Archive of Our Own

The club was loud tonight, but not nearly loud enough to cover up the sound of Matt Boldy's voice in Quinn's ear as he asked him,

“Wanna come back to my place?”

At the question, Quinn looked up from the bartop in order to look up at Matt's face instead. His eyes were swimming a little thanks to the alcohol, but he could see Matt as clear as day when he was this close to him. Matt was looking down at Quinn with lidded eyes, a small grin present on his face. He was drunk, and in the strobing light of the club, he looked fucking handsome, too. 

He leaned in a little to press a kiss to Quinn's temple after a second, his hand coming around Quinn's waist. His fingers dug into the meat of Quinn's side as he pressed their bodies against each other and he sighed in pleasure to himself. It didn't catch Quinn by much surprise - after all, they'd been dancing with each other all night and had definitely ground on each other more than once - but it still made his whole body feel like it was on fire.

“Please?” Matt asked next, lips on Quinn's ear now.

When Matt drank, he became a lot more open and a lot more courageous, a lot like Quinn in some ways. He'd normally never do something this brazen out in public, especially not in a place they could be recognized, but tonight they were celebrating a win from the other night and all care was out the window. Their celebration had been delayed simply because they'd played back-to-back, but with an off day tomorrow, they chose tonight to celebrate their tandem playing that had won the Wild the game. Neither of them were all that worried about other people right now, just only each other. 

Quinn bit the inside of his cheek as Matt breathed hot on his ear and then finally stuttered out, “Yeah, let's go.”

Normally, he wasn't this shy. He guessed it might've just been because he was drunk and turned on by Boldy and actively felt him pressing the beginning of something against his hip. Quinn swallowed down a groan when he felt Matt squeeze his hip. 

“Let me call us a ride, okay?” Matt replied. He then started tugging Quinn away from the bar, away from the very prying eyes that had been glossing all over him like a fresh piece of meat all night. That was the only thing Matt disliked about taking Quinn out. 

With the tab paid already, the two were free to leave the club. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk laughing a little at nothing and then stabilized themselves against the club's outside wall, Matt's phone in his hand within an instant. He fumbled through his phone for a moment before finding the right contact.

Quinn was watching him the whole time, a little breathless. Matt's hair was sweaty, though not to the level it was during the games, and his skin glistened in the nearby street lamp light. His polo shirt was unbuttoned at the top and it let Quinn get a good look at the pretty throat he'd been ogling all night. Even just looking at it made his teeth ache in his mouth, the urge to bite and kiss almost irresistible. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stay relaxed as Matt waited for the phone to pick up.

Finally, it went through. 

“Fabes,” Matt slurred a little, grinning like Brock could even see him. “Could you come pick me and Quinny up? We're outside that place, uh, The Lake or something. You know, the one by my place. Big blue sign with a loon on it.”

Quinn wasn't surprised that it was Brock that Matt had decided to call, and if anything, it actually kinda excited him. He liked Brock. 

A lot. 

Especially when he was drunk. 

He leaned in close to Matt, positioning himself so Brock could hear him speak.

“We're gonna go back to Matty's place and drink some more, if you wanna come,” Quinn blurted out. He had no idea if they were actually going to drink more, but he was certainly sure they were going to do something else. He almost wondered if Brock would stick around for that, he hoped he would. 

He heard Brock laugh and the sound of a door slamming. He must've gotten into his car already. 

“Just hang tight, don't wander into traffic,” Brock said, which made the other two laugh. 

“We won't,” Matt replied, slurring on purpose. “Drive safe, Fabes.” 

Once Matt hung up the phone, he rested his head back on the brick wall behind them. His whole body felt loose and warm, yet he felt so incredibly alive. He looked over at Quinn, a dimpled grin on his face once again.

“So we're drinking at my place?” He asked, teasing.

Quinn laughed and threw his hands up lightly. “I didn't know what to say, just thought maybe that'd get Faber to stay, y'know?” 

Matt elbowed Quinn on the side a little. “You want him to stay around? And what, watch us?” 

Quinn could feel his ears burning at the mere idea. Yeah, maybe he did kinda want that, even though he had no clue if Brock was even into something like that. In the past few months, he'd managed to wiggle himself into bed with his three best teammates, but had never gotten into the bedroom with two of them at the same time. Maybe it was out of respect, or his own lingering fear of fucking up the thing that existed before he even got to the Wild. He knew that Brock and Matt had their own thing - fuck, even Kirill had things with both of them, too - but he'd thought maybe they'd prefer to keep a separation. They could both get a little jealous of each other, Quinn knew that. Very intimately. 

If Brock did stay, would it be all that weird?

He rubbed at the back of his neck then, embarrassed. “I don't know. I guess? I think it was just the alcohol talking.”

Matt could sense the tone in Quinn's voice and he instantly wrapped a long arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He didn't like when Quinn got all caught up in his head. 

“Hey, no worries,” he quickly said. “Maybe he will, maybe he won't. It'll be a surprise.”

Matt wouldn't say it to Quinn right now, but Brock was actually painfully into the idea of watching him and Quinn together. The jealousy that the two of them had kept up over time was really nothing more than a superficial act meant to stir up whatever would happen later with another person. If Faber acted jealous every time Quinn and Matt embraced on the ice first, then it just made the sex ten times better later on. Kirill was much the same, but as of recently, his jealousy had been real when it came to Quinn and he'd practically hoarded him away for the past month. Him being gone on a hiking trip was the only reason that Matt could get Quinn out like this, back into his corner like he'd belonged there the whole time. 

