Page 83 of Reactant

Season four and nine ofNCIS. A slasher movie that should not have been allowed in the general population and seemed wrong besideMy Little Pony.Cinderella—three versions. AndMy Cousin Vinny.

It took them way longer than it should have to work out how to get the DVD player and the TV to talk to each other. It had been a while since Will had evenusedone. He had a subscription to almost every streaming service there was. Which, in hindsight, was unnecessary since he didn’t actually watch that much TV. His life consisted of work, sleep, food, and having sex with Peyton—and now Sebastian and Quinn. Maybe Jericho? Will didn’t really know what was happening with that. He’d be lying if he said the thought of it wasn’t appealing.

Where was he supposed to fit TV into that schedule? Something had to give, and things that would rot his brain were the first to go.

Eventually, they had the menu for the show up on the screen. The remote was even cooperating. Will flung himself against the cushions with an exaggerated sigh as they pressed play.

Jericho watched him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” Will asked defensively.

“Nothing. Just admiring.”

Will shifted, unsure how to handle the slew of compliments. Jericho was a slot machine with a prize of compliments instead of money, and Will had hit the jackpot. He didn’t even gamble. He used Smarties to play poker and ate most of his “chips” before they even started the game.

“You wear a shirt to bed?” That hadn’t been what he’d meant to ask. Jericho scrambled his brain. At least with the other three, he was on a more even keel. Heknewwhat they wanted and what he wanted in return.

This was an unknown.

“No,” Jericho replied.

“So why…” He gestured at the shirt that Jericho was wearing. It wasn’t cold enough toneedit. Had he put it on just to come out here to be alone? Because he was in an unfamiliar environment? Was he always “on” when he wasn’t in his home? That sounded exhausting.

“Am I making you uncomfortable with how many items of clothing I’m wearing, William? Should I take it off?” Jericho playfully lifted the bottom of the shirt, revealing a hint of what Will knew were soft abs underneath. They were defined and held incredible strength, but they weren’t cut like steel. Not like Peyton’s or Quinn’s. There was a hint of healthy fat softening them, and Will’s fingers ached to touch and massage.

“I can be a gracious guest,” Jericho said.

“We wouldn’t want anyone to accuse you of being a rude guest,” Will said in a hoarse whisper.

“We wouldn’t.”

Jericho slid the shirt up and over his head, flinging it to hang over the back of the couch, close to Will’s head. The scent of him clung to it, and Will’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in all of Jericho’s chest from the spattering of dark hair down to where his happy trail led underneath the shorts he wore. It would probably be a step too far to ask him to take those off too. Will bit into his bottom lip to stop himself from asking.

“You can touch if you want,” Jericho said. “I like it when you touch me.”

Uh.

Will’s brain short-circuited.

His fingers moved long before his brain rebooted. Warm skin lit the tips of his fingers, like a flip had been switched to “on.” He trailed through the soft hair, across a pebbled nipple, and down to circle his bellybutton.

Jericho shifted, leaning closer, and then their lips were pressed together. Will let out a needy sound as Jericho’s tongue slipped inside and playfully teased him.

“We should watch the show,” Will whispered against his lips. He could hear it playing in the background and considering it was a kid’s show, he doubted it was very long, and they were missing all the important bits. And making out instead seemed bad form.

“We should.”

Jericho swallowed all of Will’s sounds as he slanted their lips together again. It was soft, slow, and exploratory, nothing like the heated desperation from earlier. It was nice. Will’s toes curled as pleasurable warmth spread across him, like drinking whiskey on a cold night.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” Will whispered.

Jericho paused and then pulled back. He stared for a split second before bursting into laughter. “Oh, sunshine, you only grazed me.” He twisted, showing Will his arm. There was a light scar where Will had gotten him, but it was barely visible. Will absently rubbed his thumb over it. He’d imagined what it might look like, on the beach. He’d felt bad about it, but now, after their intimacy, there was an added layer to it.

“Just a scratch,” Jericho said. “I’ve had worse, trust me. Peyton’s hip scar is a hell of a lot nastier than this.”

“That was different.” World’s different: that had almost killed Peyton. And it was something that Peyton avoided talking about.

“You know what did it.”

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