It seems inevitable, in retrospect, that Mako would be an absolute brat in bed. He's got too much smarts for how stupid he is; too much energy compressed into his too-small body. When they're out on jobs, he vacillates wildly between 'liability' and 'asset,' talking his way into and out of trouble at a breakneck pace. Mako Trig has busy hands and a busier mind, and it is those qualities which compel Cass to take him to bed after a night of heavy drinking.
It happens a week after they fled Counterweight. They had a passable dinner and then the non-robotic members of the Chime found themselves clustered around a card table in the Kingdom Come's hold, talking and laughing as they passed around a bottle of spicy Apostolosian liquor. It was good stuff, strong stuff, expensive stuff, a red-tinged spirit distilled from a long-stemmed grain native to the swamps of Apostolos. In the old empire, it was diluted with water and drunk to seal contracts and sign deals, but in the grimy hold of an aging ship, it is drunk straight from the bottle because it's a Tuesday night and they're bored and they're still all alive so what's the point in holding back?
Cass pursues that line of logic to the bottom of the bottle and beyond. It's why they tug Mako away from the card game and kiss him in the hall, just out of sight of the others. It's why they let Mako's tongue into their mouth, why they let him open their fly and slide a hand into their trousers. Cass groans against Mako's mouth, pawing ineffectually at his clothing while they drag him toward their bunk, struggling one-handed with the electronic lock on their bedroom door.
Laughing, Mako fogs the system with a gesture. A moment of mental fiddling, and the door slides open with a whoosh of pressurized air. They step through, the door closes smartly behind them, and a computerized voice (not AuDy's, their systems are still offline) chimes out Welcome home, Cassender!
Ignoring the automated greeting, Cass pulls Mako into a rough embrace. "I don't know that I like that," they breathe, mouthing at Mako's throat and jaw. "Could you get into anyone's quarters?"
"Yeah," says Mako, squirming in Cass's arms, pressing their bodies together. "I wouldn't though, it'd be a violation of privacy or whatever. And Orth would get mad at me."
Instead of responding, Cass kisses him, and they can taste cinnamon and liquor on his tongue. It's a heady, spicy-sweet taste, and Cass puts a hand on Mako's jaw to hold him steady while they drink him in. Mako purrs and hooks one leg around Cass' waist, happy to cede control for the evening. "Take me to bed?" he pants, angling his hips so Cass can feel his erection. "Fuck me."
Obligingly, Cass pushes him toward the bed. Mako goes willingly, collapsing onto the firm mattress and looking up at Cass through long, colorless lashes. His lips are kiss-swollen and shining with spit, parted in an inviting smirk.
Cass climbs on top of him and kisses him roughly, sinking their teeth into his bottom lip to hear him moan. Mako responds enthusiastically, arching into the contact and gasping out a series of demands: "kiss me harder," "bite my neck," "fuck my mouth."
Refusing would be an impossibility. Cass undresses hastily, shucking their jacket and trousers, but before they can get their underwear off, Mako's got his mouth pressed up against the front of their briefs, mouthing at their genital sheath. The heat of his mouth is incredible. Groaning, one of Cass's hands finds its way to Mako's head and tangles in his shaggy blonde hair. They murmur praise as Mako explores their genitals, tasting and teasing with his clever tongue.
By the time Mako pulls away the fabric panel covering their mons, Cass is fully aroused, sheath drawn back from their papilla. Mako flashes a grin and takes it into his mouth, tracing its shape with his tongue. He licks his way up the throbbing vein that runs along its length, his sharp eyes locked on Cass' face. Mako watches them intently, basking in their moans and gasps as he presses his tongue up against them and laps at their slit.
Terrified of their own strength, Cass lays rigid, grinding their teeth as the tip of Mako's tongue delves into their fossa. Their juices are running down his chin and dripping onto the rumpled sheets, and Mako looks so good like that, so sweet and fuckable. He moans theatrically around Cass' gentials, and the rumbling vibration of it is nearly enough to send Cass over the edge. Hands twisting in the blankets, they worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, shaking and sweating from the strain of holding back.
Breathing hard, Mako pulls back and grins up at Cass. "Is that all you've got?" he challenges. His lips and tongue are slick and shining with Cass' fluids, which run down his chin and soak into his awful, tacky shirt. He's made an absolute mess of himself, but he doesn't care. He just looks up at Cass and grins like he's won the lottery.
"I don't want to hurt you," they breathe, and Mako laughs.
"You think this is my first time?" he says. "I know what I like, Cass. Pull my hair and come on my face."
Unable to stifle a groan, Cass grabs a handful of Mako's hair and shoves him down between their spread legs, hips lifting of their own accord responding automatically to the wet heat of Mako's mouth. For his part, Mako responds with tremendous enthusiasm, moaning as Cass' fingers twist in his hair. His eyes flutter shut in rapturous bliss, long lashes sweeping his cheekbones. And he's absolutely perfect like that, humming in contentment as Cass fucks into his soft mouth and pliant throat.
Cass reaches their peak in a sudden rush of clear, whitish fluid. They spill into Mako's eager mouth, and he doesn't swallow. He just lets Cass's juices run down his face and drip onto his collar, soiling his already-filthy shirt. Damp with sweat and arousal, the cheap material conforms to his chest, highlighting the contours of his body. His nipples are stiff peaks, visible through the clinging fabric.
Groaning, Cass hauls Mako up for a deep, bruising kiss. They shudder at the taste of their juices on Mako's tongue, calloused hands roving the length of his body and seeking the buttons and clasps holding his clothing together. They strip Mako with military precision, pulling his clothes aside to bare his skinny body.
He looks good like this, erection bobbing between his legs, eyes half-lidded and glazed with arousal.
Cass arranges Mako on the mattress and spits into their hand. Mako groans when Cass's fist closes around his cock. He's circumsized, on the smaller side, with a pronounced leftward slant, but he fits perfectly into Cass' rugged palm. They jerk him off with quick, efficient motions, twisting their wrist on the downstroke. Mako, always vocal, keens and whimpers, precome running down his length and dripping over Cass's fingers.
"Oh my god," he says. "Oh my god, Cass--"
"Say my name," they rasp, their voice sandpaper in the still room. "Fuck, I love the way it sounds from your mouth."
"Cass," he breathes, voice breaking. "Cass, Cass, Cass--"
He comes messily, mewling as climax courses through his body and curls his toes. He is covered in come--his and Cass's--dripping their mingled fluids onto the foam mattress. Cass feels a twinge of pity for the cleaning drones, but then Mako's on top of them, kissing them hungrily, and they have no room left to think about anything but the warm weight of the boy straddling their chest.
"How was that?" he says, when he pulls away. He's grinning broadly, obviously pleased with himself, and Cass decides not to torment him.
"Really good," they say. "Really, really good."
"Best you've ever had?" Mako's eyes shine with intensity, but he's still laughing, still Mako, still himself.
Cass ponders for a moment. "You're certainly up there."
"Guess I'm going to have to work my way up the rankings then, won't I?" he says, affecting an exaggerated pout.
Laughing, Cass pulls him down for another kiss, this one gentle and unhurried. "You're welcome to try," they say.
And beneath the overwhelming salty-sweet taste of their own arousal, Mako still tastes like liquor and cinnamon. He tastes sweet. He tastes like home.