by T. M. Smith
“That’s a foul, and he’s holding. Come on, Ref, get your goddamn head in the game!” Frank shouted. Taylor rolled his eyes, standing and pushing his chair against the cabinet, heading into the living room.
***
The Cowboys lost, but the food was delicious, and it was nice to spend the day with their friends. After everyone was gone, Rand had to shove Shannon out of the kitchen so he could clean up. “You cooked, babe. Here, go sit with Ro and watch TV.” He handed Shannon two bottles of water and pushed him toward the living room. It didn’t take long to rinse and load the dishwasher, and he was quite proud of himself for cleaning the mess instead of making one for a change. Following the sounds of laughter, he came around the corner and stopped, watching Shannon and Rory kiss and pet each other. Whether it was a conscious decision on their part, he didn’t know, but the two of them had not doted on each other at all the past few weeks, not that he knew of. He was part of their relationship now, yes, but the foundation had been formed between Rory and Shannon and, quite frankly, encouraging them to continue to cultivate their bond could only strengthen the ties that bound the three of them together.
It was very arousing, watching the two of them move together, Shannon sliding into the space between Rory’s legs when Rory grabbed his ass and jerked his body closer. Rand’s dick was hard just from watching, listening to the sounds they made. Rubbing his palm over the bulge in his pants, he groaned, drawing the attention of the two men on the couch making out like teenagers. “No, don’t stop. I want to watch,” he told Shannon when he sat back on his knees.
“Join us, then.” Shannon’s tone was sultry and inviting, but Rand wanted them to enjoy each other, to remember how much they loved each other before he became part of the equation. It was important and vital that Shannon and Rory know that he didn’t mind.
Reaching for the hem of the shirt he was wearing, he lifted it over his head and tossed it onto the floor, then unbuttoned and lowered the zipper on his cargo shorts. “Another time.” Rand let the material fall—thankful that he’d decided to go commando that morning—stepping out of them as he moved over to one of the chairs, sitting down and fisting his painfully hard erection. “It’s very stimulating, watching the two of you. Just because there are now three of us doesn’t mean that you can’t still enjoy each other, pleasure one another.”
Shannon followed the movement of Rand’s hand, licking his lips and swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Are you s-sure?” the adorable blond stuttered. Rand nodded, licking the palm of his left hand so he could add some moisture to his stiff prick. “Holy shit, Rand, I want to ride that.” Shannon groaned, his usually higher pitched tone dropping several octaves.
“Oh no, not tonight, babe.” Rory reached for Shannon, pulling him back down for a scorching kiss. It was so fucking sexy that it curled Rand’s toes, and he was on the other side of the room. It wasn’t surprising that Shannon moaned and squirmed in Rory’s arms. “Tonight this ass is mine. I need you to get lube, and get naked, and not necessarily in that order.”
Shannon was up off the couch and running to the bedroom, dashing back a few seconds later with a familiar tube in his hand. Tossing the bottle onto Rory’s chest, he tore at the buttons on the shirt he was wearing, intent on getting naked, fast. “Stop.” Rand didn’t shout, but his tone left no room for argument. “Slowly, Shan, slowly.” Turning to face him, Shannon cocked his head to one side and smiled seductively, popping one button, then the next, moving at a more leisurely pace, a slight flush painting his usually gorgeous, pale skin. Turning around, Shannon looked over his shoulder and winked at Rand before dropping his pants and bending over, giving him his first glimpse of a perfectly tight, rounded ass and a hole that was begging to be kissed, licked, and laved at. Rand was starting to question his choice to simply sit back and watch.
Rory was struggling to get his pants off, his bare chest already glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. “Here, let me help.” Shannon’s laugh was melodic. Apparently tired of the pace, Shannon jerked Rory’s shorts and briefs off, dropping them on the floor by the couch.
Attention homed in on the two cocks kissing and sliding together, Rand blinked when he heard the snick of the lube cap being popped open. He watched with bated breath as Rory slid one lube-slicked finger inside Shannon’s passage, and then a second, the most erotic moans and whimpers falling from his lips. Lord, but he wanted to swallow those noises as he feasted on Shannon’s mouth. “Fuck, enough prep, babe. I’m gonna come, and I really wanna come on your dick.” Shannon trembled, reaching back and grabbing Rory’s wrist.
