The Fall

by Kate Sherwood

  “Upstairs?” Joe suggested, his voice so casual Mackenzie actually wondered if it was possible he’d misheard the word. But there was no mistaking the look in Joe’s eyes or the seductive slowness with which he raised the beer bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow. Damn, country boys moved fast.

  “What changed?” Mackenzie hadn’t planned to ask the question. Now that it was out, he really hoped the answer didn’t interfere with whatever was going on in that kitchen.

  Joe looked down at the bottle in his hands, then back up at Mackenzie. “You just caught me in the right mood, I guess.”

  “And what if I’m not in that mood?” Jesus, what was he doing? The words had been spoken flirtatiously, but what was the point in flirting when the deal was already so clearly ready to be closed?

  But Joe didn’t seem upset by the coyness. He just took another long swallow from his bottle. He was half done with the beer, and Mackenzie still hadn’t taken a sip. “If you’re not in the mood, we should go outside and sit on the porch. It’s a nice day.”

  “It’s a bit hot,” Mackenzie said, and he finally lifted the bottle to his lips. He wasn’t a big beer fan, but the bitter taste helped clear his mind a little. “And I have fair skin. I don’t do well in the sun.”

  Joe stepped closer, his gaze trailing down over Mackenzie’s face toward the skin exposed by the opening of his V-neck shirt. Joe nodded. “Maybe we should stay in, then.” Another step and he was close enough to slowly reach out with his bottle and press the cold glass against the skin of Mackenzie’s neck.

  Mackenzie drew in a quick breath and felt goose bumps rise as Joe slid the bottle slowly down, along the top hem of his shirt and up to his neck on the far side. They were closer now somehow, close enough that when Joe spoke Mackenzie could feel the faint puff of breath along the cooled skin of his neck. “But not here. No one’s home, and no one should be home. But I don’t want to get walked in on. Upstairs or outside.”

  More touching or no more touching. It wasn’t a difficult decision. “Where are the stairs?”

  Joe pointed his chin toward the front of the house, and Mackenzie pressed on. He could sense Joe close behind him, but there was no contact, no words. It was all so efficient, so strangely impersonal, that Mackenzie began to feel a bit like one of the cows he imagined Joe herding all day.

  “First on the right,” Joe said as they reached the top of the stairs. Mackenzie took a couple steps and pushed the door open, stepped inside, and heard Joe close and lock the door behind them.

  The room was bright, with crisp white curtains fluttering in front of an open window. Joe didn’t have much furniture: a bed, a dresser, and a bench by the window that looked like it might have been carved from a single log and then not polished up all that carefully. Rustic, Mackenzie supposed, but not really to his taste. It felt like the bedroom of a teenager, not a grown man. At least there weren’t posters on the wall, and he had a full-sized bed. Maybe even a king. Still, it wasn’t what he was used to. It was nothing like Nathan’s ornate master suite, with its cool modern furniture, fireplace, and wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. But that was the point, he reminded himself. Joe wasn’t Nathan. Joe wasn’t a cheating bastard who had dumped Mackenzie for someone he’d be better able to push around and manipulate.

  And Joe apparently wasn’t quite as arrogantly insensitive as Nathan, either, because when Mackenzie turned around, Joe was leaning against the door, watching Mackenzie judging the room and clearly recognizing that he wasn’t impressed. “You still with me?” he asked quietly, then shifted so he wasn’t blocking the only exit. The invitation to leave was so clear it was almost a dare.

  “You still with me?” Mackenzie stepped into Joe’s space, noticing again that the man was a little taller and a little broader in the shoulders. Nathan had been shorter than Mackenzie and very slender, almost delicate. A person might have found him effeminate if they hadn’t seen the way he moved or heard the way he spoke to those around him. Absolute alpha male. Possibly a bit of a Napoleon complex. But Mackenzie wasn’t talking to Nathan, he was talking to Joe, and it honestly looked like the man was considering his question.

  “No. I’m not with you. Not like this.” Joe didn’t move, but somehow his whole body shifted back to its former unreceptive status. “Not with you thinking about someone else.”

