Page 124 of Beneath the Stain

Trav grunted and resisted the urge to flop him over on his back so he could check every bruise and make sure it wasn’t worse.

“Youdothat? On purpose?” he asked, trying—failing—to keep the creak of panic out of his voice.

Mackey threw a look of disgust over his shoulder, still munching on his burger. “Youhave three scars on your side that look like a knife fight, a thing on your left arm that looks like you lostallthe fuckin’ skin, one through that same shoulder that looks like a bullet, and one through your thigh that looks the same. And I think you took grenade shrapnel on your back at some point. You think I didn’t notice that bullshit, Trav? You took your shit defending our fucking country—which, since I haven’t said it, makes me think you’re pretty damned heroic, you know that? But do I complain about the state ofyourbody?”

Trav’s mouth went dry. He reached over Mackey to the tray and grabbed a glass of milk, then gulped half of it down at once. When he was done, he bumped Mackey’s elbow with his hip and settled down on the bed. He was close enough to palm Mackey’s backside and the backs of his thighs, which he rubbed lightly so he didn’t press the bruises, enjoying the coarse, silky hair under his hand and the softness of Mackey’s skin underneath.

“You noticed all of that,” he acknowledged humbly.

Mackey rolled his eyes and took another bite of his hamburger. “I’m not stupid,” he mumbled. “And I’m only a little self-involved.”

Trav closed his eyes and ran his hand over the round of Mackey’s ass again. Yeah, it had muscles in it, but just relaxed here, it was almost as much softness as Travis could stand. “I don’t think about the scars,” he said softly.

“You should.” Mackey wiped his hands down and then his face. He started to move, probably to put the tray over on the table, but Trav took it for him. There was another hamburger on the table, complete with fries and another glass of milk and even a slice of apple pie, but food wasn’t as urgent as it had been before the shower. Trav set the tray down and sat next to Mackey again.

Mackey wriggled over on his back and let the robe fall on either side of him. God, he was just as Trav had imagined him over the past week: pale and stringy with muscle, sweet and needy. The bruises and tattoo were different, but then Trav had learned to live with different since he’d walked in on the Sanders boys.

He bent down reverently and kissed Mackey’s hip bone, oh so careful of the darkening skin that covered it.

“I don’t think about the scars because they’re part of me now,” he said, meeting Mackey’s wide gray eyes in the soft light from the lamp. “I worry about you getting hurt by stuff that you do to yourself when maybe that’s not part of you anymore.” He punctuated that kiss with another one to the edge of the tattoo. The tat had ointment on it, newly applied, and Trav traced the edge of it with a delicate finger.

“I’ll always be a little bit edgy,” Mackey said soberly, closing his eyes when Trav replaced his finger with his tongue.

“And I’ll always worry,” Trav whispered, resigning himself to that as his fate.

“You think I won’t, Captain America?” Mackey laughed softly.

Trav licked the crease of his thigh and the laugh turned to a gasp. “What do you have to worry about?” he asked, nuzzling between Mackey’s balls and his cock. Ah, the juicy bits.

“You,” Mackey said, grunting a little when Trav pointed his tongue and started a delicate line over Mackey’s left sac. The skin puckered under his touch, and he kept licking, up, up, along Mackey’s abdomen, skating the tattoo. Up, up, along Mackey’s ribs, licking softly along the big, blotching bruise.

“I’m right here,” Trav whispered before licking his nipple.

Mackey wiggled a lot, arching off the bed as he gasped. Trav put a hand on his thigh and pushed gently until he was back on the bed, kneading Trav’s neck, his back, his shoulders as Trav tortured that nipple with love.

“I’mma come just from that,” Mackey confessed. “I’mma come and it’ll be over and….”

“No,” Trav mumbled, moving to the other nipple. “You’re going to come—” Lick. “—and I’m going to swallow it—” Suck. “—I’ll lick it off your chest if I have to—” Play with the end, nibbling a little. “—and then I’m going to rim you until you beg.” Suckle, oh, God, Mackey’s skin tasted so good! Trav rippled his hips, grinding against the bed, hard, needy, wanting Mackey so bad his skin hurt.

“Any other plans?” Mackey gasped.

Trav pulled back and looked him square in the eye. “Fuck you until you scream,” he said, needing it, needing to see Mackey sprawled out, flailing, screaming because what was racking his body was too huge to be contained.

“Never happen,” Mackey panted, trying hard to knot his fingers in Trav’s short hair.

“Not gonna fuck you?” Trav had to laugh and then bite Mackey’s earlobe. No earrings for his boy—Trav wondered how long that would last.

“Too busy talking,” Mackey muttered. “Got your dirty talk groove o—ah ah ah—”

Trav bit his neck hard and propelled down, engulfing Mackey’s cock in his mouth, shoving his head down to take it in all the way to the root. Mackey flailed, clenching one hand in Trav’s robe, dragging it down, baring Trav’s body to the air. Trav didn’t move, only swallowed and bobbed as Mackey spurted precome, aroused quickly in the way only the young could be.

Trav almost wanted to beg him not to come. His mouth stretched, filled, and he felt Mackey inside him, salty, clean, and so magnificent Trav felt a craving to bottom, to have Mackey inside him everywhere. Maybe, he thought hazily, filling one hand with Mackey’s hard, swollen balls and pinching Mackey’s wet nipple with the other. Someday. When he didn’t need to hold him, didn’t need to keep him, quite this much.

Mackey’s breath came quickly, little sex grunts filling the air between every in and out, and when Trav slid his palm between Mackey’s thighs, putting even pressure along his taint and the bottom of his crease, he keened, obviously close and needy.

C’mon, baby, come, and I can start for real.

Mackey’s hips pumped unexpectedly and Trav almost couldn’t hold him. It was hard—he gagged a minute—but then Mackey’s grunts changed to that low, blooming moan that came from a deep, quaking climax, and Trav swallowed, taking him all in, wanting more, while Mackey convulsed in his mouth.