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Matt had settled into a comfortable high, sitting on the pier at Quinn’s lake house. It was nice, the mosquitos weren’t awful and there was a soft breeze coming through every once in awhile. He could hear the water lap up against the pier. It was peaceful.
Kirill was sitting to his right, lying down and staring up at the stars above them. Brock to his left, chatting with Quinn who was across from him, something Matt couldn’t even try to grasp the concept of. He was honestly just waiting for Quinn to pass the joint again.
He’s hyper-focused on Quinn’s hand, watching the burning end of the joint begin to ash as Quinn gestures while talking. About to pass it over to Brock, Quinn pauses to survey the group.
“Hey,” He starts, addressing everyone. “Have you guys ever shot-gunned before?”
Kirill, still looking up at the sky says, “What is shotgun? Like-” He mocks cocking a gun and shooting it, sound effects, of course, included.
They all giggle and Quinn shakes his head, “No, no, like- like, I take a hit and then exhale it into somebody else’s mouth. So they get the second hand smoke.” He turns to Matt and Brock. “Have either of you guys? We could just show him,” He shrugs like this is normal. Maybe it is to Quinn, maybe Matt’s the weird one.
He feels his throat get dry and he can’t tell if it’s the cotton mouth or the realization that he could feel Quinn’s breath mix with his own. Have Quinn fucking Hughes breathing smoke into his mouth. A year ago he wouldn’t even know Quinn more than as Jack’s older brother. He shakes his head, not wanting to get caught being untruthful, “Nah, sorry.”
Brock though, is nodding. “Yeah, in college a few times.” He shrugs, trying to be casual. Matt’s spent enough time with Brock to know it isn’t.
Matt watches Kirill sit up as Quinn scooches closer to Brock. He cannot believe he’s going to watch this.
Quinn brings the joint up to his lips and inhales, holding it for a second as he turns to Brock. Brocks cheeks are tinged pink and he’s letting Quinn grab his chin and direct him. Matt doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Quinn be so direct off of the ice. He watches, sucking in a breath as Quinn begins to exhale into Brocks mouth.
Their lips aren’t touching or anything, thank god, but Matt feels a weird stirring in his gut anyway. He knows it’s not just because he’s high.
He flits his eyes to Kirill out of pure curiosity and finds him similarly enraptured. Quinn and Brock look good together.
Matt breathes out a sigh when Quinn finally sits back.
“Fun, right?” Quinn’s asking, eyes directed at Kirill.
Kirill nods right away, broken from his trance. “Yes, looks very fun. Can we try?” And Matt realizes he’s going to die. At Quinn’s lake house, in the middle of June, he’s going to pass away, killed by having to watch his teammates shotgun. Maybe having to shotgun with them. Fuck, if they look to him he’s going to have to say no. He can feel the way his boxers are just a little tighter. There’s no way they wouldn’t notice.
Quinn crawls over to Kirill. It’s not hot, honestly, it’s kind of awkward, but Matt wouldn’t want to stand either. The pier is too small for that. Quinn sits to the right of Kirill but Kirill shakes his head and pulls Quinn into his lap. Yeah. Matt is actually going to die here.
“Will be easier this way, yes?” Kirill asks as he does it.
Quinn sits back on Kirill’s thighs and shrugs. “Yeah, probably.” He lifts the joint to his lips to take a hit, the end flaring orange and then fading again. He leans in then, just like he did with Brock. Except, when he opens his mouth to exhale into Kirill’s, Kirill leans in and slots their lips together.
Matt feels his brain shut down as he watches it happen. Quinn Hughes is sitting in Kirill Kaprizov’s lap and they’re practically kissing each other, as Matt is just sitting here, watching it. This has to be a dream, he reasons. Some weird wet dream involving his teammates that he’s going to wake up from and just pretend he never had. Or maybe whoever Quinn buys pot from laced it and he’s tripping out of his mind. Maybe he’s od-ing.
Except Quinn is pulling away and smoke is trailing up between them. Matt watches Kirill’s eyes flit back down to Quinn’s lips. And then they’re kissing for real. Like, Quinn’s hands are fisting in Kirill’s hair and Kirill is grabbing at Quinn’s waist to pull him in closer.
