“A bet?” Derek remarked, brow raised and amused smirk on his as he took another swig of his beer. “Pretty ballsy thing to suggest to me, especially for a rookie in this place” Derek chuckled, leaning against the banister as the party around them in the frat house continued. Doing a Masters in Sports Psychology meant he was older than most of the guys here and he’d gained a lot of respect and most knew better than to challenge him. But apparently not everyone, with one of the new guys to get inducted among their ranks boldly doing just that and Derek had to admit it was impressive and had been some time since somebody had stepped up to him. “Alright then, McCall was it? I’m listening, what’s this best and what are the stakes? Better make it good if you want to make it worth my time and actually exciting.”

juno looked up from his phone with an ‘excuse me?’ look on his face. he recognized the man from meeting him in passing but he wouldn’t be able to tell you much of anything past his first name….if he even remembered that. he was sat at the bar after a long day of working on his tenants’ apartments. leaking pipes, runny faucets, clogged drains. you name it, he dealt with it. it was a good thing he was as multi-skilled as he was. otherwise, he’d be paying out the ass for someone else to do it for him.

“oh, really? is that how you start all your conversations?” he asked with a bit of a scoff before taking a sip of his beer. “i guess when they say chivalry is dead, they really meant it.”

His name is spoken hushed whispers along the streets, between the lips the rats and beaks of birds, like a warning or a threat. People knew not to mess with him, and those that didn’t, learned. His face however, was less well known, which made for a nice surprise when he’d been disrespected or when he caught someone breaking his rules.

“Usually there’s less talking involved.” Eric liked making big men submit., especially ones that were larger than him. The challenge to get them to do so willingly excited him, and if that failed he could always force them to. With great power come great abuse of that power, and all the benefits of that abuse.

The mafia boss titled his head, grin clear on his face, “I still meant every damn word.” He’d seen Juno around when his men had called the handyman to fix up some of the general household appliances in a few of the houses they frequented at the time. To say he got a craving when he’d seen the other bent over would be an understatement, and sure that probably wasn’t the best opener, but fortune definitely favours the bold.

“Dean fucking Winchester.”

Link was sat over the edge of the couch, his legs spread open with Chuck’s body in front of him, on his four. His cock was barely inside the other but enough to please them both, and guided the other’s hips backwards with a firm grip over his big ass, bringing him back and forth his own waist.  Although his gaze should be put on that, to make sure he didn’t pull him away too much, he was looking at the other’s perfectly carved face and overall physique. “That’s it,” he moaned, “such a good tight hole you have, baby.”

Born like a noble’s heir, but raised like a farmer’s son --------- or that what was his father used to say. That as rain had practically soaked into Aidan’s riding habit, he only grunted at how it was a more of a cumbersome thing as if riding in haste through the rain wasn’t something of import. If anything, Aidan was more worried about how his host would take it. As Lord Livingston’s guest in his vast country estate, being a burden and someone to be concerned for, were the very last things that Aidan sought to accomplish. After all, he had already been too kind. But as bad luck would like to play him cruelly, a bursting swing of the door and Aidan found himself tensing within a sudden grip for mortification—his muscled brawn clearly showing through his drenched shirt that came even more sculpted with the fit of his ensemble; from his girdle to his pants and down to his boots. He sighed then, breasts pushing against the cling of the sopping fabric of his shirt as his jaw clenched.

“Rob—Lord Livingston…” Aidan hummed as fabric stretched over his form when he leaned to carefully drape his habit on the table. “I…I’m sorry for this… I rode as fast as I could to avoid the rain… I just need to dry myself, that’s all..”