Page 175 of Men in Shorts

Liam did as he asked, carefully sliding back inside Robert on a stream of come. “Oh my God.” His own words sounded muffled under the blood pounding in his ears.

He held himself there, letting Robert milk him of every last drop. Their legs were shaking now, but he didn’t want to budge from this place of perfection.

Liam set his trembling hands on Robert’s lower back. “Have I screamed out in pure ecstasy lately that I love you?”

“I think so.” Robert let out a heavy sigh and let his limp arms hang off the sides of the desk. “Even if you didn’t, I still heard you.”

* * *

After a much-needed shower,Robert restored his desk to its pre-sex state, setting his monitor in the precise location and angle to maximize ergonomics—and theoretically productivity. Then he took a minute to examine his and Ben’s ideas on how to incorporate a social element intoGlasgow Effect. He hoped it would be enough to soothe his funders’ fears at Monday’s meeting.

“I meant to ask,” Liam said as he entered Robert’s room with a green-and-white-striped towel round his waist, “did the pink knickers fit as well?”

“Too big. I knew they’d be bunching up during the match. But I could still wear them for other purposes.” He smiled at his partner. “Or you could wear them.”

Liam just laughed, a response Robert couldn’t interpret as a yes or a no.

He shut down his computer before he could be chided for working. “Now we’re on to Part 3—my turn to challenge you.”

“Unless it involves competitive eating,” Liam said, “I’m not up for it the night.”

“Nae bother. I cannae get what I need for you until tomorrow.” At least, he hoped the sort of shop which sold it would be open on a Sunday. Though fewer and fewer Scots were religious these days, sometimes his compatriots could still be funny about such things.

They consumed their respective pizzas while watching Robert’s recording of Celtic F.C.’s victory over St. Johnstone earlier that afternoon.

“I know this is blasphemy,” Liam said after the start of the second half, “but sometimes I wish Rangers were still in the Scottish Premiership. It’s pure dull watching Celtic romp all over our opponents every week.” Then he crossed himself as though in penitence.

“Rangers’ll be back next season,” Robert said. Celtic’s crosstown rivals had been sent down to the league’s lowest division due to liquidation, but they were steadily working their way back up to the top flight. “Still won’t be as good as us.”

“They’d at least make things interesting.” Liam gestured to the wall-mounted TV. “Our boys are never challenged within Scotland, so when we play in the European competitions, we get fucking annihilated. It’s like trying to study at Oxford after a remedial secondary education.”

Sinking deep into the black pleather couch, Robert opened his third beer—which he swore would be his last despite his exhausted body’s craving for calories—and thought about the relationship between challenge and performance.

The Warriors were well-matched in their division and always finished in the top half of the table, though never high enough to be promoted to the premier division. Promotion was a perennial Warriors goal, and Robert often wondered what would happen in that event. Would the Warriors feel literally “out of their league” and fall right back down to the second division, discouraged by the new challenge? Or would they rise to the occasion and be better than ever?

Either way, the publicity and pressure of being the first LGBTQ team to compete week in, week out against the nation’s best “straight” amateur teams would utterly change their lives.

Robert’s eyelids drooped, weighed down by such heavy thoughts after the day’s exertions. He hoped Liam didn’t want to go clubbing tonight: Robert was too tired to dance but too ashamed to admit it.

“Hey.” Liam poked his leg with his toe, having apparently stretched out on his side while Robert was dozing off.

“Hey what?”

After a long hesitation—during which Robert nearly fell back to sleep—Liam asked, “What if I became a physiotherapy assistant instead of a massage therapist?”

Robert blinked himself to full alertness. This was brand new. “I think you’d be brilliant at either job.”

“Maybe a physio’s practice would be a better, you know, environment.” Liam bit his lip. “Like, busier and all.”

“I can see that.” Robert shifted to face him. “But you’re uniquely gifted at massage.”

“Och.” Liam let his head drop against the back of the couch. “I’m also uniquely gifted at football and fucking, but I cannae make a living at those things.”

“Well…”

“Donotoffer to pay me for sex, cos I will totally accept it if it means keeping the heating on.”

Robert met Liam’s half joke with one of his own. “Then can I pay you for a massage? It’s been ages since you gave me one.”

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