Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Ryan
I’d been trying to hot glue bits of foam together when Mason’s loud but exhausted rendition of ‘We Are the Champions’ had broken through my blissful silence of concentration.
I chuckled to myself as I put the glue gun down, careful to avoid my fingers and anything vaguely meltable. I’d already melted two mouse mats, a plastic coaster, and a knock-off Pokémon figurine a friend had found that’d had too many eyes, the most terrifyingly soul-sucking expression, and could only stand up if propped against something.
“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” I heard Jonny ask from the bottom of the stairs. “Poor Freddie Mercury is probably turning in his grave.”
Mason said something in response but his voice was too muffled. I didn’t think any kind of gym circuits or training drills would warrant this much enthusiasm, but then again rugby union players were weird as fuck.
I heard Jonny’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and decided now was the perfect opportunity to get myself another drink. Maybe even make some dinner since it was nearly eight already. I’d gotten lost in my work and hadn’t eaten since I’d snaffled half a packet of chocolate fingers at about two-ish. “Why is Mason butchering Queen?” I asked as I stuck my head out of my bedroom to see poor Jonny shuffling along the landing. He looked very tired and sore.
“Bloody Gavin decided to turn our last set of drills into a team-bonding exercise,” Jonny said with a shake of his head. “Mason and West won. I’m still not sure how.”
“That’ll do it,” I said with a wry chuckle as the singing started up again, except this time Mason had decided to start singing Taylor Swift. In his musician era he was not. “I’m gonna go make dinner. Do you want anything?”
“They fed us at training,” he said. “I’m going to go pass out for the next sixteen hours. If you do see our champion, tell him to keep the singing to a minimum. I’d rather my ears didn’t start bleeding.”
“I’d grab yourself some earplugs, just in case.” I tried not to wince at Mason’s pitched rendition of ‘Shake It Off’ and chuckled. I’d never been the best singer in the world, but right now Mason made me sound like fucking Beyoncé.
Jonny disappeared into his room with a huff and I headed downstairs to the kitchen where I could hear the sound of the kettle boiling and Mason getting his mug out of the cupboard underneath all the singing. I stopped for a moment in the doorway, looking at him fondly. He was getting something out of the fridge, which meant he hadn’t spotted me, and I got a perfect view of his tall, broad, muscular body with sculpted calves and thighs you could crack walnuts between.
He’d obviously showered at the training ground because he was wearing his favourite pair of grey sweatshorts that hugged his ass and an old Call of Duty T-shirt that probably would’ve been loose on anyone else. The T-shirt was starting to get a hole in the back and I kept meaning to mention it to him because it wouldn’t take me long to fix.
I grinned as Mason shook his butt as he sang, his words full of tired joy. Out of everyone I’d ever lived with, Mason was definitely my most exuberant housemate. And his infectious enthusiasm was like a little shot of sunshine on a rainy day.
“I hear you and West won something,” I said, speaking before Mason could turn around and spot me staring at his ass. It wasn’t like I had anything to feel guilty about, especially after last night, but I didn’t want to make him shut down and run away before we could talk. Because I had plans.
An idea had been forming in my mind throughout the day and I couldn’t wait to share it with him. I wasn’t sure if it was the best idea I’d ever had—the likelihood of it blowing up in my face was pretty spectacular—but you missed a hundred percent of the chances you never took, and I figured after last night it was worth shooting my shot.
“Yeah,” Mason said. He turned around with the milk in his hand, a bright but exhausted smile on his face. “Not sure how, but we did.”
“What did you win?” I asked, walking over to the fridge to stand next to him. Outwardly, I was trying to see what leftovers I had, but in reality, I just wanted to get closer to him. I got a waft of his cheap lemon soap—the one that smelt more like artificial lemon than the actual fruit—and something deep and musky that only ever reminded me of Mason.
I fought the urge to breathe in deeply because sniffing him in front of the fridge was not going to help my case.
“No prize sadly, although Hunter and Bailey did dump a bucket of water on my head,” he said before moving a few steps away to the kettle, wafting more fake lemon and musk across my face. “It was good, though, because it was so bloody hot I felt like I was going to die, especially with Gavin making us carry each other up and down.”
I stared at him, trying not to laugh. “What?”
“Yeah, he made us do this bloody team-bonding exercise where we had to pair off and then carry our partner to the halfway line, then hold their ankles while they wheelbarrow walked back to the goal line. Then we had to swap and do it again.” He cracked his neck and sighed. “It fucking hurt.”
“And you did this with West?”
“Yeah, he nabbed me as his partner before Gavin explained it,” he said. “He gives good piggyback rides, though. Very supportive.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. West and Mason were two of the biggest men I’d ever met and I’d seen West pick his boyfriend, Rory, up on more than one occasion. It often happened when Rory was in full drag and wearing ridiculous shoes and didn’t want to break his ankle rushing downstairs or across cobbles. He looked so sweetly smug being carried bridal style by his man, whose biceps were the size of my head.
My gaze fell to Mason’s hulking shoulders and I wondered what it’d be like if he picked me up. He’d probably be able to do it with one arm… throw me over his shoulder or let me wrap my legs around his waist while he…
No. I was not going there.
Not yet anyway.
I glanced back into the fridge and pulled out a leftover tub of chicken and rice, inspecting it carefully. It was only a couple of days old but I decided not to risk it. Food poisoning would not work well with my plans.
