Free Beneath the Stain - Part 5 by Amy Lane Page A

merge with and know Trav could take it. Trav could take anything Mackey could give.
    Trav greased and at Mackey’s entrance felt like part of that, and he needed Trav inside him, like breath. They became one, and Mackey could breathe. Trav was a part of him, and Mackey had strength. Trav moved, and Mackey’s body became light and Trav’s body became sound and together they were the thing Mackey worshipped most.
    Music.
    Every thrust was a crash of cymbals and the thud of bass. Trav’s hand on his cock was the lead guitar. Trav’s voice in his ear, urging him on, saying filthy, pornographic things, was the lyrics, throbbing in rhythm, throbbing in time with Mackey’s cock.
    Climax was a roaring, gentle thing from the pit of his stomach. Trav’s body in his arms should have grounded him, but instead they flew, flew together, and Trav’s groan against Mackey’s shoulder, the hot spurt of his come in Mackey’s ass, that was the crescendo, the soaring of the heavens against his face, the ocean roaring of the wind in his ears.
    They floated to earth, feathers, light and hollowed out, drifting together, chilled and sweating on their bed.
    The first thing Mackey said when they were people again and not sound and light took even him by surprise.
    “I’m sorry you didn’t see your family, Trav.”
    Trav rolled to his side and nuzzled Mackey’s ear. “Next time, tell me you can’t do it. We can make plans for staying in town.”
    Ah God. That was his Trav. Practical to the bone. Mackey wouldn’t have loved him so much if he wasn’t.
     
     
    T HEY STAYED in and ordered takeout, and Trav called up Astrid and asked her if she could find a replacement to come over for the next two weeks.
    Chinese food on the couch hadn’t been quite what Mackey had in mind for his Christmas break, but Trav was there, and they got all of the foil-wrapped chicken to themselves when Kell and Blake usually hogged it, so Mackey called it a win.
    Trav called his mother and told her not to meet the plane. Mackey sat in the room for that, since he was partially responsible. She didn’t sound mad, Mackey thought, sort of relieved. Good. Trav didn’t have that to worry about.
    Mackey texted Kell about whether or not he should call. Kell texted don’t bother, they’d talk in the morning, but next time to just fricking tell everybody before he freaked them out at the airport like that.
    Mackey called him. Just called him.
    “What in the fuck?”
    Mackey sort of liked how puzzled he sounded. Good strategy, Trav!
    “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Man, too many bad memories. I wasn’t gonna make it, not and stay clean. Maybe next year.”
    “You got a problem with saying that, little brother?”
    Mackey swallowed and closed his eyes. “You don’t like weakness,” he said, and as he said it, his throat swelled and he knew how much it was true, what Kell thought of him.
    “I don’t like shit hurting my family,” Kell said firmly. “If it’s going to hurt, tell me about it, okay? Man, we were gonna fucking lose you, do you know that? I didn’t know that until… God. Fucking everything. But I look at it now and I see how close we were to not having you. And how much we need you. So… so just tell us, okay?”
    Mackey smiled a little, finding it easier to breathe. “Next time. I promise. Thanks, Kell.”
    Kell hung up, probably before he could say something “gay” like “I love you,” but Mackey didn’t care. His brothers loved him. He knew that now. He shouldn’t forget it again.
    He and Trav fell asleep early, exhausted emotionally, and it wasn’t until Mackey heard the rhythm of Trav’s breathing next to his ear that he realized he hadn’t picked up his guitar all day.
    But that he could, and it would be all right.
    It was something of a revelation, that, and it helped him understand the nature of his addictions in a whole new way, but for that moment, he could only be grateful. Trav wasn’t going anywhere. The music