Page 92 of Men in Shorts

“Colin…please.”

Christ, it had been far too long since he’d heard that helpless pang in Andrew’s voice, since he’d heard anything but kindness and competence and control.

“Please, what?” Colin tightened his hold on Andrew’s wrists. “Say it.”

“Make me come.” Andrew squirmed in his grip. “I need you. Please.”

Colin let go of Andrew’s hair, then shifted him a few inches away from the wall so he could reach around to grasp his cock. Then Colin began to stroke, twice as fast as he was thrusting, his own orgasm swelling within him.

Andrew cried out when he came, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth wide open against the stone. Colin joined him moments later, throwing back his head and sending a deep roar out over the Kingdom of Fife, a kingdom that right now felt like his.

As their breath slowed, steaming in mingled clouds amid the cold air, Colin heard the sound of…cheering?

“Oh look, we’ve an audience.” Andrew propped himself up on one elbow and waved down into the courtyard, where their friends Fergus and John were standing beside a black SUV,applauding. “They must be leaving for their honeymoon.” He blew them a kiss.

“Christ.” Colin stepped back out of view, wincing as he withdrew from Andrew’s body. “That’s my captain I just fucked you in front of.” Fergus would never let him live that down.

“They can’t see anything but our heads. If we’d been quiet, they’d never have known we were here.” Turning his back on the courtyard, Andrew restored order to his kilt. “Silence was not an option, thanks to you.”

Colin reached out and brushed the snowflakes from Andrew’s hair. “You all right?” He touched the cheek that had lain against the stone, ensuring there were no scrapes or bruises.

“Never better. You?”

“I’m grand.”

Andrew’s heavy-lidded gaze sharpened with concern. “Are you sure you’re not?—”

“I said, I’m grand.” He moved closer and took Andrew in his arms. “Look, next week I’ll be playing in a real match, and soon we’ll both be at university again. Life’s getting back to normal.”

Andrew suddenly tensed. “What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying.” Colin kissed him softly. “It’s a new year tomorrow, so let’s make it official: nae more worrying about me, okay?”

“I’ll always worry about you.” He wriggled out of Colin’s embrace, then rubbed the back of his own neck. “But I shall try to hide it better.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,Colin stepped out of Andrew’s bedroom suite, leaving the door an inch ajar so the stubborn latch wouldn’t make a noise when he returned. Andrew needed his sleep—he’d seemed agitated ever since they’d left the Auld Keep tower. Clearly the stress of hosting his friends’ wedding at his ancestral home was catching up with him.

Plush red carpet muffled Colin’s footsteps as he descended the grand staircase into the Hall of the House, the central spine of the castle’s larger, Victorian-era section. It still felt a dream, wandering about as if he belonged here, and it felt especially odd to walk these halls without Andrew by his side. But the Sunderlands’ part-time butler, Dermot, had set out a table of light refreshments, and Colin was starving.

His stomach growled when he spied from above an enormous plate of croissants, and he took a moment to relish the fact his hours were no longer measured in medication doses. Now Colin could eat when he wanted, instead of timing his meals so his stomach was empty or full when the next pill was due. During his recovery from the stabbing, Colin’s life had been fully regimented, with Andrew as the drill sergeant. But now they were simply lovers again, equal at last.

Standing at the refreshment table was a man Colin still couldn’t believe had actually attended Fergus and John’s wedding.

“Good morning, Colin,” said Evan Hollister, his back to the staircase, golden hair glinting in the chandelier light. “Or maybe it’s still good night.”

Colin approached his teammate and former captain, wondering how Evan had identified him from his footsteps. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I could, and I did. But I woke when…when the grooms left.” He stirred his tea, then set the spoon upon the plate beside the hot water dispenser. “Then I couldn’t sleep.”

“I can imagine.” Colin considered grabbing a croissant and heading back upstairs, but Evan looked so forlorn—as forlorn as a six-foot-two, inhumanly gorgeous midfielder could look. Instead Colin sifted through the teabags until he found a chamomile mint. “Must be weird watching your ex get married.”

“I had to come. I had to see Fergus happy.” Evan’s chin dropped as he stared into his tea. “It’s one thing to be with him at football and hear him talk about John. But it’s another thing to watch them start a life together.”

Colin knew his next words might come off poorly, but curiosity won out. “Does it make you feel better about what you did?”

Evan didn’t flinch. “Nothing will ever make what I did okay. But this wedding helped me feel like it was all for the best in the end.” He made a toasting gesture with his tea cup. “John’s a good man.”

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