Page 54

Chapter 4

Seeing Duncan’s face on the other pillow was everything Brodie had dreamed of—night and day—for six months. He wanted nothing more than to pull Duncan closer and revel in those lips and hands.

First he needed to make one thing clear.

“I can’t promise I’ll never go away again, if I’m needed somewhere. But I can promise not to shut you out of the conversation. We’ll decide together.”

Duncan’s eyes softened. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I got so caught up in work that I made you feel like you didn’t matter. Nobody matters more to me than you.”

“Same.”

Brodie rolled onto his side, the mattress cradling his frame. Sleep should have been pulling him down into its comforting quicksand. But he felt more awake, more alive than he’d felt in months.

A wicked idea entered his head. “Now hold still.” He pressed a palm to Duncan’s chest.

Duncan yelped. “Your hand’s fucking Baltic.”

“I said, hold still.” He put his other palm against Duncan’s belly, making him whoop again. “It’ll get better soon.”

Duncan kept squirming, his face twisted into a grimace—but he didn’t pull away, much to his credit. “Brodie Campbell, you are the Devil.”

“Aye, my halo was a brilliant disguise.” He flipped his hand to press the back of it—the part not yet warmed—just above Duncan’s navel.

“All right, that’s it.” Duncan seized Brodie’s waist with both hands.

The shock of cold stopped Brodie’s breath. It was a right battle to show only a slight wince. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Duncan flicked a glance down, then bobbed his eyebrows. “That’s definitely not all I’ve got.”

“Show me, then.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely show you.” Duncan planted an icy foot on Brodie’s shin.

“Aaaah!” Brodie tried to wriggle away. “Stop!”

Duncan held him fast. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.” He slipped his arm around Duncan and pulled him close. The warmth of chest-to-chest contact made him gasp.

Their kiss was clumsy at first, thanks to their laughter. But their mouths soon softened as legs tangled and bodies aligned.

What a gift it was to hold Duncan again, to kiss him endlessly, to relearn his angles and curves. It was all Brodie had wanted this Christmas.

Part of him had feared that their time apart would alter their relationship. He’d grown and changed so much while away, how could their connection not be affected?

Duncan had changed too. His demeanor during their last game today proved how much he’d mellowed. That fiery heart still burned within him, but now he could contain its flames so they wouldn’t damage others or start a larger inferno.

Miraculously, they’d grown together instead of growing apart.

One thing hadn’t changed, though: the way Brodie’s body craved Duncan’s touch.

“I want to feel you,” Duncan whispered, shifting his hand down between them. “Is that okay? Let me know if this is going too fast. It’s been a while.”

“It’s okay—no, more than okay. It’s good. It’s—” Brodie’s breath heaved as Duncan gently took hold of his cock. “It’s affa good.”

Then he lost words, overwhelmed by the zaps of pleasure zooming through him, all the way down to his toes. Duncan slowly stroked him, easing his foreskin up and down and giving the base of his shaft a firm squeeze just the way he liked it.

Duncan brushed his mouth over Brodie’s, drifting the tip of his tongue under his upper lip. Brodie sighed and reached lower, for the thing he craved above all else right now.

“Mm-mm.” Duncan batted his hand away. “You first. You did win the bonspiel, after all.”

“It was technically a draw, so to be fair we should have simultaneous orgasms.”

Duncan shifted to kiss his throat, still stroking him. “You would’ve won if you’d thrown that last stone.”

“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll never know.”

He moved lower, to Brodie’s chest. “You also won Naked Race Under the Covers.”

“This is extremely true.”

Duncan barely teased him at all, nipping the rise of Brodie’s hip bone—a spot that always made him squirm with anticipation and a hint of ticklishness—before bringing his mouth so near his cock that Brodie felt his warm breath.

Then he kissed it with open lips, just under the ridge of the head. A drop of pre-come appeared, and he licked it off with a low, hungry noise.

Brodie moaned and closed his eyes, but only for a second. He would witness every moment of this miracle.

He ran a hand through Duncan’s hair, the lighter brown strands glinting in the faerie lights. Then he clutched it as Duncan took him deeper and deeper with each long, slow, tight stroke of his mouth.

He swept his gaze over Duncan’s broad shoulders, over the familiar constellations of freckles, over the subtle flex of muscles as his hands worked their magic. The rest of him was covered by the duvet, all but one bare foot sticking out on the side. Brodie had always loved those feet, despite Duncan’s claim they were battered ugly from the miles they’d run and the footballs they’d blasted into goals.

His toes curled now as he devoured Brodie. This simple signal of Duncan’s excitement and delight sent jolts of both through Brodie’s body.

