“You always walk like that?” he asked, tone slick.Shawn tensed. Lights off in the front. Gay sex Didn’t flirt. Champagne flutes scattered like afterthoughts. Pants down. Got close.Didn’t hear the door.Tre. Cut like velvet. Silent. Then another.Shawn moaned into the cushion. The room filled with the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah. Didn’t move.“Just forgot my slides,” Tre added.Shawn cursed under his breath and opened the door halfway. Like he was letting it linger.Shawn stood there, hard, aching, jaw clenched.He snatched his phone and typed fast:That lil’ mf just tried me. “Always.”And then he dropped to his knees.He didn’t start with his dick. Or you still sittin’ in it like I told you to?Three dots. Same high school. Stroking. Or you walk out now and never come back.”Tre stood.Walked over.Dropped to his knees.And leaned in.Shawn woke up face-down, the plug still inside him, thighs sore, the sheets twisted around his waist like evidence.He didn’t even remember Jax putting it back in.What he did remember was the way Tre looked when he got on his knees.Not greedy. “Right. Let Shawn buck his hips. His jock was damp—still. Just one.“You got somebody, boss?”The question hung in the air.
