Free Beneath the Stain - Part 4 by Amy Lane Page B

taking you,” Trav muttered. “No half measures. We’ve seen each other’s HIV status, Mackey—you got any qualms about no condoms?”
    Mackey made a sudden sound, and Trav looked up into his eyes, suddenly young and vulnerable, all Trav could see in the shadowed room.
    “I’ve… only done it that way with…,” he muttered. “We did it once without condoms, ’cause he used them with his girlfriend. But yeah. I want it to be all of you.” Mackey paused and reached out, taking Trav’s face in his hands. “All of you,” he whispered, a sort of wondering smile on his face. “All of you. I can have all of you.”
    He pulled Trav down into a kiss, a soul-searing lightning strike of flesh and passion, and Trav wanted to cry.
    You have all of me. How can you have all of me? I’m breaking rules for you, McKay, and I’ll give you more of me than that.
    And still the lightning went on, raising the hairs on the back of Trav’s neck with the electricity, the anticipation of what Mackey was demanding. Trav fumbled with the lubricant bottle, squeezed a dollop into his hand, and eased his fingers between Mackey’s cheeks so he could find Mackey’s delicate, scarred entrance. God, he seemed to hit everything in between, didn’t he? He grazed Mackey’s balls, his base, his taint on his way down, and Mackey spread his legs wide, propped up both knees, and ripped through the kiss like he was trying to rip through Trav’s soul by way of teeth, mouth, and tongue.
    Trav massaged his rim gently, and Mackey moved his hands down, spreading his asscheeks and pulling back long enough to make a demand.
    “Ain’t my first time,” he muttered. “Need it now. ”
    “Mackey, slow?” Mackey might not remember, but Trav remembered the blood, the violation, Mackey’s torn body.
    “Mackey fast !” came the impatient reply, because apparently Mackey didn’t connect the dots there.
    “But—” God, who wanted to bring that up now?
    “Now!” Mackey insisted, and Trav thrust two fingers in, his own impatience showing.
    “Ah….” Some of Mackey’s urgency faded, and his hands fell back against the bed. He spread himself before Trav like an offering, and as Trav moved his fingers, stretching, he was suddenly conscious of what he was doing in this bed with a scalpel’s touch of power.
    Mackey, who gave nothing to nobody, was giving him power .
    All Trav had to do was take it.
    Trav thrust fingers, invaded, caressed. He spared a moment to push on Mackey’s prostate, see how sensitive it was, and while Mackey jumped a little, it was clear that his real joy was the stretch.
    “More,” he begged, eyes closed, and Trav built the pressure inside him a little more, and a little more. “Ah…. God, Trav, please. I need it… need you !”
    Trav greased himself up quickly, almost cursing Mackey’s youth and impatience. He wanted to feel Mackey’s hands on him, have Mackey explore, find his places too.
    But right now, not as much as he needed inside Mackey.
    He paused for a moment, his erection poised right at the gate, and Mackey opened his eyes.
    “I’ll do for you, Trav,” he promised. “I’ll make it real.”
    Trav closed his eyes, helpless. Mackey’s best try. It was all he could hope for. Slowly, slowly, he thrust inside.
    Mackey sighed, pushing out against Trav’s invasion, conversely swallowing him whole.
    Trav moaned and dropped his head to Mackey’s shoulder, getting his bearings, trying not to just rut and come as Mackey closed around him with a grip of iron.
    “So tight,” he whispered, shaking, almost embarrassed by his lack of control. He’d done this before—couldn’t remember not topping, actually, although he’d bottomed once or twice. But Mackey’s heat was destroying him, taking out his controls, and it didn’t help that Mackey’s eyes were closed, his face slack with abandon.
    He was just giving himself to Trav, and Trav had the sudden notion that he hadn’t earned this yet.
    But he couldn’t