Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (8 page)

“More,” he managed to whisper.

Liam quickened his pace in response, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against Robert’s head with each stroke. At last his hand joined his mouth, plunging Robert into an oblivion where nothing mattered but this moment and this man.

His hips began to pump of their own will, and now he was fucking Liam’s mouth and hand, sliding in and out of the tight, wet space they created. With Liam’s muffled voice urging him on, Robert went faster and faster and faster until everything was seizing and freezing in one electric, paralyzing moment.

A moment of pure rightness.

= = =

Robert wasn’t certain how long he lay there, staring at the tent’s domed ceiling. He had a vague memory of Liam helping him hitch up his trousers, then zipping up the sleeping bag to re-form their cocoon.

“All right, mate?” Liam lay on his back beside Robert, their shoulders pressed tight together. “You’ve not said a word since you came.”

“Unh.” With great effort, Robert turned his head to look at his best mate.

“I tried to make it last longer,” Liam said, “but you were—”

“No.” Robert’s tongue tried to unravel itself. “It was…” He gazed at Liam, hoping his eyes would convey what his words couldn’t.

Liam grinned. “Cannae believe that actually happened. Seems unreal.”

It was the realest thing I’ve ever done.

“Was it okay, though?” Liam asked. “I mean, compared to—you know.”

“Girls?”

“Aye.” His voice quivered a bit, telling Robert he needed absolute clarity.

“Liam, it was the best.”

“Aw, that’s a relief. Glad I’ve not put you off men forever.” Liam flipped over to face him, then tugged the covers up to their chins as he burrowed close. “Question time. What made you decide to do this now, after all these years?”

Robert felt his scalp warm. “Remember a few months ago when John said I looked like Brandon from the Dakota Wyatt films? Only he failed to mention Brandon was a porn star?”

Liam’s rumbling laugh vibrated against Robert’s side. “I remember.”

“Well, I Googled Brandon, obviously. And I watched. I watched a lot.”

“So your porn star doppelgänger turned you gay? What a narcissist.”

“Nah, I couldn’t watch the ones with Brandon. All the others, though. Of course I was with Dani at the time, so there was nae chance to, you know, explore in real life.”

“Good job you’re shot of her now.” Liam slid his hand across Robert’s stomach. “Exploring is dead fun.”

Robert took a deep breath. There was something he’d needed to say for a long time. “I’m sorry for not coming out years ago. I stood by in silence when things got rough for you.”

“What, you mean at school?”

“And at football, before we found the Warriors.”

“You never stood by in silence, Rab. You stood
with
me.”

“As an ally. I should’ve stood with you as—as an LGBT person.”

“Then we’d both have been messed about,” Liam said. “You made people accept me, because you were straight and had a trail of happy lasses to prove it.”

Finally able to move, Robert rolled to face him, propping his head on his hand. “
You
made people accept you, Liam. You could handle yourself in a fight. And people liked you, because you were funny and cool and not, you know…”

“A flaming fairy?”

Robert glared at him. “No, that’s—”

“I wasn’t gorgeous,” Liam said. “Straight lads could look at me without thinking, ‘Hmm, I’d give that a go.’ The kind of thoughts that scare them into being bullies.” He patted Robert’s cheek. “If
you’d
been out, you’d have terrified them.”

Robert took Liam’s hand from his face and held onto it. “I know what those lads did to you. I know how you got by.”

“You mean when I sucked them off? That was as much for my sake as theirs. It was good practice. Plus it got me—it got us—free cigarettes. How are you doing with that, by the way? We used to smoke like madmen on camping trips.”

Robert blinked at the change in subject, his mind still spinning from this latest revelation. Liam had always told him he got the cigarettes in exchange for chemistry tutoring. “I’m—erm, it’s been hard.”

Liam glanced downward, raising an eyebrow. “I know, but we sorted that, aye?”

“It’s been
difficult
,” Robert amended with a smirk for Liam’s cheekiness. “All this fresh air but no cigarettes. It’s pure strange.” He lowered his eyes. “All of this is strange.”

Liam tapped his foot against Robert’s. “Strange but good, aye?”

“Oh aye.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on the bridge of Liam’s nose. “Very good.”

With a soft chuckle, Liam turned away from Robert, onto his left side. “Come spoon me, my new best gay pal. Keep us warm.”

