Lunatic - Necessary Evils #6 - Ch. 12 (Patreon)

This one hasn't even been alpha read yet so I guess you guys are the first to see this chapter at all. Hope it doesn't suck. LOL. 

Mac

Mac didn’t go for a walk. It was too hot. Instead, he sat on the porch in one of the Adirondack chairs beside the fire pit, running the morning’s conversation over and over in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was that had upset Archer.

Mac knew this was all new for him. That Archer wasn’t someone who had experience with dating or intimacy, or anything even remotely close to a long term relationship. Mac wasn’t either, but he’d thought they’d both acknowledged that about themselves. Last night Archer had been so open and honest that it had maybe lured Mac into a false sense of security. Until he’d woken up alone. Again.

Had he somehow pushed Archer too far, too fast? Had he given him some indication that he needed him to be something other than he was? Why was he so mad at him? Fuck. He wasn’t used to this. Mac didn’t do long term relationships. Never had. It didn’t pay to get too close to people. It hurt less when they forgot him.

Mac would have asked his brother for advice but Shep was practically a robot. He’d never been one for feelings or emotions. Hell, he was so literal his own husband said he was more android than human.

His husband. Elijah. He needed Elijah.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, finding the number he sought and hitting the call button. It rang twice before a gruff voice said, “What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Mac muttered, annoyed his brother seemed to think that was the only time he called. Even if maybe it was. “Can’t I just call my brother to talk?”

“Clearly.” Shep said. “We’re talking.”

Mac could never figure out if his brother was joking or not. It didn’t matter. Shep wasn’t who he was looking for. “Where’s Hollywood?”

“In California, about six miles from LA,” Shep asked. “Is that all?”

Mac took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Any other day he would have smiled at his brother’s weird idiosyncrasies but today it was just another reminder of how badly he was already screwing up his own marriage. “I need Elijah. Is he there?”

“Why didn’t you just call him?” Shep muttered, mirroring Archer’s earlier gripe to Calliope.

“Because you wouldn’t let me have his phone number. Or did you forget that part?” Mac asked.

His brother grunted. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

There was a sound like shuffling and then Elijah said, “What’s up? Trouble in paradise already?”

“Why do you say that?” Mac asked, tone just defensive enough to confirm his brother-in-law's question.

Elijah snorted. “Because you’re technically on your honeymoon and yet you’re calling me. Who you’ve never called. Ever. In the history of ever. Not once in all the time I’ve been married to your brother.”

“Jesus. I get it. Damn,” Mac said. “But I don’t think hiding from a hitman qualifies as a honeymoon.”

“If you’re fucking in a house that isn’t yours after recently getting married, I’d say it qualifies as a honeymoon. But my normal is slightly skewed given my celebrity status and being married to a sociopath, so what do I know?” Elijah asked.

They technically hadn’t fucked at the new house, or maybe they had depending on how one defined sex. But Mac didn’t have time to Bill Clinton his way through what defined sex. He was too busy spiraling about his already floundering marriage. They hadn’t even been married for seventy two hours.

“I think I already fucked up.”

Once more there was a sound like fabric rustling. “Already? How? What did you do?” Elijah asked.

Mac slunk even deeper into the Adirondack chair, kicking his booted feet out in frustration. “I don’t know. Like, everything seemed fine. Then last night Archer had a kind of like…emotional outburst where he said a bunch of sweet stuff and now this morning he’s, like, mad. At me. I don’t know what I did wrong. He seemed fine when we—well, he seemed fine until this morning.”

“Huh,” Elijah said unhelpfully.

“Huh?” Mac parroted, irritated.

“Yeah, huh.”

“I’m gonna need more help than that, E,” Mac growled.

“Why didn’t you just call mom? She’s the psychopath expert,” Elijah reminded him.

“Because she’s not married to a psychopath,” Mac said.

Elijah made an ambiguous sound. “Technically, neither am I. My husband is a high-functioning sociopath. Like Sherlock.”

“Elijah,” Mac said, sounding slightly whiny even to himself. “Fucking focus, dude. Does my brother ever have like…human emotions?”

“Your brother is right here,” Shep said. “Just so you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Mac said. “I just don’t care. I need real help here. I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“How do you know he’s mad at you?” Elijah asked.

“He called me Shepherd and wouldn’t let me shower with him,” Mac said, sulky.

