Beneath the Stain - Part 7 Read Free Page A

promised and Mackey wouldn’t let him go. Trav had been able to walk away from every relationship he’d ever had, but not this one. Suddenly the idea that he’d been Mackey Sanders’s for over a year was ludicrous. That much bright, that much shining, that much fierce possession—turned on Travis Ford? It was laughable. Trav did stable. Trav was organized and….
    Trav hadn’t been that man since he and Mackey sang “Cocaine” together, when Mackey was more dead than alive.
    He held his face up to the water, swishing some around his mouth, and spat. Mackey’s taste lingered, and he was torn between wanting his toothbrush and wanting that proof that McKay James Sanders was his, soaking through his soul with his come.
    Mackey stepped in behind him, a washcloth and hard hotel soap in his hand, and he started a rough scrub of Trav’s body—his back, his ribs, his neck and chest. Trav tried to capture his hands when they were in front, but Mackey batted him away wordlessly. No softness. Trav got it. Mackey might not be mad anymore, but he wasn’t in a sweet mood. He pulled at Trav’s nipples, fingers slippery and irritated, and Trav leaned his head against the wall and groaned.
    He’d been hard when they’d gotten into the shower. Now, with Mackey’s hands on his skin, kneading his thighs, Trav’s abdomen clenched so tightly with arousal that the muscles in his legs shook.
    Mackey’s hands disappeared, slid around to Trav’s ass, and Mackey leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Spread ’em, Trav. I’m gonna wash you.”
    Trav braced his hands on the wall and complied.
    Torturous, rough, practical, insane— the washcloth left nothing secret, from the crease of his groin to the inside of his knees to his—o h God —now bright and squeaky clean cock, balls, and asshole. Trav’s body parts got scrubbed, rinsed, scrubbed again, which felt worse than Mackey playing with him on purpose. Trav leaned his head against the wall, groaning.
    “Mackey—”
    “My turn,” Mackey muttered. “You take care of us, you make us all into a family—someone’s gotta take care of you sometimes, Trav. If this is gonna work, you gotta have faith that I can.”
    Mackey balanced one hand on the small of Trav’s back while he reached outside the shower. He came back in with the bottle of waterproof lube they stashed in their luggage, and Trav closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.
    “Your ass is trying to make shit into diamonds,” Mackey snapped, flicking Trav’s buttock with the tips of his fingers. “You either trust me or you don’t!”
    “It’s not the same— God! ” Mackey grabbed his cock and grasped hard, gliding long and slow, sliding the skin from the shaft over the head when he got there. His hand was slick with lube, and the pressure/pain was… exquisite.
    “Yeah, it is,” Mackey whispered over his shoulder, stroking, stroking, squeezing. He rubbed circles around Trav’s backside with his other hand, and a particularly hard shiver rocked Trav, forced him to give up the control that kept him clenched.
    Mackey rewarded his faith with a finger in his asshole, and Trav shuddered again, his muscles melting, sagging into that single lubricated, dominant finger penetrating him while Mackey kept stroking, stroking, stroking….
    “I’m going to fall,” he confessed thickly, his knees going weak.
    “Bend over,” Mackey said mercilessly. “Over the toilet, knees on the side of the tub. Grab a towel.”
    Awkward as hell, but Trav grabbed a towel and dropped it on the edge, just like Mackey said, Mackey’s finger— fingers, two! — still in his body, his hand still stroking Trav’s cock.
    “Mackey,” Trav rasped as he fumbled for the curtain. He stumbled, ripped the curtain off the rod, then found the towel with his knees by chance and rested his hands on the top of the toilet. The water spattered around them, and Mackey spared a moment from that insidious, hard-gripped stroke around his cock to