Safe Harbor

Chapter Five

Clarisse awoke just before dawn the next morning, feeling disoriented, in pain, and frightened out of her mind. She’d been trapped in a nightmare where Bryan had found her and was torturing her.

She sat up, crying, trying to remember where the hell she was.

Mac.

As soon as she thought of him, her world went calm, a feeling of security returned. With a pained grunt, she slowly swung her feet over the edge of the bed and carefully stood.

Everything hurt. Not as bad as the day before, but it hurt. A full night’s sleep in a good bed had helped a lot.

She used the bathroom and pulled on the fluffy robe before quietly opening her bedroom door. The house lay dim and quiet.

Chiding herself for not asking Mac where he kept the Tylenol, Clarisse silently padded out to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets as quietly as she could.

Mac slipped out of bed at his usual time and headed for the bathroom. When he returned, he slipped on a pair of shorts. Sully sent Mac a pointed look.

“I’ll take the five, Master,” he quietly said.

Without another word, Sully headed for their bathroom. Mac silently opened and closed their bedroom door, not wanting to disturb Clarisse. No doubt she’d be asleep for hours yet. With some surprise, he rounded the corner into the kitchen and nearly walked into her, scaring both of them.

The look of sheer terror on her face as she screamed broke his heart. When she realized it was him, she sobbed and collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, trying to soothe her. Drawn by the noise, Sully quietly appeared in the doorway. With her back to him she didn’t know he was there.

Sully frowned, then looked sad. He held up three fingers.

Mac gratefully nodded. Sully nodded in reply and disappeared again.

Mac scooped her into his arms, carried her over to the couch where he held her, consoling her while she got the nervous tears out of her system. Only three strokes? He’d take a hell of a lot more than that to ease her through this. Sully must be feeling generous this morning. Mac had fully expected at least ten, if not more, to allow him this kind of unapproved, unnegotiated contact with her.

After ten minutes, she sniffled in his arms. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain, Mac.”

“You’re not a pain. Why are you apologizing?”

“I shouldn’t be imposing on you guys like this.”

He tipped her face back so he could look into her eyes. Even with her wounds, it was all he could do to not lean in and kiss her.

The sudden urge scared him.

“You’re not imposing, sweetie. You’ll live with us, and we’ll take care of you, and you can be near Tad. Quit stressing.” He helped her to her feet after planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I always get up this early.”

“On a Saturday?”

He led her to the kitchen. “Every day. I don’t sleep in. What were you looking for?”

“Tylenol.”

He smiled, opened a cabinet she hadn’t checked yet, and handed her the bottle. “It’s all in there. You ready for coffee and breakfast?”

She blushed as she shook out a couple of capsules and took an offered glass of water. “You don’t have to cook for me, Mac.”

With a gentle touch, he used his finger to tip her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I want to.”

She sat at the counter and talked with him while he cooked. He took a mug of coffee to their bedroom for Sully. When Mac returned, he explained. “He likes to be alone when he first wakes up. Helps him think, helps with his writing. Clears his head.”

She sipped her coffee. “What does he write?”

“Lots of things. Fiction and nonfiction. He travels quite a bit too.

He gives law enforcement and author educational seminars on several topics.”

“What kind of fiction?”

“Mysteries, thrillers, procedurals, erotica.”

The last raised her eyebrows. “Erotica?”

“Yeah. He uses a pen name for that stuff, but it’s not a secret he’s the author. The irony is that’s where he makes a goodly chunk of money long term.”

Mac set her food in front of her when she heard their bedroom door open. Sully emerged wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying his coffee mug. She watched Mac bow his head when Sully walked in.

Sully cupped his hand around the back of Mac’s neck, his hand on Mac’s collar, and whispered something to him that she couldn’t hear.

She didn’t miss the smile that lit Mac’s face as he softly replied, “Yes, Master.”

Sully handed Mac his mug, which Mac refilled for him. Then Sully turned to her and offered a friendly smile.

“How do you feel? Did you sleep well?”

She hesitantly nodded, still trying to process the intimate exchange she’d just witnessed. Innocent, but obviously full of meaning to the men. “I’m okay. Sore.”

“You sure we can’t take you to the doctor?”

