Chapter 4 #4
And Peyton knew that if Will really didn't want to be there, he wouldn't be.
He was a sweetheart, but he'd always been good at saying no when he needed to.
Mostly that was when Peyton wanted him to try a new food, and Will noped the fuck out of it because he didn't want a bar of it, but the principle was the same.
“How is this going to work?” Quinn asked at the doorway to his room, glancing between them.
Peyton knew that he had already asked a lot of Quinn just by inviting Will to stay. Sebastian had been on board with the two of them from the start, but Quinn was warier. It was different when feelings were involved.
Quinn hadn't ever looked at Will like that, and vice versa, and Peyton wouldn't force either of them to do anything that they didn't want to. He just... wanted them both in the same room. He wondered if maybe he was being too selfish.
“I'm just a spectator,” Will said with a grin.
“A spectator,” Quinn said. It was both a statement and a question.
“Yeah, haven't you ever had sex in front of someone before?”
“No.”
“Well, today you can tick it off your list.”
Quinn still seemed hesitant, but the moment the door closed behind them, he pushed Peyton against it and kissed him, his movements sure and steady.
The way that Quinn kissed was addictive. Peyton had never had a partner focus so completely on it. Will’s kisses were fun and sent shivers down Peyton’s spine, and Sebastian had kissed slowly, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world to drive a person insane.
Quinn, though: each deliberate stroke of his tongue was like a direct line to every nerve in Peyton’s body.
Quinn took hold of his wrists and lifted them above Peyton's head, pressing them against the door.
“Keep them there,” he ordered hoarsely. He bent his head and found a sensitive spot just above Peyton's collarbone that spread fire across Peyton's every nerve.
The pressure against his wrists as Quinn held him against the door was only fuelling the flames beneath his skin.
Peyton knew that even though he was shorter and smaller than Quinn, he would come out on top in a physical altercation.
He had experience and training that far outweighed anything Quinn had ever dealt with.
Peyton had been in situations that required so much more than mere physical strength.
And he knew how to use an opponent’s size against him.
There were no rules when it came to survival.
The way Quinn was holding him wouldn’t keep him trapped if Peyton didn’t let it. But for Quinn, Peyton would do anything he asked. The obedience was something he gave willingly, no force required.
“I think you should get naked,” Peyton said. He wanted to see Quinn, wanted to feel him skin to skin.
“Do you think so?”
Fuck, yes. “Undress for me.” Peyton licked his lips. “For us,” he dared to say.
Quinn let go of Peyton and stepped back. “Keep your hands where they are, or I stop,” he said.
“Okay,” Peyton said, his voice barely a whisper. As if Peyton could move even if he'd wanted to. Knowing that he was about to see the reality of something he'd fantasised about for years? He wasn't moving an inch.
Peyton’s gaze flitted to Will. He was sitting in the small armchair in the corner, one palm pressed to his crotch. His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth, and Peyton knew it wouldn't be long before he opened his pants. Peyton couldn't wait to see it.
“No,” Quinn said, startling Peyton.
What?
Will paused. “No? Do you want me to leave? Because I can.”
“I don't want—You don't have to sit over there,” Quinn said. “Come over to the bed.”
Will glanced at Peyton. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, William. Come here.”
Will slowly stood and made his way over to them. “On the edge? I don't want to get in the way.”
“In the middle; put your back against the headboard.” Quinn's smile was lopsided. “If you're going to watch, you should get a good seat, right?”
Quinn waited until Will had settled into place before he reached behind himself and pulled his shirt over his head. He threw it to the floor. Somewhere. Peyton had no idea. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stop staring.
His pulse jumped at the sight of the tattoo covering Quinn’s chest. He’d seen hints of it whenever the top few buttons of Quinn’s shirt were open, but he’d never seen the full thing.
It was a fucking gorgeous masterpiece. A black-and-white owl with spread wings that spanned almost the entire width of his chest, surrounded by large roses with intricate stems.
“I want—can I touch?” he asked, licking his lips.
Quinn nodded wordlessly, and Peyton pressed the tips of his fingers gingerly over the owl’s impressive wingspan.
Peyton ran his fingers reverently over the ink, almost expecting it to have texture.
It didn’t; all he could feel were the strong, warm muscles of Quinn’s pecs and the bumps of his collarbone.
He licked one of the roses above Quinn’s nipple, tracing his tongue around each petal.
He moved down, giving the pebbled nub a lick before starting on the owl’s body. Quinn shivered, and Peyton grinned.
