Page 125 of Beneath the Stain

Like that, Mackey went limp, and Trav was left shaking and not anywhere near done. He sat up, letting Mackey’s cock flop limply on his stomach and sliding his robe down his arms and off.

Mackey was still dazed, gulping for breath, when Trav shoved his thighs up and parted his asscheeks. He didn’t tease, because Mackey was too far gone to feel teasing, but instead dove in, licking, probing, holding Mackey’s thighs hard because otherwise he was in danger of getting kicked.

“Trav,” Mackey moaned, his voice drugged and slurred. “Trav… I wanna… I’m not sure what I wanna…. God… that thing you’re doing… it’s… ah,fuck, I wanna….”

The rambling was good—it meant Trav was doing his job—but it wasn’t enough. Trav sucked on two fingers, getting them good and wet, before shouldering one thigh and holding the other with his other hand. Then he brought both fingers into play, massaging Mackey’s wet rim, teasing now, because Mackey was sensitized and losing his mind.

Mackey gave up on words. All he managed were grunts, needy, and groans, thready. Trav taunted, never fully penetrating, just stretching, making him ready while Trav shook with craving.

His whole body cranked tight, quaking,screamingfor Mackey, but he needed to wait… needed to wait…. Mackey needed to beg so Trav knew it was him, just him, not the crowd, not the old lover, just Trav, and for this time, skin to skin, Mackey was his in earnest and not on loan.

“Augh!” Mackey screamed. “Trav,fuckin’ please!”

“Lube,” Trav gasped, because he figured Mackey would have some, being naked and clean and ready when Trav got out of the shower. Mackey flailed some more, grunting when he thrust the bottle at him. Trav caught it, lacing their fingers briefly before standing up and greasing himself.

Mackey gazed up at him, thighs falling open loosely, cock erect again, his hands fisting in the covers. The bruises were coming up, big dark blotches against his hip, his ribs, his shoulder, and smaller ones all over in the shape of jabbing fingers. Trav felt primal, angry, that Mackey had had other people’s hands on him.Mine, he thought, half in despair.

“Pull your nipples,” Trav ordered.

Mackey nodded, mouth slack, before complying. His fingers were rough, rough and hard, and Trav took his cue from that. He grabbed Mackey’s thighs and hauled him to the edge of the bed, then positioned himself. He pushed in just enough to know he was on target, and then Mackey pushed against him, inarticulate and greedy.

Trav shoved his way inside and watched Mackey’s whole body come off the bed.

His scream grated, rough, wanting, and Trav would die if he didn’t hear it again. He didn’t go easy—he pumped hard and fast and viciously, the slap of his thighs against Mackey’s ass resounding loudly in the room.

For a moment, that was all that existed—Trav’s tortured grunts, Mackey’s wordless begging—and then Trav adjusted his position, pushing up, pegging Mackey’s gland, and Mackey’s shout almost shattered the windows.

He beat at the bed next to him and clenched and convulsed so hard around Trav’s cock that for a minute Trav couldn’t move.

“Grab your cock, McKay,” Trav rasped. “Squeeze it, beat it, jerk it,fucking grab it and get off!”

Mackey was as rough with himself as Trav was with him, and a new smacking sound filled the room.

“Fuckin’ Trav!” Time stopped and Mackey’s entire body bowed painfully off the bed. His legs shot out straight and his toes curled, and Trav spread his thighs with force and shoved inside one more time.

The room turned black and every muscle from his cock to his taint to his own empty asshole clenched painfully as he poured himself into Mackey Sanders, and Mackey’s groan could probably be heard across the hall.

Trav fell forward, Mackey’s hot come sliding on his stomach, and buried his face in Mackey’s shoulder, panting and sweating but not wanting another shower, not yet.

For a moment that was the only sound in the room, but Trav had to move. He did. He pulled out, pulled away, and licked his way down Mackey’s stomach, licking away the white and clear puddles across his abs, ignoring the lingering taste and texture of the ointment and distantly hoping it wouldn’t make him sick. He was addicted—the sweet and salty taste, Mackey’s sweaty skin, and he kept licking down the crease of Mackey’s thigh, then spreading Mackey again and tasting himself as his spend ran down Mackey’s crease. And again. Cleaning Mackey’s dilated body, then taking Mackey’s cock into his mouth one more time, even as it shrank, flaccid and exhausted, against his pubic mound.

Mackey started moving his hands purposefully in his sweaty hair. “Pleased with yourself?” he rasped.

When Trav looked up, his face glazed and dripping, his shoulders still heaving with hard work, he smiled. “I fucking missed you so bad,” he said, raw and stripped and wishing he could feel ashamed.

Mackey moved his hand quietly on his cheek. “Backatcha,” he said. “C’mere, kiss me, share some of that.”

Trav did, falling into Mackey’s warm open mouth and pulling his lithe, small body into his arms.

The kiss ended, and Mackey laid his sweaty head on Trav’s shoulder. “I really like the taste of come,” he confessed. “I missed that.”

Trav smiled a little. Mackey would say that, would admit to it. Trav had to say he missed Mackey, but Mackey would notice the taste of come.

“McKay,” Trav murmured, just to say his name. “McKay, you’ve killed me.”

“Fine. Take me with you,” Mackey said, and that was how they fell asleep, heads down on the end of the bed, Trav’s feet dangling off toward the head.

THENEXTmorning was a sprint to the airport, but since they’d been awakened by a knock on the door and Trav’s baggage, at least Trav had fresh clothes.