I think I need to leave this link at the top of a new post, rather than adding it to an old one, to claim my blog on Bloglovin
Sorry I’ve been a wee while, my ‘editing’ has become a full-blown rewrite, again.😳Without further ado: I’ve put both parts together, the update starts *** here
“Shhhh…” Mac pressed a fingertip to pillowsoft lips. There was no need for pleas…he didnae intend to belittle Joe, who’d suffered enough insult to last a lifetime. The last thing he needed was for Mac to stick the knife in too. Mac, who fully intended to stave off the slingshots of ‘friend’ and foe alike. Joe would discover that for himself soon enough, when Mac proved worthy of the trust he’d demanded along with Joe’s most faithless friend of all. For safe-keeping—Joe’s—whose customary buffer between him and the world was perilously close to snatching him from it.
Mac might have drawn it out for Joe’s delectation…but there was a reason he was far less keen to admit. One that made him a helluva lot less comfortable than Joe at present. Wet patch or no. Mac was wary—a lie even as he fashioned it—afraid. Of being cast as just another lackey willing to service Joe whenever he wished. Or, even as a ‘favoured member of his entourage’, which was somehow more repulsive. Fucknows why. The lackey thing felt more…honest? Less…demeaning when the alternative suggested a systematic hierarchy Mac wanted no part of. F’chrissakes. He sure as hell had nay recollection of becoming such a prissy tosser.
None of this was even Joe’s fault; he was a rock star, it came with the territory. Sex was pretty much a self-service banquet of bodies. Mac couldnae risk being reduced to that in those far-too beguiling eyes; neither in the professional or personal sense. The former was imperative to ensure Joe’s safety…the latter would destroy Mac.
He sure as shit didn’t mess about after hushing Joe’s plea. After whisking his finger away, Mac bent to take possession of the lips that had been driving him to distraction since the moment he walked through the door. The kiss in the bath had been a smashing of mouths; too sudden to relish and over too soon to be savoured. This time, Mac revelled in every second, each soft sound he coaxed from Joe, every catch of breath. Christ, how Mac wanted him, with a craving akin to a huge hungry ache. Longed to devour the promise of those lips and imprint himself so indelibly on Joe that…what? He could safeguard Joe as his own? That was pathetic.
The po-faced thing had been bad enough, and should by rights, prohibit prehistoric tendencies…surely? Mac couldn’t be both; that was a contradiction too far.
‘See? Another oxymoron…’ my arse. Monster.
As if morphing into Caveman Prim wasnae demented enough, matters promptly took a turn for the worse…a whole lot worse.
It started so well… The sheer length of Joe’s neck had been doing Mac’s nut in, all day. Not least when it remained one of the few unblemished parts of Joe’s body visible after he’d dressed. The arms now bared to Mac’s scrutiny were…troubling. Multihued bruises scattered across ivory skin, pitted with circular lesions and strewn with needle marks. Botched veins, silvery slashes, more recent scoring, raised and red; ragged crimson gashes and clean cuts both. A stark contrast to the porcelain perfection of Joe’s throat, too alluring to resist from any angle…but bared to Mac’s gaze between butchered arms? It was an enticement too far.
When he smudged his mouth from Joe’s lips to fasten at his neck, its comparative cleanliness was too intoxicating to resist all but feasting on it. That’s what Mac told himself. In truth it was a compulsion, he wasnae sure he could have held back, even if he’d considered such folly. Mac did not. Far from it…he felt absurdly smug that this would be impossible to flee next time Joe scarpered to lock himself in the loo. One glance at the mirrored door of the bathroom cabinet would confirm that well enough for the rest of the week…
He’d been a bloody teenager the last time Mac left such a blatant claim on someone’s skin. It would take the rest of the month to outnumber the self-administered marks already staining it, so Joe mightn’t even notice, but that didnae make a damn bit of difference. It would remain as clear as the fact that Prehistoric Prissypants was the least of Mac’s worries…
There was just so much Joe; he was an utter extravagance from head to toe…and all in between, without and within. It was more than time Mac commenced mapping the territory he’d arrived to safeguard. It wouldnae do to be remiss—tardy at best—unprofessional and amateurish at worst. Mac had an untarnished reputation for efficiency and attention to detail to uphold, after all.
“Mac…please…” Joe begged, impaling him with pleading eyes; drowning deep, bottomless inkwells of liquid black. If that was a juxtaposition in terms, Mac didn’t give a shit. He hadnae uttered it aloud for Joe to pick out of his teeth when he’d done feasting on it.
“Please…?” The husky rasp of his own voice sounded strange to Mac’s ears. Thick with lust, as if it had been trawled from his guts. “This please…?” He enquired, trickling his tongue across the proud sweep of Joe’s collarbone…dipping into the delicate juncture with its twin. So very vulnerable: push two fingers into the jugular notch, press down.
No one would get near enough to aim a roundhouse kick Joe’s way—let alone a move so intimate—on Mac’s watch. The mere thought made him feel murderous.
