11

Mick

They hadn’t been home for two hours before Mick heard Chuck’s bike approaching. Mick made a mental note to remember Scotty’s definition of “probably”. He had no reason to doubt it when Scotty said Chuck wasn’t there to end him, but Mick couldn’t help his gut reaction. Anyone would be a little afraid of a guy over a foot taller, a guy who could literally fill up a doorway. The fact that Chuck looked like the toughest, meanest motherfucker in the lineup of any action movie villain’s henchmen didn’t make it any easier. That kind of flight or flight way of thinking was all that kept you alive in some circles. Mick didn’t run, though. He walked up to Chuck Gordon and put his hand out to be swallowed. The grip that met him let his muscles loosen. The look in his eyes wasn’t as reassuring.

“There someplace we can go and talk?” Chuck nodded to someone behind Mick—maybe two people.

Mick nodded toward the picnic table beyond the metal roll-up door. It sat almost in the same place Scotty had been standing that first morning Mick rolled in looking for work. He didn’t wait for Chuck to fall into step beside him, he focused on the table and willed his legs to get him there. It was a close one.

An enormous hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Sorry, but I have bad news about Keith.”

Mick turned around and rested both elbows on the table. He resisted the urge to hide his face or wipe at his eyes. Not as mean as he looked, Chuck was as tough. Mick rarely knew him to be down about anything, except when they’d lost friends… I don’t want to hear him say it. “When?”

“Few months ago.”

“Did he do it?”

“What? No.” Chuck sighed and rubbed a huge hand across Mick’s shoulders. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Are you sure? If he—” Mick couldn’t finish that sentence, could barely even think it out loud.

Keith had been a hopeless drunk when it was just the two of them. Sometimes frighteningly so. Mick clearly remembered thinking—more than once—if Keith felt so bleak, Mick had no shot at real happiness.

“I’m sure. Not surprised you’d ask with all the shit that went down after he got locked up, but he didn’t do it to himself.”

Mick stared out across the yard, at the late-model Mercedes Scotty was almost finished stripping. He felt as banged up as that frame, and as incapable of any thought or speech.

“He loved you. You know that, but maybe you don’t know all of it. When he went inside he asked me to keep an eye on you. Have your back, if anything happened.”

Mick dropped his face into his hands. After a moment he spoke from behind them. “You know…about me?”

“I always knew. Never would’ve said a word if he, or you, hadn’t said something first.”

The years melted away and for a few minutes Mick was fifteen again, getting the lecture from Keith. The one that started with: The only way you’ll live to see sixteen is if you pretend to like girls. Only girls. And then he proceeded to teach Mick how to fake it. It hadn’t been completely necessary, but by then Mick had second-guessed himself so many times he was afraid to look back at anyone. That message was part of his birthday gift—and Christmas, and Fourth of July—every year until Keith was sure he understood.

“You remember my brother?” Chuck’s voice startled Mick back to the present.

“You don’t have a brother.” Mick flinched away from Chuck, even though the big man didn’t move.

“Jack? Black hair like Elvis, slim, drives a Beemer? His friend, Don, the actor—blond guy with the sideburns—they’ve been partners since I was a kid. I lived with Jack and Don after our old man tossed us out.”

Chuck let Mick think about that for a while. It took some doing, but Mick pulled up Jack’s face in his mind. Jack—as unlike his brother on the outside as Mick himself was different from Keith underneath it all. Only no Randall had ever had the successful business or the Beemer.

“Is that why I couldn’t turn around without you being there?”

“Yeah—”

“I thought…”

“Yeah. It’s obvious what you thought. What’s not obvious is why. You’ve known me all your life, little brother, and you think I’m going to…what?”

“Never mind,” Mick mumbled, but Chuck not hearing it couldn’t erase the idea that Keith’s friends would drag him to the cops to turn himself in. After the sentencing, Mick was less afraid of being turned in than he was of payback. Keith had owed some rough guys…and they’d owed him too.

“Your guilty conscience is way off base, man.”

Mick wiped a shaky hand down over his face but it didn’t help. “I get that.”

Chuck clapped an enormous hand onto Mick’s shoulder. “Not your fault. None of it.”

