7. MAX
MAX
Iwas starting to think Lucas had no idea what I was hinting at when I flirted with him.
I’d thought I was being pretty clear, but he seemed oblivious no matter how many jokes I made about wanting him in my lap or my bed.
Maybe he just truly wasn’t interested and thus the alternative hadn’t even occurred to him?
I stifled a sigh as I let go of his neck and sat back on the couch. I pointed the remote at the TV and hit play. “Here we go. Natural Detective, season three, episode twenty: The Eliminated Engineer.”
Lucas settled back with a sigh of contentment. At least one of us was content. “Lunch was really good; thank you for cooking.”
“No problem. I knew you’d be hungry when you got home,” I told him, not mentioning that it had also come from an urge to take care of him after he had worked a long shift. Who even was I? Max Dion was not a caretaker; he was a lone wolf!
He glanced away from the TV to give me a close-lipped smile. “Well, I appreciate it.”
On the television, a gunshot rang out and the eponymous engineer dropped dead.
We both watched avidly as he collapsed in a pool of obviously-fake blood.
“Real blood doesn’t flow anything like that,” Lucas said with a snort as the detective came on scene.
“Especially not once it starts to dry. It goes tacky, and it’s more of a brownish-rust color, and -”
“Dude.” I put a hand over his mouth. “Suspension of disbelief.” He licked my palm in retaliation, and I yelled and yanked my hand away. “Gross!” He stuck his tongue out at me and wiggled it. “You put that thing away, young man,” I told him, “or so help me…”
“Or so help you what?” he challenged, meeting my eyes defiantly.
I gave myself a split-second to consider my answer, and then I blurted out something I shouldn’t have said: “Or so help me, I’ll find a use for it that I’ll enjoy but you might not.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Such as?”
“Are you sure you really want to know?” I asked, giving him an out. He couldn’t possibly not understand what I was talking about at this point, right?
He made a come on gesture. “Bring it on, big guy.” Ok, so either he was playing chicken with me or he was genuinely just that dense.
Deciding on the chicken option, I lowered my hands to my crotch. “How about I show you?”
His eyes followed my hands as I started fiddling showily with the drawstring of my pajamas.
“How…” He stopped, licking his lips, eyes still fixed on my fingers.
Or possibly on where I was getting hard under my fingers at the mere thought of his tongue on me.
After a few seconds, he looked up at my face again and I saw that his pupils were blown wide, but he didn’t seem able to finish his sentence, just staring at me in silence instead.
“Lucas?” I prompted. When his eyes dropped to my lips, I groaned quietly and reached out a tentative hand.
He didn’t pull away, and I threaded my fingers into his pulled-back hair and teased out his hair tie.
His blond hair fell around his shoulders, covering my hand, and he gasped.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” I said huskily.
He gave a tentative laugh and pulled back an inch but made no move to remove my hand. “Touch my hair? Hell, you can even braid it if you want.”
“I can’t braid.” I combed my fingers through his locks, giving the ends a gentle tug.
“What else can I do instead?” Without waiting for an answer from him, I decided to just go for it.
I closed my hand into a fist in his hair and yanked him forward.
Our lips met in an explosion of sensation; half a second later, Lucas, off-balance from my tug, fell against my chest.
His lips were warm and dry against mine, but he wasn’t returning my kiss. I started to pull back, but his hand closing on my arm stopped me before I could get more than a few millimeters away. “Lucas?” I breathed against his mouth. “Is this ok?”
He whimpered and his hand tightened. If he kept that up, he was going to leave a bruised handprint on me. Not that I exactly objected to that if it meant I got to kiss him again.
When he still didn’t respond after a few seconds, I pulled my arm from his hand and my hand from his hair and sat back.
His hand drifted up to his lips and he touched them wonderingly, eyes down.
“Lucas,” I said gently. “Are you ok?” I seemed to have stunned him into speechlessness.
That wasn’t exactly what I had been going for.
Still touching his lips, he finally raised his gaze to mine.
His eyes burned, his pupils still dilated and what was left of his green irises flashing.
He moved his hand from his mouth to mine, tracing my lips.