Okay, so Matt is definitely od-ing. He’s being rewarded for being a good enough person and this is what he gets to see before he dies. Maybe God is good.
It’s a sloppy kiss but Matt doesn’t think he even cares. Quinn and Kirill obviously don’t. He can see their fucking tongues. His dick is hard for sure now. He can feel it in his shorts, wants to rub his palm against it.
One of them moans and then they break away, flushed and breathing heavy. At least he thinks they are, but Matt’s breathing heavy too, like he’d been the one kissing them.
“Fuck,” Quinn sighs into Kirill’s mouth. They’re still so fucking close. Matt hopes they lean back in.
They don’t. Kirill leans back and Quinn tries to follow. “Sorry.” He says, sheepish. Looks to his left at Matt and then presumably at Brock who Matt honestly completely forgot was there. “Forgot we have audience.”
Quinn looks over then too. They both look so good. Matt thinks his cock might be leaking. It probably is. Their lips are red and kiss-bitten, and Kirill’s hair is messed up, more all over the place than it usually is. Their shorts are tented too, just like Matt’s.
He’s for sure dead. This confirmed it.
Matt looks to his left at Brock whose eyes are still wide and his face is even more flushed than before. Matt can’t tell if he’s hard because his legs are pulled up to his chest, chin rested on his knee.
For some reason, feeling brave (and maybe a little horny), Matt speaks up. “It’s okay.” he says slowly, turning his head away from Brock to look back at Quinn and Kirill who are still pressed close. “You guys can- like- I mean, I don’t mind.”
Brock is nodding then too, lifting his head up from its perch on his knees. “Yeah, no, we don’t mind.”
A smile splits Kirill’s lips and Matt feels like he’s under a microscope. “I think they like to watch.” He says, obviously meant just for Quinn but loud enough that Matt and Brock can hear.
Quinn is nodding and Matt feels his face heat. He feels embarrassed for being so fucking into it but how could he not be.
“You want to keep giving them show?” Kirill asks against Quinn’s cheek. He traces down the side of Quinn’s face with his nose and then nips at his jaw.
Matt watches Quinn’s eyes fall closed as he grinds down into Kirill’s lap, guided by strong hands. “I think that’s- fuck- a good idea.” He groans, letting his head fall back so Kirill can press wet kisses to his neck.
“Good.” Kirill says low against Quinn’s neck and fuck if that doesn’t go straight to Matt’s dick. “You like showing off, Quinny?” He asks, slipping a hand under Quinn’s shirt to expose a small patch of the pale skin hidden underneath.
Matt had seen Quinn shirtless far too many times to count by now but this was different. His back was arched and Kirill’s big hand was splayed against his body. Matt bites back a whine.
Quinn groans and grinds down into Kirill’s lap again. Matt can practically see the goosebumps that dot Quinn’s skin.
“Mmm, I can tell. Always a show-off.” Kirill nips at the junction of Quinn neck and shoulders. “Show-off on ice, show-off at home, show-off here. You like to be looked at.” He says decidedly.
Matt hears Quinn suck in a breath. “Not really.” He shakes his head, still grinding his hips against Kirill’s, chasing the friction.
Kirill’s hand grips Quinn’s ribs. Matt thinks he can see every tendon. Wants to watch the way they work up close. “No?” He asks.
“No. Don’t like to be looked at.”
Kirill pulls back. “So all the spins and tricks you do on the ice-” He turns to look at Matt and Brock again and Matt still feels so scrutinized by him. He can’t tell if he hates it or if he’s really into it. He ignores the way his cock begs for him to palm it. “And what you’re doing for Bolds and Fabes right now… you will do this but don’t like to be looked at?” Kirill asks, leaning back in to trace Quinn’s Adam's apple with his teeth.
Quinn huffs a breath of air and shakes his head. “That’s different.”
“I think you just don’t want to admit it.” Kirill quips and Matt can practically see the light from the house glint off Kirill’s teeth, a smile pressed into Quinn’s neck. “You like when we give you attention. Maybe you need it.”
“Fuck off. I do not need attention.”
Kirill leans away from Quinn, “So, if I stopped-”
“Don’t stop.” Quinn cuts him off, fingers tightening in Kirill’s hair and grinding down into him again.
