Plaid Nights Anthology

by Torquere Press LLC

  I returned to the bed a couple of minutes later, a mug of coffee in each hand. Miles took one from me. Almost without being conscious of my choice, I took a seat on the bed beside him. In some respects, it felt like nothing had changed in the five years since we’d last sat down together, but I still couldn’t help noticing all the ways in which Miles had grown and matured.

  But it wasn’t his newly acquired muscles or his firm jaw that I focused on. It was the strange, fascinating garment that adorned his lower half.

  “So when did you start wearing a kilt in public? I mean, doesn’t anyone comment when you turn up at work in it?”

  He grinned. “Oh, this is purely for the rugby. I kind of got dared to put it on, and you know me, I’ll never turn down a dare.”

  That was true. I remembered the hot, hazy afternoon one summer term, after our exams were over, when Miles had jumped out of our second-floor dorm room window at the urging of a couple of girls in the block opposite ours. From what I recalled, the action had earned him a date with one of them. I couldn’t remember her name now, and I doubted Miles could, either.

  “So does the design signify anything?” Blue and moss green with a subtle red thread running through the pattern, the combination of colors suited Miles’ crow-black hair and pale Celtic complexion. I remembered reading somewhere only members of a particular clan were allowed to wear certain tartans, but as Miles had pointed out, there were so many false stories about the kilt that it could very well be another myth.

  “It’s the Mackenzie tartan,” he explained. Well, that made sense. It was his surname, after all. “My dad used to wear it at family gatherings when I was a teenager. Of course, in those days I used to think he was so old-fashioned, hanging on to a heritage that didn’t matter in the real world. I couldn’t wait to move away from home, away from all the small-mindedness and his constant complaining about the Sassenachs. Now, of course, I realize you can take pride in being Scottish without hating the English.”

  “Even when it comes to rugby?”

  “Ah, now that’s more of a friendly rivalry, honest. I see a lot of things differently, even compared to when we were at university.”

  Am I one of those things? Does he see any differences in me, or am I still Gary the dreamer, the guy who’s gonna be a star some day? The guy who just needs that one elusive chance…

  As if he’d read my mind, Miles said, “So tell me more about this film you’re up for.”

  I shrugged, not wanting to talk up my hopes and jinx my chance of getting the part. “There’s not much to tell. I’d be playing the hero’s best friend. He comes to a nasty end about ten minutes into the story, but the character gets some good screen time up to that point. I’m down to the last four for the role, and I’ve got the second audition next week. I’ve just got to hope the director likes me enough to take me on.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.” Miles sipped his coffee. “You know I’m counting on being able to tell the guys at work my closest friend is a Hollywood star.”

  I glanced over at him, trying to work out if he was winding me up, but as far as I could tell his comment was sincere. “Well, things seem to have worked out pretty nicely for you. You’ve got a great job, a nice flat, mates you go to the rugby with…”

  “And who abandon me when it looks like they might be in with the chance of a fuck.” The bitterness in his tone was all too obvious. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, that sounded harsh. Iain and Andrew are decent guys; I shouldn’t begrudge their happiness. It’s just…” He shook his head; paused, as though wondering whether he should pursue the line of thought.

  “Tell me when you knew, Gary. I mean, knew without any doubt at all.”

  “Knew?”

  “That you were gay.”

  His voice was quiet, all his self-assurance gone. He looked up at me, confusion in his eyes. I couldn’t have expected the conversation to take this turn and I wasn’t sure how to respond at first.

  “I don’t know. I suppose it was around the time the other lads in my class were starting to talk about girls, and who they fancied, and I wasn’t really able to join in, because all the people I found attractive were male. And until then, I’d always believed everyone else thought the same way I did. But why are you asking me this?” Even as I asked the question, I had the feeling I already knew.

