For carpelucem, because she mentioned 200th Hour was one of her favorite episodes, and let's be honest, I'm getting quite a kick out of writing all these Mack fics. You can tell that he's my favorite, he gets the most lovin' from me.
XXX
no good on your own
XXX
He finds him at the firing range, even later that night, empty save for one. The loud echos as his gun goes off, one after another, and then another in rapid fire, and it goes without saying that Bob Brown's calluses will be blistered and bloodied. Still, the kid probably can't feel a damn thing through his stubborn determinism alone.
Leaning against the side of his truck, Mack Gerhardt waits with his arms crossed over his chest, watching as another clip is emptied before the other is willing to turn around. Kicking up dirt beneath his feet as Bob makes his way over, there is a defeat around his eyes even though all those targets lined up are perfect headshots, the paper an explosion upon impact.
"Sorry."
"For what?"
Bob looks at Mack pointedly when he is close. Even in the dim lights and the shadows keeping them in sharp contrast, Mack catches the hesitation, and figures that just won't do.
"Remind me again."
Bob narrows his eyes, like he is trying to read between the lines, like there is something more to be understood when he reaches out with a hand to touch a finger to the edge of the bandages. "You want me to shoot you again?"
But there is a hint of a smile when he teases.
"I meant, Cool Breeze," and here, Mack tugs him closer for good measures, has Bob physically crowding him against the side of the truck. The night is starting to cool and they are both in too thin t-shirts, but there is a kind of warmth in the way his lips quirk up at the corners, like there really is more to be understood as he shrugs. "I kind of deserved it."
"You did, getting into my space like that."
Mack nods with a grin like they are both finally on the same page and lets Bob in the rest of the way. Unfolds his arms just to put a hand on the back of the newbie's neck, drags him down and close like he's done this a million times.
"You're doing it now." Bob continues, and it's like that hesitation from before has simply been Mack's imagination. So, Mack raises an eyebrow, and there might as well be a challenge in the way his mouth curves with his words. "Are you complaining?"
It's not an apology or a thank you when Bob does what he does next.
"Not at all."
(And that's just it, it doesn't have to be anything other than what it just is.)
Bob gives him a smile of his own, and then he drops down to his knees, worn jeans wearing thinner on the dirt. Mack doesn't move his hand from the back of the kid's neck, just holds him there when he drags the zipper of his jeans down with his teeth without a pause.
"Good, almost worth getting shot in training."
"Just almost?" Bob asks, one hand pinning Mack's hips to the side of the truck, the other going for the outline of his cock through that single layer of his briefs.
"Well, it will be if you get on with it." Mack breathes out with a chuckle that quickly dissolves into a guttural groan when Bob deep throats him in one go. And there is something like finesse in the way he does just that, hollows his cheek and grins even though his mouth is full.
Mack can't help but tighten his grip reflexively, just enough so he can feel a spark of that graze of pain going up and down his nerves. And there, right here, is a soft curse that disappears somewhere in the night.
XXX Kuro