Rhys met Angelo’s gaze and thrust up into Jevon, catching Jevon off guard. Jevon’s groan was fucking beautiful, and combined with the ecstasy in Rhys’s face and the wonder of being inside Dylan, Angelo was undone.
He lost his rhythm as he jammed his hips forward, and the coil in his gut snapped, tipping him over the edge. A ragged moan escaped him and he toppled over, landing on Dylan’s sweaty back as his cock pulsed his release. “Shit.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Dylan convulsed one last time, then stilled, his fingers wrapped tightly around Angelo’s. “I love you.”
Angelo had eyes for only Dylan, but instinct told him it was all over in the other room too.
Smirking, he gently pulled out and rolled Dylan over, falling in love with his flushed, blissed-out face for the thousandth time. “I love you. Do you think we should shut the door?”
Dylan sniggered. “Nah. They’ll figure it out.”
Just as well because Angelo didn’t plan on letting Dylan out of his arms anytime soon. He retrieved the duvet from the floor and threw it over them, then, despite plans to bang Dylan all night long, passed the fuck out.
Five
“What is it? ’Cause it looks like a giant teacake.”
Angelo scowled and set the fruit-studded round loaf on the counter with undue care. “It’s panettone. You told me to get bread for stuffing.”
“Breadcrumbs,” Dylan huffed. “How am I supposed to make sage and onion stuffing with that mutant hot cross bun?”
“Who said we were making sage and onion stuffing?”
“I did, when you told me you were taking an emergency client and abandoning me in the kitchen all day. You think I know how to make all your weird-arse Italian shit on my own?”
“It’s not weird-arse, and I’ll be gone an hour—perks of living at work. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Dylan resisted the compulsion to stick his tongue out and turned away to consider the ginormous turkey Angelo had also brought home from his morning dash to the shops, all the while absorbing the spring in Angelo’s step at being so productive. Dylan was usually at his own job when Angelo went out to work, so he rarely saw him in therapist mode. After a night on the booze and banging, it was a startling change.Why is he so fucking hot?
Angelo scribbled down the recipe for his precious stuffing and left Dylan to it. Dylan prepped the turkey, peeled potatoes, and wrapped a million tiny sausages in bacon. He was finishing up when he heard movement above him, so he knocked the leftover bacon into a sandwich and took it upstairs to Joe with a mug of sugar-sweet tea.
“You fucking diamond.” Joe slurped the scalding tea. “Harry hides the sugar from me, I swear.”
Dylan slid onto the bed. “Wouldn’t put it past him. Angelo goes through phases of doing stuff like that, but I can usually get round him with rimming.”
“Noted.” A faint flush stained Joe’s cheeks, but it could’ve been the tea. “What did you lot get up to last night? Please tell me you didn’t have an orgy at my ma’s house?”
Dylan laughed and stretched out on his stomach. “As if. I didn’t even set foot in the bungalow. Rhys and Jevon came back with us for a bit, but they were gone when we woke up.”
Silence. Joe’s face was a study in apathy, but the tick in his cheek gave him away, and Dylan was feeling kind.
“We didn’t have an orgy at all,” he said, “if it’s keeping you up at night thinking about it. We are capable of having fellas over for just drinks, you know.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t.” Joe eased his legs out in front of him. Well rested and dressed only in Harry’s slightly too big sweatpants, he was the picture of hard-earned relaxation. “I just recognise the gleam in your eye from when you two have been on it.”
“And you’re feeling nosy?”
“If you say so, but I can live without knowing if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“There’s not much to talk about,” Dylan admitted. “I think Jevon’s curious about playing but too wrapped up in Rhys to explore it.”
“What about Rhys? I wondered if it might be different for him now he’s with someone.”
Dylan shrugged. “Hard to tell. I don’t think he’s turned off by the idea, but if he plays again, it’ll be for better reasons.”
Joe nodded. “Makes sense, but I think I’ve reached my limit on understanding you lot and your sex clubs. How’s it going downstairs? Harry reckons I’m not allowed to get up until lunchtime, but if I sleep any more I’ll probably die.”
“Drama queen.”