? Why did Quinn like it?
Will’s lips had parted, his cheeks flushed red, and the vein in his neck pulsed visibly.
Watching them was turning Will on. Quinn’s hand tightened on Peyton’s neck as the revelation rocked through him.
Will was turned on. Quinn bet he was hard in those pants.
Not just because of Peyton but because of him as well.
“He’s part of me,” Peyton said, his voice barely a whisper.
He was. Quinn would never dream of doing anything that would separate them. Even if—he looked at Will again—even if it meant… whatever this was.
Quinn brushed his thumb over Peyton’s cheek. He was so fucking beautiful that he took Quinn’s breath away.
He lifted his head and hovered his lips over Peyton’s, their breath mingling. Peyton tried to close the gap, but Quinn moved just out of reach.
“You’re teasing me.”
“Yes.”
Quinn cradled Peyton’s face in his hands, and Peyton’s midnight-blue eyes darkened. His hand dropped to clutch Quinn’s hip.
“That mouth,” Quinn murmured. “I’ve dreamed about your mouth,” he admitted.
“It’s yours,” Peyton whispered.
Peyton was going to drive him insane. He would dream about those words being whispered in his ear while he slept. He’d wake up hearing them.
Quinn bent slowly and pressed his lips, whisper soft, against Peyton’s. Their mouths clung to one another in a gentle caress as they both stilled, like time itself had paused for them to savour the feel of one another.
Heat rushed over Quinn like a slow burn just under the surface, starting small before it threatened to overwhelm him.
He swore that he could feel his heart in his lips, every part of him centred on the sensation of Peyton against him.
Peyton’s lips parted a fraction, and Quinn ran his tongue across Peyton’s bottom lip.
He angled his head and deepened the kiss, sweeping into Peyton’s mouth with an unhurried lick.
He slid his hand up and around to cradle the back of Peyton’s head while his other slid down to press his palm over Peyton’s rapidly beating heart.
Peyton’s tongue stroked against Quinn’s as he explored. He didn’t take the lead, but he didn’t remain passive either, and it made Quinn’s insides clench. He was perfect. So fucking perfect.
Quinn tugged Peyton’s T-shirt up, and Peyton helped by lifting his arms so Quinn could pull it over his head. Quinn skimmed his hands down Peyton’s chest, his fingers gliding over the rigid muscles.
His gaze caught and held on the red marks on Peyton’s chest. Sebastian and Will’s marks.
Will.
He’d gotten up from his chair, was gripping the back of it so hard his knuckles had gone white. “I should give you some privacy. I can get a hotel. Or… put headphones on?” Will said.
Quinn hesitated. “Will, I’m not—we’re not—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say.
He and Will had never been like that, an explosion of everything like Sebastian and Peyton were.
He knew that asking him to leave was wrong, and that he couldn’t.
But he didn’t know if he could include Will, not like that.
“I know. I get it. I want you both to have this,” Will said. “I’m gonna”—he jerked his head towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms—“head to bed.” He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting a fraction higher. “Have a good night.”
“Please stay,” Peyton said.
Will paused. “Peyton, this isn’t like with Seb. Quinn doesn’t want to share, and that’s okay.”
That wasn’t why Quinn hesitated. The thought of Peyton with Will, or with Sebastian, wasn’t a problem.
He just wasn’t sure that he could give Will what he was giving to Peyton.
Wasn’t sure he could kiss him and mean it.
And Will didn’t deserve that. But neither did he deserve to be asked to leave, when he and Peyton had been so important to each other for so long. “Stay,” Quinn said.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.” Not anymore. Not after he’d set something special aflame because he’d repeated lies, even when he hadn’t been sure of their truth. “Stay.”
Quinn rubbed his thumb over Peyton’s bottom lip. “We should take this to the bedroom.”
Peyton looked behind himself, where Will was dutifully following them up the stairs. The grip he had on Peyton's hand was firm but not tight. He wasn't scared; he was turned on. It was the only reason Peyton felt okay dragging him into this.
As much as Peyton had always wanted Quinn, as much as this was a dream come true, Will was far too entwined in his life—in his sex life as well as everything else—that he couldn't just ignore that or make it disappear because Quinn had finally taken his head out of his ass.