Page 65

They showered together in the narrow stall upstairs, where the water pressure was inconsistent and the showerhead sat at a height designed for someone a foot shorter than Ruari. He crowded Cassian against the tile with his chest pressed to Cassian’s back, one arm braced above them while his free hand worked between Cassian’s thighs, his mouth finding every patch of wet skin it could reach.

He bit the top of Cassian’s shoulder, leaving the imprint of a crescent, and when Cassian arched into him and whimpered, Ruari pulled his hand free and took hold of his own cock.

He laid it along the cleft of Cassian’s arse, the full thick length of it. His cockhead sat fat and flushed at the base of Cassian’s spine. Cassian was slight beneath him, narrow-hipped, fine-boned, dwarfed by the arm braced beside his head, and the contrast made Ruari’s grip tighten on his own shaft.

He dragged the head of his cock down through the slick that had been running in warm trails down Cassian’s inner thighs. Both thumbs found Cassian’s cheeks and pulled them apart, spreading him wide, and the sight of that tiny pink hole waiting for him, wet and swollen, small against the blunt head nudging beneath it, made Ruari’s cock throb.

“Ruari,” Cassian breathed, pushing his hips back.

Ruari held him still with one hand flat on his lower belly and fed the head forward. The rim stretched white-tight around the crown. This was the part Ruari liked best, the moment where the fit looked wrong, where his cock looked too thick and Cassian looked too small. The visuals told him that the physics of it shouldn’t work, but then the resistance broke, the head of his cock popped past the ring of muscle, and Cassian’s body pulled him inward with a slick, greedy clench.

Cassian did his usual little shimmy: a rolling wiggle of his hips and stomach that he’d explained to Ruari one night. I’m making room for you, Ruari. If I wiggle, everything moves around inside, then you fit better.

The technique worked. The reasoning was insane. Ruari had looked it up later, scrolling through forums at three in the morning while his sourdough proved, and found the actual mechanics laid out: pelvic floor relaxation, internal sphincter release, angle adjustment.

Cassian had landed on all of it by instinct alone, which made him a natural little fucker in every sense of the phrase. When Ruari had told him so, Cassian had lit up like he’d been handed a trophy, and his hand had shot towards his mobile before Ruari caught his wrist.

“You’re not sharing that with the group chat, Cass.”

“But it’s a compliment, Ruari.”

“It’s not leaving this room.”

Cassian was glowing by the time they walked into the Elgin. His skin was flushed pink from the shower, and the bite mark from Ruari peeked above the collar of his T-shirt.

Sandra, the Elgin’s Wednesday barmaid and Proving Ground’s least profitable regular, called out a loud greeting to them.

“The man himself,” said Geoff, who did Wednesdays behind the bar now. “And his better half. Steak night treat, is it?”

Cassian plopped onto the stool next to Ruari’s.

“Two Lagavulins,” Ruari said. “Neat.”

Cassian blinked at him. “That’s whisky. I’ve never had whisky.”

“Yeah.” Ruari wrapped an arm around Cassian’s shoulders. “You’re a free man, Cass. We’re drinking to it.”

Geoff set two tumblers on the bar, the amber liquid catching the low light above the taps, and slid them forward.

Cassian picked up his tumbler with both hands and brought it to his mouth. His lips barely touched the surface of the whisky before his whole face contracted into a grimace so theatrical that Sandra stopped mid-pour at the other end of the bar to watch.

He set the glass down and licked his lips. Then he picked it up and tried again, this time managing to get a quantity roughly equivalent to a teardrop past his teeth before he shuddered.

“It tastes like a bonfire,” Cassian said, with betrayed indignation.

Ruari drained his own glass in one swallow. He set the empty tumbler on the bar with a satisfying crack. “Two more, Geoff.”

Geoff reached for the Lagavulin, and Cassian stared at the fresh glass that appeared in front of him. “I can’t drink this, Ruari. It’s like licking the inside of a chimney.”

“Down it.” Ruari nudged the glass closer with one finger. “One go. Don’t sip: sipping’s a mistake. Just throw it right back, and you won’t taste it.”

Cassian closed his eyes and tipped the entire contents into his mouth.

He swallowed. His eyes flew open, wide and watering, and he slammed the glass down on the bar with a gasp that turned every head within a three-metre radius.

“Ruari.”

“Good lad.” Ruari kissed his temple and flagged Geoff. “Now get him the biggest steak you’ve got.”