It was only when he was in the cab, and on the way to Lukas’, that he realised he wasn’t wearing trunks, hadn’t brought a towel, didn’t have any sunglasses, any sunscreen, or even any money in his wallet except a five dollar bill.

He didn’t even have enough to pay for the taxi. And he couldn’t go to the beach. He was wearing Lukas’ jocks.

He would just say to Lukas, that it was too late, that they wouldn’t have got up the coast til one-thirty or two, and that’d he’d thought, fuck it, they could just go out on the boat.

He would say it was too cold.

And they would maybe go tomorrow.

Yeah, he would say they could go tomorrow.

When he got to Lukas’, he had to go in, and ask Lukas for some money, while the cab waited.

He got fifty dollars a week. Nothing. An allowance he’d been getting for years. No wonder he didn’t have any money.

Lukas gave him a fifty, and he ran back out to the cab. When he ran up to the door again, he offered Lukas the change and Lukas’ eyes locked onto his groin, his eyes goggling out of his head.

Matthew looked down.

He still had a hard on and he had angled it up in his jeans. He had got so used to the feeling of it, in the cab, that he had forgotten about it, and now, because he had ran back out to the cab and back, the head of his cock was visible in the waistband of his jeans. There was nothing covering it. He was naked. His cock was straining forward, opening the waistband out, and it had a bead of precum on it, a string of it, stretching between his stomach and his cock. Lukas was looking down at it. The thing was so big it looked like a bar of iron in his jeans, though it obviously wasn’t.

Matthew pulled at his T-shirt, holding the change in his hands and trying to pull his T-shirt down, though it was a muscle shirt, and he could barely get it to cover his waistband.

There was an obvious bulge.

He handed Lukas the money and Lukas turned away, nervously putting the change away in his wallet, and pretending like he had seen nothing, as though nothing had happened.

‘Can I use your bathroom?’ Matthew said.

Lukas nodded, without looking at him, concentrating on putting his wallet away, and Matthew walked across the hall.

He closed the bathroom door and exhaled.

He twisted the button on his jeans and ripped his fly down, angling his cock over the sink. He rolled the palm of his hand over the head of his cock, feeling the slippery sensation of the precum. He worked it down onto his cock. Spat on his hand and pulled himself three times. That was enough. He could feel himself orgasming just from that, and he stopped, waiting.

The jism erupted and hit the tiled wall behind the basin. He pulled a couple of times, milking all of it out of him, and then he cleaned the wall, cleaned the basin, and sat down on the toilet, waiting for his cock to go down.

He would roll it downwards, in the jocks, and then, if he got hard again, it wouldn’t be so noticeable.

Fuck, he thought, running his fingers through his hair. What must Lukas think of him?

He put his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, and tried to calm himself down.

He was going crazy.

How the fuck had that looked? Running up to someone’s door with your cock jutting out of your jeans?

Still, though, compared to the things that Lukas did, that was nothing.

Matthew shivered. And felt the shiver trace the length of his spine.

When Lukas had opened the door, when he had seen him, Matthew had felt all at once that he knew Lukas, that he knew everything about him. He knew what it felt like to be Lukas. To be in Lukas’ body.

Could Lukas tell that?

How would he? He wouldn’t be able to, Matthew said to himself.

But then, he had seen Lukas this morning. Been in Lukas’ shower. In Lukas’ body. Wanked in his body.

Matthew groaned.

He rolled his cock down and stood up. The only way he could do it was to get it in the middle of Lukas’ jocks, in the groin of them, while his balls were spread out either side. He tucked it down as much as he could, and pulled the jocks up.

If only he was wearing some of his own jocks. Some tight ones. But ones that fit him. It wasn’t very comfortable. He did the jeans up. And they were too tight, he said to himself. You fucking idiot. What the fuck are you wearing?

The T-shirt didn’t even reach his waistband, and these were old jeans. Waist high. And they were too small. Narrow cut. And too short. He could see his ankle socks.

‘What the fuck are you wearing?’ he said, keeping his voice low.

He washed his face in the basin and ran his fingers through his hair. He dried his face on the towel, and looked at himself.

He looked okay.

He opened the door.

Lukas was sitting on a chair in the hall, waiting for him.

‘We should probably go,’ Lukas said, getting up as Matthew approached him, stealing a look, surreptitiously, at Matthew’s groin. He seemed nervous. Like it was him who had done something wrong.

‘I forgot my stuff.’

‘Stuff?’

‘Yeah. I thought it was maybe too cold to go. And too late.’

‘Do you think?’

Matthew nodded.

‘We can go out on the boat.’

‘The boat?’

‘Yeah. If you want to. Or we could just hang out.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure,’ Matthew said. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I thought you wanted to drive the car.’

Was that what he thought? That the only reason Matthew would come, would want to go up the coast, was so he could drive the car?

‘I don’t have to,’ he said. ‘I mean, I didn’t come just so I could do that.’

Oh, Lukas seemed to say, nodding. He brightened at the idea.

‘Well you could drive it down the marina.’

‘Do you want to do that?’

‘Okay,’ Lukas said.

Lukas went to get the keys and they went out to the garage, passing through the small, dark hall at the back, which Matthew did recognise, he suddenly realised. Of course he had been here before. But...

Lukas opened the door and the garage lights flickered on. The car looked impossibly real, low slung, and shiny.

Matthew remembered all at once the last time they had been in the garage, what had happened with Lukas, the padlock, the vice. He wanted to look at the vice again, stand there at the bench and turn the handle, though he couldn’t think of any reason for doing this.

Lukas handed him the keys.

They got into the car.

Matthew took a deep breath, blinking at the dash. It was so impossibly stylish, the middle console red and black. The gauges backlit in blue. And there were so many buttons. He put the key in the ignition and stopped, remembered his seatbelt and pulled it over his shoulder while Lukas hit the remote for the door.

Sunlight flooded the room, hitting the back of the car, and Matthew winced.

‘It’s a paddle shift, right?’ Matthew said. He knew he had never driven one. He had seen them on TV, but he didn’t even know how the thing worked.

‘Yeah. But you can put it in automatic.’

‘Do you know how to do that?’

‘If you turn it on, you can see what mode you’re in on the screen there.’

There was a screen between the speedo and rev counter.

Matthew turned the key.

The engine roared, the muffler sounding like something off a racetrack.

‘Shit,’ Matthew said.

‘Yeah. It’s pretty powerful.’

It was in MSP, whatever that meant.

Five minutes later, after switching the engine off and looking through the manual, Matthew managed to back it out of the garage, on automatic.

He drove to the marina as carefully as he knew how, found a park, and blew a breath of relief when he switched the engine off.

‘Well, it was probably a good idea to get a feel for it today,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want to crash it.’