Kirill presses a kiss against Quinn’s jaw. “Okay,” He nips. “would you want more attention?” He asks against the column of Quinn’s throat.
Matt turns to look at Brock. Kirill can’t be suggesting what he thinks he is… right? Brock’s eyes are lidded, unmoving from Quinn and Kirill grinding against each other.
Quinn must give some sort of affirmative because suddenly Kirill is addressing Matt. “Bolds, come over here.”
“What?” He asks, voice cracking. He feels so insanely out of depth.
“Quinny needs more attention. I can always ask Fabes but he had a turn already. Want to give you first chance.” Kirill says, eyes sharp and trained on Matt. Quinn is still grinding into him, needy, soft noises falling from his lips.
Before he even registers it, Matt is crawling over to them, suddenly looking at Kirill over Quinn’s shoulder. “What- uh-” He swallows thickly, “What should I do?”
Kirill hums, pondering. “Maybe… you could start with a kiss?” He suggests, nudging Quinn’s face so that he’s looking back at Matt.
Up close they’re even hotter, Quinn’s eyes blink open and he looks at Matt expectantly. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. Hesitantly, he places a hand on Quinn’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiate from him right away. It’s almost magnetic, the way Matt is pulled in, his lips slot with Quinn’s and it’s heaven. He’s died and the after life is Quinn Hughes groaning into his mouth.
Matt can feel himself get sloppy, his brain foggy with lust and the sheer amount of pot he’s had throughout the course of the night. Quinn slips his tongue into Matt’s mouth and he sucks on it, greedy and giving himself up to whatever Quinn wants. He thinks he’d do anything asked of him right now.
One of them, Kirill he thinks, runs a hand up the side of Matt’s neck and then tugs at the short ends of his hair. He chokes out a muffled “Fuck,” into Quinn’s mouth and then the hand in his hair tugs him away from Quinn.
Quinn follows Matt’s lips until Kirill lets go of Matt’s hair and then grabs Quinn’s jaw. “I wanna have a turn with Matty.” He pouts at Quinn who whines back. “I can get Fabes over here for you.” He offers, glancing at Brock.
Matt follows Kirill’s eyes to find Brock and- holy shit. He has a palm pressed against his shorts, rolling his hips up for any friction. He doesn’t even stop when all of them are staring at him, instead pressing his palm down harder and letting his head lull back just a little.
Pressing another kiss to Quinn’s jaw, Kirill leans in to whisper, “I think he wants you to go over there.”
Quinn nods, possessed, and then clumsily climbs out of Kirill’s lap to get to Brock. Matt is still watching him go when he feels Kirill’s hands grabbing at his waist and pulling him in.
“Matty.” Kirill says, hushed and hot against Matt’s neck. “Eyes over here, okay?” He leans back and places a hand on Matt’s cheek and strokes the apple softly with his thumb. “They look good but so do you. We want to distract them, not other way around.”
His eyes meet Matt’s finally and he smiles brightly. He hums and then guides Matt so that their lips finally slot together. Kirill and Quinn aren’t even comparable. Where Quinn was magnetic, Kirill is intoxicating. Matt loses himself in it, letting Kirill guide his hips so they’re grinding together. The hard line of Kirill’s cock taunts him with every roll of his hips.
Matt knows its big. They’ve shared too many showers and even more locker rooms for Matt not to know Kirill has a big dick. He’s also had one too many wet dreams about gagging on it for him to not want to shove Kirill’s shorts down right now.
Kirill’s hands slip under Matt’s shirt, skating over his ribs and Matt wonders if this is how Quinn felt earlier. He arches into the touch and then fumbles with one of his hands to palm Kirill.
“Hey-” Matt starts between kisses. “Can I-” Kirill starts kissing down Matt’s face, nipping at his jaw when Matt squeezes his dick through his shorts. “I wanna suck your dick.” Kirill pauses for a moment and then presses another open mouthed kiss to Matt’s neck. “Please?”
