Page 95 of The Good Boys Club

“I know, that’s why I didn’t hang about.” Mash stripped his tank off.

Every thought I’d just had about his mum and the mess in his shorts was wiped from my mind as I took in the whole of him. This was really happening.

Holy shit, this was really happening.

Mash crossed the bedroom in two strides and pulled my T-shirt over my head. “I’ve imagined doing this for so long.”

I wanted to say, “Me too.” I ached to say it. But I couldn’t let Mash know the extent of my obsession. We needed to take things at his pace, whatever that might be. I was simply grateful for a morsel of his affections.

Instead I said, “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he replied with his bassy laugh, as though he was thankful I’d brought it up. “I’ve never been with a guy. And I want to make sure . . . you’re getting what you need.”

“We’ll go slow.” I couldn’t think what else to say, because just being here with him was more than I ever needed.

“Like, um . . . should I prep? And like . . . how? What do I do?” Fuck, he was so cute.

“We’re not going to fuck tonight, okay? So we can talk about prep another time.”

“Okay,” he breathed.

“Let’s get you in the shower and cleaned up.”

In my nine years of living with Mash, and often sharing a thin bedroom wall, I’d learned a few things about him. There were only so many times I could wear headphones around my own apartment. Plus, anything I missed out on hearing with my own ears, Mash would fill me in on at breakfast.

He was a very generous lover. Always made sure his date came before him—sometimes twice or more—and he enjoyed being told what to do. Not in a Dom-sub kind of way, but he was very much a good boy. Often, the noisiest part of Mash’s love life was his tail pounding against the wall.

I doubted a lot had changed in the six years since we’d moved into our own apartments.

“Shorts off,” I said.

“Yes, m—sir. Sorry, force of habit,” he said.

“It’s fine. You’re doing great.”

He beamed at me and pulled off his trainers and socks. I kicked off my own boots, undid my belt, and my trousers and underpants dropped to the ground. Mash pulled his shorts over his erection and down to the floor, making an effort to scrape most of the congealing cum away with the fabric.

I didn’t let myself think about what any of this meant. Didn’t let the doubts creep in. I knew they were there, yet wheneverI heard the word “but” echo through my mind, I squashed it down. Blitzed it into dust. Like coffee beans in a grinder.

There would be a time and a place for buts. Not now, though.

I took him through to the bathroom and hit the “water on” switch. Mash watched me curiously. His unfocused eyes drifted over my naked skin, a smile on his face that I knew was his dopamine-rush smile. It was the same spacey grin he gave me when he was stoned, or when I cooked for him, or when I finger-combed his hair.

“I don’t know if it’s inappropriate to tell a dude he’s pretty, but you are. So beautiful.” Mash cradled my jaw and brought his lips down to mine again, and he walked me backwards until we were both standing under the “rainfall” setting of the shower head.

When he kissed me, he pressed his entire body to mine, crowding into every millimetre of space between us, as though he were trying to absorb me osmotically into his skin.

The water hit Mash first. It gushed down his bent neck and shoulders, rushing in rivulets between our mouths. But it was fine. I didn’t need to breathe. I could stop breathing right now and know my last moments were lived in absolute bliss.

He bucked his hips into mine, the head of his cock slipped against my stomach. Mine nudged his hipbone. Our knots, mine at the base and his either side, seemed to slot together like stacking doughnuts, one on top of the other.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said, pulling away to catch his breath.

“Me neither,” I admitted.

I would have gone an entire lifetime beside Mash as a friend—a close friend, but a friend nonetheless—and I’d have been happy. That in itself would have been reward enough. But to finally be on the other end of Mash’s affections was everything. It was peak life. Peak happiness. Nothing could take away from this moment. And I would let nothing take me out of it.

The world could burn down outside Howling Pines and I wouldn’t find a single fuck to give. I was not moving from this shower, from Mash’s arms, until we were both panting and spent, lying on the tiled floor.

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