Straddling Rory’s lap, Shannon lifted up, the head of Rory’s cock inches from entering him when Rand had an idea. “Wait, help him sit up, Shan. I want to watch his thick cock as it fills you. I want to watch you ride him.” Just the thought made his balls tingle, and he had to squeeze them to stop from coming right then and there.
“Your wish is my command.” Shannon stood and helped Rory sit up, stuffing a couple of pillows behind him before climbing into his lap. Fucking hell, who knew voyeurism could be so goddamn arousing? He was a gay man, so it was a given that he’d watched his fair share of gay porn, but it was wildly different. Watching strangers on a screen and watching the men he was falling hard for were worlds apart. Rand couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been more turned-on than he was right then, watching Rory slowly slide into Shannon’s body, the younger man’s hole stretching to accommodate Rory’s girth. Slowing his strokes to keep time with Rory’s thrusts, Rand scooted a little farther down in the chair, spreading his legs wide so he could play with his balls. They were heavy and sensitive, so he concentrated on his length instead.
“Oh God, Rory, baby, so close.” Shannon picked up the pace, his back bowing as his cries grew louder with each plunge. Rory looked around the lithe body in his lap, locking eyes with Rand. Pupils shot, nothing but a thin line of green circling black orbs, he held Rand’s gaze for a few seconds before his eyes drifted downward. Slamming his cock into Shannon’s welcoming body, Rory was fixated on Rand fisting his dick. When Shannon came a few seconds later, a flurry of shouts and curses, Rory claimed his lips with a demanding kiss before breaking away and looking over at him again. Somehow, he managed to hold his orgasm at bay until Rory drove up into Shannon one last time and froze, head back, eyes closed, and he spilled his seed in the body wrapped around him.
All it took was three firm strokes, and Rand was coming so hard his vision blurred. “Fucking hell, that was amazing.” He panted, trying to catch his breath.
Shannon chuckled. “Next time I ride you, and Rory gets to watch.”
Rory was lying sideways on the couch, his good arm under the weight of his body. “As long as I get a shot in the saddle somewhere along the way, I’m down for whatever.” He winced, bucking Shannon off his lap so he could roll over onto his back.
Grabbing his discarded shirt, Rand cleaned the spunk off his stomach and quickly pulled his shorts on. Still a bit lightheaded, he walked around the coffee table on jelly legs, squatting and cleaning Shannon’s seed off Rory with the shirt. “Here, let’s get you in bed, so you can take a pill and I can dress your wound.”
“It hurts like a motherfucker.” Rory hissed when Rand lifted him off the couch. “But it was so worth it.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.
Pushing the bedroom door open with his foot, Rand walked around the bed and sat Rory down then flipped the lamp on. Trailing his fingers up Rory’s arm to the bandage covering his shoulder, he gently pulled the gauze away so he could thoroughly check the wound. “Shan, sweetie, where are the supplies for his aftercare?”
“In the drawer right there.” Shannon pointed to the bedside table. “You’re worrying me, Rand. Is everything okay?” Shannon was on his knees, peering over Rand’s shoulder, grabbing Rory’s hand.
Smiling, Rand leaned back and kissed Shannon. “He’s fine…don’t you worry. I just think that the healing process is taking l
onger than I would like. Maybe it’s the antibiotics they’re giving you, Rory. I’ll call the doctor tomorrow and ask him to reevaluate.” Before he was discharged, Rory added him and Shannon to his HIPAA release, so that the doctor and physical therapist could talk to them about his care as well.
Leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed, Rory held still while Rand cleaned the stitches and dressed the wound. “There you go…all better.” Rand kissed him, just a quick peck, before shoving the supplies back into the drawer.
“Will you stay with us tonight, Rand? Please?” Shannon smiled over at him, reaching for his hand. They’d shared something new that night, become more intimate and secure in the relationship. Continuing to refuse to sleep in the same bed with them, regardless of the reason, seemed selfish somehow.