Quinn didn't seem all that relieved by Matt's comment, but he chose to accept it. He focused more on the feeling of Matt's warm arm around him instead of his own paranoia for the rest of the time they sat there. 

Brock didn't take long getting to the club, but that was to be expected. When his car appeared, Matt tugged Quinn up with him from the ground and moved them closer to the edge of the sidewalk so Brock knew where to look. Soon enough, he was pulling alongside the curb and unlocking the door. 

After Quinn and Matt had climbed into the backseat and settled down, Brock looked over his shoulder. He was grinning like a stupid idiot.

“You two look like you had fun,” he said. “Both look pretty hot tonight.”

Quinn instantly squirmed a little in his seat, pleased at the compliment. It looked like nothing more than him readjusting himself, but both Matt and Brock knew his subtle tells by now. 

“I know,” Matt sassed. He then placed a hand on Quinn's thigh and squeezed. Quinn wanted to groan. “Quinny cleaned up really nice, right?”

Brock made a noise of agreement as he pulled the car back out into the lane. His eyes were instantly looking in the rear view mirror though, looking at how red in the face Quinn was and how he was definitely chewing on the inside of his cheek as Matt kneaded his thigh. Matt looked cheeky, almost smug, as he gazed at Quinn and fuck, Brock could even feel the tips of his ears redden. He loved when Matt looked like that, like an animal about to pounce. 

Maybe he would stay over after all.

–

To everyone's surprise, Matt and Quinn behaved themselves in the backseat during the whole drive. Well, unless you counted Matt torturing Quinn with his hand on his thigh the whole time as something dirty. By the time they'd gotten to Matt's apartment, Quinn had the beginnings of a solid hard-on in his jeans that Matt definitely had noticed earlier. 

Brock didn't come up with them, much to Quinn's displeasure, but Matt knew what Brock was going to do. They'd even talked about it beforehand, and God, Matt knew it was gonna be incredible. The other thing that they'd talked about was perhaps the most anxiety-inducing thing Matt would do tonight.

He was going to call Kirill and let him watch everything. If Matt was honest, he was nervous that Kirill would end up more pissed off than anything after seeing Matt and Brock with Quinn, but he hoped that it would please him instead. Kirill did usually like it when Matt watched him and Brock, but that was the only thing keeping him grounded in the idea that Kirill wouldn't wring his neck later for this.

As Quinn and Matt stumbled up the apartment stairs, they were giggling like a set of two teenagers racing each other on the rink bleachers. In some ways, it did feel as simple as it had back then; they had no real worries now, no obligations to stress over thanks to the promise of freedom tomorrow. 

It took Matt a few times to properly input his apartment door code once they arrived, but once he managed to get it open and they fell inside, the cheerful and innocent vibe between them before had shifted into something deeper and hotter. With no one else around, they had nothing stopping them from what they'd been thinking about since they'd left the club.

Well, there was one thing stopping them - a trip to the bathroom. When Quinn had excused himself to the restroom, Matt took the opportunity to finally set in motion his plan to call Kirill. His fingers were just as clumsy on his phone as they had been on the keypad, but he’d gotten Kirill’s contact pulled up fast enough. He clicked on the FaceTime option and anxiously waited for Kirill to answer. Hopefully he had a semblance of service up in those stupid woods, because otherwise he was going to miss out on probably the best show of his life.

Kirill picked up after a few rings, a question immediately coming from his mouth. “Bolds? What you calling for?”

Matt huddled the phone close to his mouth, having to keep his voice low so Quinn couldn’t hear it. 

“I thought you’d be bored up there,” he replied. “Thought maybe you’d want something to watch.”

He couldn’t see the look of confusion that broke out across Kirill’s face, but he knew it had to be there. Before he could say much else, he heard the sound of Quinn washing his hands and he rushed to set his phone up somewhat inconspicuously on his side table. He made it look like he’d just set it down weird on his vertical charger, but he knew that it’d give Kirill a good enough shot of the bed and some of the room, too. Matt made sure to turn down Kirill’s volume as the bathroom door opened, avoiding the string of questions that he was sure Kirill was asking. He also didn’t want Quinn to know, not yet.

Matt moved himself over to the end of the bed, meeting Quinn with a small smile once he left the bathroom. He had a coy look on his face as he looked down at Quinn, but Quinn was way too focused on Matt as a whole to really care about why he had a stupid grin on his face. 

They didn’t need to say anything, they never did. Quinn wasted no time in pressing Boldy down onto the bed nice and slow, his legs straddling Matt’s thighs. Matt’s hands were instantly on Quinn’s hips, pressing under his shirt and feeling his warm skin. He thought to himself that Kirill must’ve done this a hundred times by now and fuck, that made him feel tight inside of his chest. He wondered what Kirill was thinking until Quinn leaned in to kiss him, totally capturing his full attention again. It was like a breath of fresh air that they both could take forever and it urged the two of them to kiss harder. Quinn wanted Matt so badly it almost hurt, and Matt was always obsessed.

It took them a minute before either one of them could separate their lips for longer than a few seconds and once they did separate, they were quick to shed their shirts. Quinn pulled his off with one quick swoop and threw it behind him, Matt had Quinn take his off before it was inevitably thrown behind Quinn like the other. They both felt breathless once they were bare.