“That’s okay. I’m fine. Just look like hell, that’s all.” Relieved that Sully decided to sit at the far end of the counter away from her, she rushed the rest of her meal and excused herself to her bedroom.

Sully sadly watched her departure, then looked at Mac.

Mac knew what he thought. “Yeah, it’s going to take her a while to not be afraid of you.”

Sully finished eating. “Take her with you today, if she feels up to it, to visit Tad and shopping.”

“Master?”

Sully arched an eyebrow at him. “Was I not clear?”

Mac reddened. “It’s okay?”

“I’m going to shut myself in the office and work today since we’re not out on the boat. It’ll be easier on her if I make myself scarce.” Leaving his dishes on the counter for Mac to take care of, Sully stepped around and softly said, “I mean it. For today and tomorrow, the five still apply for the clothes, but except for the three you’re taking for earlier, I’ll give you a pass until Monday. We’ll revisit the issue then.” He gently squeezed Mac’s shoulder before he left the kitchen.

Mac ate his breakfast before washing the dishes. One of their ironclad rules of conduct stated Mac couldn’t do more than shake hands with people, or friendly hugs with only certain, preapproved people they knew, unless Sully was present or had given prior permission. By comforting Clarisse the way he had before Sully arrived, Mac had earned himself three strokes, which surprised the hell out of him because normally Sully would have demanded at least ten for that infraction.

It was a rule Sully strictly enforced after Mac’s habit of friendly, innocent hugs had led to a girl at one of the clubs they frequented wanting to get a little too friendly and causing them problems. In the years since the rule’s inception, Mac had never breached it.

Until now.

Mac took a shower and dressed and did his usual chores while he waited for Clarisse to emerge. He didn’t really think she would want to go shopping with him. At least, not that morning. Not while she still looked like hell. He imagined she would want to visit Tad.

An hour later, he drove her to Tad’s and walked her inside. He stayed for a moment to say hi, then left her with a promise to return in two hours.

Uncle Tad smiled as he draped a frail arm around her shoulders.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you’re safely back, sweetheart.”

She inwardly cringed. “I thought you were friends with Mac and Sully?”

He looked startled, then laughed. “Honey, I trust them with your life. I meant you’re back in Tarpon.” She loved how he said it, like the old local he was, pronounced “Tar-pawn” instead of “Tarpin” as others said it.

It finally sank in that she’d made it home.

An angry glare shadowed his face. “How bad did the asshole hurt you?”

She blushed and looked away. “I’m okay, Uncle Tad.”

He snorted in disgust. “You don’t need to wear makeup on my account. I talked with Sully about it yesterday. You kids think I’m gonna pop a gasket if I get excited or something. You’re as bad as those boys are.”

He leaned back on the couch and muted the TV. “Let me tell you something. Maybe I’m not as strong or fast as I used to be, but there’s not a thing wrong with my mind. If you even so much as think about leaving Sully and Mac, I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass myself, little girl. Do I make myself clear? Promise me you’ll stay with them.”

The heat in her face blossomed to supernova proportions. “Yes, sir. I promise.”

He laughed. “Good. Glad to see you still listen to me. You have breakfast yet? What am I saying, of course you did. Mac woulda made you eat something.” He sighed. “Wish I could give you a better homecoming, little girl.”

She didn’t mind the endearment. It was what he and Aunt Karen had both called her, because they didn’t have kids of their own.

They talked most of the morning until a soft knock on his door interrupted them.

“Come in, goddammit!” he hollered.

Clarisse giggled, glad to see her beloved uncle’s spirit still firmly intact even if his body failed him.

A young woman opened the door. “Mr. Moore? I’ve got that paperwork ready for your niece to sign. Can I borrow her for a few minutes?”

“Hi, Cindy.” He poked Clarisse’s shoulder. “Go with her. They’ve got the forms ready adding you as my next of kin and stuff. I’ll be here.”

Clarisse followed the friendly, chatty clerk down a series of hallways to the administrative wing, where Cindy led her to a cubicle and indicated the chair in front of her desk. She pulled out a sheaf of paperwork and showed Clarisse where to sign. Some of the paperwork had to do with guaranteeing payment. Clarisse noticed Sully had already filled out and signed some of it.

