“Jesus, Tony,” Mac groaned. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” Tony whispered against his skin. He nuzzled into the groove of hip and groin. “Not stopping. Just want to…” He urged Mac’s legs apart with his hands and lowered his mouth to the soft space between scrotum and ass, licking slowly, pressing with his tongue. He moved gradually upward, licking the big, furry balls until he sucked first one testicle and then the other into his mouth.
Mac was whimpering urgently by the time Tony released his balls and found his hard cock again, slick with saliva. He licked toward the crown. Mac’s fingers clenched in Tony’s hair. Tony closed his mouth tightly around the thick shaft and Mac jolted up with his hips. Tony let his lover drive into his mouth, controlling the depth with his hand. Mac’s thrusts came fast and hard, his hands tugging Tony’s hair to the edge of pain. Tony worked with his tongue, sucking tightly, tasting the seep of pre-come deep in his mouth.
“Oh, God,” Mac moaned. “Oh, God, Tony. Now! Please!”
Tony slid his hand low to press behind Mac’s balls, a firm rub in the right spot, and relaxed his throat to take Mac really deep. Mac groaned and shot hard in his mouth, pulsing and jerking. Tony swallowed the thick cum, milking each jet with fist and tongue. After a minute, he slowly pulled off. Delicately, lingeringly, he sucked and licked the last drops from the slit, feeling Mac softening in his hand. When Mac shuddered, Tony let go, knowing the signs that Mac had become temporarily too sensitive for more touch.
Tony pillowed his head on Mac’s stomach and sighed. He slowly traced the muscled hint of a six-pack with the tip of one finger. I love you, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Not again. Not until I might hear it back.
He was certain that Mac was as deeply in this relationship as he was. No one else had ever been a part of Tony like this, wrapped around his heart. The connection had to be mutual. But no one else had ever denied his existence outside of the bedroom like this either. He’d vowed to himself not to push Mac, not to ask for more than he was willing to give. But holding back got harder as he saw no sign that Mac was even thinking about cracking open his closet door.
Mac shoved his big hands under Tony’s arms and pulled him up into a kiss. “Mmm,” Mac said. “I love when you taste of me. You have a magic mouth.”
Almost the right words. Tony kissed him back willingly. He loved it too. They’d tested for the final time four months ago, and they were both healthy, negative. He’d breathed a sigh of relief for Mac, who’d been much more into the bar hook-up scene. Now they could have sex any way they wanted to— no risks from the pleasure of skin on skin or drinking Mac down. Trust had never been an issue, just their pasts.
Tony deepened their kiss, opening his lips for Mac’s tongue, slowly exploring in return. Mac’s dark eyes stared into his own. Tony ran a finger over one angular cheekbone and down Mac’s beard-rough jaw as he gave himself to the kiss.
This was almost better than the sex— the long slow times they spent just being together, close, touching, breathing the same air. Mac traced Tony’s mouth with lips and tongue with a clear delight that somehow never faded. Tony had expected they’d take each other for granted eventually, but still, every time, his heart ached a little at the joy of having this man in his arms, in his bed. Mac’s mouth and hands moved lower on Tony’s body and became more purposeful— acknowledgement that while Mac had come, they weren’t done yet. Ahhh, yes. Kissing was only almost better than the sex. Tony gave himself to the satisfying heat of Mac’s skilled mouth.
§ § § §
Mac dragged himself out of bed when his alarm went off. On the other side of the bed, Tony made a grumbling noise and burrowed back under the covers. During the school year, they got up at the same time, the early start of the high school day matching Mac’s shift. But July was the middle of a teacher’s vacation. If Tony didn’t have somewhere to be, he indulged in late mornings like a teenager.
Mac smacked Tony’s rounded ass through the bedclothes. “Come on, lazybones. Are you going to make me have breakfast by myself?”
Tony pulled the covers down to expose one bleary blue eye. “Do we have time to play in the shower?”
Mac glanced at the clock. “Nope.”
“Then yeah,” Tony mumbled, turning back into his pillow. “Have a nice day.” The covers rose back into place, leaving a few strands of tangled black curls visible.
Mac laughed and headed for the bathroom. He allowed himself a really hot shower. One of the perks of spending nights with Tony was avoiding the lukewarm torture-chamber that was the tiny shower in his own apartment. Mac soaped up under the hot spray, and winced a little as he brushed over his nipples. The faint marks of Tony’s teeth were still visible. Mac smiled. Unlimited hot water was only one of the perks.
After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, Mac let himself out into the already-steamy morning. His car was like a sauna. The ancient air conditioning strained to produce any effect. He turned it off and opened the windows as he drove. At least the sun was still low, flashing between the buildings but not yet beating down on the roof. He liked the early morning light and the sense of starting a new day. Especially when there was useful work to be done.
They’d spent the previous day trying to track Terri Brand’s movements. Mac had shown her picture to the bartenders at a dozen local bars. Half of them recognized her face, but none of them could remember her being there the previous night. She’d been a semi-regular at several places. She was remembered for fairly heavy drinking and her interest in men. As one bartender put it, “She usually went home smashed, happy, and not alone.”
None of those bartenders recognized the photo of their first victim, Cindy Kowalski. And the detective who went back to canvass Kowalski’s known drinking spots reported a similar lack of recognition for Terri. The women were both young, blond, slim and tall, with a liking for drink and men. Other than that, they appeared to have little in common. They were four years apart in age, lived in different parts of the city, had different jobs, different school backgrounds, different clothing styles and favorite shops, different hairstylists, different social circles.
Cindy had been a student at the U, in her last year of chemistry studies. Mac had hoped there might be a link to Terri through Joan or Lacey, but both women looked at Cindy’s photo without recognition. Terri had been a sales clerk at a Hot Topic store in a mall, but Cindy’s friends claimed she never shopped in that mall and never dressed in those styles.
Everyone on Oliver’s team was hoping to find a connection somewhere. They needed something, some point of intersection, to start looking for a man who’d known both victims. By the end of the first day, everyone knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
Mac pulled in at the county morgue and parked. His turn for autopsy duty. This was one of his least favorite parts of the job. He wasn’t squeamish, but he hated seeing what was once a living person reduced to meat on a slab. Somehow, the invasion of privacy of the body felt worse than the inevitable invasion of the privacy of their life. But both were necessary.
When he made his way to the autopsy room, he was glad to see they’d drawn Phil Bresco for this case. The man was neat and thorough, and worked with a respect for the deceased that seemed to be lacking in some of the younger staff. Black humor was part of the job. You couldn’t survive days spent around the dead without it. But there was a line Mac was uncomfortable crossing, and Bresco never exceeded it.