“Is your mum proud of you now?”
“Yes, she is. Especially as she gets a free photo shoot whenever she wants.” I wink at him.
“Does that mean that, as your boyfriend, I get to have a free boudoir shoot whenever I want one?”
I lean across to kiss him. “Damn right. You’d look fucking hot in a corset.”
“I second that,” Gabe says. “Food’s ready.”
“Same goes for you,” I say as I roll out of bed. “A free boudoir shoot if you want it.”
Gabe laughs. “I think I’ll pass. But I’ll happily take a front-row seat for Blake’s.”
I put some underwear on and pad through to the living area. Gabe has thrown together beans on toast with sausages.
“It’s nothing spectacular,” he says as Blake puts his jeans on. “I was too hungry to cook anything extravagant.”
“Does this count as healthy food?” Blake asks.
“Baked beans are full of protein,” Gabe says.
“Think of it as a free pass, princess,” I say. “Tuck in.”
Blake grins at me. “Thank you, Sir, and thank you for cooking, Daddy.”
“You’re most welcome, baby boy.”
We eat, chat, and laugh. Afterwards, we set up a game of Monopoly but call it quits after a couple of hours when we’re all yawning too much to concentrate. I was winning. We do the cheesy thing of brushing our teeth at the same time, jostling for time at the sink. It’s adorable and makes my heart sing. Blake leaves the bathroom first, and I figure he’s getting changed into whatever pretty thing he brought to wear to bed. To give him time, I pin Gabe against the sink and enjoy his lips for a short while.
When we wander into the bedroom, Blake is in the centre of the bed, wearing a white ruffle baby doll top and matching ruffle knickers. He’s sitting with his knees splayed out to the side under him, face lowered, cheeks pink.
“You look gorgeous, baby boy,” Gabe says, his voice soft and breathy.
“So pretty, princess,” I agree.
Blake grins at us, his eyes closing into half moons. “I’m glad you both like it.”
We join him on the bed, Gabe in boxers and a T-shirt, me naked. We wriggle under the quilt and, too tired to do anything else, snuggle up together. We quickly become a tangle of bodies, arms, and legs, all seeking contact with one another. One of my hands ends up on Blake’s ruffled panty, the sheer chiffon soft and fluffy under my fingertips.
“Night, Gabe. Night, princess,” I say.
Gabe chokes out a laugh. “Good night, John Boy?”
“Goodnight, Mary Ellen. Goodnight, Elizabeth,” I add.
“Okay, I don’t get this reference,” Blake mumbles.
“Never mind, princess.” I kiss his forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
18
Gabe
It’s been two weeks since we first spent the whole night together. The three of us are at my place, watching a movie. We are a tangle of limbs on the sofa, so much so that it isn’t clear who is sitting next to—or on—who. We all have contact with each other, and every so often, one of us requests a kiss from the other two.
We haven’t seen each other every day, but we have talked, mostly over our group chat. The banter is always easy, playful, and sexy. During the evenings we have been able to spend together, we’ve done a mixture of playing, making love, and simply hanging out, depending on our moods. I’ve tried and failed to recall a past relationship that has been so relaxed or when I’ve felt so completely and utterly in synch with a man. It’s the only way to describe the way we’ve slotted into place together.
As the credits roll, Blake stretches and yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. His back arches over my lap, and I catch hold of him, stealing a kiss the moment he drops his hand from his mouth. He blinks at me happily as our lips part. He snuggles against my chest, stroking Cal’s thigh with his bare foot.