Despite Quinn’s own anxieties about his body, everyone else always found him hot. He wasn’t overwhelmingly muscular, but the muscle he did have fit him in all the right places. Probably everyone’s favorite part was his chest, with his hips in close second. Kirill liked to bite Quinn’s chest and squeeze his hips when he fucked him into the mattress, Brock was much the same, and Matt liked to hold onto Quinn’s hips every time he took him to bed. It wasn’t often that he got to see and touch Quinn like this, outside of just watching him in the showers, and maybe that was what made Matt appreciate this whole thing more. Matt could feel himself ogling Quinn and biting his lip as his hands rubbed over him and now he was really curious what Kirill was thinking. Did he wish he was the only one touching Quinn? Did he wish he was the one Matt was touching? Did he like this? Matt could even see the beginnings of a deeper blush spread across Quinn’s face as he was touched and he wondered if Kirill could see that with the camera so far. If he couldn’t, that made Matt feel even more proud.

“Put on a little here, huh?” Matt chirped as his hand grasped one of Quinn’s pecs and squeezed. 

Quinn groaned low in his throat. “Yeah, Kirill’s been taking me to the gym.”

“Of course he has,” Matt replied, leaning forward to press a kiss to what was definitely an almost healed hickey Kirill must’ve left behind. Normally Matt wasn’t like this, preferring to be the one getting treated all nice, but he felt motivated to be a little different tonight. His teeth grazed over Quinn's nipple and he made a quick nip just to make Quinn whimper.

Quinn moved his hand to rest against the back of Matt’s head, fingers intermingling with Matt’s slightly sweaty hair, as he was practically worshipped. The younger man’s lips felt fucking amazing on his skin and his head cocked to the side a little while he closed his eyes. He could tell Matt was jealous, but he didn’t feel bad. 

“You should join us,” Quinn said. “Maybe then you won’t feel left out.”

Matt hummed and didn’t say anything in response. All he could think about was that Kirill was finally the one being left out for once. 

“Take my pants off?” Matt mumbled as he leaned back on his elbows, that same sly look back on his face. 

Quinn couldn’t help the smirk that popped up on his face. Matt was like a fox who knew all the right things to do to rile someone up.

Like before, he didn’t waste time in stripping Matt of his pants and underwear and he rushed to take off his own jeans. They joined the discarded clothes pile off to the side. Quinn looked at the pile for a second and when his eyes returned back to Matt, he found him with his legs open and his eyes heavily lidded with lust. Even the flush on his cheeks had gotten deeper now that he’d started thinking about what was to come and who was watching this.

After what felt like an eternity, their bare chests, and thinly covered cocks, pressed against each other as Quinn nestled against the taller man. It felt perfect, natural, almost decadent. Matt was quickly kissing on his jaw, hands brushing down his sides, legs locking him close so he couldn’t escape even if he tried. 

“I missed this,” Matt whispered against Quinn’s throat, voice deeper than normal with lust. His hands grasped Quinn’s ass as he spoke and it earned him a groan from Quinn. He wondered what Kirill was thinking as he watched. “KK’s been hiding you.”

Quinn almost wanted to scoff, but he knew it was true. Thanks to them living in the same building, it was easy for the two of them to be glued together like a pair of lovesick losers. It was easy to forget about separating when Kirill insisted on a post-practice nap in Quinn’s bed with Quinn in his grasp, insisted on Quinn cooking them something for dinner almost every night, insisted on watching games with Quinn, and insisted on ravaging him every time either one of them was in a poor mood (which had been quite a lot lately, after their string of losses). 

If Quinn was honest, he hadn’t even noticed how possessive Kirill had been until he’d come out tonight and finally gotten this chance with Matt again. In some ways, he missed Kirill, but he’d missed Matt, too. 

A lot, actually. The evidence of that was present enough in his boxers, right against Matt’s own evident desire.

The older man made a humming noise to himself as he moved his head a little so that he could capture Matt’s lips in another kiss. After a few seconds, he pulled away slightly to say, “Sorry. I missed you, too, though.”

Matt’s hand gave a reflexive, pleased squeeze at that response and he brought their lips together for another set of kisses. Quinn could still faintly taste the vodka on Matt’s breath, as well as the last beer that he’d washed everything down with, and he couldn’t help chasing it a little with his tongue. The kiss turned dirtier and slow then, full of soft moaning and spit. Quinn was even grinding a little when he did it, earning pleasured sounds from Matt and encouraging him to press his own hips up. His hand slid alongside the edge of Matt’s thigh as well, lightly teasing him with squeezes on the muscle. God, he fucking loved feeling Matt’s body.

Neither one of them were huge on dirty talk in bed, not like Brock was, but that had never been a problem. Quinn didn’t have to talk dirty to Matt to tell him what he wanted, nor did Matt, and in some ways, that was the hottest thing about their relationship. From the way Matt was pressing up against him, nails scratching the skin of his hip a little and heels digging into the backs of his thighs, Quinn knew that Matt was asking for him to fuck him. This was a dance they’d done before and had never gotten tired of. Quinn had actually been obsessed with it since the first time they’d fallen into bed with one another, the soft begging Matt did with his eyes and hands. It was addicting, this was addicting.

