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Three-Man Advantage

by Ariel Bishop

Three-Man Advantage - Ariel Bishop - Tripping
Part of the Tripping series:

He can’t choose...

Leadership and setting an upstanding example are everything to Wisconsin Wendigos captain David Dickson. On ice, he’s got it all together. Off ice? Not so much. For years he’s been pining for not one, but both of the loyal alternate captains who’ve stood by him through thick and thin.

They’ve always had his back…

Sasha Ivanov and Bo McAllister have always seemed more into each other then into their captain. But when the stress of the season starts affecting David, they’re more than willing to step up and help him deal with it--by whatever means necessary.

He can’t resist...

When Sasha and Bo offer him everything he’s been wanting, David can’t say no, even though he knows it comes with an expiration date. But the more he finds himself fitting into their life, the more he wants what he knows he can’t have.

Can Bo and Sasha find room in their hearts for one more person? Will David let them bring him into their life? Or are these captains doomed to remain just teammates?

Find out in this steamy sports romance novel, featuring a team captain who’s too stubborn for his own good, a defenceman with a heart of gold, and a goalie who never has a problem using his words.

This book is on:
  • 1 To Be Read list
Pairings: MM, MMM
Heat Level: 5
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Bisexual, Gay, Polyamorous
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 3 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Interracial Relationship, Menage, Office / Workplace Romance, Sex Buddies Become Lovers
Word Count: 56000
Setting: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters

"Hey, Cap."

David looks up from unlacing his skates at the familiar voice. Sasha must have taken advantage of David staying behind to help Ray with his backhand. He's freshly showered, long hair hair damp and curling slightly behind his ears and at the nape of his neck, stray water droplets clinging to his bare chest—David tears his eyes away.

By now he should be used to Sasha's habit of wandering around the locker room wearing only a very small towel, if that. It's not like he's the only one—at least half the Wendigos are shameless nudists, and it seems to get worse with every new crop of rookies. But with most of them, David has no trouble looking away. Yes, hockey creates attractive bodies, but there are only two cases where David feels the magnetic pull, the need to stare. One of them is Sasha.


"Hey," he says back, returning his attention to the laces he's somehow managed to knot together, trying to ignore Sasha's muscular thighs in his peripheral vision. "What's up?"

"Bo says I should talk to you about party," Sasha says, settling down on the bench next to him. "How we can help, all that."

The stubborn laces finally come apart, and David shucks his skates off before starting on the rest of his gear. It's stupid to feel shy about it, but between Sasha sitting so close and Mac watching from the goalie stall at the end, he feels caught, self-conscious in a way he hasn't since his first Juniors locker room. And not just because Sasha always calls Mac by his actual name, a small intimacy he tries not to think too hard about.

"The Thanksgiving party, right," he answers eventually, voice muffled as he pulls the practice jersey off over his head, holding up a hand when he sees Con’s mouth open all the way across the room. "I know, Connolly, I know, American Thanksgiving."

"I'm just saying," Con mutters, loud enough to be heard out on the ice, as usual.

David can't help grinning, the normalcy of the exchange helping him feel more settled in his skin. "Tell you what, Con, you convince the CHL to make Canadian Thanksgiving an official holiday and we'll do two parties. But until then, we're in Wisconsin, so suck it up and be thankful we're not actually playing that day, for once."

"Amen," Dino chimes in as he heads out the door. "Make sure you have pumpkin pie, Cap."

"You'll eat what we have and you'll like it," David calls after him.

Sasha laughs quietly next to him. "So, you have plan? Or we need make plan?"

"I have—part of a plan," David admits. "We should probably sit down and go over it, but I'm gonna hit the showers first. I stink."

He realizes his mistake when Sasha leans in even closer, the tip of his nose just barely brushing David's neck, and inhales. "Smell fine to me," Sasha murmurs, a barely audible rumble compared to his usual booming voice. "But go, keep Bo company."

David is too busy trying to escape before Sasha notices his reaction to parse that last statement until he makes it into the showers, empty except for Mac. Of fucking course.

"Hey, Cap." Mac turns his back to the spray, closing his eyes as he tips his head back to wet his hair, plastering the dark shock of it to his skull. "Sash and I were thinking lunch? We can go over the party plans and stuff our faces at the same time."

"Sounds good." David hopes his voice isn't as choked as it sounds in his own ears, but the universe is clearly conspiring against him. Going from Sasha's half-naked proximity to this, water cascading down over Mac's compactly muscled chest—fuck. "What were you guys thinking? Sushi?"

Mac shrugs, opening his eyes and reaching for the soap. "Works for me. I'll check with Sash when I get back out there. You want to ride with us?"

"I can meet you," David says, doing his best to concentrate on cleaning himself off and not the lazy movements of Mac's hands over his torso, sliding down into dangerous territory before David manages to tear his eyes away. The last thing he needs when he's this on edge is to be crammed into the middle seat of Mac's ridiculous pickup truck. "I have some errands I need to run after."

"Whatever works."

Mac steps out from under the spray, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over his hair and body for fucking ever before wrapping it loosely around his waist and disappearing in the direction of the locker room.

David slumps against the wall for a second, just breathing. The locker room showers aren't the ideal place to give himself a pep talk, but it looks like this is where it needs to happen.

You are an adult man, he tells himself, reaching for the soap and scrubbing over his skin with impatient motions. You are going to go have lunch with your alternate captains who are also your best friends. You are going to plan the best Thanksgiving party this team has ever seen. You will not ogle them or get lost in thought trying to figure out if they're actually together or just really good friends. Then you will go home, take your nap, come back here, and play some damn good hockey.


About the Author

Ariel Bishop is an American romance and erotica author who feels strongly that all love triangles are best resolved through healthy polyamory. She lives in the Ozarks with her partners, their children, and two bunnies that rejoice in the names Reginald von Pancakes and Snickers.

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