Quentin’s mouth curved up in a sweet smile. “Oh, Mac, what am I gonna do with you?”
“F-f-fuck me?”
7
No way had Mac meant that literally, right? No, he’d probably meant it as an expression, as a quicker way of saying “I really love your ass, so can I fuck you, please?”
Story of his life.
Quentin slowly climbed off Mac’s lap, careful not to step on Lucy. Mac grabbed his hand. “D-d-did I s-say something w-w-wrong?”
Quentin’s heart clenched painfully. He was vulnerable, this big, strong man. So damn fragile. His protective instinct kicked in with full force, even more when he caught Mac’s eyes, filled with insecurity.
“No, baby, you were perfect. You are perfect. It’s…don’t you need time to process?”
Mac slowly let go of his hand. “P-p-process what?”
Quentin took position between Mac’s legs, cupping his face in both of his hands. “That you’re attracted to men.”
Much to his surprise, Mac scoffed. “W-w-why would I n-need time t-to process that?”
Quentin frowned. “I thought it was news to you, that you’d only been with women before.”
“F-four. F-f-four women. And I’m thirty-eight, s-s-so you d-do the math.”
Quentin dropped his hands from Mac’s face, looking at him in utter surprise. “You slept with only four women in all those years? Were you in a relationship with them?”
Mac shook his head. “Onetime s-sex. I d-d-didn’t m-miss it. The s-sex. N-n-not until…”
Quentin could have sworn he blushed, but the faint candlelight made it hard to see. He laid his thumb on Mac’s full bottom lip. “Did you like kissing me?” he whispered.
“I d-d-didn’t kiss you. You k-kissed me.”
Fuck, Quentin loved feeling Mac’s lip tremble as he spoke. What a rush to make this man quiver for him. “I didn’t hear you protest.”
“N-n-no, I l-loved it. You c-can kiss me anyt-t-time.”
He pushed his thumb against Mac’s mouth, and he sucked it in, wrapping his soft lips around it, then lapped it with his tongue. The sensation shot straight to Quentin’s balls. His very sloppy balls, where cum was now drying up in a most uncomfortable fashion.
The knowledge that Mac was putty in his hands fired up all the bossy instincts Quentin tried so hard to suppress when he was with another man. None of them had ever appreciated these, so he’d tried to curtail them as best he could. But lord, the things he wanted to do to this man… He would be stunning when Quentin made him suffer for him. Just enough to drive Mac mad with need and to satisfy this yearning inside himself to see someone kneel for him.
“Hmm, that feels so good, Mac. Your wet mouth around my thumb…” He lowered his voice, fighting to keep his breathing calm when Mac moaned around his digit. “You like doing that, baby? You like having something in your mouth?”
He slowly pulled his thumb out, then pushed it back in again, while Mac nodded earnestly. God, what a rush to see this man come undone at his hands. He kept fucking his mouth with his finger, never taking his eyes off Mac, who seemed remarkably content to let Quentin take the lead. Could he…?
Visions of him fucking Mac flashed through his mind again, but he pushed them down. He couldn’t, not with this man. If he was the dominant one here, he had the responsibility to set the right pace. All this was new to Mac. Hell, the guy had never even been kissed by a man. Quentin couldn’t steamroll him with anything more.
He reluctantly pulled out his thumb, which had softened under Mac’s thorough sucking. Mac’s brown eyes flashed with uncertainty, and Quentin bent down to press another kiss on those perfect lips.
“Let’s get cleaned up, and then you get to pick what we’ll do.”
“W-w-will you read t-to me?” Mac asked after a brief hesitation.
“A book?”
Mac nodded, and Quentin smiled. He’d never done that before. Hell, he couldn’t even remember anyone ever reading to him. His mom, probably, but since he’d learned how to read at four, that was a long time ago.
“I’d love to.”
Mac handed him a flashlight, and they both stepped into their bedrooms. Mac’s room had a master bathroom, apparently, because Quentin heard water running there while he quickly cleaned up in his bathroom and put on clean underwear. Damn, it had been a long time since he’d come in his pants like that. What an amazing experience it had been to see Mac come.
“What book do you want me to read?” he asked Mac when they were both back in the living room, Mac having exchanged his work jeans for far more comfortable sweat pants. Quentin still shivered from walking through the dark with only his flashlight. It was much better here with the candles and the light from the fire—and also a hell of a lot warmer. His bedroom had been freezing cold.
“D-d-do you w-want me to turn the l-lights on? I can hook them up on the g-g-generator.”
Quentin put his hand on Mac’s arm. “Thank you, but I’m okay as long as I stay here. The fire and the candles help.”
Mac nodded, then handed him a book. The first Harry Potter book, one of Quentin’s favorites. “Oh, I love that one!”
He plopped down onto the couch and grabbed a fleece blanket to huddle under. Mac sat down beside him and, after a quick look sideways, moved in closer. “Is this o-o-kay?” he asked.
God, he was so fucking adorable. “Wanna cuddle?” Quentin asked him, his voice soft.
Mac dipped his head eagerly, and before Quentin realized what was happening, the big man was comfortably leaning against him, his head on Quentin’s lap.
Quentin did a mental calculation. Mac’s mom had passed away ten years earlier. He’d only fucked four women since, all one-night stands from what Quentin understood. For some reason, he wasn’t very popular in town—and why people would just show up at his door and demand money was a whole other story. Clearly, Mac was not just alone but lonely…and he was starving for touch.
Quentin couldn’t deny he loved the way Mac gravitated toward him, almost…submitting to him. It didn’t make sense that he’d be happy bowing to another man, but he truly seemed to be. At the same time, it made Quentin deeply aware he had to tread carefully here. Mac was vulnerable, and he had to respect and honor that.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked.
“I l-l-love it.”
That was the other thing. As shy and hesitant as Mac seemed, he didn’t appear to be ashamed of how he felt or reluctant to express what he liked and wanted. It was the strangest dichotomy, and Quentin found him all the more interesting.
Quentin ran one hand through Mac’s hair, held his book with the other. “That’s good because I really like touching you,” he said.
With a smile on his face, he started reading, transporting them both to a different world with wizards and muggles and a boy who lived under the staircase. Mac listened to him, softly responding every now and then with chuckles and sighs and little sounds of distress. Quentin kept gently stroking his head while reading. After an hour, he was parched, and his voice was turning croaked.
“C-c-can I m-make you some t-tea?” Mac asked.