“Yessaah!” The hiss of the ‘yes’ followed the smearing of Mac’s mouth down Joe’s sternum…the gasp it segued into? The flick of his tongue across a puckered nipple. Trapping it between his teeth, Mac tugged none-too gently before turning his attention to the left and pouncing on that to taunt it likewise.
“Maaac…” Joe groaned, twisting the restraints now trapped in his fists. “It’s torture…pleasssse.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific…” Mac murmured, releasing it.
“I-ahH!” A clarification that was snatched away by the stream of cool air Mac blew across spit-slick skin.
“I wish I’d known it was so easy to shut you up…”
“You might wish you’d never said that, either…” Joe groaned.
“Oooh, I doubt it.” Mac grinned, as he began to back up, trailing a snaky trip down the centre of Joe’s torso, helpless to stop the racket that rattled in his own throat when his chest grazed Joe’s cock. Mac couldnae hold off for a second longer, the sweet, sultry scent filling his head was too drugging to resist. An irony too far, if ever there was one. Mac finally planted his palms either side of those oh, so long shanks, and glanced up to find himself—as ever—plummeting into eternal eyes.
“Machh…” His name cut off on a strangled gulp when Mac swept a luxuriant swipe of flattened tongue along the length of Joe’s cock. “AAAH!” Accompanied the jolting of lean hips off the bed as a rifle shot gasp ripped from his lips.
Fuck…Mac’s taste-buds exploded with pleasure when he bent to trace the sensitive seam beneath the ruffled velvet of Joe’s balls. Drawing both into his mouth, Mac lavished them with his tongue, revelling in the soft mewls and broken moans that tumbled forth.
“Gah…Maa-ahhc…fuck, ah…I-opleasssse…” Joe juddered, wrists jerking against their binding, back bowing in frustration. It was a sentiment Mac couldn’t agree with more, he had to admit—if only to himself—as he let them slip free with a soft pop of air. It was the sound of his own name that shattered his reverie, thrilling down his spine.
“Maac! No more…I can’t…take—”
His hand felt as if it had been aching to enclose hard heat forever and a day—rather than the latter—when Mac permitted himself that prize, cutting short Joe’s plea. The electrifying rush that shot up his arm made him curse his own stubborn pride.
“You’re evil…” Joe whimpered, clearly unaccustomed to waiting on the whims of anyone else.
“And cruuuel,” he pouted. It should not have looked endearing. Let alone…adorable. F’chrissakes.
“And your point is…?” Mac started sweeping his wrist oh, so slowly back and forth.
“SadiST!” Joe’s soft slur ratcheted up to a shriek when Mac dipped his head to lap a pearly bead off the tip of his cock.
“Cock tease.” Joe hissed through clenched teeth.
“Pardon?” Mac asked, about a split-second before engulfing it, hilt deep in one fell swoop. At lassst...
“FUUUCK!” Joe hollered, head snapping back as his hips spasmed. For a brief moment his entire body went rigid before sinking against the sheets. Something about this utter capitulation made Mac long to prove…worthy of it. He’d lost his bloody mind.
It was hard to care while relishing the sighs and soft cries that fluttered from Joe’s lips. Impossible to regret that, while exploring every quivering inch. Intent on luxuriating in every second of the liberty he’d craved—rarely permitted himself—since being blind-sided by the shrink-wrapped sight that greeted him on the doorstep.
Stop? Is he off his nut? Mac was done denying himself anything—for the moment—he could recoup his losses…later.
“I’ll come…if…y’don’t-ssstop-” …and your point is? Mac whisked his hand away.
“Fuuuck!” Joe screeched when his cock crashed against the back of Mac’s throat. His neck arched in a long sweep of ivory as he snatched at the bandanas and his body shuddered. It was all Mac could do to swallow the sheer quantity of come that flooded his mouth. Strewth…how the hell had he held out? When it was done wringing Joe dry, his head lolled as the long, lean lines of his body went limp. Mac took his own sweet time relinquishing Joe’s cock, swiping it clean along the way before laying it down and levering himself forwards ’til he was level with Joe’s face.
“Earth to Joe…” Mac couldn’t help but grin when lilac-tinged lids fluttered open to reveal a blissed-out glaze almost as erotic as the (unsurpassable) sight of Joe’s expression, mid-orgasm.
“Mmmuch…Mac…kiss me,” Joe blinked in a bid to focus as a sublime smile curved his lips. Instinct suggested that the reason for this request was as significant as the kiss itself, which in turn, made Mac suspect his missing marbles were a lost cause. And yet…
“Hmm…” The purr that vibrated in Joe’s throat when Mac melded their mouths did seem to confirm something he’d couldnae allow himself to believe. It was wishful thinking too far to imagine that Joe wanted to taste himself on Mac’s lips. Lunacy, when that imbued his motive with impossible meaning.
The blow job itself had seemed an excellent idea at the time of planning—doubly expedient—both to gain a firm grip on the reins and yes, because Mac had wanted to. He now felt rather as if he’d just shot himself in the fucking foot. He might have been able to emerge from this with a career (and some sanity) intact before…but now?
Mac was—to coin a phrase—buggered.