Play On: A Glasgow Lads Novella Read Online Free PDF Page A

Brodie’s soft, sweet features really did it for him.
    Ten minutes later, Duncan gave up studying and just stared through his notes as he listened to the noises from the bed behind him—not snores this time, but whimpers and sighs, accompanied by the shifting of sheets. He remembered those noises all too well, how Brodie’s breath had sounded and felt against his skin that night as they’d kissed and groped. He turned up his music again, but it couldn’t stop the memories that were filling his brain and swelling his cock.
    “Am I annoying you?” Brodie asked suddenly, making Duncan jump.
    He took out an earphone. “Sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking from the constriction of his jeans.
    “I’m so tired I can’t sleep.” Brodie stared at the ceiling, arms spread, fingers draping melodramatically over the edge of the mattress. “I can’t read my notes. I can’t even think. I’m basically a useless person.”
    I should go. But he needs me. But I should go.
    Duncan set down his pen. “I know just what you need.”
    “Death?”
    “Mindless telly.” He brought up the BBC iPlayer on his tablet. “This calls for a binge of River City .”
    “The soap opera? My mum used to watch that every Tuesday night. Seemed rubbish to me.”
    “It was at first, but now it’s really good. When I was ill last year, River City was the only thing I could bear to watch.”
    “How did you get BBC in America?”
    “Virtual private network app. Makes it look like your IP address is in a different country to where you are. It’s how I stream American shows here.” Duncan pretended to search the room for a place to set the tablet so they could both see it. But he’d already thought of one. “Move over.”
    “Why?”
    “So we can watch the show together, ya dobber. Where’s your spare pillow?”
    Brodie gaped up at him, not moving, making Duncan very nervous. Finally he nodded to the wardrobe. “In there.”
    As Duncan retrieved the pillow, Brodie squeezed himself against the wall, leaving more than half of the bed available. When Duncan settled next to him atop the sky-blue duvet, keeping the thick layer of covers between their bodies, Brodie let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. If Duncan hadn’t showered this morning after his daily run, he would’ve wondered if he stank.
    He pulled his knees up, then propped the tablet against his thighs.
    “Must I stare at your crotch to watch this show?” Brodie asked.
    “My crotch is the ultimate entertainment unit.”
    Brodie snorted, then put a hand to his head. “Ow. Here.” He drew his own knees level with Duncan’s, then rested the tablet so that one end was on his own left thigh and the other on Duncan’s right. “Better?”
    Now Duncan would have to hold his leg rigid to keep it from touching Brodie’s. “Erm…yeah.” He tapped the screen to play the show. The opening credits swept by, a dazzling montage of modern-day Glasgow. “This bit always made me homesick when I watched it in the States. Growing up here, I couldn’t wait to get out and see the world. And then I couldn’t wait to come home. Pathetic, isn’t it?”
    Brodie grunted. “I don’t miss home at all.”
    “Why not?”
    “Shh, it’s starting.”
    Duncan crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits. His fingers itched to run through the dark, damp waves of hair flopping over Brodie’s temple. He tried to take shallow breaths so the smell of shampoo and soap wouldn’t weaken his resolve. He wanted to do more than touch that hair. He wanted to bury his face in it, right at Brodie’s nape, and behind his ear, and all the other places where his scent would be strongest: under his arms, behind his knees, between his thighs…
    “Those two men are a couple?” Brodie asked. “That’s brilliant.”
    “Told you this show got better.” Duncan paused the program to relate the tumultuous history of Robbie and Will. “I kinda hate that Robbie’s a hairdresser. I mean, stereotype