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Chapter 8

As Colin lay awake that night beside Andrew, he found himself replaying every word of their revised victim statements, wondering if they’d said enough to put Jeremy in prison. It had to work, after all they’d been through.

Including today. This afternoon’s panic attack had left Colin reeling. How could he have been so stupid and selfish not to know Andrew was troubled too?

Looking back, Colin realized that in some ways, he’d been the lucky one. He remembered little about the stabbing, aside from his desperation to save Andrew and his triumph at succeeding. He’d passed out directly after his wounding, leaving Andrew to watch him bleed, to sit at his bedside for forty-eight hours while Colin loitered obliviously at the border between life and death.

From now on, Colin vowed, he’d be more careful.

He was finally drifting off when he heard Andrew release a loud sigh beside him.

“Cannae sleep?”

“Not without several drinks,” Andrew said, “but it wouldn’t do to be hungover for the first day of lectures.”

Colin was a bit envious—the teaching period at his own university wouldn’t begin for two weeks. On the other hand, he was glad Andrew had something besides booze to occupy his time and mind. “You worried about the new term?”

“God, no. I’ve barely thought of university.” He switched on the bedside table lamp, then rolled to face Colin, tucking his arm beneath his own pillow. “What if the judge gives Jeremy a light sentence—or none at all?”

Then I’ll burn the High Court to the ground. “She won’t.”

“But what if she does?”

“We’ll handle it.” Colin shifted closer. “No matter what, we’ll move on with our lives. We won’t let Jeremy keep hurting us.” He stroked Andrew’s cheek. “Promise?”

Andrew merely sighed, but with the release of breath, he seemed to relax. “I missed us sharing a bed.”

“Me too.” Colin offered a tentative kiss, vigilant for any sudden tension.

Instead of shying away, Andrew slid an arm and a leg around him, bringing their bodies close together. “Also? I loved watching you play yesterday.”

Colin tried to keep his cool as Andrew’s hands wandered. “Before I looked an eejit, you mean.”

“You were a hero.” Andrew’s voice dipped into his most velvety register. “A hot hero.”

“Oh?” Colin’s pulse was thumping now, and seemed to be centered at the base of his cock.

Andrew began to slide his warm, lithe body against him. “You were magnificent out there on the pitch. It turned me on to no end.”

“Did it, aye?”

“Mm-hm.” Andrew’s fingertips slipped beneath the hem of Colin’s shirt. “I wanted to run out into the rain and show my support in the filthiest way possible.”

Images burst into Colin’s brain, stoking his need. Still, he was torn. He didn’t want to risk triggering another panic attack, yet he knew if he said no, Andrew would be hurt. He might even think Colin was turned off by what Andrew saw as his “weakness.”

But maybe there was a way to make this less threatening.

Colin grasped Andrew’s hip to halt his grinding. “Show me. I’ll be you, and you be me.”

Andrew looked confused. “Sorry?”

“Tell me what you’d do to me, and I’ll do it to you.”

“Ohhh, I love that idea.” Andrew sat up and pushed back the covers. “If I’m to be you, I need to stand.”

“Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

“Sort of,” Andrew said with a soft chuckle. He went to stand with his back to the chest of drawers, then cleared his throat. “I run onto the pitch and without so much as a hello, I drop to my knees in front of you.”

Colin leaped out of bed and did as Andrew described. He was glad for the scatter rug that provided a wee bit of padding.

“First I stroke you through your football shorts,” Andrew said, “until your cock is hard as steel, straining at the confines of your jock strap.”

Amused at Andrew’s verbal flare, Colin grasped him through the soft cotton of his yoga trousers. He slid his palms up and down the thickening shaft, letting his thumbs caress Andrew’s balls at the end of each downstroke.

“Ahh.” Andrew’s knees buckled a bit. “You fancy me touching you like this.”

“I bet I do,” Colin said.

“I don’t speak.”

“Sorry.”

“Not even to say ‘sorry.’”

Colin pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh.

“I can’t wait,” Andrew said. “I pull down your shorts and everything, fast as I can.”

Colin yanked Andrew’s trousers to the floor, finding him naked underneath as usual.

“I need to taste you now,” Andrew said. “I don’t care how sweaty you are.”

An accurate portrayal, as Andrew seemed to prefer Colin filthy, often asking him to hold off showering after a training session.

As he slipped Andrew’s cock into his mouth, a pair of fists grasped his hair.

“You make me take all of you at once.”

Colin felt a hard tug on his scalp, then the thump of Andrew’s head at the back of his throat. His eyes watered as he tried not to gag.

“You want to fuck my mouth, but you don’t. You will, though, soon. I feel it in you.” Andrew loosened his grip by a fraction. “I feel your power. You take what you want, and what you want is me.”

Colin moaned in agreement.

“I stay silent,” Andrew said.

Och. Holding back noise would be pure difficult. The taste on Colin’s tongue and the images in his mind were driving him mad.

“You tell me to show you what I can do. ‘Impress me,’ you say.”

Colin smiled as he cupped Andrew’s balls and slowly drew down his foreskin to expose the glistening head of his cock. Then he began to lick with teasing, curling strokes, just the way Andrew would do to him.

