Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

Benton crowed as he stalked away.
    Mac flinched, praying Grayson would forgive him. They'd sinned, not by having sex, but by believing they were safe.
    "Say good night." Mac heard before the butt of a gun slammed against his head, dropping him to the ground. When he regained consciousness, the floor moved beneath him. After a few seconds of bouncing around he figured out he wasn't on firm ground, but in a car or truck or whatever it happened to be they were riding in. His arms were cinched behind him, his feet bound. Panic turned his stomach when he didn't immediately find Grayson.
    Darkness surrounded him. The floor underneath him felt like wood. He turned, just enough to slide his fingers over the hard surface beneath him. Pain erupted in his index finger. Wood flooring, older and splintering . He hated that he'd gotten a splinter. The damned thing ate at him, digging in his conscience. The splinter represented the way Grayson had gotten under his skin, becoming a part of him, and now that he hadn't a clue of his partner's whereabouts, the pain raced through him, leaving him weak.
    The fucking splinter was another reminder of how lame his life had turned. He freaking loved his best friend, the only man he'd ever loved, and he hadn't said anything to Grayson about how he felt. Oh God, I love him . He did love Grayson, no matter how much he wanted to deny the attraction. He'd been friends with the man for so long, shared so many experiences with him, killed with him, saved people with him, cried at funerals and even picked up girls. And every time they'd gone out to pick up a girl it had seemed wrong. He'd known the truth, felt the anger, the jealousy, experienced the confusion when he watched Grayson hit it off with a girl and wished she had been him.
    Mac stopped thinking, lest he admit to himself the thorn poking at the back of his mind, always present even though he'd never wanted to acknowledge the reality, happened to be true. At least not while he had no clue where Grayson was. He rolled over, bumping into something warm, a bit soft but hard too. Mac pushed with his shoulder and legs, realizing another body shared the back of the truck with him.
    "Grayson?" No answer. Mack pushed again with his shoulder. "Grayson." The lump moaned but didn't move. "Grayson, wake up."
    Mac pushed against Grayson a few more times, praying the guy regained consciousness.
    "Please, wake up," Mac begged, with no idea when the truck would stop or if they would escape the back of this beast alive. Grayson groaned and flopped around. "Buddy, you hear me."
    "Fuck, what the hell?"
    "We're in the back of a truck, headed to God knows where."
    "You hurt?" Grayson asked.
    The guy was too good. Mac hadn't even thought about injuries. If they knew the score, they could fight the enemy.
    "I don't think so. Just a bit of pain in my head. And you?"
    "Head hurts. We need to get these ties off. You got anything in your pockets?" Grayson's voice gained strength every minute.
    "Hell, I don't know. Considering we were naked before we ended up here, I doubt I've got anything." His words came out sarcastic, not at all how he wanted to sound.
    "You're so sweet when you wake up. Let me grope you for a bit and see if you've got anything."
    "Shucks, you make it impossible to say no."
    Grayson turned to face away from him as Mac rolled towards him. Grayson's fingers groped his pockets, then he squeezed around Mac's cock and squeezed again.
    "Hey, seriously? Not the time."
    Grayson chuckled. "Couldn't help myself. You don't know how irresistible you are when you're tied up."
    "Fuck, you're making me blush."
    "Good, we could use a laugh. I'm not finding anything in your front pockets, turn around and let me stroke that nice ass of yours."
    Mac rolled over and pushed his ass close to Grayson. Hands groped, fingers found their way between his ass crack, rubbing and causing Mac to get a stiffy. He wanted to complain, he wanted to bitch at Grayson, but he didn't. The man turned him on and he loved the way Grayson's caresses stirred him. Previous to this week, he'd kept those emotions in check, and they'd been careful not to touch too much. Now they had permission to grope freely– last night had granted them freedom.
    "Nope, nothing. Now it's your turn to molest me," Grayson drawled.
    "Babe, it's not molesting if you want me to do it." Mac turned. The limited movement caused by the zip strips pissed him off. Why did they go and strap them? Zip strips were better