Free Beneath the Stain - Part 4 by Amy Lane

Mackey could just stay with him, sleep in his arms, be comforted.
    The thought of Mackey in his arms made him hard, and he fell asleep aching and wanting and not comforted at all.
     
     
    “T RAV ?” M ACKEY ’ S voice shook, and the soft glow of the hall light outlined his slight, wiry body in the doorway of Trav’s room.
    “Mwha?” Trav yanked himself out of a pleasant half sleep where he’d been imagining Mackey warm in his arms.
    “I…. God. I know the stuff about rehab. How you’re supposed to wait.”
    “Mackey?” Trav couldn’t focus—his entire body was caught between the waking and the dream.
    “That’s why we’re not together right now, isn’t it?” Mackey whispered.
    Trav grunted, sitting up. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I can’t be your new drug—that’s what it’s about.”
    “ You would be the world’s shittiest Valium,” Mackey grumbled. “Man, I can’t fall asleep thinking about you right here. Can’t we just skip this part?”
    “The abstinence part?” Ugh! Trav wanted to say no, they couldn’t just skip this part, because it was important. But he ached to hold Mackey, to show him what sex could be like clean and sober and cared for and….
    Could he even say it?
    “I’m not saying I’ll go out and use if you say no,” Mackey said hastily. “I wouldn’t do that to you, because that’s not what it’s about.”
    Trav sat up straighter. “Mackey, come in. Sit down.” He yawned and tried to take stock of Mackey’s mental state in the faint light from the hallway. “Tell me what it is all about.”
    Mackey turned and shut the door, which didn’t help at all, but by the time Travis felt his weight depress the bed, he had a pretty good bead on Mackey’s expression:
    Longing.
    “Mackey?” he said uncertainly.
    “I’m trying to do it all right, Trav,” Mackey begged, meeting Trav’s eyes bleakly in the dark. “I’m trying to follow all the steps and check all the boxes. But my heart hurts and my skin aches, and God, I just want to be touched. I’m sorry I can’t raise the plant and then the dog and wait a year and… I just…. Can you touch me and then look at me tomorrow, and it will be okay?”
    Trav was all awake now. “Mackey,” he said gruffly, reaching out to cup Mackey’s cheek. Right up until he felt the stubble rasping on his palm, he was going to say no. “We’re not hiding,” he said instead. “You can’t sneak back into your room and pretend we didn’t do this.”
    “I wouldn’t—”
    “You could,” Trav said, his chest aching. “But it would….” He hated to admit this. “Secrecy would hurt me, Mackey. I gave up too much to be a dirty little secret. You will sleep in this room, and you’ll mention your boyfriend at press conferences, and we’ll be a thing. And then if we break up, we can still be manager and band guy, because everyone will know. Do you understand?”
    Mackey shook his head. “No—I mean yes. Not all of it, but some. I get that this is real. That it’s not just an after-rehab thing, or convenient ’cause we’re in the same house. I get that you want to tell people like my mom or your parents. That it’s not dirty and it’s not anybody’s business but our own but it’s not secret either. We’re not a reality show—the fuckers outside the house don’t get to film us. We got enough bullshit to deal with besides them. Is that what you mean?”
    Throughout the long speech, Mackey kept his cheek against Trav’s hand, laced Trav’s fingers with his own, trapping them there, in this still moment in the dark.
    “I didn’t leave the military so I could be just a rock song, Mackey,” Trav said, feeling the ache, the hole in his chest, that the thought caused.
    “It’s real,” Mackey said, leaning close enough that Trav could feel his body heat through the comforter. “You want us to be a real thing. Not a one-time comfort thing. Not a thing after rehab thing. I get it, Trav. If you can help me when I