Page 42 of The Good Boys Club

“Maybe tonight we could put a pillow between us?” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good shout.” He stared down into his lap. “Fuck, this thing’s not going down. I know we both showered last night, but it’s . . . the smell of us, I think. I’m gonna go sort this out in the bathroom.”

I averted my gaze as Mash stood, wanting but not allowing myself to glimpse his perfect body. Instead, I caught his reflection in the floor-length mirror on the wall, and I found it impossible to look away this time. He arched his back in astretch and then rubbed his hand over the hard outlines of his cock and knots.

I didn’t know which of us whimpered. Perhaps it was both in unison.

Mash disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a second later—too quickly to have done any “sorting out.” From the doorway, he tossed me a roll of toilet paper. I caught it one-handed.

“In case you need to . . .” He rocked his closed fist back and forth, and then splayed his palm.

I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up, and he shut the door.

Fuck, I really did need to do exactly that. I was aching, throbbing, and now leaking into my PJ pants, and the thought of Mash fucking his own hand only strengthened my urge. But for reasons I had no way of deciphering, it felt wrong.

I was in my best friend’s childhood bedroom, though not his childhood bed. We were pretending to be in a relationship—a sexually active relationship. I had his piss on my neck; he had my piss on his neck. We smelled so fucking good . . . and he was in the bathroom next door wanking because of that smell.

Fuck it, I needed to come. I pushed the front of my PJ pants and boxers down, and took my cock in my hand, almost letting a moan escape my throat at the instant relief.

It didn’t take long. Between the desperate need that had been building up over yesterday’s car trip with Mash, the scent of us, the soft slapping sounds coming from the bathroom, and Mash’s whispered, “Oh, fuck, fuck. Oh, gods,” I’d already reached tipping point.

I shoved the front of my T-shirt up as my orgasm striped across my stomach, and I lay there panting for a few seconds while I floated back down.

The toilet flushed, and I panic-wiped the jizz off my skin, rearranged my clothes, and chucked the tissues in the wastepaper bin.

Mash emerged a few seconds later in only his boxers, because of course he was. The outline of his cock was a lot smaller than before, but his knots still sat prominently at the base, like an extra pair of very pert, very massive balls.

“Fuck, that was a great wank,” he said, walking over to his wardrobe. Yesterday, after we’d settled in, I’d unpacked. I’d hung up all of my clothes and then all of Mash’s because he would be living out of his bags-for-life for ten weeks otherwise. “How was your wank? Or do you need the bathroom to do it?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t need the—fine, yeah. It was fine.”

I’d lived with Mash for three years while we studied for our undergrad degrees, two years for our masters, and another four while Mash did his PhD. I was extremely accustomed to his complete dearth of self-censorship, or thought policing, or any form of shame.

The first time he’d told me he was “off for a wank” my ghast was flabbered. We didn’t talk about anything like that in my household—not wet dreams, not erections, and certainly not wanking. I’d gotten a lot more used to it over the years thanks to all my time with Mash, but I didn’t think I’d ever be as casual as he was.

He pulled on a pair of shorts just as a knock on the door reverberated through the room.

“I’ll get it. You stay there,” he said, winking at me then answering the knock and slipping out into the hall. He left the door ajar.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Kimmy said. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

There was a soft kissing sound, and the smell of coffee and something sweet, sticky, and buttery drifted towards me.

“Morning, Mam,” Mash said. “You brought us breakfast.”

Cutlery and crockery jangled on a tray. “Just making sure my boys slept okay.”

My boys. Why did that make my heart ache?

“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. Did you build the bed?”

“It’s my mating gift to you,” Kimmy said. “Here’s the Harvest Fest itinerary. Your brothers and sisters will be over this afternoon to help with the decorations. You two enjoy a lazy morning together.”

“Thanks, Mam.”

“You really do smell so good on each other.”

“I know,” Mash said, but he’d dropped his voice to a whisper.

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