Three-Man Tent

An exclusive bonus chapter from Second Alarm, Second Chance
by Jace Wilder

⚠️ This chapter contains explicit MMM sexual content. 18+ only.

Mason Liu had planned the trip with the same operational precision he brought to everything: a spreadsheet, a packing list, and a twelve-point itinerary that included hiking times, meal prep schedules, and a notation that read 7:00 PM — Sunset from porch (weather permitting).

Ace had thrown the itinerary in the fireplace within the first hour.

Drew had taken a photo of it burning and sent it to Reyes with the caption: Mason’s itinerary lasted eleven minutes. New record.

The cabin was perfect. A-frame, timber and glass, set back from the lake on a ridge that caught the last light. One bedroom. One bathroom. One king-size bed that Mason had—and Drew still couldn’t believe this—had shipped from his apartment. The same bed. Their bed.

“You shipped our bed to a cabin,” Drew had said, watching Mason tighten the last bolt on the frame.

“I have standards.”

“He has a problem,” Ace said from the doorway, arms crossed, grinning.

They’d hiked. They’d eaten. They’d sat on the porch as the sun went down, the lake turning copper and then violet. Ace had fallen asleep on the porch swing between them. Old habit, new context. They’d carried him inside. He’d woken up in the king-size bed and said “I wasn’t asleep.”

He was asleep.

Now it was late. The fire was burning low. Wine was open. The cabin was warm and golden and miles from anyone, and the energy that had been building all day had reached a pressure that the cabin walls could barely contain.

They were on the floor in front of the fireplace. Mason leaning against the couch, Drew in his lap facing him, Ace behind Drew with his mouth on Drew’s shoulder. Three bodies in motion, finding their rhythm.

Drew kissed Mason. Slow, deep. Behind him, Ace’s hands slid under Mason’s shirt, pulling it up, his fingers tracing Mason’s stomach while his mouth worked the tendon in Drew’s neck.

“Off,” Drew said. “All of it. Off.”

Shirts went first. Then the rest—a familiar tangle of hands and zippers and the soft laughter that came from three people who’d learned that sex could be joyful and clumsy and electric all at once. Drew said “sorry.” Mason said “focus.” Ace said “both of you shut up and touch me.”

“Bed,” Mason said. Low. The command.

They made it to the bedroom. Barely. The hallway required two stops—once against the wall, Ace pinned between them, gasping while Mason kissed his throat and Drew dropped to his knees and took Ace’s cock into his mouth for three devastating strokes before Mason pulled him back up by the hair and said “not yet.”

The second stop was the doorframe, where Drew got his revenge—pushing Mason against the jamb, grinding their hips together, Mason’s head falling back, his control cracking as Drew’s hand wrapped around both of them and stroked.

They fell onto the king-size bed. Drew took charge. For once—for the first time in their triad—Drew was the one directing.

“Mason. On your back.”

“Ace. Help me take him apart.”

Ace grinned. The old grin—reckless, bright. “Finally.”

They descended on Mason together. Drew at his mouth, kissing him deep, swallowing his sounds as Ace’s mouth traveled down his body. Ace’s tongue traced the length of Mason’s cock from base to tip, and Mason’s whole body arched off the bed.

“Hold his hands,” Ace said from between Mason’s legs.

Drew pinned Mason’s wrists above his head. “Let go,” Drew murmured against Mason’s ear. “You hold everyone. Tonight, let us hold you.”

Mason’s wrists relaxed. When Ace took him into his mouth—deep, thorough—the sound Mason made was nothing Drew had ever heard from him. Unguarded and desperate and young, the sound of a man who’d been holding everything together for thirty-three years and was finally letting it all go.

“Stop,” Mason gasped. “Not yet. I need—”

“Not used to being on this side of it, are you?” Ace grinned.

“I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Promise?”

Mason surged up. He grabbed Drew by the hips, flipped him, and Drew found himself on all fours with Mason behind him and Ace in front of him.

Mason’s slicked fingers found him. Two at once. Drew gasped, pushed back against Mason’s hand, and Ace knelt in front of him and cupped his jaw.

“Look at me,” Ace said. And guided Drew’s mouth to his cock.

The position was overwhelming. Taken from both ends. Drew’s world narrowed to sensation: Mason’s fingers stretching him, finding the spot. Ace’s cock in his mouth, the weight and heat of it on his tongue. The sounds all three of them were making.

Mason replaced his fingers with his cock. One long, slow, devastating thrust. The sound Drew made—around Ace, vibrating through both of them—was primal and helpless and exactly right.

They found a rhythm. Mason driving into Drew, each thrust pushing Drew forward onto Ace. Mason’s hands on Drew’s hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. Ace’s hand in Drew’s hair. Drew between them—the center, the hinge, the point where all the forces converged.

Mason and Ace made eye contact over Drew’s arched back. The look that said he’s ours.

“Harder,” Drew pulled off Ace long enough to gasp. “Mason—harder—”

Mason gave him harder. The bed frame hit the wall. Ace held Drew’s face in both hands and fed his cock back between Drew’s swollen lips, and Drew took him deep and moaned and the vibration made Ace’s head fall back and the chain reaction rippled through all three of them.

Mason reached around Drew. Found his cock—hard, leaking, untouched until now. He stroked. Fast. Ruthless.

Drew came first. He always came first. He came with Mason inside him and Ace in his mouth and Mason’s hand on his cock, a full-body overload that made his arms give out and his vision white.

The clenching around Mason triggered Mason. He thrust deep and came with a groan that started in his chest and didn’t stop.

Ace came last. Drew felt it—the pulse, the heat—and swallowed, and Ace’s voice broke on both their names. Drew. Mason. Drew.

They collapsed. A controlled demolition.

“I’d like to formally thank the mattress company,” Drew said, face-down in a pillow.

“I’d like to formally request that you stop talking,” Mason said.

“I’d like to formally acknowledge that shipping a bed four hours was the best decision anyone has ever made,” Ace said, grinning at the ceiling.

They rearranged. The default configuration. Ace in the middle. Drew on his right. Mason on his left. Mason’s hand on the back of Ace’s neck—even now, even post-orgasm, even in a cabin in the mountains. The signature. The constant.

The fire in the other room was out. The cabin was dark except for moonlight through the A-frame windows, silver and blue, painting the bed in light that looked like water.

Drew was asleep in minutes. Drew was always first—first to come, first to sleep, first to show up with coffee.

Mason was next. His hand relaxing on Ace’s neck but not releasing. Even in sleep, Mason held on.

Ace was last.

He lay in the king-size bed—their bed, shipped four hours, assembled with a socket wrench and an absurd amount of love—and felt something settle in his chest that he’d been waiting his whole life to feel.

His hands were still. No tremor. Not even the ghost.

He thought about the word home. He’d spent thirty-two years thinking it meant a building—walls, roof, foundation. He’d been wrong.

Home was portable. Home was two heartbeats against his body. Home was the sound of breathing in the dark and the smell of woodsmoke and the weight of a hand on the back of your neck. Home was a king-size bed in a cabin in the mountains, and a couch that was too small, and a diner booth at 3 a.m., and a fire ground in the rain, and an ambulance in the dark where someone had said stay and someone had stayed.

Home was them. All three. The triangle. The strongest shape.

Ace closed his eyes.

The fire was out. The building was standing. And Ace Warren, for the first time in his life, didn’t need to inspect the structure to know it was sound.

Thank you for reading! If you loved Ace, Drew, and Mason’s story, please consider leaving a review. Reviews are the single biggest thing you can do to help an indie author.

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