Page 181 of Beneath the Stain

Mackey reached between them and found Trav’s cock through his boxer briefs. Hard and long and thick—Trav had a memorable piece down there, and not just because it was attached to the love of Mackey’s life. Mackey slid his hand underneath the elastic and squeezed, stroking long and hard, rubbing his thumb in the thick liquid at the tip.

“You’d better be ready to pony up, McKay,” Trav groaned.

Mackey grinned at him, fuck-off-and-love-me, and kissed his way down.

Ah,God, Trav tasted good. Mackey wasn’t sure if he’d ever really appreciated giving blowjobs before Trav. With Grant it had always been so rough, in such a rush. With everyone else it had always been too fuzzy. With Trav, he took his time, licking the broad head, swallowing it down. The taste of Trav’s skin was sweet, and his precome was sweeter. Mackey shoved his head down farther, gagging, not caring, wanting Trav in his throat and his belly,dyingto be filled.

Trav wiggled, fiddling with something on the end table, and Mackey’s hips were abruptly lifted, positioned, until Mackey straddled Trav’s head while Trav shucked Mackey’s briefs.

Trav’s mouth on his cock made him see stars. Just the hot and the wet and the edge of teeth, the sensual scrape, the little bit of roughness; Trav’s assertive, no-bullshit blowjob made Mackey move his head faster.

Then Trav penetrated Mackey’s asshole with a lube-slick thumb, and Mackey had to stop everything and groan. Trav’s cock slid out of his mouth, and he buried his head in Trav’s thigh and groaned.

“Oh my God!Trav!”

“Move, Mackey,” Trav grunted. “Face up, legs spread. Now.”

Mackey had never liked faceup before Trav. He hated that people saw him when he wasn’t singing, wasn’t screaming. Hated that he was bare and out of control. But Trav saw him like that anyway, so Mackey hauled at his thighs and waited, writhing, eyes closed, while Trav spread the lube and stretched him. The burn was delicious, and Mackey’s cock throbbed, waiting.

He wanted, wanted, his body aching with it.

Trav made him greedy, made him beg and steal. He’d stolen their first year together, but he figured that now, all his demons behind him, Trav was his rightfully. He’d paid by hard growing, and Trav belonged to him.

And Trav could take him any time he wanted.

That big blunt head stretched at Mackey’s entrance, slow and tender, and Mackey opened his eyes and grunted with impatience.

“Hard, fast, and now!” he snapped, but a slow, sweet smile played at Trav’s mouth.

“Slow,” he breathed, sliding in one burn at a time. “Slow. Easy. Now.”

Trav’s sepia eyes were intent on Mackey’s face, and Mackey—Mackey was losing his mind, writhing under Trav’s achingly slow possession.

“You… are… killing… me!” Mackey grabbed his cock only to have Trav knock his hand away.

“Deal, Mackey. You can take it.”

Mackey’s head fell back, and his whole body shook. Agony—urgency—took over his body, and he needed…. God, he’d thought he’d craved Grant, thought he’d craved drugs, thought he’d craved cocks. What he’d really craved was this. Being possessed, being thoroughly taken over, being owned, body and soul, by someone you owned right back.

He craved Trav.

And Trav was holding out on him.

“Please,” Mackey whispered, and Trav fell forward on his elbows, held Mackey’s face, kissed him hard. The kiss felt brutal in the margins. Trav nibbled on his chin, down his throat, and Mackey thought he’d die.

“Mackey?”

“God!”

“I really want you!”

“Thank you, Jesus!”

“No, Mackey. Thank you, Trav.”

“Please, Trav, would you fuck me?”

Mackey tried humping from the bottom, and Trav laughed evilly, thrusting hard and shutting him up.