Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
Ryan
I knew I shouldn’t have winked at Mason, but he’d looked so sweet and stunned it’d been impossible to resist. I didn’t know if it was the armour, the boots, or my incredible body—because I was serving everything tonight—that’d gotten him so worked up, but he was so cute when he was flustered.
He’d had the same expression on his face as he’d worn on Monday night when he’d walked into my room, and there was something about seeing such a big, powerful man all worked up and turned to putty that just did it for me. Shit, I’d be jerking off to the way he’d looked as soon as I got home.
And maybe I shouldn’t have been getting myself off to fantasies of Mason underneath me, whimpering and whining in awe while I used him for my pleasure. But those thoughts were between me and whatever perverted powers were watching, and neither of us was going to tell a soul.
Mason still hadn’t given me an answer but I was willing to be patient. For now at least. And if he didn’t say anything, I was going to assume it was a no and he didn’t have the heart to tell me.
“Are there any of those Pringles left? I’m fucking famished,” Peaches asked as she walked into our dressing room and flopped down onto a chair. Peaches, aka Peachy Keen, was another drag queen at The Court and one of my best friends. I shared a dressing room with her and the drag king Incubussy, or Ink, and it had become my messy, snack-filled home away from home filled with lots of laughter and a never-ending parade of shade.
“Did you actually eat dinner before you came out tonight?” I asked as I threw the half-eaten tube of paprika Pringles at her. “Or did you just hope I’d feed you?”
“Does eating half a tub of ice cream and some cold barbecue chicken mini-skewers count?”
“Just about.”
“Good,” Peaches said as she popped open the can and poured a stack of Pringles into her hand. “I meant to order something but I got sucked into helping my cousin look for venues for next year. I think we’ve found somewhere, though.”
Peaches’s cousin was getting married next summer and had made Peaches her man of honour since the two of them were so close. Peaches was never one to do things by halves, so he’d now morphed into the couple’s unofficial wedding planner, complete with a binder that would put most brides’ to shame. “Yeah? Where are they thinking?”
“South of France,” Peaches said around a mouthful of crisp. “Bit of a destination wedding. They’ll do the legal bit here and have the actual wedding at a French chateau.”
I whistled and pulled a bag of chocolate buttons out of my bag, because nothing was better than chocolate buttons. “Bloody hell, that sounds expensive.”
“Kind of, but they have accommodation on site and they can help with a lot of the suppliers. Plus it sounds like a lot of the suppliers are much cheaper than they would be in the UK, so I think it’ll balance itself out. And they’re not looking for it to be super fancy.”
“Babe, I love you, but you and I have very different definitions of the words expensive and fancy,” I said with a laugh. “It sounds fun, though. And the food’ll be amazing.”
“It will,” Peaches said. “The only thing I wish I could change is the best man.”
“Oh? Is he a total knob?”
Peaches laughed. “You could say that. It’s Ginger.”
I stared, a handful of chocolate buttons halfway to my mouth. “Shit the bed, seriously? Ginger Biscuits is your cousin’s fiancé’s best man?”
“I think this is what they call cruel irony,” Peaches said bitterly, a dark look in her eyes. “I love my cousin to bits and her fiancé is a lovely guy, but now I have to spend ten fucking months helping to plan this wedding knowing that bastard will be there. And the worst part is my cousin keeps talking about how lovely Ginger is and how she can’t wait for the four of us to spend time together as we plan. I’ve already got to do the drag pantomime with him. That’s enough punishment to last me a lifetime.”
I winced. Ginger Biscuits was another drag artist who’d recently moved to the area, and so far they’d seemed like a sweet and sarcastic person. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with them but my first impressions had been good.
However, it’d been crystal clear from the first moment I’d seen them in a room together that Peaches and Ginger didn’t get on.
Peaches had alluded to some sort of history but refused to go any further than that, but every time they were around each other I could practically see the steam and sparks coming out of their ears.
I’d mentioned it to Ink, and the two of us were already placing bets on what they’d do first: fuck or fight.
My money was on sex. Because they could totally fuck each other’s brains out while still hating each other, and it’d be a good way to relieve the tension. Or maybe I’d just chosen that option because I was horny and sex-starved and any chance of getting laid sounded good to me.
Peaches grabbed another handful of Pringles and sighed. “Enough about me, how’re things with you?”
I snorted as I stuffed the chocolate buttons into my mouth. “They’re fine. Same old really.”
