A Merry Little [Hat Trick] Christmas

by Samantha Wayland

  Garrick dove for the bedside table and grabbed a bottle of lube, then crawled behind Rhian and seized hold of the plug, noting the way Rhian canted his hips up, begging him to just do it.

  He pulled. Once. Hard.

  The bright candy-cane colored plug popped out of Rhian and fell to the bed with a heavy thud.

  Jesus Christ. And merry fucking Christmas.

  Garrick’s hands shook as he dumped probably way more lube than he would need over his dick. He made a cursory pass with one trembling hand to spread the slick around evenly.

  In all that time, Rhian never clenched, staying open and ready in a way that Garrick had never seen before.

  Garrick was a big guy, in general, and his dick wasn’t exactly slender or short. He wasn’t going to be signing up for any contests, but when a guy was six foot five and built to carry over two hundred and twenty pounds and still be lean, his proportions were just…bigger.

  For that reason, Garrick tended to go slow at times like these.

  Tonight, though, he lined himself up and thrust once, all the way in.

  Rhian’s head came up, his mouth leaving Savannah’s nipple with an obscene pop, his neck stretched in a long, gorgeous arch as he shouted a series of increasingly filthy words, mixed in with Garrick and Savannah’s names.

  Savannah, sprawled and panting on the bed, stared up at Garrick with wide eyes. Garrick tried to smile back, but it wobbled badly. He felt feverish with the need to move, to push farther into Rhian and make him feel every inch, every ache soothed, and every need fulfilled. Rhian clenched around him, hard, and Garrick ground in, curling over until his head rested between Rhian’s shoulders and he could feel how the muscles in Rhian’s back quivered as he held himself still.

  “God, I love you,” Garrick muttered against Rhian’s sweat-slick skin.

  “I love you, too,” Rhian practically sobbed. “I love you both. Please, you have to know that.”

  Savannah ran a hand over Rhian’s cheek and down to his shoulder. “We do know.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rhian whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so, so sorry. I need to talk to you. About something. It’s not…it’s okay, though. You have to know how happy I am to be with both of you.”

  “We know, Rhian,” Garrick said, lifting his head. Rhian wasn’t one for babbling, particularly not at moments like this.

  They’d meant to take him apart. Now, Garrick was worried they’d broken him.

  When Garrick rose up, Rhian shifted back with him, seating himself firmly on Garrick’s dick, not letting a millimeter of him escape.

  “Easy, love,” Garrick murmured, running his hands down Rhian’s sides. “We’ve got you. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “I know.” Rhian shifted and Garrick moved with him, his eyes crossing at the pressure and friction as Rhian planted his knees more firmly and rose on one arm. “And I’ve got you,” Rhian said as he curled his other arm around Savannah and yanked her down the bed until she lay underneath him.

  She yelped, then laughed, until, with a swivel of his hips that dragged Garrick right along with him, he slid into her body and her laughter was choked off with a long, low moan.

  “God, Rhian,” she sighed.

  Rhian didn’t answer, but perhaps that was because his mouth was full again. He had pulled one of her nipples into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing with how hard he sucked, and Savannah cried out, arching up against him.

  Garrick thought that was probably his cue to move. He pulled back, his entire body shuddering at the tight clench of Rhian’s body, then he shoved back in.

  His last coherent thought, other than that he loved these two beautiful people more than he’d ever thought was possible, was that he probably shouldn’t have encouraged Rhian to come once already, because there was no way in hell Garrick was going to last.

  Rhian wasn’t going to last. It was insane—and improbable, given that he’d just come a few minutes ago in the kitchen and, in spite of what Garrick said, Rhian wasn’t that young anymore.

  But he could feel the tension curling up his spine, tightening the muscles in his ass and back and hips. Garrick was so far in him, so deep, that it felt like he was snugged up against Rhian’s diaphragm, forcing the air from his lungs with every shift or thrust. The stretch was exquisite, the burn lost entirely to the thrills running up and down his spine. The hot, wet clench of his beautiful, sweet Savannah around his cock was perfect.

