He started by flipping the quilt to the less terrifying side. He unplugged the village, righted the skater, twisted the tiny figurine so she was facingawayfrom the bed—just in case, put a towel over the looming Santa picture, then took each Victorian caroler and stuffed them behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. Moving each one was his own personal nightmare, half afraid he’d feel teeth sink into his neck as they came to life in his arms.
Once they were all in, he dusted off his hands, feeling a bit steadier. It was a tight fit but hopefully out of sight, out of mind. It was only a few hours after all.
He laid out their sleeping bag across the bed for good measure. He honestly didn’t want any part of him or Mac touching the fabric beneath them. He would sacrifice the sleeping bag if he had to. The mattress looked like it had absorbed at least forty years of peppermint-scented trauma. When he decided the room was now suitable for all ages, he flung the door open.
“Ta-da.”
Mac crept back in the room, eyes narrowed as he searched the space for any other Christmas horrors that might be lurking. Archer considered it a good sign when Mac’s shoulders sagged.
“Better?” Archer asked. “I?—”
Instead of answering, Mac shoved him against the wall hard enough to drag a pained, “oof,” from him and rattle the door in its frame. Before Archer could right himself, Mac’s mouth crashed into his. Right away, it was all teethand hunger and too much tongue. Archer grimaced from the hit, but not the feel of his husband plundering his lips.
He wrapped his arms around Mac’s neck, letting him take the lead as he mapped every ridge and groove of his teeth. Mac kissed him like he was reclaiming territory, all heat and adrenaline and leftover terror channeled directly into Archer’s mouth. Archer felt the shiver roll through him—half arousal, half relief that Mac’s brain was finally rebooting.
Clearly his husband had an inappropriate fear response. Archer wasn’t complaining. This seemed like as good a way as any to pass the time.
Archer tore his mouth away. “Are you sure you’re good?”
Mac pressed his lips to Archer’s cheek. “So I’ve been told.”
Archer rolled his eyes, but didn’t push him away, just let him keep exploring the skin of his jaw, then lower to his throat. Mac’s breath was still uneven, warm puffs ghosting across Archer’s neck as if he was trying to ground himself there.
“Hardy-har-har,” Archer said softly. “Are you trying to distract me from asking the origin story of your terror surrounding Victorian dolls?”
They were both a little out of breath. “Carolers. Not dolls. Carolers. I’ll blow you if you promise to just never bring it up. Ever.”
“You’ll blow me anyway. How about we make a deal? You suck me offwithoutforcing me to touch that mattress and I promise not to ask about your carolers until we are far from this place. As an added bonus, I will call my father and ask him to get us the fuck out of here and hire someone else to retrieve the car?”
Mac paused only long enough for his pupils to blow wide in interest—fear apparently no match for sex and an exit strategy.
Mac bit Archer’s lower lip, then kissed him again a little slower. “Deal.”
Archer fell back into it enjoying the slide of Mac’s lips over his, his soft tongue teasing his own. A contented sigh escaped as he let Mac do as he liked, exploring his jaw, his ear, just below it. He tangled his fingers into his auburn hair, not guiding, just grounding, perfectly content to just do this.
Mac slid to his knees, tugging down the zipper. His eyes slid shut as Mac freed his cock from the confines of jeans that were starting to feel a little too tight. Mac’s mouth closed around Archer’s half-hard cock, swallowing him down. He groaned deep in his chest, the sound dragging out like a warning as his head once more thudded against the wall.
Mac hollowed his cheeks, sucking in a way that had Archer’s eyes rolling behind closed lids, his mouth going dry. “Oh, fuck.”
Mac pulled off, flattening his tongue and running it along the underside of Archer’s aching cock before swirling his tongue around the swollen head, humming around it in a way that made Archer’s thighs shake.
He couldn’t stop himself from looking down, moaning at the picture before him. His hot husband on his knees, lips stretched around his cock, messy and eager. When Mac sucked harder, Archer’s hips bucked, going deep enough to have Mac gagging wetly around him.
“Fuck. Your mouth is a goddamn weapon,” he said, rollinghis hips, half gone on the feel of Mac’s soft tongue on the underside of his cock.
Mac didn’t answer, couldn’t really, not with the way Archer was using him, driving past his lips lazily, enjoying the way he tried to choke himself on Archer’s cock. It felt incredible, goosebump inducing, really.
They’d been together long enough for Mac to know just what he liked and how he liked it. There was comfort in the familiarity, there was also mind-numbing pleasure. “Fuck, just like that,” he said, quickening the thrust of his hips, unable to stop himself from fucking his mouth even when he heard him choke a bit.
There was nothing particularly elegant about his technique. Maybe that’s why it was so perfect. His mouth was hot and wet and sloppy, drool dripping from his chin as he let Archer fuck his throat. When he started moaning around Archer’s length, he knew Mac was jerking himself off while he sucked him.
“Oh, fuck. That’s it. God, keep this up and maybe I’ll forget all about your super secret caroler fear.”
Mac pulled off, glowering up at him with a sulky face that made Archer so fucking happy, he couldn’t help but laugh. He loved this sexy, dangerous, silly as fuck, chaotic man. He loved him so much it made him want to punch something. Archer didn’t know if he was a psychopath or a product of early trauma or just someone misdiagnosed, but nobody could tell him he didn’t love this man with every atom in his body.
“I’m sorry, darling. You know I’m just kidding. Continue…please?” he added when Mac seemed like he was contemplating whether to leave him in his current condition or not.
Mac swallowed him down with purpose, working him with deep, sucking pulls of his lips. He wasn’t trying to drag it out or elongate anyone’s pleasure. This was quick and dirty, meant to get them both off, not reaffirm their love for each other. Pleasure pulsed through him like a heartbeat, his cock throbbing hot on Mac’s tongue, seconds away from bursting.
