Page 126 of Playing to Win

“I am.” Andrew moved faster. “I am. I’m—” He groaned deeper than Colin had ever heard him.

Then his body went rigid, and his head snapped back. In this moment, he’d never looked more beautiful. Deep inside, Colin felt the nod and throb of Andrew’s cock as it released its flood.

As their orgasms slowly receded, Andrew bent over to kiss Colin’s lips, cheeks, eyebrows. Finally he withdrew, then collapsed on the bed beside him.

Limbs weak, Colin reached out to touch his chest. “Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Andrew made a dreamy murmur, his lids fluttering shut.

“Also,” Colin said, “a towel?”

“No.” Andrew bent over Colin’s chest and licked him clean, trailing his tongue down his abdomen to follow the trail of cum. Colin sighed and just watched as Andrew finished, then laid his head on Colin’s chest and gazed up at him. “Now can you sleep?”

“I think so.” He felt thoroughly wiped. His heart was still broken, but the last half hour had numbed his mind better than any booze ever could. In this sea of desolation, he’d found an island of peace.

He knew that later, reality would come crashing in, but for now, he could shut his eyes and feel safe.

= = =

When Colin woke, of course, despair lay upon his chest, heavy as an iron girder.

Last night, Scotland was stillborn.

As he lay there, reliving yesterday’s debacle, he realized it was only in the last month that he’d thought independence could happen. Before that, he would have been content with a well-fought battle and glorious defeat, knowing they’d awakened a nation.

But after coming so close, after letting himself believe for the first time in his life that a “skint lad fae the Drum” could have a voice, there was no comfort to be had. Everything Colin had worked for, everything he’d dreamed of, was over. How could he go on?

The answer slept beside him, with a face as smooth and carefree as ever. What must it be like to live without dread and fear?

He got up without waking Andrew, needing the comfort of like minds. Perhaps one of his Twitter mates had an inspiring word—or at least a good joke—to lift his spirits.

He pulled on a pair of Andrew’s flannel sleep trousers and went out into the sun-drenched reception room, where he found his phone on the TV console. Andrew had plugged it in to charge, but apparently also shut it off.

The moment Colin’s phone connected to the network, it started bleeping and buzzing with notifications. His inbox lit up with text messages from friends, both real-life and online, offering thoughts likeOMGandI can’t believe it!andYaldy!

“What the…” He opened Twitter to find 1,041 notifications, mostly replies to him and Andrew, just like last week.

But unlike last week, two other well-known Twitter accounts were also tagged.

Andrew, what have you done?

He skimmed the replies. One lass with a Yes badge on her profile pic called Colin her “hero” but lambasted Andrew for “too little, too late.” A lad with a No Thanks profile pic said,Fucking faggots should stay out of politics. Better yet, stay out of Scotland.

Colin found Andrew’s original tweet, which contained a video.

Lord Andrew Sunderland: .@David_Cameron just proved @Conservatives don’t care about Scotland. So I’m coming out. Again. #indyref @WarriorColin

Colin pressed play.

The video showed Andrew sitting at his kitchen table, the faint blue light of dawn illuminating his face. He looked exhausted.

“Hello, Colin,” he said in a hushed voice. “It’s Friday, the twelfth of September, six days before the referendum. You’re sleeping in the other room, which is why I’m speaking so low.” He took a deep breath. “Last night when I told you I was up researching ‘the future,’ I didn’t mean only university. I meant something much, much greater.

“Firstly, Colin, I want you to know I didn’t do this for you. I respect both of us, as well as the democratic process, far too much to throw away my voice for mere romance. Secondly, whilst I didn’t do thisforyou, I did itbecauseof you. Because you made me see how wrong this world is, and how it can be better.” He tilted the laptop’s camera down to show his postal ballot on the table before him. His pen was poised above the two boxes. “I don’t know if this is the answer, but it’s an answer I want to be part of. With you.”

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