Elijah sucked in a breath. “Oof.”

“Oof? Seriously?” Mac asked, two seconds from hanging up.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Its just so weird that you ended up married to a psychopath after avoiding your family for so long,” Elijah said.

There was no malice in his tone, more a sense of wonder, but it hit Mac hard anyway. He hadn’t been avoiding his family. Had he? He left because nobody noticed him anyway. Had they felt his absence? Was he reading into this? Jesus. What was Archer doing to him? Literally six months ago, he’d been living carefree, just fucking his way around the world without ever having to worry about another living soul.

Now he was in the middle of an existential crisis because his psychopath husband had used his last name in a conversation and wouldn’t let him shower with him. Fuck. “I should have stayed in the jungle. Everything was fine until I came home to the states.”

“Do you mean that?” Elijah asked, patiently.

Mac growled again. “No. Of course I fucking don’t. I just don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Elijah assured him. “He’s just not used to caring about another person. When you can’t feel things like other people do, you get used to being insulated. Your brother used to describe it as trying to touch things with gloves on. You can still feel the thing, but its distant, disconnected. It’s the same with your man. He just took the gloves off. Things are going to feel weird and a little too close until he gets used to it. He’s not mad, he’s uncomfortable and probably a little embarrassed.”

Mac let Elijah’s words sink in. Was that it? He’d certainly acted embarrassed this morning. His heart squeezed at the thought of Archer being ashamed of his feelings for Mac. He thought back to high school and his first boyfriend. How all those feelings felt so raw and life or death. Now, he knew it was nothing, just hormones and puppy love, but Archer had never felt anything remotely like that. Ever. Until Mac.

Mac had made a psychopath feel things. That was…something. Right? “What do I do?”

“Don’t let him off the hook. Don’t let him put the gloves back on. Don’t let him push you away. He needs to know that you aren’t going anywhere no matter what. But if there’s a comfort zone, a way to push him without overwhelming him, start there. He needs to think of you as his safe space but that isn’t easy with someone like him. So push him, but not too hard. Baby steps.”

What were baby steps when dealing with a psychopath? Why was this so hard? “Yeah, okay.”

“Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks. Love you,” Mac said without thought.

“We love you too,” Elijah said.

When he disconnected, Mac continued to sit there, staring into space for a moment. Where was Archer’s sweet spot? When did he feel safest with Mac? When had things changed for them? He froze. Archer had just fucking told him at the breakfast table. He was on his feet and walking back into the house before he could overthink anything.

Mac found Archer standing in the bedroom, naked but for the towel slung low on his hips. Fuck. At first Mac ignored him, walking to his bag and grabbing the lube he’d snagged at the store and tossing it on the bed.

Archer followed the lube with his eyes, then turned to scowl at Mac. He ignored it, walking up to him and spinning him away from him, then dragging him back against him, his lips finding the column of his throat, licking over his still damp skin.

Archer tried to squirm free from Mac’s arms, but he refused to relent. “Stop fighting me, Katniss,” he rumbled.

“Fuck you,” Archer said, still struggling, though not with any real effort.

“Nah, Katniss. Not today. Today, I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to let me,” he said against his ear.

Archer pulled away from Mac’s lips. “What if I say no?”

Mac’s hands explored Archer’s belly, tracing the ridges there, thumbs stroking down following the v of his hips beneath the towel as he dragged his teeth across Archer’s shoulder. “Are you saying no, Katniss?” he asked, voice low.

Archer didn’t answer. Mac could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could see his dick tenting the towel. He’d stopped actively fighting him, so Mac kept exploring. He kissed Archer’s damp hair, his ears, the back of his neck, wherever he could reach, desperate for the feel of him, the smell of him, whatever it took to fill this sucking hole of need inside him. He didn’t want to fight with him.

His hands continued to roam, cock throbbing when Archer moaned as Mac played wit his nipples. He sagged against him, his head tilting so Mac had better access to his neck, the shell of his ear. He definitely seemed on board, but Mac needed to know for sure.

“I need the words. Are you refusing me? Tell me now,” Mac said, pressing his jean clad erection against Archer’s ass.