Mick lifted his head, but couldn’t quite look at Chuck. Hiding his feelings was more than a habit, more like a survival skill along the lines of not drinking antifreeze.

“He’d be glad you’re here. You’re planning to stay, right?”

Mick wasn’t sure he wanted to be so easily found, but after a moment he nodded. It didn’t bother him to cry over his brother, the only person who’d given enough of a damn to stick with him—not that he could’ve stopped the tears flowing down his cheeks—but he didn’t need an audience. “Was there a service? A grave? I should go—”

“No. You don’t need to go down there for anything. We scattered his ashes on the Delta. I have your clear title for the Bug in my saddlebag. Your man over there would probably kick your ass if you tried to leave again, anyway. He’s scrappy for a little guy.”

“Yeah.”

“He gave me a message, in case I found you first.”

“What?” Mick turned to look at Chuck to be sure he wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass. Lines of clean, like rivers down Chuck’s road-dusty face, said there was no smoke. Mick had never seen Chuck cry in all the years he’d known him, and the reality of the conversation weighted Mick’s shoulders and made his head feel like it was being squeezed in a vise.

“I was supposed to tell you Scotty and Tom love you and to get your ass home where you belong. Haven’t met this Tom, but—”

It shocked them both when Mick rasped out a short chuckle. As fast as it started, Mick’s throat closed off and the last of his composure crumbled. Chuck pulled Mick into his arms and held him while sobs wracked his body, the pain torn from a ragged place deep in Mick’s chest that seemed to have always been raw and shredded. Mick cried until he felt as flimsy as an empty paper cup, until his voice barely rasped from his burning throat, and it didn’t feel like enough.

When Mick could breathe again, he felt a warm hand on his thigh and smelled Scotty beside him. Cinnamon and metal shavings, the scent of home. Tom strutted by on the table, stopping to butt against Mick’s bowed head.

Chuck stayed another three days. Officially, at the motel two blocks down from the donut shop, but he spent most of that time at the yard with Mick. They drank a bit, but mostly wrenched on the Bug and swapped stories about Keith and the “good old days”.

Scotty hadn’t brought the distributor cap with him but he had pulled it, along with what was left of the wiring harness in the white Bug. Turned out Chuck had a ’64 GTO he was nursing back to health, so they pulled a few parts to ship back ahead of him. Sometime during those three days, the old Mick and the new Mick seemed to fuse together in a way that felt permanent.

Walt had given Mick a few days off, but the end of the day rolled around like it always did, and since it was Thursday he’d be back at it in the morning. Chuck came by at midday with enough barbeque for everyone. Mick could tell he’d be moving on even before he asked if there was anyone Mick wanted to hear from.

“Besides you?”

Chuck smiled. Mick thought even his happy face would probably scare most people.

“Tell Wanda…thanks? She was always there, you know? Trying to make things work, to make a place that felt like home.”

“Will do.”

“Stay on the high-side, Chuck.” He’d always felt strange saying that, like he couldn’t quite pull it off. But everyone from the neighborhood said it, everyone Mick had grown up trying to emulate said it. Mick swallowed hard, tamping down the pain and clutching the thread attached to the good memories in his past to keep from losing it again. Chuck knew what he meant. Mick wanted him to stay safe, without the jinx of being wished good luck.

“Always, brother. Always.”

After a long, tight hug, Chuck got on his bike and roared away. The sound had just faded when an unfamiliar late-model compact car pulled in. Something from Dodge or Plymouth, but everything that could’ve told him what its name had been when it rolled off the assembly line had been removed from the purple exterior. All the holes had been finished, so someone cared about how it looked. The car stopped beside Walt’s truck. Mick waited for a door to open and had just started to get nervous when it did.

She stepped around the back of the car and Mick’s cock greeted her before he could open his mouth. He knew he’d never wonder again why the name Mercy had stuck. She sauntered up to him, giving him time to take in the curves and the short purple dress clinging to them, the gentle swell of her breasts and the bounce of her (still too-short) black hair.

“I’m happy to see you too, Mick. Scotty around?”

He nodded, barely managing that much. The last three days had left Mick stripped bare. His carefully built routine, the defenses he’d maintained to protect his true self from the world’s judgment—gone. He hadn’t done most of the talking, Chuck was a born storyteller so mainly Mick listened and added bits here and there, but it totaled more words than he’d used since he’d left the Bay Area. By far. All that talk, and its emotional toll, left Mick with nothing to hide behind. It also left him with less of a desire to hide. Basically, none at all.