Andrew hissed. “Ahh.” One hand left Colin’s head and grasped at the chest of drawers. A bronze handle rattled against the fine wood.

Colin wrapped his lips around Andrew’s head, licking more rapidly now, tracing new patterns over the smooth, solid bulge.

“That’s so good.” Andrew’s breath quavered as he inhaled. “You can feel my tongue in every inch of your body. You want me never to stop.”

Colin held back an affirmative grunt.

“But we’re not alone here on the pitch,” Andrew said. “Or rather, we are alone at the moment, but not for long. So I start to suck you harder.”

Colin obeyed, drawing him deeper, still tonguing the head at the end of each tight, wet stroke.

“Your cock in my mouth makes me so hard, I can’t take it anymore.” Andrew’s tone turned commanding. “I need to touch myself. Now.”

Grateful, Colin reached down inside his sleep trousers to seize his prick. The relief of his own grip made him groan, and this time, Andrew didn’t silence him.

“You can feel it,” Andrew said. “Feel my mouth get so tight as I stroke myself. You want me to come first. You want to hear me whimper as I make myself come.”

Colin couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on. He never would have let Andrew-as-Andrew have this sort of power over him. But imagining himself in control at the same time he was on his knees obeying every command—something about that just did him in.

He fell into a strong, purposeful rhythm, the hand on his own shaft working in time with his mouth and other hand. He wouldn’t last long, not after their twelve-day sex drought.

“Oh!” Andrew’s fist slammed the chest of drawers, rattling the handles again. “God…don’t stop.” He caught himself. “That’s what you tell me. ‘Don’t stop, Andrew. Don’t you dare fucking stop.’”

Sounds like something I’d say , Colin mused, though he was glad Andrew wasn’t trying to imitate his accent.

“I’m so close,” Andrew gasped. “You know I’m close, so you start fucking my mouth.” He clutched Colin’s hair as his hips began to move. “I use both hands on myself. Gotta come for you now. Gotta…come…for you.”

Oh aye. Colin cupped his own balls with one hand and pumped his cock furiously with the other. As his orgasm barreled toward him, he wanted to buckle over, but his hair was held fast. So he latched onto Andrew’s trembling thigh as a whimper rose in his throat, pitching higher and higher.

“Yes!” Andrew thrust harder than ever, and Colin fought to keep his numbing lips folded over his teeth. “Your cock…so hard in my…it’s so…oh God, I’m coming, coming all over myself.”

As if on command, Colin’s balls rose and tightened, then released. His body convulsed in hot, rolling waves, and his cries were muffled by Andrew’s swelling shaft that filled his mouth.

He’d barely recovered when Andrew pulled free and said, “Then you ask me, ‘Shall I come on your face or do you want to swallow?’”

Colin hesitated. He’d always been a fan of facials, but not of being on the receiving end. It felt too demeaning, especially with someone like Andrew, whose real-life station was stratospherically higher than his own.

He grasped Andrew’s arse, intending to pull him deep so he could swallow.

Then he thought of what his boyfriend needed most—to feel some shred of power as his life spun out of control.

Colin drew his head back a few inches and looked up. “Both.”

Andrew’s eyes lit up. He began to stroke himself, urging his hips so the head of his cock glided over Colin’s outstretched tongue. “Oh…” He caressed Colin’s hair, his quickening gasps the room’s only sound.

Finally his hand drifted beneath Colin’s chin to tilt it up. “You tell me I’m beautiful.”

“You are,” Colin said, though he knew he was breaking character.

“Just seeing me like that, all…you can’t—you can’t stop.” Andrew’s knees shook. “You’re going to come any second.”

Colin wanted to watch Andrew’s face, as it was his favorite sight in the world. But he knew a warning when he heard it, so he closed his eyes to keep them clear.

Andrew uttered what sounded like an “Och.” Colin felt a warm splash on his tongue, then his nose, then his forehead, and finally his tongue again, dribbling now. He moaned at the taste, craving more but awaiting Andrew’s next directive.

“You tell me to”—Andrew fought to catch his breath—“to lick your cock clean. Lick your slit, get every…mmph, every drop.”

As Colin did so, greedily, he opened his eyes. Andrew was staring down at him with a hazy look of triumph and awe.

Like this, gazes locked, there was no pretending they were each other. It was Colin here on his knees, cheeks warm and wet with the come of an aristocrat.

No, not an aristocrat. Andrew. The man Colin would have died for last September, and next September, and all the months in between.

The man who was now dropping to his knees in front of him.

“Thank you.” Andrew kissed him, long and deep. Then he took off his shirt to clean Colin’s face. “I needed that.”

“We both did, all of it.” He traced a finger down the center of Andrew’s bare chest. “It was pure hot.”

“Wasn’t it just?” Andrew chortled, sounding almost like his old self again. When they’d both tidied up, he tossed the shirt toward one of the walk-in wardrobes, then sat back with a contented sigh. “Maybe we’ll be okay after all.”

It seemed an odd statement, given the timing. “We’ll be great,” Colin said as he reached for him.

Andrew met his embrace, slumping forward as if suddenly boneless. “Promise?” he asked in a voice that cracked Colin’s heart in two.

“Nae need for promises.” Colin held him tighter than ever. “We’ve got us.”