“Have you got anything for dinner?” Mason asked as he stirred his tea, the spoon clanking on the side of the mug. “I’m assuming you forgot to eat again?”
“I didn’t forget,” I said, grinning at him as I chucked the chicken and rice into the bin. “I was busy.”
“Did you glue your fingers together again?”
I held up my hand. “Nope, all good this time. I didn’t melt anything either.”
“Success,” he said as he threw his teaspoon into the sink and sipped his tea, leaning back against the counter and giving me another chance to admire his body. He’d worked very hard for it, so it would be rude of me not to notice it. At least, that was how I justified it to myself .
“I’m counting it, especially because the giant dice is coming on nicely. I should be able to roll it across the stage,” I said. “Or get audience members to roll it across the floor. I think it’ll be fun at things like drag brunch too.”
I’d gotten really into Dungeons & Dragons in the last few months—thanks, hyperfixation—and had spent all my spare time watching games online, reading rulebooks, dreaming up characters, and plotting how to merge my newfound love of the game with my drag. My art had always been inspired by all things nerdy, whether that was comic books, anime, cartoons, or video games, so adding D&D felt like a natural step.
But since I never did things by half, I was doing it with style and a fuck-ton of props.
“We can start using it to work out who’s doing the washing up,” Mason said. “Although… is it one of those weird ones with all the sides?”
“A D20? Yeah. I guess you’ll both just have to roll persuasion checks to convince me to do your washing up for you.”
He laughed. “Deal. I’ll persuade your socks off.”
“You’re very welcome to,” I said, closing the fridge and moving a tiny bit closer to him. Not enough to spook him, but enough to start getting into his personal space. Mason didn’t say anything, but his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and his eyes were fixed on me.
“Ryan,” he said, then trailed off like he didn’t know how to continue.
“Yes? ”
“I… er, I’m sorry… about last night. I should’ve knocked. Sorry.”
I smiled at him, casually leaning against the counter. “Probably, but you live and learn. I didn’t mind, though, and I don’t think you did either.” A soft flush spread across his cheeks and he glanced away for a second before taking another sip of his tea. “It’s okay if you did,” I continued. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. He didn’t sound sure, though. “I always thought I was straight.”
“And now?”
“I’m less sure. A lot less. I think… I mean, I’ve been thinking it for a while but now… yeah.” The flush on his cheeks deepened and I pulled back the urge to reach out and touch his face. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I knew if I picked the wrong one, then Mason would shut down and run away. Sexual exploration could be a touchy subject for some guys, and not all of them took it well, even if they had queer men as friends. It was one of those “I’m fine with it as long as it doesn’t actually affect me” situations.
But if he was at least open about the possibility of being queer, that was a good start.
“Have you ever explored how you feel? Watched some queer porn? Made out with a guy in a club then sucked him off in the toilets?” I asked. “Sometimes you just need to put a dick in your mouth and see how you feel.”
Mason snorted and coughed, choking on the mouthful of tea he’d mistakenly swallowed moments before. “N-No,” he said, pounding himself on the chest as he spluttered and laughed. I reached out and took the mug of tea from him so it didn’t end up all over the floor, sliding it carefully onto the counter between us. “Can’t say I’ve done that.”
“Do you want to?”
He stared at me with wide eyes, his expression one of complete shock. “What, like… hook up?”
“I guess,” I said, trying to ignore the way my heart was pounding. “Like a casual exploration. We can make out, have fun, do whatever you’re comfortable with—and if you want to have sex, then yeah, we can do that.”
“W-Why?” He still looked stunned, like his brain hadn’t even started to process what I was suggesting. I almost wondered if my words had gone straight to his dick instead, but I couldn’t really look without him noticing.
“Because I think you’re cute,” I said with a flirty smile and wink. “And I’d hate to think you’re denying yourself something you’re interested in because you don’t know where to start. I’m hot, I’m experienced, and we’re friends—I’m literally the perfect person for you to do this with. Plus, it can be totally no strings attached, just two friends enjoying themselves while one figures out if he likes dick. We don’t have to tell anyone either, so you can work things out in your own time. And if you don’t like it, no harm done, and if you do, well, I guess your dating pool gets a lot bigger.”
Mason gave a half nod and I swallowed, pretending I hadn’t been practising this speech in my head all afternoon because I’d wanted it to sound casual, like it was no big deal if he said yes or no.
Even if I really wanted him to say yes .
Because Mason was hot as balls and I didn’t want to pass up even the vaguest chance of kissing him.
“Think about it,” I added, shrugging in a way I hoped looked nonchalant. “There’s no hard feelings if you say no. I just wanted you to know it’s an option, and if you want to try, then I’m happy to help.” I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my joggers as my stomach grumbled, reminding me I still hadn’t eaten anything. Fuck it, I couldn’t be arsed to cook, not when my mind was racing a thousand miles an hour, like an F1 car on sugar. “I know Jonny said you’d eaten at training, but I’m fucking starving, so I’m gonna order pizza. Do you want anything? I promise not to rat you out to Gavin.”
It was a total one-eighty subject-wise but Mason just smiled, following my bouncing train of thought like he’d known exactly where I was going. That smile was one of the reasons I was considering doing any of this. It was the sort of smile that could move mountains.
“Yeah,” he said, closing the gap between us so he could look over my shoulder at the menu I’d pulled up. “Pizza sounds great.”