He scrabbled at the snow-soft sheet beneath him, trying to grab hold. The sheet was too taut to clutch, so he seized the edge of the bed and clung on.

Duncan made a questioning noise, his throat vibrating against the head of Brodie’s cock.

“Yessss…please,” was the only possible response.

Duncan quickened his strokes, keeping a steady rhythm, one that led to a singular destination.

Brodie bit his lip and let out a half-moan, half-whimper. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t…” His neck arched, shifting his view from Duncan to the glimmering canopy above.

The faerie lights blurred, like stars behind clouds, as Brodie’s orgasm burst forth. He clutched at Duncan’s sides with his feet, his legs jerking with each spasm.

At last he went limp, sinking into the mattress’s gracious embrace.

Duncan made a dreamy hum as he swallowed. Then he laid his cheek against Brodie’s thigh. “I pure missed the taste of you.”

Brodie was still beyond words, managing only a low laugh infused with euphoria. The twinkling glows above him came back into focus, clearer with each long, slow blink.

Then all at once, the lights went out.

* * *

Duncan peered around the showroom. The only remaining illumination came from the soft red glow of emergency lighting.

“Is it just me,” Brodie said, “or…”

“It’s not just you.” Duncan sat up and slid off the bed. “I’m not that good.”

“I thought maybe I’d developed a brand-new superpower.”

Duncan laughed. “By day he’s a mild-mannered psychology student. But at night he prowls the city streets as…Orgasmo!” He found his trousers on the floor and pulled his phone from one of the pockets. There was a single message from a few minutes ago:

Mum

Leaving the rink to come home, in case you needed a heads-up ;)

She must have thought he and Brodie were making up back at the flat. Nice of her to give a warning.

Using his phone’s flashlight, he followed the canopy’s faerie-light flex down to where it inserted into the power strip beneath the foot of the bed.

“One of these sockets is connected to the timer,” he told Brodie, “which shuts everything off at midnight. So I should be able to…” He unplugged the flex, then plugged it into a different socket. The bed’s faerie lights glowed again, looking more enchanting than ever with the rest of the room in darkness. “Voilà!”

Brodie applauded softly. “You are a man of many talents.”

Duncan tossed his phone on top of his trousers and went to climb back into bed.

“Stay right there.” Brodie rolled onto his side. “I want to look at your gorgeous self for a second. We undressed so quickly, I didn’t really see you before.”

Duncan heated under Brodie’s dark gaze, full of hunger and happiness. It roamed over him, lingering on his chest before descending.

Brodie licked his lips, and Duncan’s cock stiffened in an instant.

“It’s not fair if you’re the only one cold.” Brodie pushed back the duvet and shifted over to sit on the edge of the bed. He spread his thighs, then beckoned Duncan to stand between them.

Duncan stepped forward into the warm hold of Brodie’s legs. He closed his eyes as Brodie ran his hands over his chest and hips. Lately, Duncan had felt increasingly disconnected from his own body (when he wasn’t playing football, at least). But now, Brodie was reintroducing him to every inch of his own skin, muscle, and bone, making it all real again.

Brodie began to massage his glutes with greedy fingers. Duncan’s cock jerked in response. Brodie twitched an eyebrow at the sight, then bent over and drew the tip into his mouth.

“God…” The beard didn’t tickle as much as Duncan had expected, but the brush of soft hairs against sensitive skin was setting him alight all over.

Brodie pulled him deeper, sliding his tongue over the underside of Duncan’s shaft.

Maybe it was the setting or their long separation—and okay, maybe the beard—but despite their precious familiarity, this all felt brand new. Like they were discovering each other for the first time.

Brodie took him all the way in, shifting one hand around to cup Duncan’s balls.

Duncan let out a choked cry. His legs trembled, threatening to give way. He grabbed the nearest bedpost with a flailing hand and held on tight. But it wasn’t enough, not after the day’s exertions.

“Stop for a sec.” He slowly withdrew from Brodie’s mouth. “I’m gonna fall over.”

“Okay.” Brodie grabbed one of the pillows, then lay on his back across the bed, putting the pillow beneath his head and shoulders. He pointed to his lips, already flush with friction. “Come here.”

The thought alone was knee-weakening. But he had to confirm. “Seriously? Like that?” He’d always been careful not to dominate Brodie in bed, as he never seemed comfortable in a submissive position, even on the rare occasions when he bottomed.

“Well, we could try it with me sitting up at the top of the bed,” Brodie said, “but frankly I don’t trust you not to break that headboard.”

“Yeah, that would be hard to explain.” Duncan crawled up over him until he was in position, knees tucked beneath Brodie’s arms. “But let me know if you want to stop.”