  As soon as Garrick had a steady rhythm, each thrust growing just a little more powerful, Rhian forced himself to relax so that his body would shift with each plunge to thrust into Savannah. She groaned at the drag, the friction, but it seemed less important than whatever was going on with her breasts.

  Rhian was really a big fan of Savannah’s breasts, as a rule, but this was something else. She had never been this responsive, this sensitive, before. And Rhian was enjoying the hell out of it.

  Also, he was definitely changing his rules about not having as much sex during the season. Garrick felt fucking amazing, and Rhian couldn’t help but change things up, shoving back to meet each thrust, then rocking forward into Savannah and forcing Garrick’s long, thick shaft to drag against his rim even quicker.

  On his next shove back, he met Garrick’s hips with enough force that the slap was audible above their moans. Rhian cried out, then rocked forward, meeting Savannah with less force—and noise—but no less pleasure.

  God, he was almost there.

  He might have said that aloud, because Savannah groaned and clamped down around him, while Garrick shifted, the bastard, and absolutely nailed his prostate on the next thrust.

  Rhian shook all over, barely able to retain enough coordination to keep moving his hips between them.

  “Come on, baby. Do it,” Garrick growled, thrusting again.

  Rhian almost shouted, “I’m trying!” but bit down on Savannah’s nipple instead. She howled, then twisted against him, trying to change the angle of his thrusts.

  He wasn’t really in any position to help, but he tried, forcing his hips to go faster, dragging his cock along her soft walls as fast and as hard as he could, all the while doing the same to himself on Garrick’s cock in his ass.

  His heart was beating so hard he thought he might die. Then his heart stopped altogether as two things happened at once.

  Savannah reached down between them and flicked her clit maybe twice, then let out a mighty scream that would ring in his ears for days and clamped down on his cock so hard he saw stars.

  And Garrick slid a finger right beneath his cock into Rhian’s already stretched hole and pressed down on his prostate like it was a fucking power button.

  Rhian’s orgasm roared over him like a tidal wave, whiting out his vision, blanking out his ears so that all he could hear was his own hoarse shout and the buzz of a million neurons doing a happy dance.

  He thrashed against Garrick, making the burn and the stretch worse. Better. Garrick pulled his finger out, clamped down on both of Rhian’s hips to hold him steady as he ground against him. When Rhian’s senses came back online, all he could hear was Garrick telling him, again and again, in a ragged voice, how much he loved him. How beautiful he was. He could feel Garrick’s cock pulsing in him as Garrick’s hips twitched against him. Just when the pleasure might have turned to pain—because there was no way in hell he was going for a third round tonight—Garrick pulled out.

  Based on the desperate gasp of breath and the bounce of the bed, he may have actually collapsed back there.

  Rhian didn’t dare turn to look. He held himself on trembling arms and stared down at Savannah. She smiled, kissed him gently once, then slithered out from under him. The moment she was clear, his arms gave out and he face-planted on the bed.

  Savannah ran her hand down his side and he stared up at her blearily through one eye.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Garrick dragged himself to sit beside her, his hand joining hers along Rhian’s ribs.

 
Rhian didn’t yet have the higher brain function necessary for things like speech, so he smiled weakly instead. He could feel Garrick’s come sliding out of him, and he thought this just might be the most content he’d felt in…god, months. Ever, maybe.

  But then, he’d had that last thought before. Savannah and Garrick destroyed him, in all good ways, often.

  He should tell them that. He should tell them that he loved them, again, and that he was sorry a thousand times over. Then he should explain, because he was pretty sure they believed that he was freaking out about the prospect of becoming a father.

  And he was. But not like they thought.