“Walk with me, hon.” She took his arm and slipped hers through it. When he moved away, she pulled him against her side.

“I’m dirty and greasy.”

“Yes, you are. Not to mention adorable and sexy as fuck.”

“But…”

“It won’t be like with that bimbo. It’ll be better than you can imagine.”

“I can’t—”

“You think you can’t. Because you’re a good guy. You’re the real deal, Mick, I know that. But it’s not cheating if Scotty’s there too. And who knows, maybe there’s room in your heart for both of us.”

Mick stopped, his feet as incapable of moving past that as his mind. Was she seriously suggesting they all sleep together? Before he made it into the neighborhood of recovering, Scotty came out of the shack, his welding gloves under his arm, checking a burn on the back of his hand.

He started talking before he looked up. “Mick, you o—” After a moment’s confusion, he smiled. Scotty strode to meet them, his gloves dropping to the ground, forgotten, as he hooked a hand behind each of their necks.

Scotty

He kissed Mick first, because he needed it more. Mercy’s kiss was shorter and a lot more chaste. He knew her well enough to guess she’d gone ahead and told Mick what was on her naughty little mind, and he also knew it was cheating if everyone wasn’t on board. “I’m glad you’re here. But it’s not a good time.”

Mercy almost looked sorry, but not quite. “Sorry, baby,” she said, “that ship has sailed. What happened? Everything okay?”

The back of Mick’s neck was all knotted muscles so Scotty kneaded it, hoping to work out the worst of the physical pain.

“Mick’s brother died.”

Mercy sighed and wrapped her arms around Mick’s shoulders, told him she was sorry. Scotty shivered when Mick rested his head on her shoulder. He’d expected to feel something when they started figuring out what was, or could be, between them, but he hadn’t expected it to be so strong. It seemed like the attraction he felt toward each of them was more than doubled together—Scotty wished he knew enough math to straighten it out in his mind. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat then suggested they all go upstairs.

They sat on the couch, on either side of Mick. For a minute, Mick stared off across the room like he wasn’t seeing anything.

“What’s going on?” Mick’s voice sounded spacy, like he was high or about to pass out.

“Never mind. Nothing’s going on.”

“Scotty… It’s okay if this isn’t the time to do anything, but you can’t lie to him like that, baby. Not when he knows something’s going on.”

Scotty took hold of Mick’s shoulder, and waited until he looked at him. “I know you like girls… I mean, you like girls too, so I…”

Mick’s face got dark red, and he looked almost as scared as he did the day Chuck first came to the yard.

“Mick.” Mercy did something on the other side of Mick, but Scotty couldn’t look away from his face so he didn’t know what it was. “Scotty’s not throwing you away. Even if I wanted that, there’s no way it would happen. And I don’t want that.”

Nobody said anything for a long time. Scotty was about to jump in and try again, when Mick turned to Mercy and asked what she did want.

“Since you asked, I want you. And I want Scotty. I want us all to be together.”

A sound came out of Mick, one Scotty’d never heard before. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sound or a bad sound, but Mick wasn’t leaving so it probably wasn’t all bad.

“You feel it too, I know you do.” Mercy reached across Mick and took Scotty’s hand. She held both Scotty and Mick’s hands together in both of hers. The whole pile shook a little. “Scotty’s an ace, and he felt something the first time we were all together. We—”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Scotty whispered, but Mick still jerked like someone’d slapped him.

“Sorry, hon. I know you don’t like the queer lingo, but it’s faster that way. It’s also the truth. You want this. I want this. And I’d stake my life that you want this too, Mick.”

“Yeah.” Mick’s face got red again, and that time so did his eyes, so when he tried to get up they let him. Mick closed himself in the bathroom and Mercy slid over and hugged Scotty.

“He’ll be okay. But I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“No. Please don’t.” He squeezed her gently. “That’ll just make him feel worse, like he drove you off. And I want you to stay.”

Mercy groaned softly. “I feel like a home wrecker.”

“Don’t be like that. He meant it. Mick doesn’t say much, but if he says it, you can bet it’s true.”