Clarisse blushed. “Can you explain this to me? What happens if his insurance or whatever runs out? I’m not working yet. Is there a government program or something that would pay his bill?”

“Oh, I doubt that’ll be an issue. It’s mostly a formality.”

“You don’t know my luck.”

Cindy frowned. “I figured Mr. Nicoletto discussed this with you already.”

“Discussed what?”

“Your uncle’s insurance pays only a portion. Mr. Nicoletto pays the rest. He paid the apartment lease fees up front when your uncle moved in, and he takes care of the difference in expenses every month.”

Clarisse’s hand felt numb as she shakily signed the paperwork.

“He does?”

“Yes. Oh, and he asked us not to tell your uncle that. Mr. Moore is under the impression his insurance and Medicaid pays for it all.”

Mac returned for Clarisse a little after noon. She’d already eaten with her uncle, had fixed them both BLT sandwiches while she struggled to hold a conversation under the weight of her new knowledge. She had asked Cindy for a look at her uncle’s records, since she was being added as secondary guarantor of funds.

Sully and Mac were the ones who found this place for Tad and got him admitted. By her best guess, Sully had spent more than fifty grand on the initial apartment condo fee, guaranteeing that her uncle in essence “owned” his little efficiency, in addition to fifteen hundred dollars in care expenses he paid every month. That meant around one hundred thousand dollars to date.

How would she ever earn that kind of money to repay him? And how the hell would she ever find a job that paid good enough to support herself as well as pay for her uncle’s care?

The thought overwhelmed her. She struggled not to cry. She felt guilty that Sully had spent all that money on her uncle when she should have been living here with him, taking care of him. Her inheritance would have paid for the apartment fees and some of his care.

If Mac noticed her disquiet, he didn’t mention it. She offered to help him schlep the groceries upstairs, but he refused. She disappeared to her room and closed the door behind her to think in private.

Sully walked downstairs to talk to Mac when he realized Clarisse had closed herself in her bedroom. “How is she?”

Mac shook his head. “I don’t know. She seemed awful quiet when I picked her up.”

Later that evening, before dinner, Sully left his office door open.

He sensed Clarisse’s presence in the doorway even before she spoke.

“Am I interrupting you?” she quietly asked.

He turned and smiled. “No, sweetie. That’s okay. Come on in.”

She didn’t move from the doorway. “Can I speak to you alone?”

“Of course.”

Hesitantly, she stepped just inside and pulled the door shut and leaned against it, but she didn’t approach him. It killed him that she couldn’t trust him but he knew he couldn’t force it.

“I wanted to say thank you. For taking care of Uncle Tad.”

He mentally swore. He’d meant to tell Cindy not to reveal the payment arrangement to Clarisse. It had totally slipped his mind.

“Tad’s like family.”

She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’ll figure out a way to pay you back somehow. I promise.”

He struggled to keep his tone soft and steady despite his aggravation threatening to break through. Goddamn her ex for destroying her trust. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t want your money.”

She shook her head. An edge of anxiety crept into her voice. “No.

He’s my uncle. He’s my responsibility.”

Sully didn’t have the heart to correct her, to remind her she had jack shit and a raging case of PTSD to overcome. She was in no condition to take care of herself, much less Tad. “Clarisse, honey, it’s okay. Don’t stress it. Please. Tad will always be taken care of. I promise you.”

Her hair hid her eyes, but he didn’t miss the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I will pay you back,” she softly promised again before she slipped out the door.

Before he made it to the office doorway, he heard her bedroom door softly close. When he walked down the hall with every intention of knocking and talking to her, he heard her muffled sobs on the other side.

Mac, his instincts finely tuned as ever, quickly appeared in the hallway entrance, a dark frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Sully shook his head, lifted a finger to his lips, and waited until he led Mac downstairs to talk about it.

Mac sat on the bottom step, his head cradled in his hands.

“Dammit. I want to help her. I want to strangle the son of a bitch with my own hands. What do we do?”

“Nothing, for now. I just wanted you to know what’s going on with her. That’s why she acted so quiet when you picked her up.” He started to mount the stairs, but Mac reached out and touched Sully’s leg.

“When you said she could stay with us as long as she needed, you meant that, right?”

Sully sat on the riser next to Mac and draped an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, I meant it. It’ll be good for Tad to have her around.”

