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2025-06-27
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summer could end in a downpour

Summary:

“You just need to talk to him,” is Matty's advice. Because of course it is, bless him.

“Tried that, didn't work.”

“Well try it again. And don't have sex with him this time.”

OR

It's mackrob summer, what can I say?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Mack’s divorce comes through on a Monday. Which is handy, because it’s three days after he finally gets into Robert Sugden's kecks and couldn't come soon enough by that point.

Mack’s not proud of it, alright? That’s a lie, actually. He’s fucking buzzing.

But a rough and tumble over a takeaway curry and far too many beers wasn’t really how he’d been planning on breaking it to Robert that, actually, he did fancy him a bit, yeah.

He’d planned to be all grown up and proper about it. He was going to deal with the Aaron of it all first and maybe give Charity the heads up that he was on his way back to the dark side, the whole nine yards.

He’d had a plan.

And then Robert had stood up, yawning, a little strip of belly on show. Started saying he’d better get a move on, and Mack’s body had just sort of run away from him.

Sue him.

He’d had Robert down the sofa before the poor fella knew what had hit him. But his thighs had spread for Mack’s hips and his mouth had been open and soft, wet inside, for Mack’s tongue.

Kissing for the sake of kissing wasn’t really in Mack’s wheelhouse but you should have seen him. He was kissing like a fucking champ.

And then the beer and the excitement of it all had gotten him belly down with Robert Sugden’s cock in his mouth, hands in his hair. Robert Sugden gasping, “What are you? What?” And then, “I’m going to-“

And he had. He’d come in Mack’s mouth, like he’d been struck by lightening and Mack, god help him, had swallowed it all down. Had fucking loved it.

It had been awkward afterwards and Mack had never even gotten his jeans off.

Left in the sitting room of his saddo bachelor pad, with a photo of his ex wife on the tv stand and a literal and also sadly metaphorical, hard on for the bloke.

Fucking awful.

:::

Robert's avoiding him.

Mack’s not stupid, he knows when he’s being dodged, he can feel it in his waters. Also in the way Robert had done a truly impressive military about turn to leave the shop earlier when he saw Mack.

It’s a bit offensive actually. Mack has it on good authority that he gives great head.

Ordinarily, if he was having man trouble, he'd go to Aaron about it. Lord knows he’s the expert, what with Robert and that creepy little bobble head he’s shacked up with now. But Mack’s fairly sure, despite all protests to the contrary, that even though he should be able to get Aaron’s grudging ok to shag his ex once it’s a done deal, he’s unlikely to provide wooing tips.

What would an Aaron Dingle wooing tip even look like? Call him a prick until he falls to his knees? God, probably. Mack doesn’t want to know.

In the absence of a decent gay, Mack turns to the next best thing.

“You do realise we’ve only been divorced for a day?” Charity asks.

Mack does.

She sighs, plonking his point in front of him with a bit more force than she had when they were married. A tiny bit.

“Robert Sugden? Really?”

Mack takes a sip of his pint, sucks his top lip clean to buy some time. “He’s fit,” is his best defence.

She can’t argue with that. He is fit. And built like truck this summer since the farm work started adding to the muscle he'd probably had no choice but to acquire in prison. Mack wants to climb him like a tree.

Charity looks repulsed. “Have you always been this gone on him? Did I miss that?”

Mack shakes his head. “Don't be soft. It's just he's...”

She eyes him, with a small amount of sympathy and strong helping of judgement. “You really like him?”

“I think so, yeah.”

She sighs again, resigned, folds her arms on the bar to put their faces closer together. “Right. Tell me everything.”

:::

Luckily, all it takes to get Robert to stop dodging him, is following him into the gents on a Tuesday night and then blocking the door to he physically can't get away. Simple.

He does bluster about a bit, mind, but he's also in the middle of a piss so he can't really do anything about it.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Mack shrugs. “Using the facilities,” he says.

Robert looks a little bit like he thinks Mack's gone insane. Which is fair. He shakes off and zips up before Mack can get a glimpse of anything interesting too, which isn't.

“Be my guest,” he says, gesturing grandly to the stained urinal like Mack's just won it as prize, and goes to wash his hands.

He pulls up short when Mack doesn't move. Keeps not moving even when Robert starts to reach round him for the door handle.

“Can you move?”

“No,” Mack can't, he's committed here.

Robert pinches the bridge of his nose, chest inflating. “I don't really understand what's happening here.”

“You've been avoiding me,” Mack points out.

“No I haven't.”

“I sucked you off,” Mack says instead, which is awful, but at least makes Robert's face turn red.

“Yes,” Robert says shortly. “I was there.”

“We should talk about that.”

“Should we? Obviously it was a mistake, these things happen, it's fine.”

These things do happen, Mack will give him that. But still.

“I want to do it again.”

That's probably not what Charity had meant when she told him to be direct.

Robert looks a bit like he might pass out. “You what?”

“I think we should do it again,” Mack says. He doesn't sound quite as confident that time, which he thinks is understandable, given the circumstances. Really, it's a wonder his ego is holding up at all.

Robert doesn't say anything for quite a long time, which is excruciating and made worse by the smell of toilets, honestly.

He must have been having some sort of internal war with himself or something though, because he groans in the end, pained, and drags Mack into the single toilet stall before Mack can even tell him that he didn't mean here.

He slams Mack into the wall, cold through his jumper, and kisses him. All tongue and teeth, like now he's started he can't stop. Mack knows how he feels.

Mack puts his hands everywhere he can reach: shoulders, back, that beautiful fucking arse. He's gasping for breath, panting for it, doesn't even feel embarrassed about the way he's riding down onto Robert's thigh like a horny dog.