“Okay,” Rand agreed.
Shannon climbed out of bed, disappearing down the hall. “Where’s he going?” Rand asked.
Rory reached for him, cupping his face, rubbing a thumb over Rand’s top lip. “It’s his thing. He checks all the doors and windows, makes sure everything is off, and grabs us each a bottle of water.” Rory glanced over his shoulder. “I’m hoping now that the ghosts of the past have all been exorcised, he’ll be able to let go of the fear he carries around.”
“Hey.” He stretched out on the bed beside Rory, trailing his fingers along the length of the tantalizing man’s arm. “Being cautious is never a bad thing. Maybe we can let him keep worrying about keeping us safe.” Grinning, he leaned over and tasted Rory’s lips. A gasp pulled them apart.
“Jesus, you two are fucking hot.” Shannon flipped the ceiling fan on, setting the water on the bedside table before climbing under the sheet, sliding into the small space between Rand and Rory.
It had been a long day and they were all tired, especially Rory. It wasn’t long before he and Shannon fell asleep. Rand propped himself up on one arm, watching the two men for how long, he didn’t know. Shannon resembled an angel, his blond hair iridescent in the moonlight streaming through the window. Bathed in shadows, Rory’s features were sharper, more angular, his long black hair spread over the pillow like the wings of a raven. Simply put, they were breathtaking. How lucky was he that he got to call the two beautiful men in this bed his, that he got to love them?
The fact that he’d fallen for Shannon and Rory didn’t terrify him as it once would have. After the implosion of his relationship with Grant, Rand swore he’d never allow himself to get close enough to another man, to open his heart and take a chance on getting it broken again. This time it felt different, right…complete.
Chapter Thirty Two
Shannon
“God…dammit, I fucking hate you!” Rory shouted at the physical therapist. Shannon chuckled, filling the kettle and setting it on the base to heat, so he could make them some tea. They’d been back home for three weeks now, and the physical therapist had been putting Rory through the motions, the exercises meant to strengthen his shoulder no longer causing excruciating pain but still very uncomfortable, leaving him winded, exhausted, and oftentimes cranky. On the worst days, Rory would shout loud enough to raise the roof and Shannon would let it go in one ear then out the other, realizing how hard it was for his man—having to rely and depend on others for the simplest of things. Rand, however, was not so accommodating. The newest addition to their coupling, the man that made them a threesome, had a bark far worse than Rory’s and a bite that required stitches.
At some point while they were still at the hospital, Taylor, Frank and Taylor’s parents along with Connie, Claire, and Blair had cleaned the apartment thoroughly. All the dishes and glasses he’d broken on Tuan’s head were gone, new ones in their place. The mangled coffeepot and busted blender had been replaced as well and, much to his delight, there were three candles sitting on the counter waiting when they arrived at the apartment the day Rory was discharged. The fridge and cabinets were stocked, and the freezer held a dozen or so containers with soups, pasta, and stews that only needed to be warmed. Shannon had locked himself in the bathroom while Rand got Rory settled on the couch the afternoon they arrived back at the apartment after he saw what his friends—no, his family had done for them. He wanted to cry in peace and didn’t want to worry Rory when the man needed to focus all his strength on getting better, not on pampering his boyfriend.
“Hey, I’m headed out. You should give him a pain pill, so he can rest. I was pretty brutal today,” the adorable little twink in scrubs told Shannon as he left the apartment.
Two mugs were already prepped with diffusers holding Rory’s favorite cinnamon plum tea and a dollop of honey—local, of course. He filled them from the kettle, grabbing a couple of spoons before walking to the bedroom. Rory was lying on his back, panting, a tear trickling down his cheek. “Oh, babe. Here, let’s get you situated.”
Ever so gently, he helped Rory scoot back until he was leaning on a stack of pillows against the headboard. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, babe. The Bureau said to take all the time you need. Stop trying to make your arm work overnight. It’s futile and causes you nothing but pain.” Shannon fussed with the blanket before reaching for one of the cups, turning and helping Rory wrap his hand around the warm ceramic mug. When he held the small, white tablet between two fingers, Rory opened his mouth and accepted it, swallowing the pill down with a swig of tea. He sat with Rory, both of them content to just be in each other’s company, until the pill kicked in and Rory started dozing off. Still, Shannon sat on the edge of the bed watching the man he loved sleep for a while, thoughts straying to the man in the other room that he was falling hard for as well.