When Quinn heard a soft “please” come from Matt, he felt his brain short-circuit just a little. More heat flooded his face, and his aching dick, and he pressed his face against the crook of Matt’s throat while rolling his hips to get just a bit of friction. A soft curse fell from Quinn’s lips, one that drove both Matt and Kirill crazy.

Kirill, on the other side of the phone, was both outrageously horny and incredibly into this. Kirill knew that Matt and Quinn had slept together before, but he had no idea how Quinn acted with him - maybe that was also why this excited him. 

He was fairly sure that Quinn didn’t know that Matt was doing this, but the thought of Quinn being his most absolute authentic self for Matt (and for him to see) was exactly what Kirill loved most. He loved when Quinn was unapologetically himself in bed, when he would try so hard and then surrender to it all by the finale and then end up nestled in Kirill’s arms, the sweat on his skin slowly drying as he fell asleep. 

As Kirill watched Quinn rustle through the side drawer, his face so close to the hidden camera, his eyes somewhat focused on Matt in the corner of the screen. He looked hazy and was grinning, almost like he was in love, and that made Kirill’s stomach twist in a new way. He loved when Matt looked like that, either at him or at Brock, and something inside of Kirill was both possessive about it and also happy to see Quinn receive such affection from someone other than himself. He was normally so insecure about it, unsure if he deserved it at all.

Once Quinn grabbed the lube, he didn’t waste much time crawling back into Matt’s waiting arms. Matt had since stripped himself of his boxers, now bare to the air and aching terribly. He was instantly enveloped, kisses pressed to his face and lips and hands wandering around his biceps and sides. Both men could hardly contain their drunken excitement, and Quinn even found himself grinning alongside Matt. With his hair partially hiding his face, all Kirill could see was the smile and it struck both Kirill and Matt in the heart.

While Matt would never admit it out loud, he had indeed prepared himself before they’d gone out to the club. Quinn came to that realization as his lube-slicked fingers came to tease Matt’s entrance and found it more loose than expected. Without any words exchanged, Quinn looked at Matt with raised eyebrows and his mouth a little agape, though, really, he wasn’t all that surprised. Brock had brought it up once when they were laying in bed one night, as high as kites, by saying that Quinn was tighter than Matt usually was because he didn’t prepare himself like Matt did. At the time, Quinn had felt insecure and tried to pretend that it hadn’t bothered him to be compared to Matt in a sexual manner, but Brock had soon soothed those worries away with firm kisses and a handjob. 

Matt didn’t say anything, but the way he sheepishly avoided Quinn’s eyes and squirmed a little said enough. It was hard to believe that the ever-so composed and poise Matt Boldy was so desperate sometimes that he’d finger himself open with the thought of someone else on his mind, but Quinn fucking loved it. 

He kept his eyes on Matt as his fingers pressed in anyways, his lips pressing against the soft skin of Matt’s chest. His fingers went in with ease, almost no resistance present, and Matt found himself groaning softly into the air, head turning to the side for a moment as his eyes fell shut. Even though Quinn’s fingers weren’t as thick as Kirill and Brock’s fingers, the slender quality they had to them made it easier for him to actually fit in more fingers up front and slide them in deep all in one good press. 

Quinn already had two fingers inside, and as his mouth roamed Matt’s chest, Matt couldn’t help but tangle a hand into Quinn’s loose curls and press himself down on them. Another moan came from his throat, raspy and a little broken, and there were soft words dying on his lips that only Quinn could hear. Kirill was forced to watch the scene in a haze, his hand gently touching himself through his shorts. He’d only had Quinn on top twice and God, he knew how good Quinn’s nimble fingers were. Even more envy crawled inside of his heart, though he wasn’t even all that sure who he wished he could be right now. 

It didn’t take Quinn long to pick up his movements. His fingers were deep inside of Matt, pressing against and massaging his prostate until Matt began to whimper loud enough for Kirill to hear and once Quinn heard another please, he started to properly fuck Matt with his fingers. 

“Hah, fuck, Quinn,” Matt groaned out between moans, fingers tight in Quinn’s hair. This felt fucking amazing and he hoped Kirill wished this was him. God knew that he’d wish this was him if he was on the other side of the phone, too. He couldn’t look toward the phone, but he wouldn’t even if he had the opportunity. He was far too caught up in the look Quinn had on his face as he looked up toward Matt, like an animal both hungry and desperate to know that they were doing good. He was a little like Brock in that way, and Matt briefly wondered if he’d picked it up from him. Either way, he looked hot as hell. 

“Want me to, ah, keep going?” Quinn finally asked after what must’ve been a few minutes, voice raspy himself.

His arm was starting to feel sore, but he’d push through it if Matt wanted him to. He’d do anything they asked him to do, and they all knew that. Quinn kept his eyes on Matt’s, his three fingers now pressed as deep as possible, as he waited for an answer. He knew that he must’ve looked intense, but Matt seemed to shiver in pleasure instead of discomfort.

“I want you,” was all Matt could get himself to say through the fog that had slowly started to take over his mind. The feeling of Quinn’s fingers stuffing him full made him desperate, just like it always did, and he wanted more.

