Page 22 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

I mean, yeah. Fuck yeah. Watching Tom take Gabe in his mouth was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life, and all I want right now is to see what it feels like to swallow him down like that.

But as Gabe leans back against Tom, sighing and whimpering slightly, all I can feel is the power and responsibility of this moment.

I want to make Gabe feel good so damn badly.

But I can’t fuck this up. I can’t hurt him somehow, or make him regret what he’s sharing with us right now.

Tom reaches over to take my hand. “Trust yourself, Colin. Feel it. I’ll be right here,” he says. “Just like the first time you climbed into a go-kart.”

The memory makes me smile: a tiny Tom standing at the edge of the go-kart track as I slid in front of the wheel for the first time. And as he laces his hand around mine and takes hold of it tightly, my entire body fills with a sensation of power and comfort.

I look to Gabe, who’s watching both of us with wide eyes.

His cock stands at attention still, above the jeans and underwear that hang around his ankles.

I pivot slightly so that I’m in front of him while Tom stays wrapped around the back of his body.

I brush a hand from the edge of Gabe’s right hip, down across his body, toward the area just under his belly button.

Gabe lets out another strangled mewl. And that sound gives me the last bit of confidence I need to sink all the way down to my knees in front of him, still fully clothed.

I grip tightly to Tom’s hand as I open my mouth wide and take Gabe inside of me.

At first, the sensation is so big and bold that it’s almost all-encompassing.

I’ve gone down on women before. It was always fine.

Those experiences always created the right responses to lead to a conclusion.

But that was all that ever happened for me, and I could never have ever imagined that it might feel this arousing, this momentous, to have another person’s dick inside of my mouth.

I take my time, licking and sucking, following the lead of Gabe’s guttural noises and Tom’s easy cues. “Take him a little deeper now,” Tom whispers in my ear. “Yes, just to there.” Gabe yelps. “Now,” Tom goes on, “Colin, take your hand and stroke him, down behind his balls.”

Gabe lets out a loud cry, and Tom laughs. “Keep the volume down, little one, or Bethany’s going to come charging in here wondering what’s going on.”

Gabe gulps and nods as he runs one hand through my hair. “Wish we were lying down.” He says the words in something like a gasp. “Wish I could hold you both right now. Have you hold me.”

“Oh, little one.” Tom brushes his lips against Gabe’s neck.

“Are we a little touch-starved? We’re just going to have to fix that, aren’t we?

” I watch as he wraps his arms even more tightly around Gabe’s torso and rests his cheek against Gabe’s.

It’s somehow incredibly sweet and incredibly damn hot all at the same time.

I let go of Tom’s hand so I can reach around to pull Gabe more tightly against me and take him further into my mouth.

“That’s it, bestie,” Tom murmurs. “Don’t think. Just feel. You’re doing so well, honey.”

Honey? He’s never called me that before. That thought registers quickly and fleetingly, but I hardly have time to study it. Because the words he’s using have my cock growing even harder than it already was, and it’s nearly cement-like in my jeans now.

“Look how hard Gabe is in your mouth,” Tom adds, his voice calm and confident. He lets go of my hand. “Unzip your jeans, Colin. Show yourself to Gabe. Let him see you touch yourself.”

Gabe lets out another strangled cry, and Tom leans over to kiss him on the neck. “See, Colin? He wants it. Don’t you want to give our Gabe what he wants?”

Our Gabe. Another phrase that rings and echoes in my eardrums. But he’s right: that’s all I want in the world right now, to give the man above me everything. I drop my other hand to my crotch and unzip my jeans, then help my cock pop through the hole in my boxer briefs.

Gabe lets out another moan, and Tom makes a sound I don't quite recognize. “Very good,” he finally says in a high voice. “Very good job. Now, don’t stop what you’re giving to Gabe. But reach down and stroke yourself at the same time. Do whatever feels good.”

It takes a moment for me to find a rhythm.

The whole process feels like how some people describe walking and chewing gum at the same time, which I’ve never actually found all that tough to do.

But this combination of movement takes some concentration.

I don’t masturbate all that often, and I have to try a few things out before I find a rhythm that makes my dick stand even higher at attention as blood rushes through it.

Then I have to set that rhythm against the one I’m using as I move my mouth up and down Gabe’s cock.

“Very, very good,” Tom whispers. His voice is low and breathy, and when I look over I see that he’s got his own hand down his pants now, moving it quickly back and forth.

And for some reason, that’s all it takes: I cry out against Gabe’s cock as I come in my own hand.

The release feels so much bigger than usual, and I find myself thrusting against the waves of my orgasm just as Gabe cries out.

He says something, something to warn me, but I don’t listen.

I don’t want to listen. I stay there, mouth wrapped tightly around him, as he loses himself inside of me.

He tastes sweet and salty and like so many other flavors I’ve never tasted before, all at once.

Another high noise echoes through the room, and I realize the noise is coming from Tom.

He’s gotten his cock out of his boxers too.

I’ve seen his cock plenty of times over the years—Tom and I have been sharing rooms on and off since we were six—but I’ve never seen it like this before.

It’s so hard it’s purple and red at the tip, so much larger than I’ve ever seen it, so giant in his hand.

He grips tightly to Gabe as he lets go.

“Holy crud,” Gabe whispers as I slowly release him from my mouth. He grabs for me as I stand up. “Please,” he whispers.

I know what he needs. I don’t need to hear it. I move to wrap my body around one side of him. Tom stays firmly wrapped to his other side.

One of my arms brushes against Tom, and we both pull away like we’ve been shocked—but that makes no sense. This is just Tom. We’ve hugged like a hundred million times in our lives. Our eyes lock, and he looks away.

It’s one of those very rare and always terrifying moments where I have no idea what my best friend is thinking.