Page 29 of Men in Shorts

“Out of your league because I give good head? It’s nothing you can’t do.”

“I haven’t got half as much practice.”

“Hmm. It’s true there are some things you can learn only by doing, through trial and error.” Duncan’s lips drifted across Brodie’s. “But other things, you can learn by observation. Close observation.”

Brodie’s mouth watered. “Are you saying I’ve just had my first lesson in Advanced Fellatio?”

“Intermediate at most, but cheers, that’s flattering.”

Brodie swallowed his nervousness and slid his fingers under the waistband of Duncan’s sleep trousers. “Then maybe I should practice what I’ve learned, pronto.”

Chapter8

“Imagine this is your cock.”

“Okay.” Brodie threw a nervous glance about the noisy restaurant, then crooked a dark eyebrow at Duncan from across their table. “I wouldn’t be able to walk, were that the case, but I’m imagining.”

With his fingers looped around Brodie’s slim, bare forearm, Duncan slid his hand up and down as fast as he could.

“Ow!” Brodie pulled away. “Seriously?”

“Sorry.” Duncan wanted to give Brodie’s reddened skin a soothing caress. “But aye, that’s what a dry hand job’s like for a circumcised guy. No natural lubrication whatsoever. A few American lads I met had neverseenan uncut prick up close and in person, much less knew what to do with one.”

“Mystified by the foreskin?”

“Mystified, intrigued—and in some cases, repulsed.” Duncan attempted a coy shrug. “But my Scottish accent helped.”

“I see. Roll a fewRs and suddenly they can’t stop thinking about your tongue.”

“Pretty much.” Duncan sipped his Coke, reveling in Brodie’s laughter. It was a good sign—that and the fact Brodie was able to make the ten-minute walk down to Glasgow’s West End, where he’d insisted on taking Duncan for a real date to thank him for the meals he’d brought that week. They’d been lucky to get a snug at The Left Bank, which was pure crowded as usual on a Friday night. At least Brodie could rest better on his comfy couch-like seat than he could in a typical restaurant chair.

The server arrived with their food, cutting off the discussion. As Duncan spread a thick layer of chipotle mayo on his chickpea-and-sweet-potato burger, he said, “Be honest. Do I talk about America too much?”

“No, it’s fascinating.” Brodie lifted his own burger, the regular beef sort. “Where else could I possibly learn that they call lifts ‘elevators’? Oh wait—everywhere.”

“Sorry. I must sound a total prat.”

“It’s kind of adorable.” Brodie plucked a rosemary chip off Duncan’s plate and popped it into his own mouth. “Then again, we’ve just started dating, so everything we do is adorable.”

Duncan kicked him under the table. “Ya wee cynic.”

Brodie kicked him back. “Ya big romantic.”

Duncan reached down to grab his leg, then stopped, remembering they were in public. At least here the background music and chatter were loud enough they could say what they wanted without being outed. But they couldn’tdowhat they wanted.

As if reading his mind, Brodie straightened his posture and leaned back, diminishing their flirtatious vibe. “The LGBTQ group is having a dance party a week on Friday. Want to go with me?”

“Brilliant, yeah! I’ve got a match the next day, though, so I can’t stay out late. Sorry.” Duncan tensed, expecting to hear the usual frustration at his limited social life. It was hard for lads he dated to understand the sacrifices he made for the team.

But Brodie shrugged. “I haven’t exactly got a muckle puckle energy myself these days.”

Duncan grinned with relief, wondering why he’d been nervous about this date. Aside from a few awkward moments, it had so far been a belter. He decided to let himself relax, enjoy his food, and stop trying so hard to impress Brodie.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my mates in the LGBTQ group,” Brodie said. “Maybe you’ll think of joining?”

“Activism’s not my thing,” Duncan answered through a mouthful of burger.

“We’re more than that. Besides, you play for a gay football team, so you’re already an activist.”

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