Archer turned in his arms, winding them around Mac’s neck as he slanted their mouths together, his tongue plunging into Mac’s mouth. His relief was instantaneous. He tore the towel away, his hands finding Archer’s ass and lifting him off his feet, depositing him on the bed and following him down. He wasn’t worrying about foreplay or feelings. If Archer needed to be reminded of how this started, Mac was more than happy to give him the reminder.

He kissed his way down his body, forcing his legs apart and spreading him open, spearing his tongue against his entrance. He tasted like soap and skin and he couldn’t get enough. Archer’s hands twisted in his hair, holding him against him, riding his tongue with a wantonness that made Mac ravenous.

He grabbed blindly for the lube, slicking up his fingers and forcing both inside at once. Archer’s responding moan had his dick throbbing painfully behind his zipper. Mac swallowed him down as Archer fucked himself on Mac’s fingers, clearly too far gone to care about their earlier fight.

Mac couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to be inside him. Now. He rose up to get rid of his clothes. Archer followed, going for Mac’s button and zipper while he yanked his shirt off and tossed it over the side of the bed. Archer shoved Mac’s jeans down just enough to get them out of the way, then fell onto his back, shoving the lube into his hands.

Fuck, that was hot. He worked the fluid over his cock, groaning in pleasure just from the feel of his own hand. As soon as he was pressed against Archer’s hole, he reached between them and held him in place so he could sink onto Mac’s cock.  “Christ, Katniss.”

Archer didn’t say anything, just wrapped his legs around Mac’s hips pulling him against him tighter, burying him in the tight heat of his body in one go. They both groaned at the sensation. Mac found Archer’s mouth again, fucking his tongue into his mouth in time with each desperate thrust, swallowing every needy sound Archer made, thirsty for validation that Archer still wanted him.

Mac caught Archer’s wrists, pinning them to the bed, watching as his pupils blew wide, his gaze going hazy. Yeah, he still wanted him, wanted this. The relief was euphoric. This was Archer’s sweet spot. His happy place was Mac buried inside him. It was Mac’s happy place too. The happiest of all places. Fuck.

He buried his face against his neck. “Your mine, Katniss. You hear me. I’m not fucking going anywhere. And neither are you. We’re in this for life. If you run, I’ll fucking find you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry, but it's true.”

Archer didn’t respond, but his legs tightened around Mac’s hips and once more he tilted his head, giving Mac more access. it was the closest thing to a confession Mac was likely to get. He took it, kissing whatever skin he could reach. “Fuck you feel good. I’m already so close,” he warned, before releasing his wrists to wrap his hand around Archer’s flushed cock.

Archer batted him away and took himself in hand, eyes finding Mac’s as he stroked himself. God damn. Mac couldn’t tear his gaze away, matching his thrusts with Archer’s motions until he was past the tipping point, barely hanging on, watching Archer who was sweating and breathing hard. Finally, he gasped, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Thank fuck,” Mac muttered, driving into him for two more strokes, before his own orgasm hit as he felt Archer coming from the inside.

When Mac collapsed onto him, Archer didn’t push him off, so he considered it a win. He snaked his arms beneath him and held tight, part of him still worried Archer would attempt to run on him. Instead, his hands found Mac’s back, his fingers tracing random patterns on his damp skin.

It was such a small thing, but it left Mac feeling choked up, like he couldn’t breathe without effort. Clearly, Archer wasn’t the only person struggling with new feelings, because this certainly had never happened to Mac before. He buried his face against his neck once more. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he managed.

“You didn’t,” Archer finally said. “I upset myself.”

Mac clung tighter, suddenly unwilling to let go. “I know this is all new for you. It’s new for me too. If that helps.”

“It doesn’t…not help,” Archer said awkwardly.

Mac opened his mouth to say he’d take what he could get but what came out was, “Just don’t make me leave. Please. Don’t push me away. I can’t handle it. I need you too much.” Archer went completely still beneath him. Mac wasn’t even sure he was still breathing. When Archer’s chest began to rise and fall once more, Mac kissed his neck. “How’s that for awkward confessions?” he asked nervously.

Archer gave a soft laugh. “Pretty good, honestly.” Fingers started to comb through Mac’s hair. “I can’t promise you I won’t bolt again mentally, but you have my permission to keep dragging me back. Because I don’t think I can live without you at this point.”

Mac couldn’t stop himself from grinning against Archer’s skin. He didn’t say anything, just clung a little tighter. That was more than enough.