Robert complied eagerly, sliding an arm and a leg over Liam and holding him tight. He closed his eyes and pressed his face to the back of Liam’s neck, inhaling the manly zing of his sweat mixed with faint, spicy undertones of shampoo.

Outside their tent, the wind had settled to a lulling whisper. Sleep was folding its velvet grip around Robert, but he needed to make something clear. “You know I’m not gay, right?”

Liam stirred and said, “It’s okay, mate. No judgment here. We’ve all got different journeys.”

“Journeys?”

“Some men are, like, forty before they accept they’re gay. You just need time to get used to the idea.” Liam squeezed Robert’s hand at his waist. “I’m here if you need to talk.” Then he yawned. “But not just now, as I am seriously shattered. In the best possible way.”

Suddenly Robert’s body and mind felt like they belonged to two different people. His body still hummed in the orgasm’s afterglow, while his mind spun in a sickening loop as he processed what his friend had just said.

Either Liam didn’t believe Robert was still attracted to girls, or he thought he could be—what, cured of his bisexuality? That after the hundredth body-rippling blowjob, Robert would
make up his fuckin’ mind
, as Liam had said?

“G’night,” Liam whispered, and when Robert didn’t answer, he turned his head to add, “You asleep already?”

Robert kept his eyes shut and lengthened his breaths—as much as he could, given his anger-fueled adrenaline. What an eejit he’d been, to think that in one night he could magically transform Liam’s prejudice into acceptance.

“Hm. That was fast.” Liam snuggled closer, pressing his arse against Robert’s crotch.

Just like that, Robert was hard again. But he didn’t move. He just lay there and prayed for sleep’s escape.

L
IAM
STARED
OUT
over a crystalline blue Loch Lomond, listening to the calls of lake birds and the sizzle of butter in the frying pan, trying to decide how he felt about hooking up with Robert. Happy? Apprehensive? Happrehensive?

Aye, that was it. He was pure crammed out with happrehension.

He’d lain awake for nearly an hour last night, listening to Robert’s uneven breaths and wondering why his friend was faking sleep. Then this morning he’d considered waking Robert with a good-morning blowjob but decided against it. What had seemed so simple in the darkness—wanting, taking, enjoying—became complicated in sunlight.

He and Robert had never been complicated. On the pitch they were the simple, strong foundation of the Warriors defense and therefore the entire team. Off the pitch was the same—they had the sort of harmony that came from absolute trust.

Sex needed trust too. Liam had no idea if he and Robert defined
that
sort of trust the same way. Robert was a devout monogamist who seemed incapable of casual relationships. The occasional one-night stand always seemed to leave him in bits.

But maybe things had changed, Liam mused as he tilted the pan back and forth, coating its surface with the melted butter. Obviously Robert was going through some sort of transformation by finally acting on his attraction to guys. Liam could be his trusty sidekick in this brave new world, like a big ginger sherpa guiding him up the Mount Everest of gay life. He would take Robert to clubs, help him meet other lads—as soon as possible, so he didn’t get the wrong idea about
this
relationship—and most of all, help Robert sort out the next step on his journey.

Assuming there was a next step. Robert could end up following the path of Tom Hannigan, using Liam as a diversion—intentionally or not—before running back to the safety of the straight life. Liam would be an idiot not to learn from that disaster. He had to be careful.

As he stirred the pancake batter, there came a rustling from inside the tent. In a moment, the zipper descended and Robert’s head appeared.

The sight of his best mate crumpled Liam’s gut like a wad of paper. With his bleary eyes, pillow-creased cheeks, and tousled mop of brown hair, Robert looked more human and gorgeous than ever.

Liam turned away, shaken by his own reaction. It wasn’t as if he’d never noticed Robert’s looks. They were something he’d acknowledged then dismissed as irrelevant, like the beauty of a beach in the South Pacific. Liam had learned early in life not to want things he couldn’t have.

“Wow,” Robert said as he stepped out, struggling to extract his long legs from the tiny tent. “I keep forgetting how big the sky is here.”

“That’s cos it’s usually raining when we come.” Liam kept his eyes on the loch, where the waves were changing from sunrise-orange to midmorning yellow. He heard his mate give a happy groan as he stretched.

“Coffee?” Robert asked as he trudged over.

