Page 12 of Dirty Rotten Love

My lungs are responding strangely. My palms are sweating. Every tiny hair on my body is standing to attention, hyperaware of MacLeod’s presence and being in MacLeod’s personal, private space.

“You’re wearing clothes, Gallacher.”

MacLeod’s voice is like gravel, rumbling out behind me. It makes me jump, and I look down to discover that, yes, I am indeed wearing clothes.

My work overalls, to be precise. Green with strips of reflective material under the knees and around the elbows.

Not exactly attractive. Definitely not what I would choose to wear when attempting to pull. But in my defense, I didn’t start the evening intending to pull. The overalls are comfortable and warm, the only thing that has a chance at keeping the wind out.

So, like most of the crew, I wear them even when off duty. And hey, they don’t seem to have hindered my ability to get lucky.

MacLeod sighs. “It would help if you weren’t wearing clothes.”

Oh right. Yes, of course. The… thing. I’m here to do the thing because I lost the card game, and the thing requires a lack of clothes.

I bend over and fumble with the laces of my steel toe cap boots. Blood rushes to my ears, and all I can hear is the frantic pounding of my heart.

I kick my boots off. Then I wriggle out of my overalls. Underneath I’m wearing a plain white teeshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. I take them off too. My one remaining brain cell has swung into action and understands the task. The task of getting naked.

I’m down to my boxers and socks. I don’t stop. And just like that, I’m fully naked. In MacLeod’s cabin. At past eleven. While he is only wearing a towel, and his dark eyes are roaming all over my body. All over. With great intention. A very careful perusal.

I gulp. My hands go to cover my junk, but I stop them half-way, so they kinda of swing and twitch weirdly, like some kind of Fortnite dance move.

MacLeod is still staring. At my naked body.

It’s fine. I’m young. I have a physical job. I’m sure my body is fine to look at, if you like that sort of thing.

With growing horror, I realize I’m blushing. And not just a face blush, oh no. Rory Gallacher could never be that lucky.

This is a full-body blush. Down my neck, over my chest. Perfectly stark against my pale Scottish skin. A salmon effect, if you will. Utterly unmissable. Especially if you are staring as intensely as MacLeod is.

“The shower is in there,” MacLeod says, nodding his head towards his bathroom door.

I flinch and turn my head to get a sniff of my armpits. I haven’t had a problem with BO since I was thirteen.

MacLeod shakes his head. “You smell fine. You need the shower because you’re going to bottom for me.”

My jaw drops open. My full-body blush intensifies. My stomach does something strange.

It’s my turn to stare. At his naked chest. His well-defined muscles. The smattering of dark chest hair. The sheer and utter mature manliness. He is… so… man. So much more man than me. I’m scrawny and pale next to him. He is older and bigger and MacLeoder.

I gulp. My hindbrain is ready for this. It knows this is right. The way of things.

It’s also totally what I was expecting when I stepped in here. It’s totally what was implied during the card game. It is exactly what MacLeod said as he filled out his door frame. He said something about virgin asses. One virgin ass in particular. Mine. My virgin ass.

He is masculine 3000 and I am masculine 101, and therefore I should…and he should…Yeah. I am fine with this. Very fine. And that’s something I’m going to have to reflect on later, because it’s a lot.

“Do you need me to show you what to do?” he says in his calm teaching voice.

“No!” I squeak. “I can figure it out!”

With that, I run the three steps to the bathroom and shut the door behind me with a little more force than necessary.

What follows is an embarrassing and awkward time, all while acutely aware of MacLeod waiting on the other side of the door.

Eventually, I make it out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel.

MacLeod has removed his towel and is standing quietly by the bed, gloriously naked. I have no idea what to do with my eyes. Oh God, what do I do with my eyes! Somebody tell me!