He gently shook him. “And I don’t have the patience to have you running back and forth a dozen times a day to wherever she might move to make sure she’s okay.”

Mac snorted with laughter and leaned into Sully’s embrace. “Point taken, Master.”

Sully kissed the top of his head. “I don’t mind that you care about her. It’s natural. If you want the truth, I care about her, too.” He rested his chin on top of Mac’s head. “As long as we’re clear where your priorities lay?”

Mac bowed his head and tucked it against Sully’s shoulder.

“Master always comes first in my life.”

Sully closed his eyes and, relieved, drew in a long breath. No matter how many times Mac said or swore it, it still gave him the same feeling, engendered the same emotions. Mac wanted him, wasn’t ready to break free.

Yet.

“You will always be my first responsibility, slave. Always.” He kissed the back of Mac’s neck and untangled himself before climbing the stairs.

Clarisse didn’t reappear until Mac softly tapped on her bedroom door and called her out for dinner. As soon as they finished dinner and after Mac refused her help with the dishes, she disappeared again.

Sully walked up behind him and laid his hand on Mac’s shoulder.

“Give her time to adjust and decompress,” he softly said before returning to his office.

An hour later, Mac walked into Sully’s office, closed the door behind him, and knelt on the floor next to Sully’s chair. He didn’t speak, simply bowed his head and waited.

Sully finished the paragraph he was writing and saved the file before laying his hand on Mac’s head. “Yes, slave?”

“May I respectfully request something?”

“Of course.”

“Can we go downstairs? Now? I…need it.”

Sully expected he knew exactly what Mac needed. With Clarisse’s fragile mental state, Sully didn’t want to risk freaking her out.

Witnessing them and their normal ways without prior explanation would definitely freak her out in her present state of mind. They couldn’t use their playroom or she’d hear them. Downstairs, in the exercise room, would be better.

“Do you want punishment or release?”

“Can we do both?”

If Mac was asking for that, combined with his formal request, he was in serious emotional pain. Sully nodded. “Are all your chores done for the night?”

“Yes, Master.”

“All right. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. You may go.”

Sully waited until Mac’s departure to let out a huge breath. He’d found early on that Mac’s deep masochistic streak was both a blessing and a curse. Sully soon discovered his own streak of sadism, which dovetailed nicely into their dynamic. Even more important, Mac wasn’t just a pain pig, although he did enjoy it. He also used physical pain to help him process emotional pain.

Mac didn’t normally ask for a heavy scene unless he deeply hurt inside, even though he could and would willingly take one without question or complaint. Part of Mac’s willing submission in their relationship was that he rarely asked for things like this, only when he truly needed them. Otherwise, he felt asking for things equated to topping from the bottom, something he hated doing. The only reason he asked at all was because Sully ordered him to never ignore his deepest needs.

Sully walked to their bedroom and grabbed a duffel bag. Even though he was only going downstairs, he didn’t want Clarisse to accidentally spot him carrying what he’d need. He took his MP3 player, the punishment cane he kept in their bedroom, Mac’s wrist cuffs, the bottle of cucumber lotion, towels, and a light blanket. After checking that Clarisse was in her room, he walked down the hall to their playroom and quickly punched in the lock code.

They hadn’t shown her this room yet, and would not show her until he had a chance to sit and talk with her. Inside lay their well-stocked private dungeon. He quickly strode over to the tall cabinet and selected a riding crop, another cane, a light flogger, a severe flogger, and ankle cuffs. He also took several straps he needed to convert the weight bench, as well as some first-aid supplies.

After a little thought, he added a large ball gag. Mac would want him to use a whip for the sting, but that would be too loud. He’d have to stick with the canes, which meant he’d most likely cut him.

He stopped by Clarisse’s bedroom door. “Are you okay?” he called to her.

He heard her sniffling. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Mac and I are going downstairs to work out. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m okay.”

He brushed his fingers over the doorknob. He wanted to walk inside and hold her, to comfort her the way Mac could.

He knew he couldn’t, that he had to let her decide to trust him in her own time. “We’ll have the door locked. I’ll leave my cell number on the counter, because we won’t be able to hear you over the music.

I’ll see my cell ring.” Well, that was close enough to the truth to not be a lie. She would assume they were really working out or having sex.