  He sighed. “Because you’re the only person I can trust to give me a serious answer. I always thought I was a hundred percent straight, but recently I haven’t been so sure. Yeah, I enjoy sex with women—always have done—but there’s a part of me that really longs to know what it would be like with a man. And I’ve tried to ignore those feelings, but they just won’t go away. If anything, they’re getting stronger.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it.” I did my best to reassure him. “You wouldn’t be the first guy who ever turned out to be bisexual.”

  “And you don’t have a problem with it if I am?”

  “Why should I?” I sat a little straighter, sensing Miles had been waiting for a moment like this to talk this problem out. It was flattering that he’d chosen to ask my advice—I couldn’t deny that.

  “Well, I always got the impression gay guys don’t like it if they find out you’re still into women. It’s like you’re not being honest with them, somehow.”

  I scoffed. I had no idea how he’d arrived at his opinion, but I was sure it had nothing to do with anything I’d ever said. Judging people had never been my style. “That’s bullshit. Not being honest is when you lie to yourself about your desires, or when you tell someone exactly what they want to hear in the hopes they’ll go to bed with you.” I decided not to add that I’d been on the receiving end of both those situations in the past. Miles didn’t need to hear about any of my dating woes. “Look, I’m perfectly fine with your being bisexual, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m pleased you’ve finally worked out what you need from life, and I want you to be happy.”

  Though Miles didn’t reply, his expression switched to one of relief. It seemed like I’d given him the answer he’d been hoping to hear.

  “And anyway,” I went on, “I’ve always thought of you as an honest bloke, right from the day we met. I mean, you were upfront with Don tonight when he started with all that ‘traditional kilt wearer’ stuff.” A thought occurred to me. “Unless that was just some kind of bluff to get him off your back?”

  “No, I wouldn’t lie to your boss. He’s a nice guy, even if his jokes are as old and cheesy as your socks.”

  I looked down at my feet to see my left big toe poking out of a hole in my sock. I hadn’t even noticed that when I’d pulled them on before going on shift behind the bar. So much for my attempts to convince Miles I’d finally got my shit together.

  “And I wasn’t lying about the kilt,” Miles continued. “Want me to prove it?”

  ***

  The music on the iPod had come to an end, and the beating of my heart sounded like the loudest thing in the room. Miles regarded me with a steady gaze, his lips curved in a knowing smile.

  This is the man who can’t resist a dare. Do you have the guts to make the next move?

  “If you feel you must.” I tried to toss off the remark in an offhand fashion but heat seared my cheeks and my cock pressed against the confines of my underwear. Just thinking about Miles displaying himself to me had me almost painfully hard.

  He stood up then unbuckled the leather pouch around his waist. When he tossed it on to the easy chair, it landed with a metallic jingling. “Got to have somewhere to keep my loose change,” he pointed out. “There are no pockets in this thing.”

  As he attended to the fastening of his kilt, I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for the big reveal. At last, the woolen material slithered downward, landing in a blue and green pool at Miles’ feet. Beneath it, just as he’d claimed, he was bare—at least as far as I could tell. The hem of his Scotland rugby shirt skimmed the tops of his thighs, tented out by the jutting length
of his erection. I kind of felt like I’d been cheated—his cock was still hidden from me, after all.

  “You know, you could have a jock strap on under that shirt,” I pointed out.

  “Could I?” In the next instant, Miles had grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands. He pulled the garment off in one quick movement then let it drop to the floor. He stood before me naked, his dick rising from the mat of dark curls at his crotch.

  Stripped, his body was even better than I’d imagined—not buff, exactly, but nicely defined. His pecs were covered with soft black hair, his belly was taut and his thighs bulged with muscle. He didn’t seem in the least self-conscious, just looked at me with an air of expectancy.

  “Satisfied?” He raised an eyebrow.

  A weird kind of tension had settled between us. I wanted to make a joke to lighten the mood but I couldn’t find the words.

  I thought he might reach for his shirt and start dressing, given that he’d proved his point. Instead, he continued to stand there, as if waiting for me to make the next move.

