Melvin took a sip. The whiskey burned down his throat in the best possible way.
The bartender nodded toward the glass. “Enchanted. You’ll relax, but you won’t get drunk.”
Mac raised an eyebrow. “Convenient.”
“Professional,” the bartender said.
Melvin took another sip. The tension in his shoulders eased.
Mac’s hand rested on the table between them. Not reaching. Just there.
They sat with it for a moment.
“I don’t want tonight to be about the war,” Melvin said.
“It isn’t.” Mac stood and held out his hand. “Come upstairs.”
Melvin didn’t argue.
The room above the bar was dim and quiet, the lantern light low against the walls. The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Mac pulled his shirt over his head without ceremony.
Mac stood there, letting him look. The scars were there, the pale, puckered line on his ribs from Fallujah, the smaller, jagged one on hisshoulder. But so was the strength, the defined planes of his chest, the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.
Melvin’s hands left Mac’s back. They came to rest on his hips, thumbs brushing the sharp crest of bone. Then they slid up, over the tense ridges of his abdomen, tracing the path of that dark hair up to his sternum.
Mac watched him, his pupils blown wide, his own breathing shallow. When Melvin’s thumbs brushed over his nipples, a shudder went through him, sharp and involuntary. A quiet, punched-out sound escaped his throat.
That sound undid something in Melvin. He leaned forward, closing the small distance, and pressed his mouth to the center of Mac’s chest. He felt the frantic beat of Mac’s heart against his lips. He breathed in, and the scent of him: soap, sweat, and something uniquely, essentially Mac, flooded his senses.
“Mel,” he whispered, the name a ragged thing.
Melvin looked up. The raw need in Mac’s face was a physical force. He reached for the button of Mac’s trousers. His fingers, usually so steady, fumbled. The fabric was stiff. Mac covered Melvin’s hand with his own, stilling him. “Let me,” he said, his voice low.
He made quick work of his own belt and button, the rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet room. He pushed the trousers and briefs down his hips in one motion, stepping out of them without breaking eye contact. He stood before Melvin, completely bare, utterly exposed. There was no bravado in it. Only a profound and terrifying offering.
Melvin’s gaze traveled down, and his throat went tight. Mac was fully, thickly erect, the evidence of his want undeniable.
“Your turn,” Mac said, the words barely more than air.
Melvin nodded, a short, sharp movement. He pulled his own shirt over his head, the fabric catching briefly on his watch. He tossed it aside, his eyes never leaving Mac’s. He untied and toed off his boots, shoved his trousers and briefs down, and kicked them away.
They stood a foot apart, naked in the dim light. The space between them hummed.
Mac reached out first. His hand, calloused and warm, cupped the side of Melvin’s neck, his thumb stroking the line of his jaw. “Come here,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.
Melvin stepped into him. Skin met skin from chest to thigh. The contact was electric, a shock of pure sensation that made them both gasp. He buried his face in the curve of Mac’s neck, breathing him in, drowning in him.
They stood like that for a long moment, locked together, swaying slightly. There was no urgency to move toward the bed, no frantic grasping. This was the destination. Melvin could feel the hard length of Mac pressed against his stomach, and the answering ache in himself was a deep, throbbing pulse.
“Bed,” Mac managed, the word rough.
They didn’t separate. They moved as one unit, a clumsy, connected shuffle toward the mattress. The backs of Melvin’s legs hit the edge, and he sat, pulling Mac down with him. Mac followed, covering him, his weight.
He could feel every inch of Mac, the hard heat of him nestled against his own. The promise of it was almost too much.
Mac lowered his head and kissed him. Melvin gave himself up to it, his hands roaming over the powerful expanse of Mac’s back, feeling the muscles work and shift.
