Carver sighed. “Fine, we’ll quit the club.”
“I didn’t even get to see it,” Peter said, almost wistful. He frowned. “Does this mean we’re not using the playrooms that we booked in the next few weeks?”
Carver shook his head. “Guess not.”
Peter looked just as disappointed as he felt, though when he actually considered it, Carver knew that Tex was right.
They couldn’t support a place that helped alphas abuse omegas. If he’d thought about it longer than ten seconds, Carver was pretty sure he would have come to that conclusion on his own.
“Why don’t you make an appointment with a contractor about the basement,” Tex said, sighing. He kicked Carver’s leg under the table. “Build your own playroom. Make it how you want it to be.”
Carver grinned, the suggestion and implicit permission to spend the money cheering him up.
“You know what? That’s an excellent idea.” He turned to Peter. “Right?”
Smiling, Peter nodded. “Right.”
49
Tex
“So this really does it for him,” Carver said, zipping up his leather motorcycle suit and checking his reflection in the mirror. They were in the hallway outside the entrance to the garage where they kept all their riding gear, Peter in the bedroom waiting for them to come double up on his hole.
Carver caught Tex’s eye in the mirror, shaking his head and grinning as he put on his gloves. “We’re going to be sweating bullets in these.”
“We could take it outside,” Tex suggested, sitting down and tugging on his boots. He rose, standing next to Carver and looking at their reflections together. “Besides, we do look good.”
He ruffled Carver’s hair, arm curling around his neck, pulling his face down to his chest and giving him a noogie. Carver laughed, yanking his head away, trying to get his own arm around Tex’s neck and failing.
“You want to tussle?” Tex asked, dropping his shoulder and taking Carver to the ground. Carver grinned, the two of them rolling on the floor and playfully trying to get the upper hand.
Tex won, pinning Carver to the floor and leaning down to claim his mouth in a kiss. When he pulled away, standing up and reaching out his hand to help Carver up, Carver was grinning. He groped his bulge, looking pleased.
Carver ran his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes and snorting.
“What?” Tex asked, pulling on his gloves and snapping the gauntlets closed over his wrists.
“Think he wants us to wear helmets?” Carver asked, sarcastic and sitting down to pull on his boots. Tex laughed.
“Who knows? We should ask.”
Carver punched his leg, shaking his head. “Let’s not. This is more than enough for me.” He looked up at Tex’s hands. “So fisting him, was that something you planned or…?”
“Spur of the moment,” Tex said, reaching for the zipper on the front of his suit. There were two, designed so that you could open the suit from the bottom when you had to piss, and Tex unzipped the bottom one now, pulling out his cock and giving it a few pumps.
Carver rose to his feet and mirrored his actions, pulling out his cock and looking at himself in the mirror. Tex followed his gaze, smirking at the sight of them in their riding gear with their cocks out.
“We should wear helmets,” he declared.
“What?” Carver said, exasperated. “That was a joke.”
“The ones with the mirror visors. It would be hot.”
“Seriously?” Carver was as close to pouting as he’d ever gotten.
“Peter is going to love it,” Tex said. “We’ll just be there as anonymous leathered up alphas fucking him.”
“Fine,” Carver conceded, going back to the closet and getting the helmets in question. He tossed Tex his. “But just because I’m in a really good mood. I am not dressing up like this every time we fuck him.”
