Chapter 42 Theo
THEO
I’m halfway through making breakfast when I hear the soft thud of something hitting my apartment floor. Setting down the spatula beside the sizzling eggs, I wipe my hands and pad barefoot across the hardwood floor.
A black envelope lies on the threshold, my name embossed in elegant crimson lettering. The Blackwood family crest adorns the seal—a raven with ruby eyes. My stomach tightens.
I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. The weight of the paper alone screams luxury, but it’s the timing that unsettles me. The Hunt happened almost a year ago.
Back in the kitchen, Victor sits hunched over his laptop, spreadsheets filling the screen as he reviews the gym’s quarterly finances. Dark circles shadow his eyes—he’s been working since five this morning.
“Hey,” I say, waving the envelope. “Something came.”
Victor grunts without looking up, fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.
I slide my thumbnail under the seal and pull out a heavy cardstock invitation. As my eyes scan the elegant script, my breath catches.
“Vic,” I say, my voice sharper now. “It’s from Xavier Blackwood.”
That gets his attention. His head snaps up, brow furrowed.
“The Anniversary of the Hunt,” I read aloud. “A celebration for all participants and their... partners.” I meet Victor’s gaze. “The traditional hunt is suspended this year. Instead, they’re holding a reenactment party with the original participants and pairings from the last hunt.”
Victor’s jaw clenches. “When?”
“Next weekend.” I place the invitation on the table between us.
Victor reaches for the card, studying it with narrowed eyes.
“Same people, same pairings,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
Victor tosses the invitation onto the table like it’s burned him. “That’s not happening. I’m not letting Elliot’s cock within an inch of your ass.”
I can’t help but laugh at his possessiveness, leaning against the kitchen counter. The eggs are forgotten, starting to crisp at the edges.
“And why not get it within an inch of yours instead?” I suggest, enjoying the way his face transforms from scowling to shocked in an instant.
“What?” Victor’s eyes widen comically.
“You haven’t experienced how good it feels to be fucked while fucking,” I continue, keeping my tone casual as I turn back to rescue our breakfast. “It’s... transcendent.”
Victor stares at me, his mouth slightly open. I can see him processing the suggestion—imagining it despite himself.
“You wouldn’t mind if another man fucked my ass?” His voice drops lower, surprisingly vulnerable.
I slide the eggs onto plates, considering my answer. It’s a serious question beneath the surface. Victor’s journey from closeted to openly bisexual has been a battle, each step forward hard-won.
“I’m not greedy,” I say finally, meeting his eyes. “I can share for your pleasure. All I want is for you to feel good.”
I bring the plates to the table and lean close to his ear, lowering my voice. “Besides, I know that really, the only man that gets Daddy going is his boy.”
The flush that creeps up Victor’s neck tells me I’m right.
Victor shakes his head, though his eyes remain dark with desire. “It’s unlikely. Julian is very possessive of Elliot.”
“True,” I agree, sliding into the chair across from him.
Then the idea hits me, and I feel my eyes widen with excitement. “Fuck, even better, have Elliot fucking Julian while Julian fucks you and you fuck me. Four at the same time in a train, what could be hotter, the two doms in the middle taking and receiving cock.”
Victor’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth, eggs momentarily forgotten as his imagination clearly runs wild with the image I’ve just painted. His pupils dilate noticeably, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
“Jesus, Theo,” he mutters, setting down his fork. “You can’t just say shit like that when I have meetings today.”
I smirk, enjoying the way his body betrays his interest despite his protests. The flush traveling up his neck has deepened, spreading across his cheeks.
“Just think about it,” I murmur, taking a deliberate bite of my breakfast. “The four of us, connected. You’d be giving and taking at the same time.” I reach across the table and brush my fingers against his wrist. “Doesn’t that sound like something worth experiencing?”
Victor shrugs, picking up his fork and stabbing at his eggs. “Who knows if Elliot and Julian would even be into that?”
“Julian definitely would,” I say confidently, setting my own fork down. “As long as no one touches Elliot. Especially since they got engaged at Elliot’s gallery opening.”
Victor’s eyebrow rises. “And you know this how?”
“Julian and I have had many conversations over the years,” I reply with a wink.
Victor shakes his head, but I can see his mind working through the possibilities.
“What I’m not sure about,” I continue, leaning forward, “is how possessive Elliot is of Julian. But I can definitely find out.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “One text to Julian asking if he wants to grab drinks tonight, and I bet I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow morning.”
Victor shifts in his chair, his hand dropping below the table to adjust himself in his pants. He can’t hide the slight groan that escapes his lips as he does.
I watch the movement with hungry eyes, abandoning any pretense of interest in my breakfast. In one fluid motion, I push my chair back and drop to my knees beside him, sliding between his legs and the table.
Victor’s eyes darken as he looks down at me, his hand still at his crotch.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave.