At the request, he could feel Quinn’s dick, which was pressing against his thigh, twitch in excitement. Quinn’s eyes stayed just as intense as he pulled his fingers out and maneuvered himself off of the bed so he could take off his briefs. Once they were gone, Quinn grasped under Matt’s knees and pulled him closer to the edge of the bed. It caught Matt by surprise and he yelped a little, but it also immediately made excitement burn hot in his veins. He'd forgotten the hidden strength Quinn had, and his quiet dominance. He felt his own cock quickly rise back to full hardness as he watched Quinn spread lube on himself and he bit his lip. He still wondered in the midst of it all if Kirill had hung up the phone, or if he was enjoying this like a pervert. Deep down, he knew the right answer.

For Quinn, his mind was fractured in three different directions. The alcohol had made all the memories of all the encounters from before sit heavy in his mind and almost torture him with the ghosts of hands and lips all over his skin. He missed Kirill, and he somewhat wished that both he and Brock could be here to watch this whole thing go down like the freak he was. He wanted them to see how good he could fuck and in some ways, he also wanted them to see just how much Matt belonged to him in this moment. Though, he had to admit that the other part of him also wished that they’d touch him too during this, whisper praises in his ear, just enough to put him back into that dreamy state he so often went to when he was being taken care of. He felt almost disgusting for wanting all of it like a greedy dragon of some kind.

“You okay?” he heard Matt ask, and he looked up from Matt’s chest. Matt looked minutely concerned, but was more turned on than anything. He had such a pretty flush all across his chest and face and Quinn had to swallow to control himself.

“Yeah,” Quinn answered. One of his hands came up to brush across Matt’s hip before he grasped it, thumb to hipbone. “Just thinking about how good it is to be here with you again.”

His response made Matt’s heart feel soft and he gave him a little smile. “Me too, Hughesy.”

The nickname felt like a soft kiss to Quinn’s forehead, like a soft rub over his back while he was falling asleep, and he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss Matt just one more time. He pressed himself inside of Matt at the same time, slow and sweet, just to hear Matt gasp and moan softly against his lips. 

Once Quinn had pressed all of himself inside of Matt, he just rested his forehead against Matt’s collarbone. It was mostly so he could contain himself and make sure he didn’t finish too fast, because damnit he was so close already, but he also liked to feel Matt tremble under him just a little as he adjusted to being full. His hands were clutching onto Quinn’s thighs as he blew out a breath - it’d been probably a good month or so since he’d bottomed at all - and he thought to himself that he must’ve been one of the only people to ever experience this with Quinn. He knew that Kirill and Brock were mostly the ones to top, spare the few times that Quinn must’ve had his fun with them as well, and well, he felt almost special in this moment. 

“You can move,” Matt said almost breathlessly. He needed him to move, or else he was going to start getting in his head about how much he’d really come to start loving Quinn in the same way he loved the other two. Did Kirill and Brock love Quinn, too? Or was he the only one who wore his heart on his sleeve?

Quinn just breathed out an “okay” and then pushed himself back up. It was his turn to look flushed and red, his hair a little sweaty and sticking to his temples and the base of his neck. Matt’s eyes traced over everything as he pulled his long legs up and rested them against Quinn’s shoulder. It was almost comedic, but neither one of them cared. Quinn’s hands came to grasp his thighs and soon enough, he was gripping him nearly tight enough to bruise and using them as leverage as he started to properly fuck into Matt. 

Kirill could see from his side of the phone the way Quinn rested his face against Matt’s calf as he moved, eyes half-lidded and full of both lust and affection as he looked down at Matt. The older man had started to touch himself as he'd watched, and while pressing his thumb under the head of his aching cock, he recognized that look in Quinn’s eyes - it was the same one that Quinn had when he looked down at Kirill while riding him, the same one he knew that Quinn didn’t realize he was doing. He was funny in that way, never quite knowing what face he was making and while Kirill had never called attention to it, he liked it. Actually, he loved it. It was just one of the ways that Quinn remained authentic and from here, Kirill could tell that Quinn really fucking liked Bolds. It was akin to the way that Boldy had looked at him earlier and fuck, it was all starting to really settle in. 

Quinny was theirs, and they were his. 

The group of them were all so enraptured with what was going on that they never noticed Faber making his quiet entrance into Matt's apartment. Having known Matt's doorcode, he'd come inside easily and had practically snuck around corners and creaky floors until he'd come to Matt's door. It wasn't closed, so all he had to do was peek his head around and see the entirely beautiful sight of Quinn between Matt's legs now, fucking into him as his hand pumped Matt's cock. He was gripping Matt's hip tightly, eyes watching the other man so intensely so he couldn't miss a single flash of pleasure across Matt's face. He was always so intense like that, utterly consumed.

Matt had since gotten louder with his moaning, almost wanton, and the moment his head had rolled over and his eyes met Brock's, he'd almost practically whined. Quinn, clueless, thought that maybe he'd just hit a good spot - which he had - so he did it again and again. He still so desperately wanted this to be good for Matt. His hand gripped Matt’s hip for better leverage almost to the point of bruising and his own soft groans and gasps grew louder as he started to get close himself with every thrust. 

Matt's eyes stayed locked on Brock's as Quinn rocked into him, suddenly feeling almost pinned down. He'd gotten so caught up in the man that Quinn Hughes was that he'd almost forgotten that Brock would join them, and now that he had, it was almost overwhelming. He had all of them here, all of the men his heart had been torn between and mended back together with, and suddenly, his cord snapped. Matt could feel his orgasm hitting him like a train, quick and fast and hard. His hands, which had been gripping Quinn’s biceps, squeezed tightly, nails biting into skin, as he came. He gasped out Quinn’s name, which damn near made everyone feel insane, and Quinn almost felt himself come at the same time. 