“Water’s here.” Liam pointed to the cooker’s other burner. “Not boiling anymore, sorry.”

“Nae bother. It’s instant coffee, which is shit at any temperature.”

“Och, I knew I forgot something. Meant to open a Starbucks before we came.”

Robert smirked as he sat on the other end of the log with a mug and the jar of instant coffee. The log shifted with his weight, reminding Liam how that body had felt lying next to his last night.

Maybe Robert wasn’t ready to meet other lads just now, Liam thought. Maybe he needed a slower introduction to this world. After all, the wisest sherpas took care not to rush their climbers up Mount Everest lest they die of altitude sickness.

Liam poured the batter onto the pan and watched it bubble, then broke what felt like an awkward silence. “I love pancakes. Just plain ones, though. Fergus likes blueberry pancakes, but that’s a bit of posh overkill, don’t you think?”

Robert shrugged as he stirred his coffee, the steam wafting up in the cold morning air. “They’re all good. Even buckwheat.”

“What the fuck is buckwheat?”

“It’s a grain. Very hearty.”

“The West End’s turned you into a gourmet, mate. Not sure I like it.” He turned away to search their supplies bag for a spatula. “But I’m willing to try these mythical buckwheat pancakes if you make them for me next Sunday morning.”

Robert’s spoon stopped clinking against his cup. “What’s Sunday?”

Liam examined the spatula for dirt, avoiding Robert’s eyes. “Our second morning after.”

“After what?”

He turned to Robert with an exasperated look. “After what we did last night. Did you not want another go? Was it that bad?”

“No! I mean, yes. No, it wasn’t bad. Yes, I want another go.” He took a sip from the metal cup. “Especially if it’s at my place where I can have real coffee in the morning.”

“Deal.” Liam tried not to grin with relief. “I’d take you to a club, but I cannae afford it just now. So maybe our usual Mates’ Night In after the game? Get some takeaway and watch
Match of the Day
? Plus…whatever else happens.”

Robert looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Sounds good.”

It did. It sounded like bliss.

Liam felt weirdly shy, having basically asked his best mate for a hookup. Whenever he felt shy, he made himself do something cheeky. “Is this batter sweet enough, you think?” He dipped his finger into the pitcher, then held it out.

Robert’s eyes widened. He lurched forward, stumbling and falling to his knees in the sandy soil. “Fuck.” He brushed the spilled coffee from his hoodie, then looked up at Liam. “As long as I’m here.” Robert leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Liam’s finger.

At the touch of those lips and tongue, Liam had to swallow a moan. The look in Robert’s eyes as he sucked…

“Well?” Liam asked with the little breath he had left. “Sweet enough?”

“Aye.” Robert got up to sit close beside him, then took Liam’s face in his hands and kissed him. It wasn’t a come-back-to-the-tent-right-now-you-delicious-beast sort of kiss. It was an I-just-want-to-kiss-you kiss. An I-don’t-believe-this-is-real kiss.

Liam had to agree. This felt surreal, yet inexplicably right.

The smell of smoke reached his nose. “Mmph—pancakes!” He shoved the spatula beneath the closest one and flipped it over. The other side was black and tough as tarmac. “Ugh, sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ll eat the burnt ones.”

“You hate the burnt ones.”

“I know.” Robert turned to face the loch with him, resting his hand on Liam’s knee. They just sat for a moment, watching the waves caress the shore with lazy strokes. Liam heard claws scrabble against bark as a red squirrel scaled the big tree beside their tent.

“Talking of Saturday’s game,” Robert said finally, “shall we tell the team Tuesday at practice session?”

“Tell them what?”

“About us.”

Liam hesitated. “Does everyone have to know? Right now?”

“Why not?”

Liam pulled a pair of plates and forks from the supplies bag. “It kinda goes against Fergus’s ‘Rule One: No Drama’ thing.”

“How would there be drama? You and I are already mates, and now we’re…” Robert’s gaze shuttered as he saw Liam’s face. “I guess we’ve not said what we are.”

Liam scooped the pancakes onto the plates. It would do no good to lie to Robert, to pretend this was something it wasn’t. “How long have you felt this way?”

“About what?” Robert sounded defensive.

“How long have you fancied me? It’s not a quiz show. There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest.”