Peaches raised a perfectly drawn-on eyebrow and put her stack of Pringles onto the make-up counter beside her, reaching down to unbuckle her heels and kick them off. “Then what was the snort for?”
“Nothing. I just… I might have done something kinda bad? No, that’s not it… I don’t know… reckless, I guess?” I hadn’t been planning to tell anyone about what’d happened with Mason, especially since he’d spent the past four days pretending I’d never offered anything. But maybe if I talked it through with Peaches, she’d be able to tell me what a fucking shitshow it was likely to be.
On Tuesday, I’d been convinced a no-strings hook-up or five with Mason so he could explore was the best idea I’d ever had. But now the doubts were starting to creep in around the edges.
“What’ve you done?” asked Ink as he strolled through the door, his rhinestoned leather jacket and codpiece glittering in the bright lights of the dressing room. “And why do I get the feeling it was a bad idea?”
“I’ve not done anything yet. Not really,” I said as Ink pulled off his jacket, sweat visibly dripping down his neck.
“You just said you’d done something reckless,” Peaches said as she gently pulled off her enormous wig. It made her head look about three times smaller.
“That means it was a bad idea,” Ink said with a grin and a wink. “Ooh, are those paprika Pringles?”
“Yeah, but there’s only a few left,” Peaches said, holding out the can.
“Rude,” Ink said.
“Not my fault Legs ate them all.”
“Fuck off,” I said with a laugh. “If you want more Pringles, you should bring your own.”
“I brought some prawn cocktail crisps if that helps,” Ink said, tucking the mostly empty Pringles tube under one arm and rummaging in his backpack, pulling out an enormous bag of sharing crisps that he threw at Peaches. “I’d forgotten they were there or I’d have gotten them out earlier. I’ve got some jelly babies too.” He sat himself on the floor in front of the tower fan we’d put in the corner and tipped the last of the Pringles into his hand. “So, what’s this not-bad idea?”
“You wanna talk bad ideas,” I said dryly, kicking my legs over the side of the old armchair that had become my usual seat. “Let’s talk about you performing in a fucking leather jacket in the middle of summer.”
Ink shrugged. “Probably not my best idea, but I’m not dead. I’m just sticky.”
Peaches laughed. “I’m gonna get you a T-shirt that says Sticky Not Dead on the front of it for Halloween.”
“I’d wear it,” Ink said, finishing off the crisps and pulling the bag of jelly babies out of his backpack. “And stop changing the subject. I wanna know Legs’s terrible idea.”
“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?”
“You started it, so spill.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, suddenly wishing I’d never brought it up. “You know my housemate Mason?”
“Yeah,” Ink said with a sly grin as he popped a jelly baby into his mouth. “Did he finally admit he’s not straight?”
“Is he not straight?” Peaches asked, frowning as she looked between the two of us. “I thought he was. We’re talking about West’s friend, right? Tall, huge, kinda reddish hair? Big hands?”
“That’s him,” Ink said. “And if he’s straight, then so am I. ”
“You can’t just assume, though,” Peaches said. “What makes you think he’s queer?”
Ink shot Peaches a withering stare. “Have you seen the way he looks at Ryan? It’s like he’s a dripping ice cream that Mason just wants to lick.”
I burst out laughing, not just at Ink’s delightful analogy but also at the way Peaches was sat with a ridiculous expression of surprise on her pretty, painted face. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking it about Mason, though, but then again, nothing got past Ink.
“Seriously?” Ink asked. “Did you not notice? How have you not noticed! I swear all men are clueless. That’s probably why Mason hasn’t realised he’s not straight; you’re all dumb as shit.”
“I’m only a demiboy,” I said, raising my hand. “Can I be excused from being dumb as shit?”
Gender had never really been a thing for me. I’d been socialised male and felt some vague attachment to masculinity, but it was more like a feeling of nostalgia for a gift I’d been given and couldn’t bring myself to part with rather than something I was attached to. If someone had painted a spectrum of gender on a piece of paper, I’d have found myself sitting much more to the left of male, in the pale blue part somewhere between male and non-binary or agender.
I didn’t mind being referred to as he as long as the occasional they got thrown in for good measure.
“No,” Ink said with grin. “You still count because you admitted you’ve got some bad idea related to Mason. Who may or may not be realising he’s not straight. ”
“I think he’s realised,” I said with a sly grin, picking out a few more chocolate buttons and making them into a little stack.
“Oh? What happened?”
“Absolute cone of silence.”
“I swear,” Ink said, crossing his heart.