“Like someone else I know.”

Scotty snickered. “Sure. Because I’ve changed that much.”

“It wouldn’t be a change at all. What have I told you about believing Ernie’s lies?”

“I’m going to check on Mick.”

“Scotty.” She didn’t let go so he had no choice but to look at her. She held his face in both hands and looked deep into his eyes. A moment later the pain on her face disappeared, and she kissed his cheek and leaned back to let him go.

Scotty knocked on the bathroom door, and after a second or two let himself in. Mick sat on the lid of the toilet, his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. Scotty leaned against the sink and rested a hand on his back. “You okay?”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” For a second, Scotty was afraid he meant something literal, like sitting in the bathroom, and once again he’d completely missed the point, but it passed.

“This. Us. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had, you know, a girlfriend or a boyfriend, or whatever.”

“You think I have?” Scotty tried to keep his nervous laughter under control, and was mostly successful. “I’ve never done much beyond fucking and sucking. But I like what we’ve been doing. I want to keep doing it.”

Mick looked up. Scotty breathed a little easier to see he hadn’t been crying again.

“So do I.” Mick’s voice was barely a whisper. “But… Keith— I just found out three days ago, it’s…isn’t it disrespectful?”

“He loved you, right? Of course he did. You’re drop-dead loveable.” Scotty rubbed his palm across Mick’s shoulders and tried not to wince too hard at his stupid choice of words. “He’d be glad you’re not alone. But we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We just want to make you feel good, not to push you into anything.”

Mick closed his eyes and Scotty pulled him into a hug. Mick threw both arms around him and squeezed. “I’m scared. What if— I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t. You’ll be you, and you won’t mess anything up. Me and Mercy, we might, so I’m a little scared about that. We tried to be together—a lot of times—but we couldn’t make it work. We’re too much alike, so even though there’s love there, we kept butting heads and hurting each other. It wasn’t because we don’t belong together, I get that now. It’s because we were missing you.”

Mick squeezed him tighter, and Scotty tried to figure out how to say the rest. It took a while, but Mick didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

“We’re not using you, and we won’t leave you. I know you think everybody leaves, but we won’t.”

Mick

He couldn’t believe what he was doing, or how much he wanted to do it. Mick stood and splashed cold water on his face. He took his boyfriend’s hand and went to collect their girlfriend and take her into the bedroom.

When they reached the living room, mere steps after the thought formed—the three of them were really going to do this—Mercy stood in the center of the floor. She looked like she may’ve been on her way to the kitchen, but as soon as Mick and Scotty left the hallway she stopped. Her breathing sped as she gazed at them. Mick watched her shiver, her pretty breasts rising and falling faster and faster as her face flushed pink. He held out a hand to her, and she sighed softly as she took it.

Their eyes met and locked as her fingers tightened around his hand. Mercy stopped just outside Mick’s personal space, but he drew her closer. Before her body touched his, Mick released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist.

And that was as far as his surge of confidence got him.

It felt like enough, though, when Mercy molded her soft body against his side. She gazed into his eyes and leaned against him, and he squeezed his arm around her waist a little tighter. Mick hoped for a kiss and dipped his chin to bring his lips closer to hers. He hoped for a lot more than a kiss, but that would be a good start.

Mercy stood a little taller, bringing her face even with Mick’s. Her breath caressed Mick’s lips as she reached past him to touch Scotty’s cheek. She drew her palm across Mick’s collarbone and up along the side of his neck. Slowly, like they had all the time in the world and she wanted to savor the moment, etch it in her mind forever. By the time she touched her lips to his, Mick’s body practically thrummed with need. He’d been holding his breath so long his face tingled. He slid his hand up from her waist, pressing her closer as he traced the curve of her side. Soft breasts against his chest wrenched a moan from Mick’s throat. He squeezed Scotty’s hand as the kiss deepened, as he savored the sweet softness of Mercy’s mouth.

Scotty pulled them gently toward the hall, toward the bedroom, not forcing them to break the kiss to move with him. He stopped at the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms around both Mick and Mercy together. The combination of hard man and soft woman almost made Mick come right then, but his knees only buckled. For a moment he was both afraid of falling on his face and embarrassed to be so close to busting a nut—they hadn’t even done anything yet.