“Of course.” Brodie reached up and took Duncan’s arse in both hands, then slid his cock between his lips again.

“Fuck…” Duncan closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, letting Brodie pull him in as far as he wanted, easing back when he loosened his grip. It was just like when they danced together, with Brodie leading.

Then he opened his eyes and looked down. The sight of his slick, rigid length filling Brodie’s mouth made him even harder, which he hadn’t thought possible.

Brodie moved his hands to grip the back of Duncan’s thighs. Duncan flexed his muscles, and Brodie groaned in response, his throat making a delicious vibration.

“You okay?” Duncan said, barely able to speak. At Brodie’s quick nod, he asked, “You sure?”

Brodie craned his neck, releasing Duncan’s cock and meeting his eyes. His gaze was fierce, and this time his nod was firm and decisive. “I want you to fuck my mouth until you come.”

Okay, then.

Brodie took him in, his mouth tighter than ever. Duncan eased forward, then out, then in a bit farther. His legs began to tremble again, but this time not from any strain.

Brodie slid his hands up over Duncan’s arse. One of his fingers grazed his crease, then traveled inward.

“Yes…” Duncan hissed. “Touch me. Please.”

He felt a brush against his hole, just a tickle at first. He whimpered, and in response, Brodie did it again, in a steady rhythm with rising pressure.

Duncan was gone now, past the point of no return already. He rocked his hips, plunging into Brodie’s willing mouth.

As his orgasm neared, he looked down again to lock eyes with Brodie. After all this time, they were in the same country, the same city, the same room, and it felt like a fucking miracle.

Duncan broke apart, surging out of himself and into the man he loved. He bunched the duvet in his fists, crying out louder with each breath, helpless and fearless in this mad embrace.

When his last drop was gone, Duncan took a long moment to gather his strength, then managed to lift himself enough to collapse back onto the mattress in the general vicinity of his pillow.

Between breaths he said, “I have…missed you…so much.” Then he rubbed his face. “No, that makes it seem like I only missed sex. I missed every bit of you.”

“I know what you meant.” Brodie lay down beside him, pulling the duvet up over them both. “And there’s no reason why a pair of blowjobs can’t be a union of souls.”

“True.” Duncan gazed at him. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe we’re here in this place.” Brodie snuggled close, looping an arm round Duncan’s waist. “By the way, I booked dinner and a hotel room for us tomorrow night. Meant to be a surprise.”

“That sounds amazing. I can’t wait.”

“I can’t wait until January, when we’re back in our single student-housing flats and we don’t have to have sex in furniture shops.”

“Are you whingeing about our emergency accommodation?”

“Not at all.” Brodie traced lazy shapes on his chest. “This was pretty hot, actually.”

He kissed Brodie’s hair. “Hotter than the time we did it just off the hiking trail in the Trossachs?”

“Dunno about hotter, but this was definitely warmer . Also dryer.”

“Yeah, that sudden rainstorm didn’t help.”

“Didn’t stop us finishing, though.” Brodie tugged on the chain of Duncan’s necklace, making the sun pendant slide back and forth. “Shall we set an alarm for four a.m., in case we fall asleep?”

It was tempting. Duncan’s limbs were heavy with fatigue and bliss. “Nah, we should get up and go home,” he said without moving. “Then we can sleep late.”

“Come back to mine. You can meet Fergus and John’s new kitten.”

“Cool.”

They didn’t move.

“Can I ask you something important?”

Duncan tensed at Brodie’s solemn tone. Was there more to cover, another potential grenade to throw between them? “Go on.”

“Who do you think shot Lenny Murdoch?”

“Wh—Christ, Brodie, I thought it was something personal, not about River City .” Watching the Glasgow-based soap opera this year hadn’t been the same alone.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you.” Brodie looked well pleased with his fakeout. “I’ve tried to catch up on iPlayer, but I’ve still missed eighteen episodes this year. Do you think it was one of Lenny’s kids?”

“Probably some rival gangster.”

“Maybe it was Charlotte,” Brodie said with a snicker.

“She’s, like, five years old.”

“Old enough to hold a gun in that family.”

“One thing we do know: Nobody’s going down for it, now DI Donald’s on the case. Because he is the?—”

“Worst. Detective. Ever,” they said in unison.

God, it was good to laugh with Brodie again, to riff about complete nonsense, harkening back to their shared repertoire of inside jokes.

Brodie’s laughter cut short. “What was that noise?”

“What noi?—”

“Duncan? Is that you in”—Mum appeared around the corner with Dad on her heels—“here?” Her eyes went wide as dinner plates. “Wha…”

“Ah, for fuck’s sake, lad.” Dad shook his head. “When we said you should sort things with Brodie, we didnae mean here .”