Humming, Kirill presses one last kiss to Matt’s collarbone. “No.” He bites where the bone juts out. “Wanna suck your dick first. Want you to watch Brock and Quinny while I do it.” Matt turns to look at them together for the first time but Kirill catches his jaw before he can. He tsks, “Not yet, Matty.” He shoves a hand into Matt’s boxers and wraps a hand around his cock. Matt moans, letting his head fall to Kirill’s shoulder. “Sounds so good, Matty. Few more like that and then I’ll let you watch, yeah?”
Kirill turns to press a kiss to the side of Matt’s head. Matt’s hips buck up into Kirill’s hand. “Fuck, Kirill-” He bites out before pressing his teeth into his bottom lip to shut himself up.
Matt can feel Kirill biting his earlobe when he hears Brock moan for the first time. It’s breathy and wanton and Matt needs to see him. Needs to see what Quinn’s doing to him to have him vocal at all, moaning out “Fuck, Q, like that, so good." In all the times Matt had thought about getting Brock into his bed he’d never imagined that he would be so… loud. And porn-y. Matt could swear he’d heard something like that in every porno he’d ever seen.
“Kirill,” Matt sighs, rolling his hips up to meet Kirill’s hand, still working him slowly. “Can I see now?” Kirill squeezes the base of Matt’s dick. Matt keens. “Please?”
Kirill smiles against Matt’s hair and Matt could swear he feels it. “Since you ask so nicely.” Then Kirill is using his big hands to manhandle Matt up and off of him. If Matt whimpers when he feels Kirill lift him up easy without a hint of struggle… no he doesn’t.
Depositing Matt next to him, Kirill leans over to kiss him. Matt doesn't even get to try to look at Brock and Quinn before Kirill slips his tongue into Matt's mouth, moaning into him when Kirill’s hand wraps around his cock again.
He strokes him a few times, slow and torturous before pulling away, grinning at Matt with those shark teeth. Matt wants Kirill to really bite him. Something harder than the little nips he’s been pressing into Matt’s skin all night. Something that he’ll be able to see in the morning.
Kirill slides down to situate himself between Matt’s legs and then presses a kiss to Matt’s inner thigh. Matt fists a hand in Kirill’s hair, tugging at his blonde curls. He gets another sly smile and then Kirill is wrapping his lips around the tip of Matt’s cock.
The sound that comes out of Matt’s mouth is indecipherable, watching Kirill work his cock further and further into his mouth. His lips are stretching around Matt’s dick and there’s spit forming at the corners and Matt knows he’s not going to last very long. Fuck, honestly, he’s surprised he’s lasted as long as he has.
Matt hears Brock moan again then and lets his eyes move from Kirill’s lips to Brock and Quinn and fuck, are they a sight. Quinn has a hand wrapped around Brocks cock, pumping him quick and dirty. Brock’s face is shoved into Quinn’s neck and Quinn is whispering something into Brock’s ear that has him squirming, hips jumping up to meet each stroke. Quinn looks up then, eyes meeting Matt’s, a grin splitting his face as he continues talking.
“Oh, fuck,” Matt groans, hand tightening in Kirill’s hair. He can feel Kirill’s nose press into his pubes and it’s way too much all of a sudden. “Oh, shi- Oh, fuck- Kirill- I’m gonna-” He’s scrambling to pull Kirill off but Kirill won’t give, head still bobbing like he has something to prove.
Matt curls in on himself and tightens his fist in Kirill’s hair when he comes, Kirill swallowing all of it down and letting Matt rock into his mouth through the aftershocks. He pulls off of Matt with a dirty pop and then wipes at his lips, small grin playing at his lips.
“Was good?” He asks, kissing Matt’s jaw and then nipping at his earlobe.
Matt just nods, barely able to process Kirill’s question.
Kirill hums, pulling back a little. “Good. The show was good too?” He asks and Matt is looking past Kirill and over at Brock and Quinn again. Brock is slumped against Quinn, looking boneless and spent. Quinn is wiping his hand on his thigh with a pleased little smile on his face.
“Fuck- yeah.” He’s saying before he can even think. Kirill is about to talk again when Matt starts fumbling for Kirill’s dick. “Wait, what about you, let me-”
Pushing away Matt’s hand Kirill cuts him off. “Don’t worry about it, Quinny’s got me.” He thumbs the apple of Matt’s cheek and then kisses him softly. “So good for me, Matty.” He smiles and then sits back.
