Page 35 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

Gabe’s blushing now, and I think he’s fighting back tears of his own. “This doesn’t feel real to me either,” he finally says. “And I don’t know what my future holds, you know?” He blinks hard and fast. “I just know that I want to fight to have the two of you in it.”

Tom kneels down then, and I follow him, until we’re both face-to-face with Gabe. “Then we fight together, little fox,” he says softly.

I nod. “What Tom said. We fight together.”

Tom and I lean in then, and we try something completely new: a kiss with all three of us.

Honestly? It’s a little awkward and weird for a moment, and I can’t quite figure out right away where to put my lips or my tongue.

Just like the start of a race, I guess. But then I let myself settle into the sensations, the feeling of just being this close, this connected, to Tom and Gabe. And then?

Then it’s lights out and away we go, and all I feel is the thrill and the excitement and the hope of what this race has in store for us. All three of us.

At some point, we all come up for air.

“I want to watch you,” Gabe whispers. “You two. Together. I want to see you both.”

Tom lets out a choked sound, and I immediately go into planning mode. Must make Tom and Gabe happy, my brain orders. But I also know Gabe shouldn't be moving around much right now. He’s just barely out of the hospital.

Good thing I’m a problem solver. In less than thirty seconds, I have a plan.

“Okay,” I announce. “Here's what we're going to do. Gabe, you're staying on the couch. Pull those sweat pants down just enough that you can take your dick out. But don’t touch it after that.”

Gabe’s eyes go wide and he starts to slowly pull at his waistband.

“Tom,” I order. “Stand up and get naked.”

Tom arches an eyebrow.

“Yup,” I go on. “Tom, I know you’re used to bossing the two of us around, but I’m giving the orders around here right now. For at least the next thirty minutes, you two belong to me. Whatever I tell you to do, it’s happening. Unless you want to bring in some colors and change that.”

“Look who’s gone into racing mode,” Tom mutters, and I know he's thinking about the way I used to talk over the radio when I was trying to tell my engineer I wanted something. Tom probably hasn't heard me talk like this since the last time I was on a track.

“You know it,” I tell him. “So get to work.” He stands and starts stripping, and I check in with Gabe as I stand up too and pull my own shirt over my head.

Gabe’s got his sweatpants pulled just slightly down his waist, and the head of his cock is peeking out of the top of the waistband.

Somehow, that’s even hotter than if he was completely naked.

Don’t ask me how. One of his hands is inching toward his dick.

“No touching yet,” I order him. “Soon, though. I promise.”

I get my clothes off in record time, and soon after that Tom’s got his clothes off and in a pile next to a chair. I pull Tom toward me, drop us both down gently onto the large, shag rug below us, and I wrap him up in my arms as tightly as I can.

“Wow. That’s so hot,” Gabe whispers above us.

“No touching yourself yet,” I order him. “All you’re allowed to do right now is watch.” And then I take Tom’s cock in my hand, pull it toward mine, and wrap them together within my palm.

Tom gasps again. Our bodies are braided together now, our cocks entwined, and the skin-to-skin contact feels almost as magical as it does unbelievable.

I never once imagined that I might have Tom’s body pressed against mine like this.

I’ve never imagined the feel of the hairs on his chest rubbing into mine or feel the weight of his ankles moving between mine as I slowly lean in to kiss him again.

I stop only millimeters from his lips. “Gabe,” I say. “You can touch yourself now. But here’s the rule: you have to ask before you can come. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Gabe says in a small voice.

“Good, little fox.” Then I move in the rest of the way and take Tom’s lips in a long, hard, exploratory kiss.

And we’re off to the races again, re-learning the familiar and finding new curves in the track.

My brain and body are on fire, and every inch of me craves more of Tom.

It’s like I have to map every part of his body with mine.

His mouth, his dick, everything. I let one hand tread up and down his ass, studying the curves and dips there, while my other hand holds tightly to the two of our cocks, stroking them together.

“Do you like this?” I manage to murmur against his tongue.

“Do you like feeling us together like this?” There’s no lube, and the harsh friction of our dicks together creates as much pain as it does pleasure.

I pull some of the liquid at the top of our cocks together and coat both of us with it, and Tom lets out a long sigh.

“This isn’t real,” he whispers. “This can’t be real.”

His words hit my heart dead-center, and suddenly I’m twelve years old again, lying in a field of clover with Tom next to me. But this time, when I remember the way he turned to look at me while we hunted for four-leaf victories together, I see something I never saw back then.

I see longing. Loneliness. Hopelessness.

There’s not much point in regretting the past; I learned that long ago. But one of the best lessons I ever learned from racing is not to regret the past, but to use it. Take all the lessons the past offers you, one of my trainers used to say, and use those lessons to build your future.

And right now, building my future means showing both Tom and Gabe exactly how much I’m all in with both of them.