Page 117 of Men in Shorts

Colin tried to keep his cool as Andrew’s hands wandered. “Before I looked an eejit, you mean.”

“You were a hero.” Andrew’s voice dipped into his most velvety register. “A hot hero.”

“Oh?” Colin’s pulse was thumping now, and seemed to be centered at the base of his cock.

Andrew began to slide his warm, lithe body against him. “You were magnificent out there on the pitch. It turned me on to no end.”

“Did it, aye?”

“Mm-hm.” Andrew’s fingertips slipped beneath the hem of Colin’s shirt. “I wanted to run out into the rain and show my support in the filthiest way possible.”

Images burst into Colin’s brain, stoking his need. Still, he was torn. He didn’t want to risk triggering another panic attack, yet he knew if he said no, Andrew would be hurt. He might even think Colin was turned off by what Andrew saw as his “weakness.”

But maybe there was a way to make this less threatening.

Colin grasped Andrew’s hip to halt his grinding. “Show me. I’ll be you, and you be me.”

Andrew looked confused. “Sorry?”

“Tell me what you’d do to me, and I’ll do it to you.”

“Ohhh, I love that idea.” Andrew sat up and pushed back the covers. “If I’m to be you, I need to stand.”

“Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

“Sort of,” Andrew said with a soft chuckle. He went to stand with his back to the chest of drawers, then cleared his throat. “I run onto the pitch and without so much as a hello, I drop to my knees in front of you.”

Colin leaped out of bed and did as Andrew described. He was glad for the scatter rug that provided a wee bit of padding.

“First I stroke you through your football shorts,” Andrew said, “until your cock is hard as steel, straining at the confines of your jock strap.”

Amused at Andrew’s verbal flare, Colin grasped him through the soft cotton of his yoga trousers. He slid his palms up and down the thickening shaft, letting his thumbs caress Andrew’s balls at the end of each downstroke.

“Ahh.” Andrew’s knees buckled a bit. “You fancy me touching you like this.”

“I bet I do,” Colin said.

“I don’t speak.”

“Sorry.”

“Not even to say ‘sorry.’”

Colin pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh.

“I can’t wait,” Andrew said. “I pull down your shorts and everything, fast as I can.”

Colin yanked Andrew’s trousers to the floor, finding him naked underneath as usual.

“I need to taste you now,” Andrew said. “I don’t care how sweaty you are.”

An accurate portrayal, as Andrew seemed to prefer Colin filthy, often asking him to hold off showering after a training session.

As he slipped Andrew’s cock into his mouth, a pair of fists grasped his hair.

“You make me take all of you at once.”

Colin felt a hard tug on his scalp, then the thump of Andrew’s head at the back of his throat. His eyes watered as he tried not to gag.

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