  Okay, that was a bit too accurate for comfort. Mackenzie thought about denying it but shrugged instead. “So make me forget about him. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Joe nodded slowly. “Yeah, that explains it,” he agreed. “You’re trying to forget somebody else, and I’m trying to prove something to people who shouldn’t be involved in my sex life at all.” His grin was slow and not entirely kind. “Ain’t we a pair.”

  Mackenzie was pretty sure he should hear a bit more about the whole ‘proving something’ thing, but before he could ask for details Joe surged forward and shoved Mackenzie a step backward until he hit the wall. It had happened fast and smooth, and it definitely got Mackenzie focusing on what was happening inside the room, especially when Joe followed through with his own body, using it to pin Mackenzie against the wall. He lifted Mackenzie’s unresisting arms above his head and held them there with one hand while he slid the other down to cup Mackenzie’s jaw.

  “We’re doing this?” Joe asked with an intriguing growl.

  “Hell yeah,” Mackenzie breathed. His mind flew back to Nathan. The man had dominated him just as confidently as Joe was, but there had been no physical superiority there, just psychological power. With Nathan, Mackenzie had always known that if he wanted to, he could resist and refuse, as long as he was prepared to deal with the unpleasant consequences. There had been times he’d almost done it, but never quite. With Joe, that safety valve wasn’t there, but somehow Mackenzie was even more confident that he wouldn’t be pushed further than he wanted to go. Joe would stop as soon as Mackenzie asked him to. The knowledge was intoxicating. Joe would act like he was in control, but, really, Mackenzie held all the cards. But Joe was frowning at him again. “You’re right,” Mackenzie admitted before the accusation had to be spoken. “I was thinking about him. But not in a good way. Does that help?”

  Apparently it did. Joe pressed forward again, working his thigh between Mackenzie’s and then grinding upward while he touched Mackenzie’s lips with his for the first time. No affection in the contact, just dominance and desire, an insistent tongue that claimed Mackenzie’s mouth and left him gasping. And Joe was busy with his free hand as well, working his way inside Mackenzie’s shirt and up over his ribs, finding his nipple and tweaking it almost painfully. There was so much going on it should have felt frenzied, but Joe was clearly in control of it all.

  Mackenzie was just trying to keep his balance and soon lost the ability to catalogue individual sensations. He had no idea when his shirt had been lifted over his head, no idea how his arms had been lowered and then somehow trapped still in the sleeves of the half-off shirt, but he knew he was frustrated when he tried to reach for Joe’s strong chest and couldn’t get to it. And he could tell from the light in Joe’s eyes that the man had noticed the frustration and found it exciting.

  Joe pushed away a little farther, just enough distance so he could get a good view, and Mackenzie imagined what he must be seeing. A man trapped by his own clothing, his lips wet and kiss-swollen, his eyes wide with excitement… his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans….

  It was the final point that seemed to catch Joe’s attention, and he reached down to run his fingers firmly along the visible bulge. Mackenzie let his hips push forward and leaned out to try to capture Joe’s mouth and persuade him with a kiss, but Joe grinned and shoved him back against the wall. “A pampered boy toy,” he said musingly. “That’s what you called yourself that day in the church.” He squeezed Mackenzie’s cock through the denim while he slowly scratched his way down Mackenzie’s chest with the fingernails of his other hand. “I’m not going to pamper you. But I definitely don�
�t mind playing with you a little.”

  “Just get on with it,” Mackenzie groaned. The pressure on his cock was halfway between torture and ecstasy, and the strain between the two extremes was too much to handle.

  “Patience,” Joe murmured.

  It went against years of conditioning, but it felt really good when Mackenzie squirmed his arms out of his shirt and brought his hands around to catch Joe by the hips. “Fuck patience,” he said, and then it was his turn to spin them around, his turn to press in with his body and wedge his thigh just right, and when he pressed up, it was his turn to hear his partner gasp.

  The breathless chuckle that came from Joe was new to the mix, though. “I guess we’re both playing,” he said.