  He knew it was important that they understand. As soon as possible. But the moment his eyes closed, just to rest them for a second, he dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Noel thought he knew his best friend pretty well. He and Jean-Michel had been playing on the same team for a couple years now, had been in Juniors together before that, and been in each other’s pockets for most of that time. Anytime the team needed players to share a room, or a ride, or a meal, they did it. And even when the team wasn’t putting them together, they spent a lot of time just hanging out, either alone or with their other friends.

  And never in all that time had Noel seen Jean-Michel be so quiet.

  It was totally freaking Noel out.

  He’d tried asking Jean-Michel about it, but he’d just shrugged or waved it away or said nothing.

  Jean-Michel had said nothing.

  These were not words Noel had ever anticipated might go together. Jean-Michel was what one might call a super-communicator. His style wasn’t always effective, or diplomatic, or, hell, even all that sensible, but he tried to communicate pretty much all the time.

  Noel knew before he did it that he would regret going to Henri with his concerns, so he was unsurprised by Henri’s long, sad look expressing all the ways Henri thought Noel was a failure at life. They were huddled together near Henri’s car in the airport garage, having just flown in from New York in the middle of the night.

  Henri shook his head. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

  “He’s worse than Rhian.” Actually, Rhian had seemed way better the last couple days, practically smiling all the time on their short road trip.

  Henri rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what is the matter with either one of them. Maybe you should just ask Jean-Michel yourself.”

  “I’ve tried, but he keeps blowing me off.”

  “When did you ask?” Henri said, like he knew the answer, which was bullshit.

  “On the bus to the arena in New York. And before the game. And on the plane on the way home just a little while ago.” Noel had acquitted himself well, really.

  So he couldn’t understand why he was getting the eye-roll again. Honestly, Henri was going to get stuck like that someday.

  “Why don’t you ask him about it somewhere private?” Henri suggested. “Maybe whatever is bothering him is something he doesn’t want to talk about with the team around.”

  Noel stopped to think about that. It…made sense. Which he sort of hated, but there was a reason he’d come to good old Dad in his hour of need.

  “Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea. Maybe it will go better if we’re alone.”

  Henri got this strange smile, kind of fond and like he was trying not to roll his eyes again. Weirdo.

  Noel thought about it, though, for the ride home and while he was puttering about his apartment the next day. That afternoon at practice Jean-Michel was still mostly silent, almost sullen, so Noel pulled him aside in the locker room.

  “How about dinner at your place tonight?”

  Jean-Michel blinked up at him, clearly surprised, which Noel didn’t get. It wasn’t like they didn’t do this sort of shit all the time. “Uh, sure.”

  Noel frowned. “Wait, did you have other plans?”

  “No?”

  Noel tried not to let his feelings be hurt, but after a couple days of brooding and distance, this reluctance stung.

  Noel swallowed all that back and swore to himself he’d get to the bottom of it tonight. “Okay, so I’ll see you in a bit? We can order in, alright?”

  “No, I uh—”

  Noel was sure he was about to get the brush off.

  “I’ve got salmon,” Jean-Michel said, and it took Noel a second to catch up, he’d been so ready to start arguing. Jean-Michel continued, his words picking up speed as he went. “More than enough for two. I bought it—I had you in mind when I bought it. I mean, I thought I would invite you over. So. Yeah. Salmon? Half hour at my place?”

  It was Noel’s turn to blink in confusion. Finally, he just said, “Yeah, that would be great,” as if he’d not invited himself over to begin with.

  All the way through the rest of his post-practice routine, including a visit with Savannah to talk about his groin—which wasn’t as awkward as it sounded—Noel’s mind buzzed with trying to figure out what he could say to convince Jean-Michel to talk to him, and what questions he would ask.

  These were totally new concepts for them. Jean-Michel was usually the one trying to get Noel to tell him more. He was the one whose smile lit up a room and set everyone at ease.

  By the time Noel showed up at Jean-Michel’s door, he was weirdly nervous, but Jean-Michel seemed invested in making their evening as normal as possible. He welcomed Noel with his usual big smile and insult.