“I think that’s enough,” Quinn said, his voice thick. He took hold of Peyton’s hands and pressed them against the door on either side of Peyton’s hips. “Leave them there.”
Peyton let out a whimper when Quinn deftly unbuckled Peyton’s belt and tugged open his zipper before pushing his pants down his hips.
They slid the rest of the way themselves, pooling at his feet.
Peyton threw his head back and closed his eyes as he canted his hips forward, desperate for Quinn to put his hands on him.
Quinn’s fingers skimmed across Peyton’s stomach from the scar on his hip to the head of his dick, where it was trying to poke out of the top of his underwear.
The touch was electrifying, even through his briefs.
Quinn walked his fingers around Peyton’s other hip towards the small of his back and then down to the curve of his ass.
When Peyton tried to buck his hips forward once more, Quinn moved backwards.
“Stop teasing,” Peyton gasped. “Touch me. Please, please.” He needed Quinn to wrap his hand around his dick, needed some kind of relief from the pressure that was building inside him.
Quinn didn’t respond to his request. He stood and sealed his lips over Peyton’s once more and took him apart from the inside until Peyton was squirming and begging.
He could feel Quinn’s smile against his lips, and it was infuriating.
“Now, now, patience, little Sinclair. Remember who’s in charge?”
“Fuck, don’t call me that.” Why was that hot? It shouldn’t be hot. But he felt like he was on fire , burning up like an asteroid going through the atmosphere and falling to Earth.
Will chuckled, and they turned to him. Peyton's pulse throbbed in his throat at the sight of his best friend. He had his hands fisted in the sheets as though he didn't want to touch himself yet, afraid of coming too soon. Fuck, that was hot too.
“No?” Quinn said, keeping his eyes on Will as he kissed across Peyton's jaw and down his throat before nipping at his collarbone. The hand on Peyton’s ass spread out and cupped him, squeezing gently.
The movement brought Peyton’s dick in contact with Quinn’s—finally, finally. Peyton couldn’t have held back the low moan at the back of his throat even if he’d wanted to. He was drowning in the most intense pleasure he’d ever experienced, and he never wanted it to end.
“What should I call you?” Quinn asked. He kissed a line down the middle of Peyton’s chest as he slowly slid to the carpet with more grace than should have been possible.
“How about sir?” Peyton quipped.
Quinn nipped his inner thigh, and Peyton yelped, grabbing hold of Quinn’s shoulders to steady himself. “Hey!”
“Behave.”
“Are you going to make me?”
Quinn’s eyes locked onto Peyton’s as he skimmed his palms up Peyton’s thighs and curled his fingers in the waistband of his black briefs.
Peyton ran a hand through Quinn’s hair. There was something supremely powerful about having a man like Quinn Hughes on his knees.
He had a feeling there weren’t many people who could make the claim.
Quinn lowered Peyton’s briefs, and without looking away, licked up the underside of Peyton’s dick. Peyton’s grip wavered as he tried to keep eye contact. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and roll in the ecstasy that was pulsing through him.
Quinn pressed his nose to the hair surrounding the base of Peyton’s dick and breathed deeply.
Peyton’s knees went weak, and he would never admit to the sound that spilled from his lips.
Quinn mouthed and sucked at the side of Peyton’s dick and slowly slid up, his tongue lapping at Peyton’s silky skin as he went. He reached Peyton’s head and flicked his tongue across the slit, causing Peyton’s entire body to twitch.
“You’re a fucking tease,” Peyton accused. He should have known, realistically, that Quinn would take his time and drive him insane. Unlike his surly partner, Grady, Quinn was quiet and deliberate, a steady, calm presence in the chaos that surrounded him. Rushing anything wasn’t in his makeup.
“Good things come to those who wait.” He blew on the tip of Peyton’s dick, and it twitched violently in response.
“Sentiments, really?”
Quinn grinned. “Should I stop?”
“Don’t you fucking da—” Peyton cried out, and his head slammed back against the door painfully as Quinn engulfed him, taking him right to the back of his throat and swallowing around his tip.
“ Fuck. That’s—yeah.” He clenched his hands in Quinn’s hair, trying desperately not to use it as leverage to fuck into his mouth.
Sebastian had loved being choked and had gotten off on it, but Will liked a more leisurely pace when he was blowing Peyton.
Peyton had no idea if Quinn was into it or not, and he couldn’t form the words to ask.