Leaving the bedroom, he pulled the door closed to give Rory the quiet he needed. His socked feet padded softly across the room to the kitchen, and he set the mugs in the sink. He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the section of the floor that had been covered in blood that night, Rory’s blood. Shannon swore sometimes he could still smell the stench of gunpowder and copper, the nausea threatening to divulge the contents of his stomach. His feet carried him to the drawer where he kept the lighter, the same drawer that held his knives, another reminder of that night. Would he ever be able to walk through his home and not think about it? Not remember the look of anguish on Rand’s face when he first ran in, the shocked expression on Rory’s when Tuan unloaded his gun, two bullets tearing Rory’s flesh from his bones? The silver lining was watching Tuan’s body land on the floor, like a fucking brick, after Connie put a bullet between his eyes.
No, this had to stop. He was not going to allow the past to dictate his future, not anymore. This was his home—his, Rory’s, and Rand’s, and he’d have to figure out a way to deal with it. Staring at the hardwood floors, an idea came to him. “We can sand them and apply new stain.”
Rand shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his head. “Hey, babe. Everything okay? Who you talkin’ to?” Voice still full of sleep, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink.
“Sweetie, what do you think about sanding the wood flooring in here and over by the bedroom? We can add a darker stain—maybe put one of those long, thin metal strips between the kitchen and the living room.” He was thinking out loud, surprised when Rand agreed.
“Yeah, that could work. And separating the two rooms could make the space seem larger than it is.” Rand shrugged.
Clapping, he danced on the balls of his feet. “It’s settled then.” Rand motioned him over and he went, smiling when toned, corded arms wrapped around him. The kiss they shared was chaste, at first, until Rand swept his tongue into Shannon’s mouth. God, he loved the way Rand took possession of him with just a kiss. He was considering climbing the man wrapped around him when Rory coughed behind him.
“Is it my turn to watch?” When he turned, Rory waggled his eyebrows and whistled.
“Actually, I was going to start dinner.” Shannon turned toward the fridge, shrieking when Rand smacked him on the ass.
“Party pooper.” Rory
pouted.
“Get your butt in here and help, Ro. It’s sloppy joes, so it’s easy.” He already had the sauce mixed. He made it in bulk and jarred several for future use, so all they needed to do was cook the ground turkey and mix in the sauce. Shannon enjoyed cooking, but sharing the responsibility with Rory and Rand took it to another level. Rand threw out a few more ideas for the floors while he chopped lettuce and vegetables for a salad, and Rory sat perched on one of the counters, squeezing a stress ball to work on the weakness in his wounded arm.
When the food was ready, Shannon set out plates, silverware, and wineglasses, and the three of them sat down to eat. Sipping his wine, Shannon swayed side to side in his chair, Debussy’s “Clair De Lune” playing softly in the background. “This music is oddly soothing.” Rand admitted.
“That reminds me, Lindsey Stirling is going to be at the American Airlines Center next spring. We should get tickets.” Rory took a bite of his sandwich, groaning. “So good,” he said around a mouthful, sauce dribbling down his chin.
“Come here.” Rand laughed, grabbing Rory by the back of the neck and pulling him over, licking the sauce from his chin. Shannon didn’t miss the flash of desire in Rory’s eyes. Perhaps it was Rory’s turn to ride and his turn to observe. Sitting there, watching his guys flirt and feed each other, he couldn’t help but think how blissfully normal it was. The two things Shannon had wanted for as long as he could remember were to lead a mundane life and to be loved. Life had dealt him a shitty hand from the start. Between his parents and Bruce, Shannon easily could have grown into a bitter, cynical, lonely old man. Instead, he found the strength to get away, the courage to be his own person and live his life the way he saw fit. Having not one but two men to love, that loved him—that was karma getting it right for a change. Seems I hit the jackpot, he thought.