Page 11 of Play Hard

“I definitely do not,” Robert said with a laugh. “Anyway, after this, you come up with a challenge and a reward for me.” He held up a hand. “Obviously everything has to be consensual. We each have the freedom to say no if we’re not comfortable with a request, and the other cannae call them a coward.”

Liam couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to, with, or for Robert, but it made sense to add this rule. “What if one of us says no?”

“Then the challenger proposes another request. That way consent isn’t a short cut to a free turn.”

“Ah.” He poked Robert’s chest with the glue stick. “No wonder you’re so good at making video games, mate. You think of everything.”

“I try.” Robert moved in close and gave him a quick, sweet kiss. “And yet you always surprise me.”

* * *

“Auugh!”Liam tore another piece of poster board in half. Then he reached for the next in the stack of sheets he’d bought this morning at Poundstretchers after ruining the one Robert had given him. Perhaps the seventh time’s lucky.

Sitting on his living room floor, he stared at the blank white sheet on the coffee table in front of him. What did he want from Robert?

They’d already tried nearly all the sex things: BDSM, role-playing, food kink, et cetera—most of which made them laugh as much as turned them on. He’d even convinced Robert to go to one of the local bathhouses for a wee bit of exhibitionistic play. (Looking back, that had been a mistake; Liam should have anticipated the sort of riot a man with Robert’s face and body would provoke. They’d barely made it out alive, and Liam was sure his own face was now on every Glaswegian gay man’s Wanted Dead or Alive but Preferably Dead list.)

He gripped the scissors in frustration, sorely tempted to find a pic of the fittest pro footballer in his latest issue of FourFourTwo magazine and glue it next to a traced outline of his own erect penis.

But that was too literal. The whole point of this exercise was for Liam to find a more subtle way to express himself. Robert knew he was far more comfortable using words, so he was purposely yanking Liam out of his comfort zone by forcing him to employ pictures and symbolism.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe if he cleared his mind, it would conjure a vision of his deepest desire.

Wantingwas, by definition, about not having. What was missing in their relationship? Definitely not love. Liam never doubted Robert’s devotion to him, though he was often bewildered by it.

Robert had a new love now, one that demanded more and more of his heart. Liam didn’t want to take him away from his work. It was too important to him—too important, full stop. He just wanted Robert to…

To what? It was on the tip of Liam’s mental tongue.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He checked the device to see a group text message from Katie Heath, the Warriors starting left fullback, sent to him, Robert, and their right fullback, Jamie Guthrie.

Katie: Did you see what that douchebag said about us?

Liam tapped her link, which led to a thread on an amateur-football forum. The new striker for this weekend’s opponents had asked about the Warriors’ defensive capabilities.

Gerry Mitchell: From what I can tell, their back line is comprised of a dyke, a fatty, and a pair of mutually sodomising CBs.

Liam snorted at Mitchell’s description of him and Robert. He scanned a few of the responses, all of which praised the Warriors defense—especially Robert and Liam’s center-back pairing—though none called out Mitchell’s offensive language.

Jamie had already replied to Katie, Robert, and him: If Mitchell’s shots are as poor as his patter, we’ve got no worries.

Katie: Right? He doesn’t even know ‘comprised of’ should be ‘composed of’.

At least he’d learned something today, Liam thought as he set his phone down. It buzzed immediately.

Katie: Also, you’re not fat.

Liam clenched his teeth. This would never end.

Jamie: Not for want of trying. My mouth was never empty over the holidays.

Liam switched off his phone. He loved electronic communication as much as anyone, but now that he was trying to focus his thoughts on something important, the interruptions were driving him round the bend. If only—

His breath caught in his throat. That’s it. He knew exactly what he most wanted from Robert.

Liam spread out the poster board to begin his very final draft.

---