  “Take your shirt off.” Mackenzie leaned back enough to give Joe room to comply and was rewarded with obedience and the sight of a broad, toned chest with a light covering of dark hair. The contrast with Mackenzie’s own carefully waxed body was intriguing, and he let himself lean forward to rub the different textures together.

  “Pants?” Joe suggested, and Mackenzie dropped to his knees as if he’d been shot. He licked his lips in anticipation as he worked on Joe’s fly. Even through the clothes he could tell the man’s cock was going to match the rest of his body in size, but he wanted to see the details. And when he eased Joe’s pants and underwear down and off, he was greeted with a sight that exceeded his expectations. It was hard to say why some cocks were beautiful and others were ugly, but this was definitely one from the first group. Long and straight, smooth skin just a bit darker than the rest of Joe’s body, head plump and well-defined, with just a tiny glistening of moisture at the tip…. Mackenzie tasted, and then he went to town. He loved sucking cock, and everything about Joe’s was perfect. There was even the right scent—a tiny bit of muskiness that suggested the man had been working that day, but nothing overwhelming. Mackenzie swallowed as deeply as he could, eased off, then worked his way back on. He licked, he sucked, he let his teeth graze ever so gently along the tender skin. God, he could suck this cock all day.

  So why were Joe’s hands in his hair, pulling him away? He glanced up resentfully and saw Joe’s tight face looking down at him. “If this is all we’re doing, keep going,” Joe said. “But if you want to do anything else….”

  Oh. That was a good point. And a surprisingly hard choice. Mackenzie had come upstairs thinking in terms of a good hard fuck, but damn, he really wanted more of this too. He wanted to taste Joe, wanted the thrill of knowing he had power over this man’s pleasure. But, God, the intensity of feeling that perfect cock stretching him open, plunging deep inside him… that would be wonderful too. Clearly this needed to be more than a one-time event, because there was a lot Mackenzie wanted to do with the body he was kneeling in front of. For now, though, he was undecided.

  That was when Joe said, “I want to fuck you.”

  “Yup,” Mackenzie agreed quickly. It was an excellent idea. Hard to argue with, really. He gave the tip of Joe’s cock a quick good-bye kiss, then stood up and kissed hello to Joe’s lips. Their bodies felt natural as they pressed together, both warm and strong, soft skin over hard muscle. Joe made quick work of their remaining clothes and then came back to the kiss. He wrapped his fingers tight around Mackenzie’s cock, his callouses and scratches rough and tantalizing as they moved against Mackenzie’s most sensitive skin.

  They didn’t rush. Just a half step followed by a few deep kisses, then another half step, until finally Mackenzie bumped up against the side of the bed. His breathing was already heavy, his senses overloaded by too many sensations, but everything got even more intense when Joe boosted Mackenzie up onto the bed and pushed him backward. He ended up lying on his back with his ass on the edge of the bed and his legs wrapped around Joe’s tight body. He could feel Joe’s cock, not trying to push inside but sliding easily along the crease of Mackenzie’s ass, a comfortable, tantalizing hint of what was to come.

  Joe looked down at him. “Like this?” he asked. “You good?”

  “Perfect,” Mackenzie replied, and he used his legs to pull Joe in a little tighter. But Joe pulled away. He didn’t go far, just leaning over and stretching to the side, but it was absolutely the wrong direction. Then Mackenzie heard the sound of a drawer being pulled open and let his legs relax a little. Joe was just taking care of things. Taking care of both of them. He wasn’t trying to get away.

  It only took a moment before Joe’s attention was back on Mackenzie. Something cool dribbled onto his ass, then Joe teased at his opening with a slippery finger. “Just fuck me,” Mackenzie moaned. “I’m not a virgin!”

  “Shhh,” Joe replied, and slipped his finger just inside before pulling out and going back to teasing around the rim. Then in again, a little deeper, and maybe this was more prep than Mackenzie needed, but damn it felt good. And it felt good to look up and see Joe looking down at him, watching his expressions, reading his body’s reactions and trying to do more of whatever Mackenzie seemed to be enjoying. It made the word lover flash into Mackenzie’s mind, but he fought to dismiss it. It was a stupid word to start with, and even if it were a better word, that wasn’t what this was. Trick, fuck buddy, sex partner, this guy I know. Any of those would be more accurate, and Mackenzie needed to remember that.