Oh-my-fucking-God. Yet.

In the next moment, everything disappeared except Mercy’s soft hands pushing his T-shirt up and Scotty’s fingers working on his button fly. Mick managed to stay standing until Scotty had his pants down around his knees, and then the bed caught him.

Scotty crawled up and across Mick’s body, pulling him farther onto the bed as Mercy tugged his boots and jeans off. The warmth of Scotty’s bare skin against his made Mick shiver and moan. He tried to lift his head, to find Mercy after her hands left his legs, but Scotty covered his mouth and kissed him hard, pressing his head into the mattress.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before a soft hand slid up Mick’s calf. He groaned and reached out toward it, his other hand full of Scotty’s firm round ass. Mick felt so good he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was the last, perfect moment of his life.

Mick didn’t have time to dwell on one sensation before another made it seem pale in comparison. Mercy’s grip on his thigh almost sent him over the edge. If Scotty hadn’t stopped rubbing against him, it would have. But they seemed to find a rhythm as they shared Mick’s body; fast enough to induce a feeling of helplessness Mick didn’t want to live without, but not enough to finish him. Scotty’s devouring kisses and the way he kneaded Mick’s pecs made Mercy’s kisses against his hip and over his ribs feel even softer, sweeter.

When Mercy pressed the length of her body against Mick’s side it felt so good it almost hurt. She kissed his cheek and Mick turned his head to meet her lips with his own. For a few seconds their lips and tongues all slid together, hot and wet and delicious.

Scotty moved his head away from Mick, barely, and plunged his tongue into Mercy’s mouth. Their mingled breath tickled Mick’s nose and filled his head with their combined scent as they kissed. It wasn’t clear who started it, whose idea it was to move down Mick’s body. He twitched and writhed as Scotty and Mercy kissed and licked their way down his neck and chest, across his abs to his throbbing cock. He felt hard enough to burst, and when Mercy wrapped one cool hand around his shaft, Mick cried out. He tried not to, but as soon as Scotty’s lips touched his cockhead he came, screaming, every muscle straining and zinging with pleasure.

Even after he regained the power of thought, Mick kept his eyes closed. Two voices—velvety smooth on the right and deeper to the left—whispered across his body. Two hands—cool and soft, and warm and callused—caressed his sweaty skin, soft breasts and firm pecs squeezed his body like a human vise. He’d just come moments ago, but he wanted…he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted, beyond more.

Slowly, Mick began to understand the words Scotty and Mercy said to each other. He listened like a fly on the wall as they exchanged soft kisses and talked about wild and beautiful things they wanted to do to each other. And to him.

Mercy seemed to know he wasn’t sleeping. Every time she moved, her breasts caressed Mick’s skin, her hard prick pressed against his hip. It wasn’t large, but not exactly small—Mercy’s cock felt slender and smooth with just the right amount of velvety softness. Like the rest of her. It wasn’t long before Mick felt his dick getting hard again.

Mick opened his eyes and looked at Mercy. Her purple eye makeup had smeared a little, but she was still beautiful. He smiled and she brushed her fingertips along his cock as she smiled back.

“Welcome back. How’re you feeling?”

Mick looked between them. He almost said satisfied, but that wasn’t quite right since he wanted so much more. She seemed happy with his answering smile.

They lounged a while, unhurried, kissing and caressing—exploring each other’s bodies in a way that was, surprisingly, not quite sexual. Mercy and Scotty talked a little, but mostly they all remained silent, communicating by touch, finding their places beside and between each other. Mick hadn’t done more than moan for what felt like hours when he surprised himself with a complete sentence.

“Can I ask you a question that might make you want to hit me?”

“Sure, honey.” Mercy kissed him softly and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “But I’m not promising not to hit you.”

Mick said fair enough at the same time Scotty told her she couldn’t hit him.

“Stay out of this, Scotty. This is between me and Mick.”

“Is this okay with you, Scotty?” Mick asked.

“Everything up until someone hits you.”

“Someone that’s not you, you mean?” Mercy reached over and slid her fingertips down Scotty’s arm.

Mick couldn’t help it; he grinned.

Scotty grunted softly. “Ask your question.”

