Page 24 of Cohesion

Quinn kissed his quivering stomach, tracing his tongue around the hints of definition. He made his way to Peyton’s chest and kissed the centre of the commando insignia tattooed over his heart. It was a part of Peyton that the ex-soldier triedto hide, the pain a closed box in his mind. One that threatened to spill out at any moment. So many years they’d lost because Peyton had chosen to shoulder it on his own.

Quinn had made a mistake when he’d let Peyton put distance between them, when he hadn’t asked more questions, and when he’d assumed things about Peyton and Will’s relationship. He had no intention of repeating the past. He would hold tight until Peyton knew none of them were going anywhere. Good or bad, Quinn was in this, and he would do whatever it took to make Peyton feel safe.

Quinn nibbled a line up Peyton’s throat, leaving behind red marks that would fade quickly. “I want you to come down his throat for me,” he whispered against Peyton’s ear. “Can you do that for me?”

Peyton turned his head, and then his lips were on Quinn’s, desperate and eager. Peyton’s constant string of moans fed the beast inside Quinn. He fucked harder into Peyton, fingers rapidly driving into him. He knew he shouldn’t, but he added a third finger. It was a tight fit, and Peyton clenched around him, muscles spasming.

A hand clenched down painfully on Quinn’s shoulder, and then Peyton was crying out into his mouth, the vibrations tingling his lips.

Quinn kissed him through his orgasm, drinking every beautiful sound. When Jericho climbed onto the desk to straddle Peyton’s hips, Quinn gave him the same treatment, tasting Peyton on his tongue.

Jericho grinned against his mouth. “Welcome to HQ.”

Peyton collapsed back against the desk with an exhausted laugh.

Peyton grinned at theceiling, swivelling in his chair. “That’s one hell of a way to break in a new office.”

Jericho licked his lips. Satiated was a good look on the ex-soldier. He should ruffle his feathers more often. They’d have plenty of opportunities.

“Or a way to make an old office new.” Jericho checked his watch and stood from his own chair. He and Peyton had already taken turns in the bathroom to clean up. “Quinn should be back”—the detective walked through the door, the fresh smell of soap clinging to him—“any second now. We should go say hello to the team. Some of them should be here.” Six and Moira were at least in the building somewhere.

Jericho took them into the tech room, moving from the muffled carpet to hard floorboards. Whiteboards and corkboards covered two of the walls. Four standing half whiteboard half corkboards that flipped either side fit snuggly against the wall, ready to use. The heavily tinted windows kept the sun out and the electronics in the room cool. Hunter rotated plants in and out of the room to give them some time in the sun elsewhere.

Three desks slotted together to make a haphazard square in the middle of the room, two covered with computers, and the third holding a single laptop and a myriad of electronic parts that Six was in the middle of pulling apart. A bridge made of Paddle Pop sticks sat on one of the two tables pushed against the wall. The other desk beside it was covered in an unholy mess of cords, with tubs of the same stacked underneath. If someone pissed Hunter off enough, they would get the unpleasant job ofsorting them out, labelling them and finding somewhere to stash them. Except Greer, who they all knew would just toss them in the bin if he was told to deal with it. Or get a pair of gardening shears and chop them into small pieces while maintaining aggressive eye contact.

It was their chaos room.

Six lounged behind one of the computers, feet up on the desk, a keyboard in his lap and a lollypop stick hanging out of his mouth. Moira stood in front of a corkboard covered in pictures, notes, and strings and was aggressively writing on one of the papers pinned to it. Jericho didn’t know what she was working on; he’d been so absorbed in his own shit for the last few weeks, and before that he’d been deep undercover. He’d missed being here, even more than being in his own bed. Surrounded by the family that he and Hunter had made their own.

“Hey, look what the cat dragged in,” Six said in greeting, a wicked grin sliding across his face. “Done breaking in the office? Sound travels in this place, just FYI.”

“It doesn’t,” Moira said. “He heard you when he went to get his snack. He’s just being a pervert.”

“Don’t ruin my fun,” Six grumbled.

Jericho flipped him off. “You’ve both met Six. That’s Moira. If you need any help—”

“Don’t,” Moira interrupted. “Six, did you—”

“Yeah, it’s printing off now. So, Hunter finally convinced you to come to the dark side?” Six looked Peyton up and down. “I guess you’ll do.”

“Thanks,” Peyton said slowly. “I think.”

“I remember what you did with those two idiots, Errol and Dane,” Moira said. She hooked her ankle around a chair, her pastel-pink strap heels peeking out from beneath her floor-length floral dress, and pulled it out from under the table before sinking into it. Her dress settled over her like a blanket. Withthe cute outfit, bright-pink streaks in her blonde hair, and the cat earrings dangling from her ears, she seemed like someone approachable. Until she opened her mouth. Jericho loved her exactly the way she was. “It was good work. Clean.” She leaned back, sizing him up. “Keep doing that, and I might even buy you a beer.”

Peyton tensed, eyes darkening. “I did it to protect Sebastian.”

“They would have killed you,” Jericho said. Peyton struggled with who he was more than anyone Jericho had ever met. Did he really think that the things he’d been forced to do—either in defence of someone else, or as part of his job—made him some kind of monster?

“They tried,” Peyton replied tightly. “Is that really what we’re here to talk about?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Jericho said. “Where’s Hunter?”

“Talking to the principal at Vee’s school,” Moira said. She twisted and yanked Six’s lollypop out of his mouth, popping it into her own.

Six pulled a new one out of his pocket without a word of protest, expertly unwrapping it.

Jericho paused, half bent to turn on the nearest computer. “Why? I thought they’d sorted out the marble incident.”

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