“Fuck,” Quinn groaned, stilling his hips. He wasn't sure if he wanted to finish yet, wanted this to end. He wanted this night to go on forever, stuck forever in this alcohol-wet haze where it was all sweat and skin and pleasure. “Fuck, Matt…”

Matt practically melted into the mattress as the high of the orgasm simmered into his brain and he just gave a loopy smile at Quinn. He had that same look on his face that made Quinn raise an eyebrow, that cheeky fucking look, and Quinn felt hands on his hips and lips on his neck before he could ask anything.

“Hmm, that was fucking hot,” Brock whispered in Quinn's ear, voice deep and almost sultry.

A shiver went down Quinn’s spine at the praise and at first, he'd let himself enjoy the feeling of Brock pressing his larger body against his. He could feel a hardness pressing against his ass through Brock's boxers, and the way Brock touched him was almost like a drug to his already pleasure-addled brain. He was way too good at it for Quinn to ever not take pleasure in it. His warm skin and muscles against his own were always intoxicating, like a calming and gentle pressure. There was no confusion or concern as to why Brock was there, at least not until Quinn started to actually absorb that this wasn’t just a mental fantasy that he'd cooked up like earlier. 

When it seemed to settle in Quinn's mind, his blood felt cold. His head whipped around, drawing raised eyebrows from Brock. 

“What are you, what, oh my God, you saw everything?” Quinn stumbled to say. He felt more embarrassed, like he’d just been caught with his hand in the damn cookie jar. Him still being inside of Matt didn’t help either.

“Just the tail end,” Brock replied, voice calm. He could see the panic in Quinn's face, and he felt almost guilty for doing this without telling him beforehand. “Hey, it's okay. Matty told me to come in.”

Quinn's mouth hung open a little and his head snapped back to Matt, who avoided his eyes. “Is that true?”

“Maybeee…” Matt slurred. He'd almost not expected Brock to show up, but Brock was the type of person who hated turning down an opportunity. 

As Quinn stumbled for words, Brock's eyes looked toward Matt's phone on the nightstand. He guessed that Kirill was there, watching all of this with his hand down his shorts and his lip between his teeth to avoid being too loud in the cabin that he was sure had thin walls. Brock gave a small smirk toward the camera as his lips went back to kissing Quinn's shoulder. 

“Don't stress about it,” he mumbled against Quinn’s skin. “This isn't that weird, if that's what you're worried about. Matt really wanted to see me fuck you.”

He pressed his hips against Quinn then, reiterating his point. It earned him a soft groan from Quinn despite him still trying to rationalize this. They really wanted to do this, to break the boundary that had seemed to be so evident before? Matt wanted this?

Quinn felt Matt’s hands on his face and he looked back at him. “I know we always seem so jealous, but I promise we all want this. Just let me watch and you feel good, okay?”

All? That was an odd choice of words, but Quinn soon forgot about it as Brock's teeth lightly nibbled at the base of his neck. 

Quinn processed what Matt said, how he actually looked more excited to see Brock's hands holding Quinn instead of himself, and swallowed down the response before nodding. This was okay, this was going to be fine.

Matt started to readjust himself on the mattress, moving back and pulling Quinn out slowly. He mourned the loss, but what he was about to see would be infinitely better. God, he'd thought about it so many times since Brock had first brought it up that it was embarrassing. Kirill never talked much about it, but all Brock ever did sometimes was ramble about how pretty Quinn was when he was full and desperate for more. Matt had told himself that one day, he'd experience that for himself, but today would be enough for now. He was sure Kirill was going to have fun watching, too.

Once Matt had nestled himself in the pillows, Quinn let himself relax a little. Brock's lips felt hot on his sweaty skin, and his lightly calloused hands roamed over his waist and thighs, grazing over his aching cock but not daring to fully touch it yet. Despite being the most needy out of everyone, Brock sure did love to tease. Usually the more he did it, the more Kirill or Quinn fucked him into the mattress, so he loved to do it like the cheeky asshole he was.

Quinn’s eyes fell closed as Brock touched all over him, his arms starting to tremble as he pressed them against the mattress just a little to keep himself up. He wasn't even sure he had the capacity to think anymore, but he never did when Brock did this whole routine. They'd done this a few times before, usually after a really good game together and they were alone, and Quinn never got tired of it. He thought maybe he'd be spent after Matt, but all this did was alight his nerves anew. 

“So fucking hot,” Brock whispered into his ear. He hadn't gotten Quinn out of his mind since he'd picked them up at the club. He needed Quinn to know that.

Quinn groaned, low in his throat, and finally did what he'd been nervous to do all along. He turned himself around, as quick as ever, and pulled Brock's head down enough to crash their lips together. He'd never kissed another man in front of someone else, but God, it felt so fucking good when Brock's arms wrapped around him and he kissed back. He could faintly hear an inhaled breath come from Matt, but soon enough, all he could hear was their own fervent breathing as they made out. 

The younger man was moaning softly as he pulled Quinn against him, their cocks brushing, and he wanted to melt into Quinn. He'd ride Quinn right here, right now if Quinn wanted like the good man he knew he could be, but he was determined to show Matt what Quinn looked like when he was on bottom.