Not that he was beating the shit out of Mac.

“Thanks, Sully.”

He jotted the number on the notepad and left it by the phone on the counter. He shivered in his short sleeves as he descended the stairs. Inside the workout room, Mac had already closed all the blinds and bumped up the thermostat a little to take the chill out of the air.

Naked, he waited, kneeling on the cold tile floor with his head bowed.

Sully saw his flesh pimpled with goose bumps. “Stand up. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Mac complied while Sully locked the door and hooked up his MP3 player. He found his heavy scene playlist, a selection of songs that would help him quickly drop Mac into subspace. With the player plugged into the stereo he cranked the volume loud enough that Clarisse wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the music, but the neighbors wouldn’t complain. It only took him a few minutes to prepare the weight bench, turning it into a makeshift bondage bench.

He stood in front of Mac. “Look at me, slave,” he softly commanded.

Mac lifted his head. His eyes had already started glazing over. It always amazed Sully how quickly Mac dropped into subspace, faster than anyone he’d ever met since their time in the lifestyle.

“Wrists,” Sully commanded.

Mac lifted his arms as Sully fixed first one leather cuff, then the other around them, including the small padlocks.

He pointed to the bench where he’d laid a towel. “Face-down, slave.”

Mac complied without hesitation. Sully quickly attached his wrist cuffs to the straps, the angle spreading his arms wide and tight. Then he knelt behind him, affixed the ankle cuffs, locked them, and hooked them to another set of straps. Spread, his legs were immobilized, leaving his ass an open and easy target.

Sully stroked Mac’s ass. He still bore stripes from the evening before, bruises that would normally heal within a few days. Then he drew back his hand and smacked him hard, on the left ass cheek.

Mac didn’t jump.

Sully leaned in close so he didn’t have to yell over the music.

“Where are you, slave?”

“Green, Master.” Mac’s eyes had closed. Sully knew that he’d already started his withdrawal into his deep place, as they’d dubbed it, where he could let go and deal with whatever troubled him.

It was the only way he could.

Sully quickly stripped his shirt off and grabbed a small rubber ball out of the bag. He pressed it into Mac’s left palm and closed his fingers around it. “Safety, slave.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sully fitted him with the large leather ball gag, an expensive one Mac could safely bite down on and scream through and still be able to breathe without much additional effort. When he finished adjusting the straps, he stroked Mac’s hair. “Where are we?”

Mac rotated his left wrist, their signal for green.

Sully took a moment to stretch and loosen his arms. Then he picked up the mild flogger and started on Mac, from shoulders to ass and back again. As far as their ritual had already sunk Mac into subspace, Sully could have started heavier and Mac would have been okay, but he preferred staying with their usual routine.

After ten minutes, the skin of Mac’s back, ass, and thighs had turned pink. Sully switched to the heavier flogger and continued.

Before long, just from watching Mac’s breathing, he knew Mac had flown over the edge to his deep place.

That’s when Sully picked up the pace. He used the springy riding crop along the back of Mac’s thighs, alternating between slaps with the flapper and stokes with the shaft. Then he laid the punishment cane across Mac’s ass and tapped him lightly with it in warning. With his free hand firmly pressing on Mac’s lower back to hold him in place, Sully delivered the eight punishment strokes, viciously, as hard as he could, two of which drew thin lines of blood.

He immediately switched back to the heavier flogger, focusing on Mac’s shoulders and back, swinging lighter over his kidneys to prevent injury, then down the backs of his thighs and calves while avoiding the injured flesh of his ass. After twenty minutes of this, Sully switched to the other cane. Avoiding the injured flesh, he escalated the power and tempo of his strokes as the music grew heavier and faster until his last several vicious strokes were timed to fall with a crashing crescendo of deep, resonating notes.

The next song was a step down, which allowed Mac time to breathe and recover, a guarantee that if he could make it to that point, he knew the scene would wind down.

Sully would normally use the light flogger, but Mac’s clenched hands and the tears running down his cheeks told Sully that wasn’t necessary. Using his hands and starting with Mac’s arms, Sully slowly massaged his lover, using firm strokes, from shoulders down his back, to his hips. He skipped over his ass to his legs, first one, then the other. Then he unclipped and removed the ankle cuffs and dragged the duffel bag over.

