Atticus snickered. “Don’t fall too in love with it. It’s August’s favorite toy. It’s only on loan.”
Jericho stared hard at the doctor, who was frantically trying to wiggle himself from his restraints. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“When in doubt, start at the ears and work your way down,” Atticus said, opening a granola bar and the latest Journal of the American Medical Association.
Jericho shrugged. “That’s a great idea.”
“Please, don’t do this—” There was the sound of the saw roaring to life, and then Reed began to scream.
Atticus flipped through his journal, looking for his latest paper. “I can’t believe they shoved my article all the way in the back,” he said sulkily. “That was definitely a front page article.”
There was another scream and the slick sound of the man’s ear falling to the floor. “Yeah, you definitely should have been front and center, Freckles.”
“It’s true,” Atticus agreed, taking another bite of his granola bar and chewing it thoughtfully.
Atticus was halfway through the journal when the screaming finally stopped. There was blood everywhere. Luckily, Atticus had the forethought to lay down some tarps. They had to be much more careful now that they owned the place.
Atticus heard the sink turn on as Jericho washed up, pulling his shirt from over his head to let the water run over his chest. He was so hot.
When he caught Atticus watching, he grinned. “What’s that look for, Freckles?”
Atticus reached down and unbuckled his jeans. “Want the third part of your present?”
Jericho crossed the room, yanking Atticus into a sitting position on the end of the table, smashing their mouths together, just like the first night they met, but this time, Atticus was a much more active participant. His dick was already hard.
“Fuck me,” Atticus whispered into his mouth.
Jericho didn’t break the kiss, just said, “No lube. Or did my little boy scout bring that, too?”
Atticus pushed him back enough to look him in the eye. “No. I…prepped.”
“Christ, Freckles. You can’t just say that shit to me.”
Jericho pushed Atticus back onto the wooden table, yanking off his boots and pulling his jeans and underwear out of the way, pupils dilating as he saw Atticus’s flushed erection standing at attention. Jericho freed himself, dragging Atticus forward until his ass hung off the table. He probably had fucking splinters but he really didn’t fucking care. He just wanted Jericho inside him. Jericho used Atticus’s jeans to practically bend him in half, his free hand probing Atticus’s hole.
“Fuck, you’re already wet for me. When did you do this?”
“At the restaurant.”
Jericho growled, pulling his fingers free. Atticus had just enough time to recognize the blunt head of Jericho’s cock pressing against him before he slammed home, burying himself to the hilt. They both groaned. “I’m not going to be gentle, Freckles.”
“I didn’t fucking ask you to.”
Jericho’s pace was relentless as he pounded into Atticus in a steady, driving rhythm that had him grazing his prostate with every third thrust until Atticus was leaking all over himself. This was his favorite Jericho. The raw, unfiltered, fresh from a kill Jericho. Atticus loved how animalistic he was. Sex was the only way to feed that need, to burn through all the adrenaline coursing through him.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I was eating dinner and you were in the bathroom, pants down, fingering yourself open for me. Fuck. Did you think about me? About this? About how good it would feel when I was pounding into this slutty little hole again and again?”
“Yes. Fuck. Oh, God. Touch me.”
When Jericho’s hand closed around him, he couldn’t help the cry that escaped.
“You’re always so tight, so hot inside. I’m not going to last, but I swear I’m going to bend you over and fuck you again before we both go to sleep. Hell, I might just stay up and fuck you all night long. Would you like that, Freckles? Want me to fill you up? When we’re done, maybe I’ll let you fall asleep nursing my cock. You fucking love that.”
Atticus flushed to the tips of his ears. He did love that. He loved falling asleep with Jericho inside him, or with him still in his mouth. Sometimes, he would just lie there with his head in his lap, Jericho’s soft cock in his mouth as they watched TV and Jericho threading fingers through his hair.
Jericho loved it. He told Atticus all the time. He’d play with his hair and tell him how much he loved how needy Atticus was, how he loved that Atticus needed them to be joined in some way as often as possible.
Jericho’s thrusts grew faster, his hand quickening, matching his tempo. He was so close, had been so ready since way before they’d gotten to the restaurant. Lightning shot down his spine with every twist and pull of Jericho’s hand until his toes were curling. “Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come.”