  “Dude! Come in. If you hang out there, the neighbors will definitely call the cops. Your serial killer haircut makes people nervous, man.”

  Noel laughed and shook his head. “Shut up.” Not everyone could have long, thick hair hanging down to brush their chin and jawline like some people. Noel’s fingers itched to touch it, now that his attention was there, but he suppressed his tactile nature, as usual.

  “Mario Kart?” Jean-Michel asked while Noel toed off his shoes and tucked them and his coat in the front hall closet.

  “Sure. You need help with dinner?”

  “After,” Jean-Michel agreed with a shrug. “Beer?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  From there, it was a normal night with the two of them. Jean-Michel seemed less reserved than he had in days, and Noel started to relax, laughing when Jean-Michel bumped his shoulder and shoved his arms, trying to force him to crash Princess Peach on her dirt bike, which was never going to happen.

  When Noel was finished kicking Jean-Michel’s ass, they moved to the kitchen. Noel was pleased to see that Jean-Michel had already set the salmon to marinate, chopped up the broccoli, and measured out the water and rice. It made preparing dinner quick, at least. Noel made Jean-Michel’s favorite glaze for the fish, Jean-Michel grilled the salmon perfectly, and they took turns on the rest. They’d done this sort of thing enough to be able to move around the small space between the counters without bumping into each other.

  At one point, Jean-Michel slid behind him to get to the sink, his hands resting on Noel’s hips for a moment, and Noel’s heart sort of sidestepped in his chest.

  He took deep breaths until the feeling went away.

  They ate in the kitchen, even though their knees tended to bump under this table. Jean-Michel had a nice dining room just around the corner, but they never ate in there.

  The conversation started out light enough, and Noel was lulled into a false sense of normalcy until he made the mistake of bringing up how much better Rhian had seemed recently. Jean-Michel went silent again, and stayed that way.

  Noel poked at it a little, wondering what the connection was there, but mostly Jean-Michel muttered quick, short answers and changed the subject.

  Now Noel was pissed again. He chewed his way through his dinner and told himself as soon as they were done, he was going to get answers, even if he had to yell. He refused, though, to ruin their meal.

  He tried to move the conversation back to the safe topics from before Rhian had come up, but Jean-Michel didn’t shake whatever had settled over his m
ood. By the time they were putting their dishes in the dishwasher, Jean-Michel was practically mute, and Noel was seething.

  “Come on, let’s go back to the couch,” Noel said as soon as they were done, careful to keep his voice even.

  Jean-Michel grabbed two beers and followed him, taking his usual place on the couch. At this point, if they’d been about to watch a movie or just chill and talk, Noel would normally take the far end of the sofa, but instead he took what he thought of as his “video game seat” and sat right next to Jean-Michel, turning to pull his leg up on the couch between them, so his knee pressed into Jean-Michel’s thigh.

  He put a hand on Jean-Michel’s bouncing leg to still it and left it there. “Is there something you want to talk about? To tell me?”

  Jean-Michel’s eyes widened and he swallowed. “What?”

  Jesus, he looked panicked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been quiet and acting weird for a couple days. Are you okay?”

  Noel watched, confused, as Jean-Michel’s shoulders came down from around his ears and the panic left his face.

  “Oh, that.”

  What the fuck else would this have been about? “Yeah, that.”

  Jean-Michel rubbed his thumb over his lip for a minute, staring at Noel’s hand on his knee.

  “Are you mad at me? Did I do or say something that upset you?” Noel asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer, his stomach squirming with dread.

  Jean-Michel’s head snapped up. “What? No. No, that’s not—shit, I’m sorry. I’m not mad or anything like that. I was just sort of avoiding you.”

  “Oh, well, that makes me feel much better.” Noel pulled his hand back into his lap.

  “No! It’s not because I wanted to avoid you. It’s because I wanted to tell you.”