Chapter 8 #4
Quinn took his time opening Sebastian up, playing with him and swallowing all the small sounds he made.
Learning again. Last night had been special in so many ways, but so was this.
Different strokes. The past he had with Sebastian was just as important as the future he was hoping to build with him, Will, and Peyton.
If things went that way. It was hard to base expectations on one night.
“Fuck, hurry up,” Sebastian groaned.
“So impatient,” Quinn said, licking across his bottom lip.
“Put your dick in me, Quinn.”
“Condom?”
One was shoved hastily into his hand—probably a leftover from the handful he'd grabbed out last night that had stayed buried in the bed even after they'd gone to sleep.
The sound of him tearing it open was loud between them, and Quinn could feel the way Sebastian's muscles were quivering around him.
“So ready to end it, Seb?” Quinn teased.
“Ready to start it,” Sebastian said. “Not everything has to take a thousand years.”
“It doesn’t?” Quinn questioned teasingly as he lined himself up, circling Sebastian's hole with just a hint of pressure. “Is this what you want?”
“It's what I've dreamed about,” Sebastian breathed out. “I ached for you. I need it.”
Well. After that, Quinn couldn't do anything but slide into him into one strong push. He couldn't deny Sebastian what he wanted.
“ Ah!” Sebastian's throat worked as he flung his head back against the sheets and pushed his hips up, encouraging Quinn further inside him. Quinn licked his lips as he bottomed out. He ran his hands down Sebastian's legs, the coarse hair a pleasant sensation beneath his palms.
Sebastian reached forward, clasping Quinn's ass cheeks in his hands, urging him on.
“No,” Quinn said, slowing his movements. “I don’t want this over so quickly. Not now, not this time.” He took hold of Sebastian's chin gently. “Show me that there's something left. That we have more to guide us.”
“I don't know if there is,” Sebastian said, uncertainty in his dark-blue eyes. “When we remove Peyton and Will from the equation, what do we have left?”
“They aren't going anywhere.”
“I don't want them to,” Sebastian said. “But that can't be what sustains us. Who are we when we're just us?”
Quinn leaned forward, teasing Sebastian's lips with his own. “Let's find out.” He slid out and then pushed back, his stomach clenching with lust as Sebastian's ass invited him back in so beautifully.
“This was made for me,” Quinn whispered. Another thrust, eliciting a tiny gasp from Sebastian that sounded like music to his ears. The truest sound of passion: the sounds that he couldn't control. “For all of us.”
“Show me.”
Quinn smiled and took Sebastian's mouth in a deep kiss. He set up a steady pace of thrusts, enjoying the hitched breaths and small moans, the way that Sebastian's nails scored his back, the way he tried to make Quinn go faster with heels against his ass—a demand that Quinn ignored, of course.
He slowed until he was almost still. Then pulled out until only the head of his dick was inside.
Sebastian cried out as he thrust back in, one strong push that had the bed banging against the wall.
He did it over and over again until Sebastian was simultaneously cursing his name and pleading with him.
Quinn loved when he reduced Sebastian to this.
There was no high-powered lawyer, no sophisticated businessman in a suit, no smart-mouthed man with a chip on his shoulder.
There was only Sebastian, stripped bare of everything but his true self.
“No matter what happened between us, this was never in question. I always wanted you. Will always want you.”
“The feeling is— ah— mutual.”
Quinn slipped his arm around the top of Sebastian's head, careful to avoid the bandage as he crowded him and sped his hips up just a fraction. “Do you need me to touch you, sweetheart?”
“ Please.”
He lifted his hips just enough to slip a hand between them and wrap his fingers around Sebastian's leaking cock.
It only took a few strokes, and then Sebastian was biting into Quinn's shoulder with a loud muffled cry, spilling over Quinn's hand.
Quinn had no choice but to follow, not with the way Sebastian was clenching around him, beckoning him to join him in heaven.
He cradled the back of Sebastian's head, keeping him in place against his shoulder. He pressed his lips to Sebastian's temple as he snapped his hips sharply, his orgasm ripping through him as his body shuddered in ecstasy. He was sure that he'd almost blacked out.
Sebastian collapsed back against the sheets, and Quinn followed him down.
“Careful, we're gonna stick together,” Sebastian said, laughing.
“I think we have to wait for more than two seconds,” Quinn said in amusement. He kissed Sebastian softly. “I wouldn't mind being stuck to you.”
“God, fuck off, Quinn,” Sebastian said, but his smile belied his words. “I forgot, you know.”
“What?”
“How sweet you are. How much you make me blush from that, even more than from the filth you spout when you fuck me.”