They broke apart after what felt like an eternity and Brock pressed his forehead against Quinn’s sweaty one to feel even closer. He'd breathe in his air all day if he could. Quinn wanted to keep kissing, but Brock seemed like he had other plans. 

“Hands and knees, please?” he asked, soft and needy. Quinn couldn’t deny him when he was like that.

Without a word from Quinn, he moved to position himself just as requested. Matt was urging him forward for his own kiss and he was quick to give it. He heard the soft rustle of something soft hitting the ground and then felt the presence of Brock behind him, hands ghosting over his hips again. 

Matt was keeping Quinn's lips occupied as Brock lubed up his own fingers, but he broke their contact to gasp against Matt’s shoulder once Brock pressed inside. He couldn't help the way he jerked forward and then pressed back against them. 

“Damn, KK must've had fun before he left,” Brock said as he moved his fingers slowly. Quinn wasn't as loose as Matt had been, but he'd definitely been fucked recently. 

His comment earned another groan from Quinn, then a stuttered sound of agreement. Kirill had indeed had his fun before leaving on the hiking trip, twice in the same night if Quinn was remembering right. He'd said something about it being the second time he wouldn't get when he was away. 

Brock felt his belly turn hot at the image, mostly because he was just like everyone else - torn on wishing it was him. He loved when Kirill handled him like he wasn't bigger than him and pressed his face into the mattress while he pressed into him nice and slow, but fuck, he wished he'd been the one to do it to Quinn, too. 

“Wish I'd seen it,” Brock allowed himself to admit. It instantly scrambled Quinn’s brain, shattering any possible walls he thought might still exist between all of them. Even though Kirill wasn't here, he was inclined to believe that maybe he'd even enjoy this whole thing based on how these two were acting.

Quinn didn't say anything, but he never usually did. Instead, he just pressed his hips back against Brock's fingers as a way of saying,”Me too.”

Brock moaned at that and pressed his fingers deeper. It wouldn't take long until he could press himself inside of Quinn and show Kirill who else could fuck Quinn just as good. 

It didn't take long for Quinn to be ready, but he was also pretty sure he didn't care if he was fully prepped or not. He just wanted Brock inside of him, fucking him, kissing his shoulder like he always did, moaning in his ear about how good he feels. His forehead rested against Matt’s chest, hands gripping the pillows beside him, as he waited for Brock to press inside.

Matt had a hand on the back of his head as a form of comfort and reassurance while Brock's hand rubbed across his back and settled on his shoulder. Brock held his breath as he rubbed his cock over Quinn’s entrance a few times, just to feel Quinn squirm, and then as he slowly pressed himself inside. He couldn’t help the moan that slipped from his throat, and Quinn gasped before moaning himself. 

Brock was big, bigger than Kirill even, and Quinn had to bite his lip as he adjusted to the stretch that always occurred. It hurt, but felt so fucking good at the same time. Brock's hand was gentle on his hip as he guided himself in, a curse falling from his lips, and Quinn could almost swear that all thought left his mind once Brock bottomed out. 

The younger man stayed still for a long moment, fighting the urge to say what he'd wanted to say for three months now. Instead, he rambled about how good Quinn felt. He was always so mouthy in bed, perhaps the most out of everyone, but everyone loved it anyways. 

Soon enough, Brock was properly fucking Quinn. Sweat had since beaded all over his skin, curling up his hair on his forehead and making his glasses slide down, and his eyes were entranced as he watched his cock pump in and out of Quinn. He was moaning with every thrust, still mumbling all kinds of things that made Quinn’s brain turn to mush, and Quinn felt brainless as Matt kissed him through it. Matt was whispering how good he was, enough to make tears prickle in Quinn's eyes.

Kirill was so locked in on the sight in front of him that he felt he was really there. His hand was desperately jerking his cock, soft gasps and moans falling from his lips as he chased his orgasm and watched how Brock fucked Quinn. Quinn’s body looked beautiful from this perspective, as did Brock's, and he wanted nothing more than to be there. It was almost torturous to not be. He kept repeating his favorite word for Quinn, the same one he called him in bed every night, hoping Quinn could hear him and know he was there, know that all of them were watching and loving this. 

Loving him. 

Brock laid himself over Quinn’s back at one point as he rolled his hips, kissing over his shoulder before biting him. Each bite earned a cry from Quinn, a tightening around Brock's cock, and an increasing feeling of orgasm coming soon. He was looking up at Matt half the time too and the absolutely smitten, hot look he had on his face as he watched Quinn get fucked was entirely overwhelming for Quinn.

Quinn could tell he was close, but what really drove him so close to the edge was when Brock pulled him up and against his chest, driving his cock in deep. It had earned a little yelp from Quinn, then a loud moan followed as Brock nestled his mouth into the junction of Quinn's throat and shoulder and bit down once again. It was usually Kirill who bit there, and another sense of longing coursed through Quinn. He wished Kirill was here so badly it was almost as torturous to him as it was to Kirill himself. 

“Fuck, Quinny,” Brock groaned into Quinn’s ear as he thrusted shallowly into him. He was kissing his jaw, then turning Quinn’s face with his large fingers toward him so he could kiss him through what was soon to come. It was lewd and messy, but neither of them had any embarrassment about it.

