Chapter 44 Theo
THEO
The soft thud of the Hunt’s entrance door closing behind us echoes through the dimly lit corridor. Elliot and I walk side by side, our steps measured as we navigate the labyrinthine passages of the Blackwood estate. We have fifteen minutes before Victor and Julian enter.
“So, where should we stage our little escapade?” Elliot asks, his voice carrying a hint of excitement.
I consider the options, remembering the layout from last year’s Hunt. “Somewhere with a strategic advantage. Somewhere that means something.”
Elliot’s lips curl up. “I know just the place. The mirror room in the east wing.” His eyes take on a distant quality. “It’s where Julian and I first... where he made me come with just his mouth. I was still pretending to be straight then.”
“The mirror room it is,” I agree, turning down another corridor. “Victor would appreciate the symmetry too. It’s where he first bottomed for me.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a moment before Elliot speaks again.
“How are things progressing with your alpha fighter? Still keeping one foot in the closet?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Victor’s trying. He acknowledged our relationship at his gym, in front of his core team. But public? That’s still a work in progress.”
“At least he knows who he is,” Elliot offers. “I always knew I was gay—never questioned it. I just buried it under family expectations and fear. Spent years perfecting the art of appearing straight without actually saying I was.”
“That’s the difference, isn’t it?” I reply.
“I’ve never hidden who I am. Coming out wasn’t even a thing for me—I just was.
But Victor...” I shake my head. “He’s spent his whole life believing he was straight.
Building an identity around it. Now he’s realizing he’s bisexual and having to reconstruct everything he thought he knew about himself. ”
We reach the mirror room, its glass surfaces reflecting our forms infinitely. I run my fingers along the cold glass of a mirrored wall.
“This is perfect,” I murmur. “It will be so hot to watch ourselves.”
Elliot nods, his lips curving into a smile. “There’s something deliciously narcissistic about the mirrors. Watching yourself come apart while someone else watches you watch yourself.”
We settle onto the plush velvet bench in the center of the room, angled to provide the best view of any entrance.
“Can you believe it’s been exactly a year?” Elliot asks, adjusting his cuffs. “Since the Hunt that changed everything.”
“A year,” I echo, the weight of it settling over me. “Julian found you during the hunt, and Victor...” I can’t help the small smile that forms. “Victor was still desperately trying to convince himself he was straight.”
Elliot laughs softly. “At least Victor was honest with himself about his denial. I was still lying to myself even as I rode Julian’s cock in front of everyone at the feast.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “You seemed pretty into it from where I was standing.”
Elliot’s expression shifts, something vulnerable flickering across his features. “Physically, yes. God, yes. But in my head?” He taps his temple. “I kept telling myself it was just the Hunt. Just the magic of Purgatory making me do things I wouldn’t normally do.”
“The convenient excuse,” I nod, understanding completely.
“I kept thinking, ‘This doesn’t count. This is just what happens here.’ Even with Julian inside me, even with everyone watching...” Elliot shakes his head, his reflection multiplying the gesture across the mirrored walls. “I was calculating how to explain it away the next morning.”
I lean back against the cool mirror behind us. “And look at you now.”
“Look at us now,” Elliot corrects, a genuine smile warming his face.
“It’s a shame Victor and I didn’t get to experience the fun of it together last year,” I say, the regret genuine in my voice.
“The Hunt has a way of accelerating things,” Elliot agrees. “Seventy-two hours here equals months of real-world progress.”
I let my fingers trace patterns on the velvet bench. “Victor would have fought it anyway. He needed to come to terms with himself in private. The Hunt might have just traumatized him more.”
Elliot nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. Sometimes the path needs to be walked slowly. The Hunt strips away pretense, but not everyone’s ready for that kind of naked truth.”
“And now—” I begin, but I’m cut off by a sharp, pulsing tone that echoes through the room. Three rapid beeps, then silence.
The Hunt has officially begun.
My pulse quickens instantly. Elliot and I exchange a look, not needing words. We position ourselves on the velvet bench, our postures deliberately casual yet inviting. I adjust my silk shirt, leaving an extra button undone.
The mirrors around us multiply our anticipation, reflecting it back at us from every angle. My breath feels shallow in my chest. I can almost sense Victor approaching—that awareness I’ve developed of his presence.
“Remember,” Elliot whispers, barely audible, “let them think they’ve caught us unaware.”