I place my hands on his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. My fingers trace upward until they reach his hand, still cupping his growing erection.
“I’ve decided I want something else for breakfast,” I tell him, gently moving his hand away and replacing it with my own. I can feel him hardening further under my touch. “Why don’t you feed me what I really want?”
I pull Victor’s sweatpants down, freeing his cock. It springs up, already fully hard, the thick vein on the underside pulsing with his heartbeat. I wrap my hand around the base, feeling the heat radiating from him.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my breath ghosting over the swollen head. “So eager for your boy’s mouth.”
Victor’s hand finds my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he guides my head forward. “Open,” he commands, voice rough with need.
I part my lips, and he immediately pushes inside, not stopping until he hits the back of my throat. My eyes water at the sudden fullness, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I relax my throat and take him deeper.
“Fuck, Theo,” Victor groans, his grip tightening in my hair. “Your mouth was made for this.”
He starts thrusting, shallow at first, then deeper as I adjust to his size. His movements grow more forceful, hips jerking forward as he fucks my throat. I gag slightly, tears streaming down my cheeks, but the sounds only drive him wilder.
“That’s it,” he pants, watching my face with dark, hungry eyes. “Take it all.”
I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard as he pulls back, then relaxing as he pushes in again. The rhythm builds, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears the edge.
“Gonna come down your throat,” he warns, both hands now holding my head in place. “Don’t swallow. Not yet.”
I moan around him, the vibration pushing him over. With a guttural sound, Victor rams himself deep and holds there as he pulses, flooding my mouth with hot, bitter salt.
When he finally pulls out, I keep my lips closed, holding his release on my tongue. I crawl up his body until I’m straddling his lap, then kiss him. As our mouths meet, I part his lips with my tongue and let his cum flow between us.
Victor makes a surprised noise but doesn’t pull away. Instead, his tongue slides against mine, sharing his own essence. We pass it back and forth, the sticky fluid binding us together in the filthiest way.
When we finally break apart, strings of white connect our lips. Victor’s eyes have gone completely dark as he leans forward to lick a drop from the corner of my mouth.
“You’re so fucking filthy,” he whispers, voice reverent. “My beautiful little slut.”
“Always a slut for you, Daddy,” I whisper against his lips, still tasting the salt of him on my tongue. “No one else sees this side of me anymore.”
Victor’s hands slide down my back, gripping my ass. “Better not,” he growls, possessiveness darkening his eyes.
I shift in his lap, feeling his cock already stirring again beneath me. His recovery time never fails to impress me.
“Our eggs are getting cold,” I murmur, not making any move to leave his lap.
Victor glances at the abandoned plates, then back to me. “Let them.”
His fingers knead into my flesh, pulling me closer against him. The thin fabric of my thong does nothing to hold in my own cock pressing against his stomach.
“What about your meetings?” I remind him, even as I rock my hips slightly.
“They can wait,” he says, capturing my mouth in another hungry kiss.
His tongue pushes past my lips, exploring with deliberate slowness. One hand slides up my spine to cup the back of my neck, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss.
I moan into his mouth, rolling my hips more insistently.
The invitation from the Blackwoods lies forgotten on the table beside us, though its presence lingers at the edges of my awareness.
The Hunt, and all its complicated history, feels distant compared to the immediate heat of Victor’s body against mine.
Victor’s hand slides down my back, dipping between my ass cheeks. His finger circles my entrance before pushing inside with surprising ease. He pauses, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Fuck, Theo. You’re already wet.”
I bite my lip, rolling my hips against his finger. “I may have prepped myself after my shower this morning. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” he echoes, adding another finger to test the stretch. “Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”
His fingers withdraw, and he hooks his thumb under the thin string of my thong, pulling it aside. With his other arm wrapped securely around my waist, he lifts me. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Take me in, baby,” he murmurs against my neck.
I sink down slowly, feeling him stretch me open. The burn is welcome—my body accepting his intrusion with practiced ease. When he’s fully seated inside me, we both groan. Neither of us moves. The stillness is electric, his cock throbbing inside me while I clench around him.
Victor reaches past me to grab my abandoned plate of breakfast. He cuts a piece of egg with the fork and lifts it to my lips.
“Eat,” he commands softly. “Don’t want it going to waste.”
I open my mouth, accepting the offering. The flavors burst on my tongue—butter, salt, a hint of pepper. I chew slowly, hyper-aware of every sensation: the fullness in my ass, the heat of Victor’s body beneath mine, the taste of food in my mouth.
I take the fork from him and return the favor, feeding him a bite. His lips close around the utensil, eyes never leaving mine as he chews.
We continue this dance—feeding each other breakfast while he stays buried inside me. Neither of us thrusts or moves for stimulation. It’s not about chasing orgasm but about connection, closeness, the intimate weight of him filling me completely.
“This is nice,” I murmur, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.
Victor inhales sharply at the movement. “Very nice,” he agrees, voice strained.