Quinn chuckled as he briefly pressed their lips together. It was hard to resist the lure of them. Or Will’s or Peyton's for that matter. “We should clean off and see what they're up to down there.”
“Probably roasting your dog for breakfast.”
“I hope not; I'm not into meat first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.”
Quinn kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Speaking of filth.”
“You love my dirty mouth.”
“I do,” he agreed. And just to prove it, he kissed him again.
Will snapped his hip to the left and then the right, right into Peyton.
“Careful with those,” Peyton said, laughing. “You're a stick, and those things are lethal.”
“These hips were made for dancing. Also, this song is perfect for the”—he swung his hips forward—“hip thrusts.”
“It's kind of in the name, I guess,” Peyton said. “And you have very thrustable hips.”
Will leered at him. “Yeah?”
Peyton tugged him forward by the waistband of his pants and kissed him.
Will tasted minty toothpaste and—he pulled back and squinted at Peyton. “Are you sneaking in chocolate?”
“What?” Peyton said, laughing. Persephone butted her head against Will’s leg, letting out a huff as if to remind him that she was there and wanted to be included too.
Like Will could forget the face licking he’d gotten when they’d come into the lounge room and let her out to go to the bathroom. “Where would I even get it from?”
Will narrowed his eyes. Then shrugged. “Maybe it's you.”
“I taste like chocolate?”
Will took another taste just to be sure. “Mmm, silky smooth.”
“What kind of chocolate?”
“That dark chocolate mint that Lindt makes? The giant blocks are supposed to be good for portioning out, but I eat the whole block in one go, so I think they need to work on that.”
Peyton laughed again, pushing him away. “You are a ridiculous human being. Get the butter out of the fridge, please.”
“Shake, shake, shake,” Will sang loudly as he went, exaggerating his movements and making a face down at Persephone as she followed him. He loved the beat of the KC & the Sunshine Band song.
“Why is this even in your playlist? The song is older than you are.”
“Shake, shake, shake.” He wasn't going to tell Peyton it was on the playlist almost six times, increasing the chances it would be picked on shuffle. Some things should remain a mystery.
“You're going to poke someone's eye out.”
“I'm not that bony.”
“I think you cracked one of my ribs last night with your elbow.”
“Fuck off.” He paused. “Did I?” There were some bruises on Peyton's chest, but he'd thought they had been from sex, not because he'd flailed in his sleep. He didn't think he was a flailer. Was he a flailer? Peyton would have said something before, right?
Peyton snorted. “Jesus, Will, no. Go back to your dancing.”
He did a little twirl before grabbing out two butter knives from the cutlery drawer. He stopped and rested an arm on Peyton's shoulder.
“Do you think they're having sex up there right now?”
“That, or sleeping.”
“I know which one I'd pick.”
“That's because you can sleep anywhere.”
“Don't be jealous.”
Peyton kissed the corner of Will's mouth. “Make yourself useful, fiend, and go see what spreads you can find in the pantry.”
They weren't hard to find because everything was neatly organised, like a shelf in the supermarket. “I feel like he just copied and pasted an aisle at Woolworths.”
Peyton peered over his shoulder. “I don't think there's that much variety in Woolworths. And we're not in a Sims game.” He pointed. “Spreads are there.”
“I can see them.”
“Then get them?”
“Don't rush me.” He paused with his hand on the Vegemite. “Are there supermarkets in the Sims?”
“I think in the new ones? I haven't played since I was a kid.”
“I need a hobby,” Will muttered. “He has Promite. Gross.”
“Would you hurry up before the toast gets cold? More just popped up.”
“So bossy today.” He picked up what he could find and then dumped them beside the toaster before he went to search the fridge.
“You like it when I'm bossy.”
“In bed. Not when I'm trying to make breakfast.” Will ferreted around the fridge for any spreads—it wasn't as neat as the pantry, which was weird.
“Pretty sure I'm the one making breakfast. You're just shaking your hips to weird seventies pop songs.”
Will put the rest of the spreads on the counter. “Okay. I think this is a good array.”
“What is that?” Peyton asked, pointing with the end of the butter knife. Persephone woofed quietly, like she had an inside voice.
“Lemon butter,” Will said slowly. He held it up and showed Peyton the label. “It helpfully says so, right here. Persephone likes it too.”
“It's a condiment.”
“It's a spread. It goes on toast.”
“That sounds like the most disgusting thing I've ever heard of.”
“It's a spread, Peyton. Don't be so uncultured.”
“Oh, excuse me, Wilbur.”