I flicked my tongue out against his fingers and his breathing hitched.
I opened my mouth to ask him again if he was ok, but before I could get the words out, he’d leaned in and put his lips to mine softly.
It was a two-sided kiss this time, both of us tasting each other with gentle movements.
After a few seconds, I felt his tongue trace lightly along my bottom lip, and with a groan I opened for him.
He slid his tongue into my mouth, stroking mine with it.
My cock, which had deflated with my worry about his non-responsiveness, was suddenly and devastatingly hard again.
Lucas moaned into my mouth, a soft “mmm” that made me want to rip his clothes off and mount him right then and there.
I managed to restrain myself, though my kiss became harder and more demanding.
Our lips mashed together and our teeth clacked.
Our tongues dueled wildly. I slid my hand back into his hair, fisting it again to hold his head in place.
His hand came to rest lightly on my lower back, and then he clenched my shirt into his fist, ruching it up.
The movement and the cold air against my suddenly-bare skin startled me and I nearly bit his tongue, but caught myself just in time.
He didn’t even seem to notice my flinch, focused as he was on what he was doing to my mouth with his tongue, which was now flicking against my lower lip. With a sigh, I leaned into him…
...and overbalanced. Unable to catch myself with my busted-up-slash-missing legs, I tumbled into him, forcing grunts out of both of us.
A second too late, his hands moved to brace my shoulders; we found ourselves in a somewhat awkward embrace where nearly my full weight was against his side and his arms were half-around me.
“You ok?” he asked, pulling his mouth away from mine and slipping his arms the rest of the way around my back so he was fully hugging me.
Stupid fucking legs. I made a noncommittal grunt, frustrated with myself for ruining the moment. I couldn’t resist tucking my face into the crook of his neck to hide my flush of embarrassment.
Despite my attempts to get closer to him, he set me gently away from him with his hands back on my shoulders. “Max. I asked if you were ok.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Just annoyed with myself.”
His face fell. “For kissing me,” he said dully. “I get it.”
“What? No! I mean...as long as you didn’t mind it, I guess. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not into.”
He blinked, looking confused. “Then what are you annoyed about?”
Was it not obvious? I’d just nearly knocked him over! “Me!” I told him, just as confused now as him. “I just keeled over on you because I don’t have any balance with these fucking legs. ‘Fainting goat’ wasn’t quite the effect I was going for.”
That got a small smile out of him. “Nobody would mistake you for a goat, Max. You don’t have hooves, duh. And what does it matter if you lost your balance? I was here to catch you.”
Wasn’t that a metaphor for my life lately. Me, reeling wildly; him, there to steady me just as I really started to fall. “It’s hardly sexy to have someone collapse on you,” I tried to explain.
He very deliberately let his eyes drop to my body and then back up. “I really don’t think being sexy is going to be a problem for you.”
“W-what?” I sputtered. Was he finally, actually flirting back at me? “What do you mean?”
Lucas rolled his eyes at me. “Come on, Max; you know what you look like. Nobody’s going to have a problem finding you sexy even if your balance sucks.”
How had we gone from making out to an impromptu therapy session?
A sudden crisis of confidence was even less sexy than a lack of balance.
I considered reaching to drag his mouth to mine and bring this embarrassing conversation to an end, but a look at his face told me the moment had been well and truly broken.
He had his concerned face on instead of his turned-on one.
Even as the thought made its way through my mind, he was pushing me back the rest of the way upright and dusting off my shoulders as though we’d been rolling around on the floor instead of sitting on the couch.
I smothered a sigh of disappointment and inched my butt away from him on the couch cushion; he clearly didn’t want to be this close to me anymore.
“Yeah,” I told him, looking at my hands, “but you’re the only one who’s stuck around even after talking to me for a while.”
His smile was sad. “That’s everyone else’s loss.” Then, clapping his hands together briskly, he picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, where the playback had stopped at the end of the episode. “So! Ready for episode twenty-one?”
Ok, so we were going to pretend none of this ever happened. I hated it, but if it was what he wanted, I’d live with it. I’d just hope that maybe one day he’d kiss me again.