“Okay, that’s enough dick measuring.” Paul stands upright and pushes Brendon down the hallway. “I also didn’t need to know how rough Jeremy likes it.” He looks at Brendon like he’s remembering something. “How have I never seen bruises on you? You never wear a shirt in our room.” Brendon smirks, looking over his shoulder at me then at Preston, who is still pressed against me. “I rarely bottom, my guy.” Paul stops walking mid-step, spins to look at me then back at Brendon, then back at me. “Wait. Really?” Fucking Christ. I don’t think it’s possible for my face to get any hotter. Why am I
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