  “Wow,” I said at last. “You look amazing. Have you been working out?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. I like to go for a run in the morning; wake myself up, you know. But I don’t want to discuss my exercise regime.”

  “No? So what do you want to talk about?”

  Miles took a couple of steps closer to the bed, his cock bouncing enticingly as he moved. I did my best to pull my eyes up from the sight and look him square in the face.

  “Like I said, I’ve been wondering what it would be like to have sex with a man. And I think you could show me…”

  At the thought of all the pleasures to which I could introduce Miles, my dick gave an impatient twitch. But I had to know he wanted this for the right reasons, even though the strength of his erection seemed to indicate he was serious. “Are you sure about this?”

  He nodded. “Kiss me, Gary.”

  “Okay…” I got to my feet. Miles had about six inches in height on me, so he had to bend his head to bring his face close to mine. I threw my arms around his neck, all too conscious of his naked shaft pressing against my clothed belly.

  Our lips met. This, I knew, was the point where he could all too easily decide he didn’t like what was happening and decide he’d had enough. I wouldn’t argue with him if he didn’t want to take this any further, even if I’d be disappointed.

  But he didn’t back out. After an instant where he seemed to be adjusting to the feel of another man’s mouth against his own, he gave a little sigh and let his lips fall open. I pushed my tongue between them, exploring the soft, wet interior of his mouth. He tasted of coffee and whisky. My nostrils filled with the faint scent of his lemon cologne mixed with fresh sweat. I could have breathed the combination in all night.

  His fingers twisted in my hair, and I raised myself on tiptoes as we gave ourselves fully to the kiss. Eventually, we pulled apart. Miles regarded me with a half-smile, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done.

  I couldn’t resist asking, “Was that anything like you thought it would be?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe not quite so much stubble…”

  I ran my hand over my chin. I’d been growing my beard out for the last couple of days, trying to cultivate a roguish look in time for my call-back audition, though with my fair coloring and blond hair that wasn’t easy.

  “But I want more, I do know that,” Miles said. “And I want you to get naked.”

  As he spoke, he grabbed for my belt buckle. While he wrestled it open, I pulled my T-shirt off over my head. He made short work of unzipping my jeans, tugging them and my briefs down together. Then he took hold of my cock, squeezing it in his big fingers.

  Breath hissed from between my teeth.

  “Sorry, Gary, I wasn’t doing that too hard, was I?” He loosened his grip on my shaft.

  “Not at all. I mean, come on, you’ve got one of these things yourself. You know how much punishment it can take.”

  He laughed, and started stroking me again, running his fist from the root to the tip and back. The rhythm was awkward, a little slower than I preferred, but I wasn’t going to offer any instructions. This was all about Miles learning what to do; getting as comfortable with another man’s body as he was with his own.

  “D’you want some of that, too?” I reached for Miles’ dick. He laughed and took a step back, so that I only clutched at thin air. Somehow, he managed to trip over a discarded boot in the process—either his or mine, I couldn’t tell—and we ended up toppling backwards together, landing in a heap on his kilt.

  The thick woven tartan felt good against my bare skin as we kissed and rolled over in a mock wrestling match. Our rough play ended with me on top, straddling Miles’ belly. His hard cock was snug in the cleft of my ass cheeks and his chest heaved as he laughed in surrender.

  I gazed down into his brown eyes, grinning. “So now what happens?”

  “Now…you fuck me, with any luck.”

  “Oh, your luck’s in all right. Back in a moment.” I climbed off his body and went into the bathroom. I knew we’d need lube and condoms from the stash in the cabinet over the washbasin, but I also had to step away from the situation just long enough to clear my head. I wanted to be with Miles so badly, needing to take things to the next level. And he seemed to want to make the move from just being friends to lovers as much as I did. But my conscience nagged at me.

