Page 90 of Men in Shorts

Closer still lay the five thousand acres Andrew’s family had sold off to pay the estate’s crippling debts, land that included the cozy boathouse Andrew’s parents had promised would be his forever. Colin wondered if it pained him to set eyes on this view now.

“I told you you’d love it,” Andrew said. “And look, the wind has cleared a path to the edge, so we won’t need the shovel after all.”

Colin moved between the drifts until he reached the waist-high stone parapet at the tower’s edge. “This is…my God.” He kept his voice at a whisper, as if to avoid waking the countryside from its snow-swaddled slumber.

“It’s more impressive in daylight,” Andrew said as he stepped up beside Colin. “I considered waiting until sunrise, but by then the others might be awake.”

Colin squinted at a glimmer on the southeastern horizon. “Is that Edinburgh?”

“Mmm-hmm. We can see it only on the clearest nights.” He took Colin’s arm and turned him to face north. “There’s Perth, which is closer but smaller. Sometimes we can even see Dundee and Stirling.”

Speechless, Colin pivoted full circle, then peered down through the steel railing that stopped people falling through the gap in the parapet whence arrows once flew. Nearly a hundred feet below him, the castle’s wide stone courtyard still glistened from thousands of white holiday lights, their glow multiplied by the fresh snow.

“I love it here,” he told Andrew. “I hate that I love it, but I do.” He still couldn’t help calculating what the Sunderlands spent on a day’s worth of food, and how that amount could feed Colin’s family for two weeks.

Andrew tugged on the ends of Colin’s undone necktie. “Do you hate that you love me?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“I used to. But you’ve proved you’re more than a pretty face and a social-media darling.” He kissed him, and the warmth of Andrew’s mouth accentuated the cold air around them.

“Hush,” Andrew murmured against his lips. “Don’t tell anyone I’m a man of substance. I’ve a reputation to uphold.” With a smile, he turned in Colin’s embrace so they were front to back, looking over the fairytale landscape together.

Colin gave a happy sigh, then asked, “Will the snow be cleared in time for us to get to Edinburgh for the fireworks?”

“Absolutely.” Andrew paused. “But I was thinking, perhaps we could go back to Glasgow and just stay home tonight.”

“Home in your flat?” Though they’d been living together ever since Colin’s injury at the end of September, he was still careful to refer to the place as Andrew’s, nottheirs. He’d hoped to pay rent now his endorsement deal was done and dusted, but Andrew had refused to take his money. As cozy and enjoyable as their cocoon-like living situation was, Colin never forgot that it was a result of circumstance, not choice. He worried that one day he’d wake to find he’d overstayed his welcome.

“Yes, in our flat,” Andrew said. “We could greet the new year just the two of us. I’m too shattered to stand about in the cold with drunken tourists.”

Colin frowned. Between his long recuperation and this month’s shite weather, he’d gone pure stir-crazy. “Is this one of those times when you pretend to be tired cos you think I need more rest?”

Andrew made a noise of mock shock. “I would never.”

“Aye, you would.” He gave Andrew a squeeze. “I’m fighting fit now, so you can stop treating me like an invalid.”

“God’s honest truth, it’s not about you this time. I’m genuinely exhausted after this wedding.” Andrew turned to face him. “And I don’t mean to treat you that way. I know you’re brand new again. It’s just that worrying about you is a hard habit to break.”

“I get it. But mind, I’m not your patient. I’m your boyfriend. Your lover.” He nuzzled Andrew’s ear, then gave it a nip. “Your lion.” He pronounced it the French way, as Andrew often did,lee-ON.

Andrew shivered.“Tu es mon lion. Sans cesse.”

Colin frowned at his own limited French. “Without what?”

“Without ceasing.Sans cessemeansalways. Technically it meansalwaysas in,constantlyornonstop, as in,Tu me déranges sans cesse, but?—”

“I’m always deranging you?”

Andrew put a finger to Colin’s lips. “Always interrupting me.”

Colin smiled, then captured Andrew’s finger, drawing it deep and sucking hard. Andrew’s lashes flickered, then he crooked his finger in Colin’s mouth to pull it forward to meet his own. As their tongues met, trembling, Colin felt a jolt shoot down his spine straight to his cock. He wanted to take Andrew here, on top of the world, in defiance of the freezing wind and chilling propriety.

“I want to be your lion again.Sans cesse.” Colin reached below the waistband of Andrew’s kilt to cup his arse with both hands. “But you cannae keep me in a cage and expect me not to go a wee bit mad.”

“In that case.” Andrew pushed him away slightly, then mimed turning a key and tossing it over his shoulder. “Your cage is open.” He leaned back and spread his arms, placing his palms on the stone wall behind him. “Be your wild self.”

Colin dropped to his knees in the snow, not caring how the icy water seeped through his trousers. He slid his hands up Andrew’s calves, over the cream-colored stockings criss-crossed with black laces, then the soft skin behind his knees. Then he continued up, hooking his thumbs beneath the hem of Andrew’s kilt. Even in the tower’s dim light, he could see the sinews of Andrew’s thighs, built from years of swimming and yoga. Goosebumps dotted the smooth skin in response to the bitter pre-dawn air.

Colin raised the kilt above Andrew’s hips and found him already half-erect. He moved forward, starving for this man.

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