He took his time gently dabbing at the wounds with gauze and antiseptic. Everywhere else in that region, where the brunt of the strokes from the stricter implements had landed, he soothed the hot, reddened flesh with the cucumber lotion. That finished, as the songs turned quieter and gentler, he draped the blanket over Mac and unhooked and removed his wrist cuffs before removing the ball gag.

Carefully, he helped Mac off the bench and onto the floor, where Sully sat cross-legged with Mac curled and lying halfway in his lap.

He took the ball from his left hand.

“How are we, slave?”

Mac shivered and rotated his left wrist, too overwhelmed to speak yet.

Sully held Mac tighter, his arms around him, consoling him as yet another round of tears incapacitated him. It had been a long time since Mac needed a session like this.

They were still sitting there nearly half an hour later. Sully thought his ass would go numb on the tile floor even through his jeans, but he wouldn’t make Mac move until he was ready. Finally, Mac sniffled and drew the blanket a little tighter around him.

Sully twined his fingers in the man’s hair. “You okay, Brant?”

“Yeah.” He rolled over. “Did I get the eight?”

Sully’s mouth curled in a playful smile. “Yeah. Early on.”

Mac blew out a long, deep breath before Sully helped him sit up.

“I don’t remember it.”

“I can believe it. You went harder and faster than normal.”

Mac’s eyes searched his. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Mac arched an eyebrow at him. Sully loved that inquisitive expression. “I’m not so out of it I can’t tell that my ass hasn’t been reamed, Master.” He added a pinch of sarcastic tone to the last word.

Sully shrugged. “The weight bench isn’t the right height for me to fuck you like that. You want to have to haul me to the ER while you’re trying to recover from subspace because I throw my back out?”

With the blanket wrapped around him, Mac sat back on his heels.

“Then let me do something else,” he quietly suggested.

Sully eyed him, trying to decide if he’d recovered enough or if it was just endorphin-fueled bravado. He stood and unzipped his jeans.

Mac leaned forward and pulled Sully’s cock out, which had grown stiff at the thought of finally seeing a little action. Sully closed his eyes as Mac’s hot mouth wrapped around his shaft, slick as satin and knowing exactly where every pleasure point was located. His tongue stroked and teased him as Sully fisted his hands in Mac’s hair and started pumping deeper.

Mac stayed with him, taking him deep into his throat without gagging. The blanket slid down Mac’s back and puddled on the floor behind him as he gripped the back of Sully’s thighs and held on for balance.

Sully fucked his mouth, harder as his release drew closer. Mac added just a little scrape of teeth, which triggered Sully’s climax.

“Now, slave.” Mac sucked him deeply and swallowed every drop while Sully’s flesh throbbed in his mouth until it finally relaxed, softening.

Sully took a few breaths to regain control, then tapped Mac on the head. “Very good, slave. That’s enough.”

Mac released him with a pop, then sat back and smiled. Sully read the exhaustion in Mac’s eyes even though Mac tried to put on a good show. Sully held a hand out to him, helped him stand, and retrieved the blanket for him.

“Wait for me by the door,” Sully ordered.

He tucked his cock away and zipped his jeans, pulled on his shirt, then quickly gathered their supplies and Mac’s clothes and jammed it all into the bag. He turned off the stereo and lights, locked the door behind them, and slipped an arm around Mac’s waist to support him up the stairs.

“Let’s get you to bed, buddy.”

Mac didn’t argue. Sully sensed Mac’s post-scene crash setting in.

A normal play scene made Mac hornier than a college frat boy set loose in an adult theater. A heavy scene like this emotionally and physically drained him, which is why he’d asked for it.

Tomorrow morning, however, Mac would be ready for action.

He got Mac inside, locked the front door, and guided him to their bedroom. He pulled the covers down before Mac carefully crawled, face-down, onto the mattress.

Sully stepped away from the bed. Mac was softly snoring before Sully finished crossing the room. He quickly stripped and decided to deal with the rest of the bag’s contents in the morning. After using the bathroom, he carefully slipped into bed with Mac and pulled the covers over them. After settling his arm over Mac’s back, avoiding the broken flesh, he quickly dropped into an exhausted sleep of his own.