A threesome…
The next weekend the house was still empty, just the three of them left behind when everyone else pissed off to a festival in Leeds. Jake had invited his old rugby mate Callum to crash for the night after training, no big deal, except Callum was six-four of quiet Scottish muscle, ginger beard trimmed short, forearms like bridge cables, and the kind of slow smile that made Alex’s stomach flip every time they’d met at the pub.
They’d started the evening the usual way: takeaway curry, too many beers, FIFA on the PlayStation. The heat hadn’t broken; all three of them were shirtless, lounging on the sofa in loose shorts, legs sprawled wide, skin gleaming with sweat. Alex caught Callum’s eyes lingering on Jake’s abs more than once, caught Jake noticing too, and felt the air in the room change the way it does just before lightning.
Jake stretched deliberately, arms over his head, and said, casual as anything, “Remember last week when we decided clothes were optional in this house?”
Callum barked a laugh, low and surprised. “Heard rumours, mate. Didn’t think you were serious.”
Jake’s grin turned wicked. He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and shoved his shorts down, cock already half-hard, thick against his thigh. Callum’s gaze snapped straight to it, pupils blown wide.
“Christ, warn a man,” Callum muttered, but he didn’t look away.
Alex’s heart was hammering so loudly he was sure they could hear it. He stood up slowly, let his own shorts drop, and watched Callum swallow hard. When Callum followed suit, peeling his shorts off and revealing a heavy, uncut cock that curved up flushed and leaking, Alex had to bite back a moan.