  And then the pressure from Joe’s finger was replaced by something much larger. Mackenzie didn’t have to work at keeping intrusive thoughts out of his head anymore because there were no thoughts at all, just the instinctive mental sigh that came from feeling the exact right thing at the exact right time. He tensed and relaxed in a slow, perfect rhythm, resisting and then welcoming the intrusion, and Joe moved in the same pattern, easing his way deeper and deeper inside. Mackenzie let his head flop back against the mattress and gave in to the sensations. He tried to choke back his moan of pleasure but then remembered he wasn’t with Nathan anymore; he didn’t have to worry about the old rules. Releasing that last bit of inhibition took Mackenzie somewhere even better than he’d already been, someplace where he didn’t even know if he was making noises because he was barely even in his body, just floating away from everything in a peaceful sea of sensations and pleasure. He could feel the waves building, knew that as good as they would feel, they would also wash him back to shore and back to reality, so he held off, tried to maintain his relaxation as long as he could. But the building pressure was too much, Joe’s cock and hand insisting Mackenzie give in, and finally it washed over him, rushed him along, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his entire body and driving him along.

  He was just beginning to find his bearings, just struggling out of the crashing surf, when he felt Joe’s rhythm falter. He forced his eyes open so he could watch Joe lose his focus and take his own journey through the waves. The condom had been a good idea, but Mackenzie found himself resenting it. He wanted to imagine Joe coming deep inside him, his seed spreading even farther than his long cock had been able to reach. Mackenzie wanted Joe to be leaving something behind. As it was, when Joe straightened up and slowly pulled out, Mackenzie was left feeling nothing but empty.

  Well, empty and satisfied. Relaxed. Joe was fussing about, using someone’s underwear to clean up, and Mackenzie hoped it wasn’t his, because he didn’t want to go home commando. But he couldn’t be bothered to check. When he felt his legs being lifted he managed to help a little, shifting around so he was in a better position for sleeping, and maybe there was something warm being wrapped around him, but he didn’t pay any attention to what it might be. He didn’t pay attention to anything until a gentle hand shook his shoulder.

  “Hey, man, wake up.” Mackenzie opened one eye to see Joe crouched next to the bed. “Sorry, but… people are going to be getting home soon. Probably best that you’re not here… or at least not upstairs….”

  Joe sounded apologetic. And he damn well should. Mackenzie was comfortable, lying there in the big old bed with cool air gently blowing in from the window, the heavy old-fashioned quilt wrapped around his sh
oulders…. “I like this room,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, okay.” Joe sounded like he wasn’t sure what to do with that tidbit of information. “You can come visit it again sometime if you want. But I don’t want Austin confused about anything, so it’d be good if you weren’t in my bed when he gets home.”

  It took Mackenzie longer than it should have to figure out who Joe was talking about. “Austin’s your nephew?”

  “He’s four. I don’t… none of us do… we don’t introduce him to people we don’t… you know. He doesn’t understand that some stuff is just casual. And my baby sister’s the one picking him up from day care, and she’s only seventeen. I don’t introduce her to casual fucks, either.”

  Well, that cleared up any potential misunderstandings, and it was stupid for Mackenzie to feel hurt by the quick classification. He’d probably spent less than an hour with this guy, total, before jumping into bed with him. Of course it was a casual fuck.

  He forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the mattress. His clothes had been gathered up and neatly placed within easy reach at the foot of the bed. Joe Sutton was pretty damn efficient at getting strange men out of his bedroom. Mackenzie wanted to flop back and say he was too tired to leave, wanted to try to seduce Joe back into the bed, wanted to do anything to mess up the sequence of events that now felt so mass-produced and impersonal.

  But it was hard to claim the moral high ground over a man who was just trying to protect his family, so Mackenzie obediently pulled on his underwear—not the pair Joe had used for cleanup, thankfully—and then stood up and stepped into his jeans. Joe was waiting patiently, not really watching but not ostentatiously looking away. It was like changing clothes backstage at a runway show, but with less frantic haste.