It's exactly as hot as he thought it would be, and luckily for Mack, Robert's the one who sinks to his knees on the piss stained tile and starts ripping Mack's belt open like it's personally offended him.

Robert's mouth sinks lava hot right over the head of Mack's cock and he knows he's whimpering about it like a fucking girl but he can't stop himself.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Fuck, Rob, fuck yes.”

Robert's shoulders under his hands are the only thing keeping him upright and he can't seem to keep his mouth shut. It's fucking undignified is what is it. He sucks a bruise into his own hand, trying not to moan around it but it's not enough. If anyone walks in here they're going to know exactly what's going on.

“Robert, Rob,” he gasps, pulling at him until Robert slides off him with a wet pop. The burst of cold air on his spit wet dick is enough to make Mack want to cry.

“What?”

Robert's cheeks are red, hair a mess. Mack doesn't even remember pushing his hands through it.

He pulls at Robert's arms. “You need to shut me up,” he pleads, but Robert's not moving, one hand curling tight and hot around Mack's cock. It makes him hiss, makes him far too loud, body strung tight and aching.

“Shut up,” Robert says, because he's a deeply unfunny arsehole, and sinks back down over Mack fast enough that he moans, would keep moaning if Robert didn't slide a hand right up the front of him and sink two fingers straight into Mack's open mouth.

Mack sucks on them, helpless, eyes rolling in his head.

He comes with his teeth set to Robert's knuckles, like a gunshot, four sharp jerks of his hips and the room spinning behind his closed eyelids.

After, Robert lets himself be tugged back to his feet, lets Mack suck the taste of himself off Robert's tongue and shove a hand down into his jeans, where is dick his hard and waiting, wet at the tip.

It's good of Robert really, that he doesn't do a runner until Mack's got a handful of his come.

No. Probably not what Charity had meant.

:::

“You just need to talk to him,” is Matty's advice. Because of course it is, bless him.

“Tried that, didn't work.”

“Well try it again. And don't have sex with him this time.”

It cute really, the way he says it. All shifty, looking round the cafe like Bob might hear him say sex and have a funny turn.

Mack doubts it. Bob looks like he was probably a bit of a goer in his day.

“I didn't mean to have sex with him last time,” Mack points out. And he does not duck his face when Bob's head whips round, he doesn't.

Matty's sighs deeply, the sound of a man well out of his depth.

“Do you like him? Like, actually?” he asks.

And Mack does, is the thing. He'd liked being friends with him, working with him. Had liked the way they'd fallen together when things with Charity had gotten bad and Mack hadn't known how to help her. It should have been the other way round, really, but Robert was the one who had tucked Mack under his wing and pulled him through it. Dragged him through it.

Weekends in front of the footy, even though neither of them like it much. Die Hard marathons. That one trip to the seaside where Robert has pulled two birds and Mack had stared into his pint instead of watching him walk away.

Mack likes him so much it's made him stupid.

So much it must show on his face.

“Well there you go then,” Matty says. “Go and tell him.”

:::

In the end, Mack has to collar him in the street.

Quite literally. He has to grab hold of Robert's collar and drag him round to face him. They're both lucky there's no one else stood outside the pub to see them. Robert's a big boy, it's a bit of a scuffle.

“Stop running away from me,” Mack tells him, once he's sure Robert's given in.

“I'm not,” Robert says, all pathetic, like Mack's his mum and he's getting a telling off.

“Listen, if you don't fancy me, just say. I'm a big boy, I can take it.”

He can't. He might shrivel up into a little ball and die if Robert actually lets him down gently right now.

Robert looks half a second from bolting again.

“I'm not,” and he winces a bit, like he wishes he didn't have to say it. Mack probably doesn't want him to say it. “I'm not over Aaron. I don't know that I ever will be.”

Oh is that all? Thank fuck for that.

“No,” Mack says, because if Robert's brave enough to admit that, he can be brave too. “And I'm not over Charity. But Aaron made his choice, and I'm making mine. You deserve good things, Rob. I think this could be a good thing.”

He watches Robert take that in, watches his face flinch and his smile roll between his teeth like he thinks he's hiding something. Mack quite likes it, that he knows Robert well enough to get what now.

“You do, do you?” Robert's eyes are a physical weight when they trip down Mack's chest; shoulders, buttons, belt buckle, and then back up again.

He's outright smirking now, Christ. If this is what it feels like to get Robert Sugden to flirt with you, Mack might do it for the rest of his life. He's sweating.

“Fuck you,” he says, because honestly.

Robert gets him by the jacket, reels him in until their chests bump. Mack hopes he can't feel how fast his heart is racing.

He puts his hands on Robert's shoulders, the wide expanse of them. Mostly to see if he'll be allowed to and then, when he is, to cop a proper feel.

When Robert's arms snake round his waist he genuinely thinks he might swoon.

“I do fancy you,” Robert says, and his voice is deep enough that Mack feels it in his toes. “Quite a lot, actually.”

There's probably something to be said for keeping this cute little back and forth they've got going on going for a while longer, and really they do need to talk about it a bit more, but no one has ever accused Mack of being a patient man. So he says a silent sorry to Matty and leans in to kiss him instead. Right there in front of the pub, where anyone could see them.

The fact that Robert lets him seems like a big deal.

It's not quite like the other times, not quite as frantic, settles Mack back into skin he hadn't even realised wasn't fitting right. Quiet, proper, the world's dropped away kissing. Everything else is white noise.

It feels like a beginning.



Notes:

vckaarob on tumblr where the content is, for my sins, far more robron heavy than this nonsense