TWENTY-SEVEN MAC #2
“Didn’t I get you a microwave?” I ask, walking into the kitchen. “Oh, yup. There it is. So why are you trying to use the oven?”
“Excuse me, asshole! I was trying to do something nice.” He throws the shirt onto the counter, his bare chest on full display, shitty tattoos and all. The one on his side is a new personal favorite. Second only to the shitty one I branded him with in high school.
“You were cooking for me?” I ask with an eyebrow lift. He sneers, eyes narrowed with his top lip twitching.
“Yes! You were weird. Thought I could make one of Mom’s casseroles. But,” he points at the stove, “it’s fucking broken.”
I’m pretty sure I’m swooning. Sage, this fucking guy. He can’t cook to save his life. He hates it, but he was trying because I was in a bad mood. I didn’t even tell him I was, he just knew. Probably through the texts I sent.
Closing the space between us, I claim his mouth with mine. Reaching behind him, I switch off the stove, just in case. His hands go to my hips, pulling me flush against him. Our bodies line up perfectly.
The kiss is hard and intense. Full of nipping teeth and forceful tongues. He moans against my lips, and I want more. Every second I’m near him, feeling him, my thoughts slow. Not screaming so loudly.
I grab his hips, lifting him up onto the counter. He spreads his legs apart, making an opening for me to step into. “Let me show you how grateful I am for your failed efforts.”
“Wait. Wait.” I pull back from kissing him again. “Shouldn’t we like talk or some shit?”
“You want to talk? Now?” I nip at his jaw then his neck.
“Urgh no. Just…I don’t know. You were weird and talking is what mature, healthy people do.” I stand back, hands resting on his parted thighs, right over where the tattoo I gave him is hidden.
“Healthy and mature? Who are you talking to right now?” I make a show of looking around for these mysterious healthy and mature people. He punches my pec, hard.
“Shut up, asshole. I’m trying to make sure you’re good.” I rub my chest, smiling at him like a goof.
“I am now.” The weirdest part is that it’s not even a lie. I am good now, now I have him in my hands. I lean forward and lick his nipple before biting down on the puckered flesh. He gasps, dropping his hands to the counter beside him.
“Fuck,” he moans, dragging out the word until it’s cut off by another gasp. I leave a trail of bites from his nipple, over this terrible tattoo, to his neck, his ear. He’s panting with fractured breaths.
“So should we talk, or can I show you my gratitude now?”
“Asshole. Gratitude.” He punches me again. I bite down harder. Right at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. Teeth clamped down tight. He lets out a mix between a moan and curse.
“Ask nicely.” I speak the words against his skin, licking over the indents from my teeth. An irritated rumble goes through his chest. “Baby,” I whisper sweetly. He moans, whimpers, and fucking melts against the counter.
“Fuck, Mac, please. Do something!” Well, he said please, so it’ll have to do. I kiss his smart-ass mouth, forcing my tongue between his soft lips. At the same time, I quickly tug down his shorts. He lifts his ass off the counter to help. I pull them down so the waistband is just below his balls.
Curling my hand around his cock, I slowly shuffle my hand over him, swiping my thumb over his slit. I didn’t think this counter thing through, our heights not working in our favor. And we don’t have any lube in the kitchen.
Note to self: lube in every room.
Moving my hand off him, he whines out a weak protest. He watches me under hooded eyes as I lick my palm, quickly returning it to his dick. “Shiiittt,” he pants out in a breathy curse. His hands are gripping the counter so hard his fingers are pale.
Sage is like my own personal drug. All the chaos that was rushing through me all day fades away. Fades away until all that’s left is him. His breathing, his shit tattoos, his blond hair that falls over his face.
But I want more. I need more.
I lift him off the counter, making him stand. “We’re going to bed.” I slap his ass to get him moving. He mutters that I’m an asshole, but I just smile.
Back in our new bedroom, he stands in front of the bed, looking a little apprehensive. I come up behind him, running my hands up his sides and wrapping my arms around his chest. I place my hand right over the shit tattoo on his chest. I feel his heart beating quickly under my palm.
“Get on the bed for me, hands and knees.” He complies. His movement shy but not hesitant. His ass in the air, putting all of him on display, looking like perfection. The small, circular scar on his left ass cheek only adding to the flawlessness. I run the pad of my finger over the scar.
When we were fourteen, Levi got an air assault pistol. I’m not sure how he got it, but he terrorized the park. Sage got shot in the ass when he jumped in front of me. Just another reminder that my entire life is written on someone else’s soul.
Sage is vibrating on the bed, still full of nervous anticipation. His back tenses, all his muscles bunching together.
“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” I scratch my nails up and down his spine. Not hard, but enough to have pink lines chasing down his back. On my next pass down his back, I let my finger ghost between his cheeks, feeling his hole clench under my finger.
We haven’t talked about what roles we’d play when we finally fucked. But I think I can read him pretty well. And obviously, I’d stop if I sensed any negativity in anything I do.
Grabbing his plump ass cheeks in my hand, I spread him. Even this is perfect. I’ve never been a big fan of rimming. It’s just not my kink, but staring at Sage’s hole, my mouth waters. I don’t let myself think too hard about it. I just burry my face in his ass, licking and kissing.
“Oh fuckkk, Mac. Shit. Shit. Shit,” Sage pants more unintelligible gibberish, hanging his head below his shoulders. I continue to devour him, pressing my tongue firmly against his tight hole until the tip is pushed inside.
Sage presses back into me. Guess he’s into rimming. So I feast. My cock fucking hurts pressed against my work pants. But I don’t have time for that, I’m busy.
When I introduce a finger into the mix, Sage greedily presses back against it. Fuck, I could come from this alone. Sage shifts, spreading his knees further apart. A clear green light.
“Shit. Wait. Wait.” I freeze, panic gripping my throat and squeezing. Had I read him wrong? Fuck. I fucked it up. “I…I want to look at you. Please. Please, Mac.” Relief washes over me. I slowly pull my finger out of him and sit back on my heels.
Sage turns over with all the grace he’s capable of—simply flopping down onto the bed.
“Sage.” Looking down at him, my heart stammers, my breath caught. “You’re beautiful.” The words fall from my lips, and heat rises up Sage’s neck onto his cheeks. He’s stunning. Farmer’s tan, shit tattoos, scars that are my history, all out in the open for me.
“You’re still dressed,” he says, lifting his foot and kicking my chest playfully.
It’s hard enough for me to lose my balance, and I climb off the end of the bed.
Quickly untying my shoes and kicking them off, my shirt and jeans are next.
Since we are heathens and always forget about laundry, I was forced to go commando.
He watches me with dilated pupils as I give myself a few tugs. I stop when the sight of him gripping the base of his cock almost sets me off too soon.
The bed creaks when I crawl back up. Sage bends his knees and sets his feet flat against the mattress, welcoming me between his legs.
“You good?” I have to ask when his swallow could be seen from space. But he’s nodding quickly, still gripping his cock.
“Yeah. Yeah man, I’m good.” That’s all I need. I suck two fingers into my mouth, getting them wet and returning them where I want them. I circle his rim, but that’s all the teasing I can muster. His hole welcomes a finger inside. I go slow, pressing deeper, curling it upwards.
His hand flies off his cock and slaps the mattress, fisting the stolen sheets.
“Holy fuckkkk.” His dick leaks so much pre-cum it drips down his thick length and pools on his stomach. I mean, I can’t not taste it. Bending over, I take him into my mouth, my finger still fucking his hole.