“Does he at least have a monster cock?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “What do you considermonster?”
“I have an eleven-incher.” I smirked when his eyes darted to my crotch, wide and curious.
“Really?” Quain’s eyebrow quirked, and he sat his back against the bar. “I suppose the size matches the rest of you.”
“Size of what?” Barber asked as he came stalking over to us. He leaned around Quain to grab his beer, probably lukewarm by now, and took a large swig.
“His cock is eleven inches, far bigger thanyours,” Quain said. “I feel like I got into bed with the wrong King.”
Barber choked on his drink, spluttering, and slammed his bottle down again. He glared at me. “Eleven inches is a generous number to give yourself.”
I laughed. “No, I’ve measured.”
“Fucking bullshit.” He spun on me, smirking. “Get it out, let’s see. I’m sure we have a ruler around here somewhere.”
I raised my brows at him and spun on my stool, jumping to my feet. My boots slammed against the tiles as I unbuckled my belt. Charley chose that moment to return from a piss, and he frowned when he reached us.
“What’s going on?”
“Barber says I’m not eleven inches. He wants me to measure.” I grinned at him as I unbuttoned my jeans.
Charley rolled his eyes and swiped at my hands, stopping what I was doing. “Don’t be stupid.” He turned his pursed expression on Barber. “Do youreallywant to be shamed, Barber? Because if Scar pulls it out to measure, you’re gonna do it, too. Do youreallywant to compare your dick to Scar’s? I know you’ve seen it before. We’ve all pissed on the side of the road when we’ve gone on rides.”
My chest puffed up with pride as Barber’s face turned red and his mouth twisted.
“I haven’t seen it yet,” Quain said, and Barber threw him a glare.
“Seriously?” Barber asked.
Quain shrugged. “What? Do you blame me? I’m curious.”
“I also thought you had manners.”
“I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see an eleven-inch dick in real life. Porn’s different. It’s all for show.”
“It’s not eleven inches,” Barber grumbled.
“You’re right. Might be closer to twelve.” I crossed my arms. “Thick, too.”
Charley jabbed me in the ribs with his finger, and I laughed. It was nice being back to normal. The week I’d avoided Charley had been hell, but I couldn’t get out of the state of panic I’d been in, and it’d been a continuous cycle that nearly made me sick with anxiety. Now it was as though it hadn’t happened. He hadn’t mentioned me bottoming again, but the barely avoided accident had me thinking about my relationship with him. I’d nearly lost him.
I’d never thought of myself as the type of guy wholovedsomeone so much that I couldn’t imagine life without them, but Charley had dug under my skin and made himself a home, and now he was firmly stuck in my chest—in my heart. Sneaky fucker. And the thought of him not getting what he needed made me sick because I wanted him happy. Always. Maybe bottoming wouldn’t be so hard. I could do it for him. But having a cock in my ass wasn’t like a knee to the nuts or getting into a brawl, it was more intimate. And fucking terrifying.
The thought that I’d shoved my cock into him for the first time without any real preparation scared the hell out of me. My cock wasn’t small, and I’d done that to him. I’d been a real asshole.
“Scar?” Charley touched my shoulder and tore me out of my thoughts. I focused on him and wrapped my arm around his waist, bringing him in for a hard kiss that had him groaning and pumping his hips against mine.
“What?” I murmured, after I’d broken off the kiss.
Barber snorted. “We were still talking about your cock, apparently.” He sounded bitter.
Quain shook his head. “No, you are, because you can’t seem to let it go, Luke. Yes, Scar has a big dick, bigger than yours, can we move past this conversation now?”
Barber crowded against his boyfriend, imprisoning Quain by laying his hands on the bar on either side of him. “I’m telling you, he’s not eleven inches.”
“Okay.” Quain patted him on the shoulders. “Don’t be jealous.”