  Was this all moving a little too fast? I thought back to my own first time. That had been a hasty, fumbling seduction, but then I’d been with a guy who’d been no more experienced than me. We’d learned together that night, working out between us what felt good and what didn’t. Here, I had the advantage over Miles. All this was new to him, and maybe I was taking advantage of that fact. Guilty of moving at a pace that suited me better than him. And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure Miles had an initiation to remember, not one he’d look back on with thoughts of how much better it could have been?

  I splashed water on my face. Studying my reflection in the mirror, I thought I’d given Miles long enough to decide if he had any second thoughts about this. Praying he didn’t. I grabbed the stuff I’d gone to fetch, then left the bathroom

  When I returned, Miles lay on his back on the kilt, lazily jerking his cock. He looked so hot, I was tempted to just stand and watch him stroke himself till he came. But he’d asked to be fucked, and I was determined to fulfill his every desire.

  “Hey, save some of that for me,” I commented as I walked over to him.

  Miles let his hand drop to his side, a guilty but oh-so-charming flush on his face.

  I dropped to my knees beside him, then squeezed lube over my fingers. “This might be a bit cold,” I warned before smearing the gooey stuff all over his asshole. He shuddered beneath my touch, and again I had to remind myself this was all new to him. Whether I cared to admit it or not, getting Miles all greased up and ready for sex was a real rush. My cock was rock-hard, all my thoughts focused toward the moment when I’d finally pop Miles’ cherry.

  I put a finger to the tight pucker, and Miles tensed. Immediately, I stopped what I was doing.

  “Hey, it’s fine. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I assured him.

  He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just…no one’s ever touched me there before. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends I’ve tried to interest in anal games, but they’ve never gone for it.”

  “Well, I’ll take this slowly, and if it gets too much for you, just say.”

  He closed his eyes. I heard him take in a deep breath as if mentally preparing himself. At first, when I tried to push my finger into his ass I met with a certain amount of resistance.

  “Relax and bear down a little,” I said. “It’ll be easier if you do.”

  Miles followed my instruction, and this time the digit slid inside him. He whimpered, but I could tell it was a sound of p
leasure, not discomfort. I gently fingered his ass, getting him used to the feel of having something in his virgin hole.

  “Is that nice?” I asked. He nodded in reply, and I said, “Okay, I’m going to add another one...”

  Now I pumped him with two lube-slick fingers. He humped his butt against the folds of the kilt and I knew I’d hit that secret spot deep in his rear passage. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick, an obvious sign of his growing excitement. I fought the urge to bend my head and lick up those juices, telling myself there’d be time for that later. We’d reached the point where I was sure he trusted me to do what would please him the most, and right now that meant my needs had to come second to his.

  “You ready for me?” I crooned. “Ready to be fucked?”

  “Oh God, yes,” was his fervent response.

  I didn’t need any more encouragement. “Then roll over and let’s do this.”

  He did as I instructed, presenting the firm cheeks of his ass to my gaze. I ran my hand over one of them before giving it a sharp slap. Miles groaned, and I wondered if any of his fantasies involved him being dominated. But those were games for another time. Right now, I had him just where I wanted him, waiting to be fucked. I’d been dreaming about this possibility since he’d walked into the bar, but I’d never expected it would happen.

  The condom packet came open with a rip. I skinned the sheath down my length, then got into position, lining myself up with Miles’ asshole.

  “Okay, this might be uncomfortable for a moment, but just keep working through it…”

  With that, I eased myself home, pushing steadily till I was lodged in Miles’ ass. When it looked like he needed to adjust to the feeling of being filled, I gave him time before going a little deeper. His tense breathing and little exclamation of surprise only gave me hints of the emotions he must be experiencing, I ruffled his hair with my fingers; pressed my lips to his shoulder blade.

  Is this what you thought it would be like? I wanted to ask but didn’t. Instead, I let his reactions guide me as I began to fuck him with long, slow strokes, almost drawing all the way out before shoving in again.