Quinn was sure he was on another planet as Matt’s hand came up to jerk him off amidst it all, and the tears he hadn't realized were there started to trickle down his cheeks. Matt was utterly enthralled as he watched Brock and Quinn and he could really see what Brock meant when they'd talked before. Quinn did seem to get a little starry eyed when he was on bottom and he'd chase every pullout in order to get more. Matt was desperate for his own turn in the future, if Quinn wanted that. Quinn’s moans were choked off now, more whiny than anything. He wanted to finish so badly it was almost painful.

Suddenly, through the thick of it all, Quinn heard the faint sound of Kirill’s voice reach his ears. He had thought at first that it was just a mere hallucination of his own making, but then he heard it again, the soft sound of Kirill calling him his favorite name. 

любимый. Beloved.

Quinn broke the kiss for just long enough to look toward where he'd heard it and his eyes trailed to Matt's phone of all places. It was then that his eyes widened.

Kirill was here, he was fucking watching. 

“Realized it finally?” Matt asked from below, his hand not slowing down on Quinn. “KK's been watching the whole time.”

“Wha-” Quinn stumbled, then was interrupted by his own moan as both Matt and Brock’s onslaught continued. His brain felt like it was going to melt into nothing but a puddle soon if Brock kept rubbing right over that spot and Matt kept jerking him off.

“He used to like watching Matt and I,” Brock said with panting breaths. He was so fucking close. “So, ah, Matty and I thought he'd like this, too.”

His hips snapped forward harder now, chasing his own orgasm as Matt urged Quinn’s along. Quinn was sure he was going to actually die now, his brain was practically fried. Kirill had watched everything. 

“We all like this,” Matt continued. He wanted Quinn to really understand that. “Love this, really. Good, good, there you go.” 

Suddenly, it all became too much. Quinn was gasping, practically choking on air, as his body stiffened up and he spilled all across his belly and Matt's hand. He was pretty that he saw stars at that point and his ears actually muffled from how hard he came. 

Brock didn't take long after that, getting so caught up in the heat of it all and the tightness of Quinn that he finished inside of him with a loud groan. Quinn was almost limp in his grasp now and Brock tried kissing his temple to bring him back just a little. Kirill was coming down from his own orgasm as he watched that.

Nobody said anything as Matt helped rest Quinn back down against him and Brock went to go grab a washcloth. He knew Quinn hated being sticky and gross sometimes. Matt was petting Quinn’s hair as he rested there, a little unsure if Quinn was okay. He'd nestled against him, but hadn't said anything. 

Kirill was saying something on the phone still, and Matt decided it was about time to finally include him. He reached over and grabbed the phone, bringing it up to his face so he could see Kirill. His face was so close to the camera it was almost comedic, but he soon brought it back as he realized what had happened.

“Is Quinny okay?” Kirill asked immediately. Sometimes Quinn could get odd after sex, more depressed than he ought to be. He just wanted to be sure. 

“Yeah,” Quinn finally said with a groggy voice. He was still loopy, and lost in his mind, but cognizant enough of his surroundings. “I'm okay, Kirill.”

“Okay, okay, good,” he heard Kirill say. “Just, wow, Quinny.”

“I know, right?” Matt said as he gently scratched Quinn's scalp. Quinn's eyes fell closed at the sensation and he just listened to the sound of Matt's heart below his ear. He'd deal with everything else in the morning.

Brock came back into the room then, the washcloth in his hand damp with warm water. He was careful to not hurt Quinn as he cleaned him up, going off of Quinn's low sounds to see if he was okay or not. He could've rubbed another one out to just the image of his spend leaking out of Quinn, but he decided this wasn't the time or place. He cleaned Quinn as best he could before returning the cloth to the bathroom and then joining the Matt Boldy cuddle pile. 

The youngest man of them all nestled himself beside Matt while pulling some blankets over their rapidly cooling bodies. The night had gone better than he'd ever expected it to, and all it did was make him yearn for more. He leaned up and over a little to get a kiss from Matt, enjoying the taste of liquor still somewhat on his breath, before he pressed a kiss to Quinn's temple.

Quinn basked in the kiss and hummed to himself. He could hear Matt telling Kirill goodnight and then hanging up the phone, and in the back of his mind he remembered Kirill had seen everything. Tomorrow, he'd still deal with all of that tomorrow. All he wanted to do now was stay here forever, maybe even die here in Matt's arms with Faber's hand on his back.

“I love you,” Quinn mumbled out loud, to no one in particular. It felt good to say it, so fucking good. He sighed deeply against Matt’s chest as silence followed.

Everyone was shocked, but so insanely happy. It almost felt like a dream come true.

“Are you…” Brock asked, his eyes big and wide as he looked over at Quinn. Quinn almost looked asleep. His eyes flicked to Matt then, who had a sheepish smile on his face and maybe tears in his eyes. Actually, Brock was pretty sure he might've been teary too for a reason he didn't quite know.

“Yeah,” Quinn breathed out. 

He was falling asleep, falling far away while cuddled in the warmth and comfort of the men he loved. 

“Love you too, Quinny,” Matt replied back with a watery voice. He pressed a kiss to Quinn's head once again and then rested his cheek there. He held Quinn impossibly closer as if that'd make it even more real.

“Me too,” Brock quickly said. He'd been dying to say it all night, all month, maybe all of time. He pressed his own face against Quinn's head  “Fucking love you too, Hughsey.”

Always.