“I thought you were going back to the flat.” Duncan sat up, clutching the duvet to his chest. “Mum sent a text.” Very much beside the point, but it was his only defense.

Dad gestured in the direction of the street. “We were coming by in the taxi and saw there was a light on in the back of the shop after midnight. We came in to plug it into the timer.” He pointed at Duncan. “You’re the one always nipping our heads about saving electricity for the climate and all.”

Mum started stammering, her face set in what seemed a permanent wince. “Are you—did you—in a display bed?”

Duncan tried to get words out, though none of them would help. “We didn’t—I mean, we did, but we didn’t...you know.” Please let me die now. “I was going to change the sheets.”

Dad snorted. “Aye, you will, and you’ll be keeping the ones you’re on now. We’ll take it out of your pay packet.” He patted Mum’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s give them peace.”

She stared at him. “That’s it? That’s the end of it?”

“What do you want me to do, phone the cops over a bit of fun?” Dad lowered his voice, though not enough. “I mean, it’s not as though you and I never…”

Oh my God. Duncan covered his ears. He had definitely already died and gone to the special hell of picturing his parents bonking in the same semi-public room he was currently sitting in naked.

Mum gave a tipsy giggle. “Fair enough.” She turned to Duncan. “We’re away to our taxi. You know where the clean sheets are.”

“Okay,” Duncan managed to mumble. “We’ll probably spend the night at John and Fergus’s.” Not probably. Definitely.

“In that case,” she said, “I’ll ask now: Brodie, you’ll be joining us for Christmas, I assume?”

Duncan looked at Brodie for the first time since his parents had walked in. The poor lad’s face was red as Santa’s suit.

He gave a jerky nod. “Thanks, Mrs. Harris—I mean, Caroline. Sorry.”

“Erm, no bother.” She backed out of the bedroom section, then swiftly turned and wobbled out of sight. “See you soon!”

Brodie pulled the duvet up over his face. “Fucking hell. What if they’d come five minutes sooner?”

“Or if I’d come five minutes later?” Duncan slid out of bed and started sorting their clothes into separate piles.

Brodie grabbed his boxer briefs and slipped them on under the covers, even though they were alone again. “Your parents are miraculously cool. You know that, right? You know how good you’ve got it?”

“Of course I know.” He couldn’t help smiling as he dressed. “They’re probably laughing right now about how on most days, all I want to do is avoid this place. And yet here I am.”

“Here we are.” Brodie pulled his shirt and jumper on over his head, then finger-combed his hair, which only disheveled it more. “Guess I’ve got more Christmas shopping to do.”

“I know where you can get a real bargain on a set of queen-size sheets.”

Brodie picked up Duncan’s pillow and threw it at him.

They changed the bedclothes, then Duncan placed the “old” sheets inside the duvet cover and tied the end into a knot. Back in the kitchen, he put on his coat and Santa hat, then slung the duvet-sack onto his back and gave a “Ho ho ho!”

Brodie just rolled his eyes.

Outside, snow was falling, though the wind blew so hard, it looked like the flakes were playing the ground-is-made-of-lava game. They danced and eddied, whooshing into doorways and alleys, never settling onto the pavement.

“Shall we walk to John and Fergus’s, then?” Brodie asked.

“Might as well. By the time an Uber gets here, we’ll be there.” Duncan tugged his hat down against the biting wind. “Besides, a Glasgow winter’s nothing compared to a St. Petersburg autumn, right?”

“Aye.” Brodie blew on his hands, then rubbed them together. “Mostly cos you’re here with me.”

They cut across Royal Exchange Square, where clumps of bundled-up revelers still gathered outside of restaurants and pubs. Faerie lights were draped between the buildings’ roofs, creating a star-studded ceiling and turning the snow into glittering motes of gold.

Duncan had walked past this scene a dozen times this month, but its beauty and magic—like every other sign of the season—had felt a mockery of the sadness within him at the thought of spending Christmas without Brodie. But now…

“I’m so happy,” he said.

Brodie waited a few moments. “You’re so happy what?”

“Hm?”

“Generally, ‘I’m so happy’ starts a sentence. ‘I’m so happy that…dot dot dot.’”

“Okay.” Duncan took a deep breath, then raised his voice. “I’m so happy that dot dot dot!” A few people looked his way, but most were involved in their own shouted banter.

Brodie tugged down his scarf to show a brilliant smile. “So which dot am I?”

Duncan took his hand and interlaced their fingers, snug inside their gloves. “All of them.”