Mick kissed Scotty and then turned back to Mercy. “It’s none of my business, but how far are you planning to take your transition?”

“Hmmm, mastery of the lingo is so sexy.”

“I told you he’s smart, so don’t act surprised,” Scotty grumbled, but his smile didn’t hold a bit of anger or even annoyance.

She gently pushed Scotty’s shoulder, then curled tighter against Mick’s side. “I have no immediate plans for drastic surgeries.”

“Am I an asshole if I hope you don’t change those plans?”

“No, sweetie. I like my cock and I’m glad you do too.” She tightened her arms around him and he sighed.

“You’re beautiful, Mercy.” Mick’s cheek rested against her pale collarbone. He kissed it and thought about her sweet, delicious breasts.

“So are you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. Mick Randall had never thought of himself as handsome, let alone beautiful. Mercy turned his face up and kissed his lips, soft and slow.

“You are. Your beauty starts way down deep inside you. It’s the first thing anyone notices about you. I’m the luckiest person in the world to be right here, in this room with you two.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Mick struggled not to be overrun by the way he felt, but it wasn’t easy. “That I’m lucky to have you. Both of you.”

Scotty made a wet, sighing sound and Mick looked up in time to see a tear slide down his cheek. His face—Scotty’s sweet, adorable face—flushed a deep red. A moment later he slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom. They both watched him go.

When Mick turned back to Mercy, she wore a tender look that threatened to bury him under a landslide of feelings. “You don’t have to act tough for us.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her he wasn’t acting—he was tough. But nothing would come out. She smiled, equal parts tenderness, sadness and understanding.

“It must’ve been hard for a sweet guy like you. You must’ve spent so much time trying not to say the wrong thing where the wrong person could hear, not look too long when you shouldn’t.”

Mick tried to smile, but his face shook too hard. If anyone understood how hard it had been to try and live safely in the world he’d been born into, it was Mercy. He’d always wondered if anyone could really know how he felt, how hard it was to do the right thing all the time when he was never quite sure exactly what the right thing was. He never would’ve guessed it could feel so good it would almost shake him apart.

He picked up Mercy’s hand from where it rested on his chest and kissed it. She slipped it across his cheek and searched for something in his eyes. Mick wasn’t sure she’d found it, but she didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms. He turned onto his side so he could feel her soft warmth against his body. She sighed when he ran a hand down her back, and again when he gently gripped her ass and pulled their bodies closer together. She turned her face up and parted her pretty lips. Mick saw Scotty in the doorway as he covered her mouth with his own.

Mercy gasped into Mick’s mouth, her body shivering, as Scotty slipped onto the bed behind her. Scotty gripped Mick’s hip and then slipped his hand between them—warm, and slick with lube. He stroked their cocks together, raising a chorus of moans that made Mick smile.

“I want you, Mercy,” Scotty whispered.

She cried out softly, as though she were already beyond words. Mick reached past her and touched Scotty’s shoulder, felt his muscles flex and bunch as his arm worked. Mick opened his eyes, and Scotty’s light bottle-green eyes looked back at him, his face slack with pleasure.

Mick couldn’t see, but he could tell when Scotty entered her. Mercy tensed and pushed back, and a moment later she melted against Mick, moaning and trembling. Scotty started slowly, rocking Mercy forward against Mick and then back away.

Scotty released their cocks, gripped Mercy’s hips and fucked her harder. Mick caressed her breasts, rolling hard nipples between his fingers. Her face and chest flushed a pretty pink, and Mick scooted down so he could suck her nipples into his mouth. He loved her breasts—how they filled up his hands, soft and firm at the same time, the way her body responded when he circled his tongue around the dusky pink nipples, how she whimpered when he rolled them gently between his teeth. Mick had one hand and his mouth full of breast when he remembered. His chest swelled as he filled his other hand with Mercy’s cock, stroking in time with Scotty’s thrusts.

The thought sped through Mick’s mind that he could slide down the bed and fill his mouth with something other than breast, when Mercy’s cries spiked louder and she came, one hand gripping his chest and the other behind her on Scotty. He fucked her harder and faster, and a few strokes later she fell toward Mick, limp and panting. Mick watched Scotty’s face as he cried out, burying his dick deep inside her as he came.