Sir Peter’s beard scrapes against Valentin’s jaw as he pins him between his chest and Tomas Brand’s, fingers digging into the dark hair at his nape while Rudy Gram’s tattooed arm snakes around from behind, gripping a thigh so tight the muscle jumps. The ocean crashes in the distance, but the only sound is the rasp of skin on skin and Valentin’s breath hitching as Sir Peter’s lips crush his, teeth grazing the lower one before pulling back just enough to let Tomas press his own against the side of his neck, tongue flicking the pulse point. Rudy’s calloused hand slides up the inside of Valentin’s thigh, fingers curling around the waistband of his pants, pulling him flush against the hard length pressing into his ass.
