Page 142 of Cohesion

Would it be so wrong to sleep just like this? He was fatigued enough that the bath mat would be more than comfortable enough. As long as Jericho and Peyton stayed with him. He really wanted his puppy pile.

“Someone needs to help me up,” Peyton groaned from where his cheek was resting on Jericho’s thigh, beside his spent cock.

Will burst out laughing, though it came out as more of a wheezing huff. “Think you need another shower.” They all did.

Will helped Peyton to his feet as Jericho turned the shower back on, sticking his hand in to get the right temperature. Will stepped in backwards, coaxing Peyton in after him with a kiss.

Peyton smiled against him. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“Yeah? Did you get fucked good, Peyton?”

“So good.”

Will hummed and slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss.

They helped each other wash, and it was a good thing they were all too spent to do anything else. Otherwise, they might have spent hours under the water.

“I told you that Quinn needs to get a bigger shower,” Will said. They barely fit the three of them in there. No way Quinn and Sebastian were going to fit, too, and he wouldn’t mind having a few pentagon showers.

Quinn had said they could extend, or expand, or whatever. Surely that included a shower big enough for all five of them? … And a bed while they were at it.

Will finished rinsing his hair and got out first, drying himself quickly. He only put his underwear and jeans on, not bothering to do up the zipper or button.

He went into the kitchen in search of food, his stomach protesting loudly about the fact that it had been almost two hours since he’d last eaten.

The fridge hadn’t miraculously added food since last night. A clear oversight in the manufacturing. They should all go shopping together once Sebastian and Quinn got home.

He did manage tofind enough ingredients for a basic peanut butter biscuit though. As far as snacks went, it was quick and easy to make and was the ultimate hunger feeder.

Maybe he could feed them to everyone naked.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sebastian kept a handin his pocket to stop the nervous twitching as he walked through the front doors of the police precinct where Quinn—and Riley—worked. He hadn’t set foot in here for a long time. Not when he and Riley had been keeping their friendship under the radar, and when Sebastian was avoiding any place where he risked running into Quinn.

To be walking in, with everything out in the open, the past and present merging… Sebastian’s stomach rolled around like a hamster wheel. Was it too late to turn back? If he waited for the opportune moment, he could duck out and get a head start before Quinn noticed.

“Morning, Quinn,” the officer at the reception desk said, holding up a hand.

Quinn returned the greeting. All Sebastian could hear was the buzzing in his head. They’d talked about this already. Gotten everything out in the open. Some part of him wasn’t sure that he believed it. That when he, Riley, and Quinn all got into the sameroom again, it wouldn’t all explode, throwing him back to where he was eight years ago.

Without Quinn.

He jumped when Quinn put a hand on his back.

“Seb?”

“I’m fine,” he blurted. Then cringed. Like that was the way to convince someone he was fine.

Quinn placed a hand on the doorframe and blocked Sebastian’s way with his arm. “If you aren’t feeling up to this, we can just go home. It hasn’t even been two days; no one would blame you if you wanted to rest.”

He was more okay than he should have been, considering the circumstances. Other than his face feeling like tenderised meat, and the twinge every time he moved his shoulder reminding him that he had a cut there, he was fine. They’d started with his face, simultaneously trying to get him to talk, and to shut him up, and he’d been rescued before they’d been able to do any other damage that might have made him sweat a little.

The threat of cutting off limbs had been too real. He needed his fingers. And his toes. Honestly, all of him had a purpose, and he’d prefer all the things stay where they were supposed to be.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, less manically this time. “Really. You even did a good job with the makeup to make me less…” He gestured at his face. “Y’know.”

“Thank my sisters,” Quinn said dryly. “I was both a guinea pig and a helper. I could have gone into cosmetology.”

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