I give the slightest nod before we lapse into silence.
Seconds stretch into minutes. The quiet grows heavy, charged with expectation. I watch the door through the reflection of the mirror opposite me, grateful for the multiple angles that allow me to monitor every approach.
A shadow passes beyond the doorway. Then another.
My muscles tense involuntarily. I force myself to relax, to appear oblivious.
When they finally enter, it’s with the controlled stealth of predators.
Julian comes first, his lean frame accentuated by fitted black clothing.
The full-face silver mask he wears catches the light, gleaming metallic and expressionless.
It reveals nothing while somehow projecting absolute authority.
Victor follows a half-step behind, his massive frame filling the doorway.
His half-face gas mask covers his nose and mouth but leaves his eyes exposed—those dark, intense eyes that instantly find mine in the mirror.
The mask gives him an apocalyptic appearance, something between warrior and monster.
They stand there for one lingering moment, framed in the doorway, watching us through their masks as we pretend not to notice them.
The Hunt is truly on.
Victor crosses the room in three strides, his hand finding my throat before I can speak. The gas mask gives him something inhuman—all dark eyes and controlled menace. I let him think he’s caught me.
“Found you,” he growls against my ear.
Across the room, Julian has Elliot against the mirrored wall already—one forearm across his chest, lips at his throat. Elliot’s eyes are closed, his earlier composure entirely gone.
Victor’s hands slide to my hips and drag me to the edge of the bench with a certainty that makes my breath catch. No preamble, no performance. Just him, pushing inside me in one slow, devastating thrust that draws a sound from my throat I don’t bother hiding.
“There you are,” he says against my ear, his voice stripped of everything except need.
Across the room, Julian’s rhythm is unhurried and deliberate—each thrust measured, Elliot’s gasps building with quiet precision. Julian’s eyes find mine over Victor’s shoulder, and he smiles the smile of a man who has all the time in the world.
“Look at them,” Victor growls, angling his hips to hit that spot that makes my vision blur. “Even now you’re watching.”
“Aren’t you?” I manage.
He doesn’t deny it.
We find our rhythm—Victor deep and relentless, my hands gripping the edge of the bench as he fills me completely. The mirrors multiply us endlessly: Victor’s broad back, my legs wrapped around his waist, our reflections fractured and repeated until the room feels infinite.
Julian’s voice carries across the space, unhurried despite the flush spreading across his throat.
“There’s something almost ceremonial about this, isn’t there?
” He drives into Elliot slowly, watching us.
“Two men who fought so hard against what they wanted.” His eyes move to Victor. “Finally embracing it.”
Victor’s jaw tightens, but his rhythm doesn’t falter.
“You fought harder than most,” Julian continues, his voice dropping to something intimate despite the distance between us.
“I watched you at Purgatory, circling Theo.” A pause, punctuated by Elliot’s sharp intake of breath.
“And now look at you. Buried inside him. Unable to imagine being anywhere else.”
“Julian,” Elliot breathes, his fingers white against Julian’s shoulders.
“I know,” Julian says softly, his composure finally fraying at the edges. His pace quickens, controlled rhythm giving way to something rawer. “I’ve got you.”
The room fills with the sounds of all four of us—ragged breathing, the creak of the bench beneath us, Elliot’s muffled cry as Julian drives deeper. Victor’s hand finds my throat, tilting my face toward the mirror.
“Watch,” he commands.
I watch. Us, them, all of it reflected back infinitely—two couples stripped of pretense, every wall between who they were and who they are finally, completely gone.
Julian’s eyes find mine again. His voice has dropped to barely above a whisper, but the mirrors carry it perfectly.
“Imagine it,” he says, his gaze moving between Victor and me.
“Victor inside you, Theo. And me inside Victor. All of us connected—one chain of pleasure, each thrust rippling through all four of us simultaneously.” He groans against Elliot’s shoulder.
“Giving and taking at the same time. Controlling and surrendering in the same breath.”
Victor’s rhythm stutters.
“You’d feel everything,” Julian continues, his voice a heady, addictive tone now and it sends a shiver through my entire body.
“Every thrust I give, you’d receive through Victor.
And everything you do to Theo, you’d feel amplified from behind.
” His eyes fix on Victor. “A man like you—who needs to possess and be possessed simultaneously—there’s nothing more perfectly designed for you. ”
“Christ,” Victor breathes, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.