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Chapter 3

Liam had just finished showering before his Thursday night shift at the pub when he got a surprise text from Robert:

Coming over. Exciting proposition for you

Liam’s heart leapt, until he looked at the clock.

Hope it’s a quickie. Away for work in 20 mins

By the time Liam had dressed, Robert was at his door, kit bag in hand.

“Were you at the gym?” Liam asked after he’d let his boyfriend in and kissed him hello.

“Sorry?” Robert looked at his bag. “Oh. No. Not today.”

“I assumed, since Thursdays you usually work out at?—”

“I’ve had an idea.” Robert set down the bag in the center of Liam’s living room floor.

“You’re always having ideas,” Liam said as he went to tidy up the couch so he could offer a place to sit. “What’s it this time, and will I understand it without a computing science degree?”

“It’s not for work. It’s for you and me.”

“Oh.” Liam straightened up, a stack of takeaway napkins in one hand and a pair of used chopsticks in the other.

Robert took a step closer. “I know you’re worried I’m becoming a no-fun workaholic, and I think maybe you’re right. Even if you’re wrong, that’s how you feel, and I need to respect and acknowledge your point of view.”

Liam wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like a line out of couples counseling. What’s going on, Rabbie?”

“I propose a series of games.” Robert rubbed his lips—out of excitement or nerves, Liam couldn’t tell. “We come up with challenges for each other, with corresponding rewards. Each challenge gets harder, and the rewards get bigger.”

“Harder and bigger—I like the sound of that. So how do we know who wins at the end? Is there a point system?”

“We’re not competing for points. We’re not competing at all. It’s purely for fun. As to when it ends, we can figure that out later. What do you think?”

“I think I like where your head is,” Liam said. “But I need an example before I commit.”

“Okay.” Robert unzipped his kit bag and pulled out a rolled-up piece of A1-size blank poster board, along with a pair of scissors and a glue stick. He arranged the items on the glass coffee table as he spoke. “Remember at school when they’d have us make collages by cutting out photos from magazines and that? Like, what we wanted to be when we grew up, or what we did on summer holiday?”

Liam grunted. “I hated them.” Being the opposite of artistic, he’d always ended up clipping out words instead of pictures.

“I know. I remember the time you pasted together the sentence, ‘When I grow up, I want to not make fucking collages.’”

“In all different typefaces, like a wee ransom note.” Liam smirked. “That stunt got me sent to the headmaster.”

“That stunt made me want to be your friend. Mind, it was the next day I went up to you at the swing park and said?—”

“‘Let’s be mates!’ I remember.” Liam had never thought to wonder why Robert had invited himself into his life with such bluntness. To his six-year-old self, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world. He pointed a chopstick at the poster board. “So what am I to do with that now?”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours to illustrate—with pictures cut from wherever—one thing you want from me.”

Liam’s mouth popped open. “Like a sex thing?”

“Not necessarily, but aye, knowing you, I expect it’ll be a sex thing.”

“All right, then.” He picked up the bright-yellow glue stick, his mind already spinning with possibilities. “So what’s my reward?”

“For this challenge, it’s me giving you what you want.”

Liam fluttered his lashes. “But you always give me what I want.”

“I definitely do not,” Robert said with a laugh. “Anyway, after this, you come up with a challenge and a reward for me.” He held up a hand. “Obviously everything has to be consensual. We each have the freedom to say no if we’re not comfortable with a request, and the other cannae call them a coward.”

Liam couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to, with, or for Robert, but it made sense to add this rule. “What if one of us says no?”

“Then the challenger proposes another request. That way consent isn’t a short cut to a free turn.”

“Ah.” He poked Robert’s chest with the glue stick. “No wonder you’re so good at making video games, mate. You think of everything.”

“I try.” Robert moved in close and gave him a quick, sweet kiss. “And yet you always surprise me.”

* * *

“Auugh!” Liam tore another piece of poster board in half. Then he reached for the next in the stack of sheets he’d bought this morning at Poundstretchers after ruining the one Robert had given him. Perhaps the seventh time’s lucky.

Sitting on his living room floor, he stared at the blank white sheet on the coffee table in front of him. What did he want from Robert?

They’d already tried nearly all the sex things: BDSM, role-playing, food kink, et cetera—most of which made them laugh as much as turned them on. He’d even convinced Robert to go to one of the local bathhouses for a wee bit of exhibitionistic play. (Looking back, that had been a mistake; Liam should have anticipated the sort of riot a man with Robert’s face and body would provoke. They’d barely made it out alive, and Liam was sure his own face was now on every Glaswegian gay man’s Wanted Dead or Alive but Preferably Dead list.)

He gripped the scissors in frustration, sorely tempted to find a pic of the fittest pro footballer in his latest issue of FourFourTwo magazine and glue it next to a traced outline of his own erect penis.

But that was too literal. The whole point of this exercise was for Liam to find a more subtle way to express himself. Robert knew he was far more comfortable using words, so he was purposely yanking Liam out of his comfort zone by forcing him to employ pictures and symbolism.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe if he cleared his mind, it would conjure a vision of his deepest desire.

Wanting was, by definition, about not having . What was missing in their relationship? Definitely not love. Liam never doubted Robert’s devotion to him, though he was often bewildered by it.

Robert had a new love now, one that demanded more and more of his heart. Liam didn’t want to take him away from his work. It was too important to him—too important, full stop. He just wanted Robert to…

To what? It was on the tip of Liam’s mental tongue.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He checked the device to see a group text message from Katie Heath, the Warriors starting left fullback, sent to him, Robert, and their right fullback, Jamie Guthrie.

Katie

Did you see what that douchebag said about us?

Liam tapped her link, which led to a thread on an amateur-football forum. The new striker for this weekend’s opponents had asked about the Warriors’ defensive capabilities.

Gerry Mitchell: From what I can tell, their back line is comprised of a dyke, a fatty, and a pair of mutually sodomising CBs.

Liam snorted at Mitchell’s description of him and Robert. He scanned a few of the responses, all of which praised the Warriors defense—especially Robert and Liam’s center-back pairing—though none called out Mitchell’s offensive language.

Jamie had already replied to Katie, Robert, and him:

Jamie

If Mitchell’s shots are as poor as his patter we’ve got no worries

Katie

Right? He doesn’t even know ‘comprised of’ should be ‘composed of’

At least he’d learned something today, Liam thought as he set his phone down. It buzzed immediately.

Katie

Also you’re not fat

Liam clenched his teeth. This would never end.

Jamie

Not for want of trying. My mouth was never empty over the holidays

Liam switched off his phone. He loved electronic communication as much as anyone, but now that he was trying to focus his thoughts on something important, the interruptions were driving him round the bend. If only?—

His breath caught in his throat. That’s it. He knew exactly what he most wanted from Robert.

Liam spread out the poster board to begin his very final draft.