Quinn is whispering in Brock’s ear and then Brock is lifting away from Quinn to scoot towards Matt. Matt meets him in the middle while Quinn and Kirill do the same.
Matt leans against Brock, grateful for the warmth of another body next to him while Kirill and Quinn- well, Quinn, back in Kirill’s lap, wraps a hand around his and Kirill’s dicks at the same time.
They’re kissing again, sloppy and open-mouthed just like before but it’s different too. Like they’re both just trying to get off instead of before, when they were kissing just to kiss. Kirill is moaning into Quinn’s mouth, little gasps and praises as Quinn jerks them off. It doesn’t even look like Quinn’s hand fits all the way around their cocks and Matt feels his own dick twitch again when he realizes.
Quinn’s hips are rocking up into his fist and Matt can see his thighs working. He wants to sink his teeth into Quinn. Misses the taste of him in his mouth. Wants it back.
Matt realizes he could probably get the remnants of it when Brock places a heavy hand on his thigh. He noses Brock around until the brunette is finally looking at him. Matt doesn’t even say anything before leaning in, one of his hands sliding up Brock’s back to hold the nape of his neck firmly.
He sighs into the kiss. It’s been a long time coming. He’d seen the way Brock looked at him on roadies and definitely knew he felt the same, he was just sort of… waiting for the pieces to slot together. He doesn’t think he ever could’ve guessed that this would be how it unfolded but he definitely would not complain about it. Getting to make-out with all three of the guys he regularly ogled in the showers instead of just one of them? Matt couldn’t ask for a better outcome.
His cock is about to start filling out again when Matt hears Kirill gasp a little headier than before. He pulls back from Brock to stare at Kirill who’s mouth is slack, pressing his face up against Quinn’s anywhere he can get contact. His eyes are wide open like he doesn’t want to miss a single part of it and then they’re screwing closed as he spills all over Quinn’s fist.
Quinn is surging forward to swallow Kirill’s moans with a messy kiss. He strokes them a few more times before letting go of Kirill. He wipes up as much come as he can from Kirill’s dick and then wraps his hand around himself, using Kirill’s come as lube.
“Oh, fuck.” Brock is groaning against Matt’s side. “I’m gonna get hard again.”
Matt huffs out a laugh that quickly dies as Quinn’s hand grows shaky, little noises leaving his lips every time a kiss breaks. He’s pulling away and shoving his face into Kirill’s neck when he comes, the load mixing with Kirill’s as he strokes himself through it. Probably mixing with Brock’s too. Matt’s jealous for a second until he remembers Kirill has been licking the taste of him into Quinn’s mouth the entire time.
Quinn wipes his, truthfully disgusting hand on Kirill’s shorts and Kirill swats at him, cursing at him like this is all normal. And again that thought slips into Matt’s head. Maybe for them it is. He feels suddenly sober but knows he isn’t when he tries to verbally express the thought. An inadvertent, “Do you guys fuck?" falling from his lips.
They all freeze, Brock included. Kirill is grinning when he turns to look at him. Says, “Yeah.” at the same time Quinn says “What?”
Quinn snaps his head to Kirill. “Dude, what the fuck.”
“They were gonna find out. It’s fine.” Kirill shrugs, still looking at Brock and Matt. Matt doesn’t know what Brocks thinking but he personally wonders if they set the whole thing up. Wonders if it’s weird that he finds that idea hot instead of fucked up. The idea of Quinn and Kirill creating a whole plan just to fuck him and Brock, embarrassigly, turns him on. He wants to know if they fucked while planning it. How many times? Have they ever moaned Matt’s name before tonight? Brock’s?
Quinn sighs and lets his forehead fall against Kirill’s. “Probably,” he resigns. Turning to face Matt and Brock, Quinn slips his dick back into his shorts. “You guys wanna head up?” He nods towards the house.
Brock shrugs next to Matt and that’s that, they’re standing and making the shaky trek up the hill.
“So like- what was the plan?” Matt asks into Quinn’s side, fingers hooked in his sandals.
Quinn huffs a laugh and then knocks his shoulder against Matt’s. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Let’s just get to bed.”
Matt just nods. Probably a good idea. They’ll figure it out tomorrow.