“Same,” Peaches said as she made the same gesture with her long, sparkling nails. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Okay, so the other day I was in bed with my laptop, having some casual fun, and Mason… interrupted me.”
Peaches winced and Ink nodded. “It happens,” he said as he picked up another jelly baby. “Especially when you have housemates who don’t know how to knock.”
“Except usually when that happens, they don’t stay and watch,” I said quietly, watching their faces as the realisation dropped.
“Seriously?” Peaches hissed, leaning closer like she was worried we’d be overheard. “He stayed and watched?”
“Did he join in?” Ink asked.
“Yes, but not, like, getting on the bed with me. He stayed by the door.”
“What did you do?” Peaches asked, physically moving her chair closer.
“Nothing,” I said. “Well, I got myself off and I watched him. But, like, I didn’t do anything more than that.”
“Right… so what else happened?” Ink asked as he stood up and began to undo his leather pants. “Also, do you two mind if I strip off? I’m dying in these and my chest plate is suffocating me.”
I waved a hand. “Knock yourself out, babe.” Being in full drag in this weather was never fun, which was why I’d gone for the chain mail bikini approach. I’d taken my boots, gauntlets, and shoulder pads off as soon as I’d come back to the dressing room, but the bikini itself was pretty comfortable, even if the sweat under my breast plate was starting to go cold and rancid. I’d have to get changed soon or I’d literally have to peel myself out of it later.
“I’m gonna get changed too,” Peaches said, hopping to her feet and reaching for the zip of her beaded dress. “But keep talking, I need to know more. There has to be more here! Nothing you’ve said is even remotely close to a bad idea.”
“I didn’t want to make things awkward, so the next morning I acted like everything was fine, no big deal,” I said. “And he didn’t say anything. It was all fine. He went off to training, I worked, he came home, and I… fuck, I asked him if he’d ever considered exploring his sexuality and if he was interested, he could do it with me. No strings attached, just two friends… and I also told him I wouldn’t tell anyone, so you two are sworn to absolute fucking secrecy for life.”
“Seriously, babe,” Ink said, peeling himself out of his codpiece and leather trousers, dropping them on the floor with a slightly screwed-up expression of disgust. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Me neither,” Peaches said. “But, as your friend, I have to ask, do you really think this is a good idea?”
“I have no fucking clue. Like I said, I don’t know if it’s bad or just reckless… I mean, he didn’t react badly to the suggestion and he’s not been avoiding me. And if he do esn’t say anything, I’ll just assume he’s not interested. But—”
“You want him to say yes, don’t you?” Ink asked as he reached for his chest plate, peeling the silicone six-pack and pectorals over his head to finish his transformation into out-of-drag girl-mode.
“Yeah, I do.” I groaned and rubbed my head, startling myself when some of the gems I’d meticulously stuck to my scalp came off in my hands. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s sexy, he’s fun to hang out with, he’s hot as fuck, he doesn’t care I don’t know anything about rugby union, and he’s got a really nice—”
“I get it, he’s hot,” Ink said with a laugh.
“As balls,” I said. “But he’s also my friend and if he’s going to start exploring his queerness, I’d rather he did it with someone he knows, who’s not going to give him shit about it and who won’t take it the wrong way if it’s not for him.”
“You make it sound so altruistic,” Peaches said with a wry smile as she peeled off her tights and one of the two pairs of panties she’d been wearing to keep everything in place.
“Agreed, such a noble sacrifice,” Ink said. “Educational orgasms.”
I laughed and grabbed another few chocolate buttons, noticing the bag was nearly empty already. “Someone has to do it, and it might as well be me.”
“Just… be careful.” Peaches was biting his lip as he reached for the pack of make-up wipes on the counter. “It so unds like fun now, and it might be, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Ink nodded, pulling a clean sports bra out of her bag and swapping it for her binder. “Yeah, even if you say you won’t care if it’s not for him, he’s still your housemate and you don’t want things getting awkward.”
“You don’t want to be stuck living with someone you’ve fallen out with, trust me,” Peaches said almost sadly. “It can get really ugly.”
“I’ll keep all that in mind.” It was my turn to cross my heart now. “I promise. If I do this, I’ll go into it eyes open. And if it goes badly, then you can both say I told you so while feeding me chocolate.”
The two of them made good points, and deep down I’d known this all had the potential to blow up in my face—and not in a fun way. But the more we’d talked about it, the more I’d realised how much I wanted Mason to say yes.
That should have been an immediate red flag.
But from where I was standing, I couldn’t even see it.