He smiled a little wider. It was always the buttoned up ones that were freaks in bed, and the whole way home, Jericho couldn’t stop picturing himself taking the man apart a piece at a time until he was shivering and begging to be fucked. He bet, with just the right amount of pressure, his little ginger psychopath would do dirty, dirty things for him.
Jericho snorted when he realized he was getting hard all over again. Shit. It was a shame he couldn’t see him again. He splashed water on his face, pulling a clean paper towel from the dispenser above and blotting it dry. He realized too late that the noises of the game had stopped. He turned to find the boys standing directly behind him, like something out of a horror movie, their expressions quizzical.
“What’s up?” he asked hesitantly, leaning against the dirty wooden countertop, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You good?” Arsen asked, his Russian accent seeping into his words.
Jericho frowned at the blue-haired boy. “Yeah, why?”
Once more, Felix and Arsen exchanged glances. He was used to his brother’s judgey face. He’d come out of the womb looking at everybody like they were beneath him. But it was odd seeing the look on Arsen. His father had been an enforcer for the Russian mob and he was a twenty-two-year-old murderer. Glass houses and all that.
Felix cocked his hip, gaze flicking over him from head to toe, suspicious. Jericho rolled his eyes. He was such a fucking diva. “What?”
“You’re covered in blood,” Felix noted.
Jericho snorted. “Yeah, kind of a hazard of the job.”
Felix scoffed. “Yeah, but you’re also wearing that weird smug, smirky look you only get whenever you get laid, and since you were in an abandoned cabin with Trevor the perv, we’re…alarmed.” He flicked his hand dramatically.
“Alarmed,” Jericho echoed.
Arsen leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. “Did you fuck Trevor the perv, Coe?
Felix pulled a face. “I’m just hoping he fucked him before he killed him, not after. Once you cross that line, you don’t come back.”
Jericho tried to follow their dizzying thought process, but before he could formulate a response, Nico and Levi arrived. Fuck. Levi looked like a wanted poster had fucked a tattoo model. His inky dark hair fell in his face, and he sucked on a Dum-Dum lollipop. Nico’s springy blond curls hung in his face. He looked surprisingly angelic for somebody who was such a little monster.
“What’s up? Why’s everybody looking so constipated?” Levi asked.
“Coe fucked Trevor the perv,” Arsen said, as if this was fact and not their wild speculation.
Levi wrinkled his nose. “That dude was gay? Or was he, like”—he mimed a blowjob—“trying to bribe his way out of it?”
Jericho’s face contorted at the idea of a blowjob from greasy ass Trevor, but they paid him no mind.
Nico also looked disgusted. “What the fuck, man? Like, I get it. Who hasn’t wanted to fuck somebody they killed or kill somebody they fucked? But it’s a slippery slope, man.”
“This is what I told him,” Arsen said, shaking his head. “Once you cross that line…”
“Jesus Christ. I didn’t fuck Trevor the perv. I killed Trevor the perv,” Jericho said, walking around the four of them to head to his office, attempting to close the door behind him. His brother caught it and swung it back open.
“If you didn’t fuck Trevor, then who was it? And don’t lie and say it didn’t happen. Your after orgasm glow never lies,” Arsen said, flopping down into a chair hard enough to rock it back dangerously far before it righted itself.
“I—” Jericho shook his head. “I ran into a guy.”
“With your dick?” Levi asked.
Nico’s brows knitted together. “In the middle of the woods?”
“Like, a homeless man in the woods? A… What’s the word? A hobo?” Arsen asked.
Levi elbowed him. “We don’t call them that anymore. Show some respect.”
Arsen shrugged. “Sorry. What do you call a man roaming the woods looking for sex?”
“A lie,” Felix said, his mouth set in a hard line. “No way my brother banged some hot, sweaty lumberjack in the woods. That’s not his type.” His long, elegant fingers trailed over his collarbones, a slow smile spreading along his face as his brother seemed to get lost in his own lumberjack fantasy.
“I—”
