Chapter 4
Reid McKinley
First sign of Max’s hangover? He upgraded us to business and did everything to avoid people. Well, actually, the first sign was probably that he looked like shit.
Third sign, he declined a perfectly good Five Guys burger and looked like he was one whiff of cheese away from vomiting.
I felt my forehead crease, and I bit into my burger. “How much did you drink last night?”
Should I be worried? I’d expected some level of awkwardness after yesterday, but if he’d ended up inhaling a bottle of gin or vodka—his usual poison—maybe he didn’t remember yet.
I was on high alert. Last night had changed things.
“Not that much.” He frowned. “Four or five drinks.”
“So you’re a lightweight now. Good to know.” I nodded at a bench closer to our gate.
He was so done that he didn’t even flip me off.
To me, this could go either way. Last night could mean as much or as little as he wanted.
As long as we were good. I’d gone fifteen years fairly certain he was my missing piece—some periods rougher than others.
Having him in my life was the most important thing.
I guessed…when you got older, you lowered your demands some, and I could survive without that relationship.
We still had a bond nobody had been able to sever.
Even when we’d been partnered up, we’d sought each other out.
But my fucking Christ, I hoped last night had shifted something in his mind—and I was going to keep a close eye on him for changes. Because if I got the impression he might want more, I’d jump at the first opportunity.
I could feel one of those rougher periods sneaking up on me. In which case, I was going to need a week on my own in the woods, completely off the grid, followed by an intense month or two where I worked out a lot and went to the shooting range after work.
We sat down with one seat in between us, and I ate my burger and drank my coffee in silence. Twenty minutes till boarding. After that, I prayed I passed out.
I reckoned it was a combination of things that stirred the emotions every now and then.
Birthdays and holidays, vacation plans, closing our community…
And maybe the fact that he’d been single for a long time now.
It was much easier to stay back when he was surrounded by Littles and subs and… whatever.
He’d never once dated a Top. Not even a switch. Always submissives and kinky bottoms.
I side-eyed him as he rubbed his temples.
I crammed the last of my burger into my mouth.
At least we got some extra sleep on the plane, and Max looked more alive when we landed in Miami.
I bet the three cups of coffee and two bottles of water had helped too.
It sure as fuck lit a fire under his ass when he needed to find a bathroom, in any case.
I headed outside in the meantime, with his carry-on, and I shrugged out of my jacket on the way. I saw a couple familiar faces too. Sam and Carl had just picked up our rental.
“Good to see you again, man.” Carl slapped his hand to mine, and I shook it firmly. “Where’s your other half?”
Ha! If only.
“In the can,” I replied. “Where’s yours?”
It was damn nice out. Hot enough for a summer vacation, but without the humid Florida heat the state was known for.
“Back at the hotel,” he said. “We’ll pick him up on the way. We flew in last night, and I don’t want him cranky in the car.”
“Nobody does,” Sam laughed.
I grinned and tossed our bags in the back.
We got some chatter out of the way before Max emerged, and he immediately pulled out his shades and put them on. Good opportunity for me to mention to Sam and Carl that Max was hungover after a couple of wine coolers.
Call it a sweet fuck-you to Max for looking good even when he looked like shit. The morning scruff did it for me. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days. Plus, it’d started glinting silver in places, like his hair.
“Look at you, sunshine!” Sam smirked. “I heard you had one too many wine coolers last night. Want me to get you a banana bag?”
“Wine cool—fuck you, Reid,” Max grumbled.
I laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders.
It felt incredible to be here—which reminded me of a joke I’d read online. “Hey, in what state in the continental US do you gotta head north to reach the South?”
He furrowed his brow. His brain wasn’t there yet.
“I know that one—Florida!” Sam slapped the top of the SUV before getting in behind the wheel.
“That makes zero sense,” Max huffed.
“Give it another coffee, and you’ll figure it out,” I assured.
From here on out, Rome, Trey, and Cas should be in charge of our annual house rental.
Fucking hell, they’d picked a good one. It looked like a nice beach house, although we were nowhere near the water, and it had eight bedrooms, six baths, a large living room, a grand kitchen that opened up to a big deck outside, with a barbecue area and a nice pool.
The entire back was elevated several feet, something I presumed kept gators away.
The garage was situated underneath the house.
Max automatically followed me into one of the bedrooms, so I didn’t have to wonder if we were gonna share. We usually did, but because we had to. This house was bigger, and he could have his own room if he wanted.
Given it was a brief vacation, I changed into trunks right away before I headed outside with a towel and a beer. We’d bought plenty with us.
A couple of the subs were in charge of the food, and it looked like they were here to please us all. Steaks, potatoes, spicy sausages, burger patties, and only the necessary vegetables. A lot of snacks too, including cheese, chips, dip, fruit, nuts, and charcuterie.
Three of the guys had already jumped into the pool by the time I collapsed in a lounger, and I planned on staying here until I needed to cool off.
This was fucking perfect. No neighbors on this side of the property. The backdrop was all Everglades.
“Aren’t you coming in, Sir?” Garrick pleaded with me.
“Not yet, champ. I’m still defrostin’.” I took a swig of my beer and caught movement in the corner of my eye.
Max had stepped out, dressed similarly to me, and he was busy warding off little Jason and Cas. Not that it would work with that charming smile. Hmpf. I got the sleepy scowls and the grumpy muttering, and the boys got smiles and head pats.
Life wasn’t fair to Sadists.
Eventually, though, he challenged the boys to dive into the pool with their clothes on, and I smirked in approval. Get them into trouble with their Owners. Always a good strategy.
Once the boys were in the water, Max left the scene, satisfied with his work.
He tossed his towel on the next lounger over, then pushed it right up against mine.
Interesting.
“How’s the hangover?” I asked.
“Down with the mother of headaches.” He slumped in the chair and let out a long breath. “I’m not sure it’s just a hangover. I really didn’t drink that much.”
“Mister Jensen!” Cas hollered from the pool.
“Not now, boy,” I said firmly. “He’s got a headache.”
“Oops! Okay! I hope you feel better, Sir!”
That did it. They were good boys.
If Max wasn’t feeling well, the sun wasn’t going to help, so when he threw the towel over his head, I returned to the barbecue area and grabbed one of the large umbrellas. Then I wheeled it back to our corner.
As soon as our loungers were in the shade, he lowered the towel a bit and squinted up at me.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. Something wasn’t right, and I was starting to worry it had to do with last night.
Back in the kitchen, Carl, Sam, and Rome were standing around the island discussing tomorrow—and I’d join if it weren’t for my bag of misery of a friend outside. The ideas were raining while I put together some snacks. Takedown, hide-and-seek, orienteering, and good ole tag were on the table.
“What do you think, Reid?” Sam asked.
“I’m with Rome,” I said. “Start simple with a takedown. Then we can rest for a day and jump into somethin’ that requires more plannin’.”
I filled a plate with bread, cheese, grapes, and a banana, then went to slice the watermelon.
My grocery list for the trip was short and had been taken care of by Shawn, who was a sweet slave by day and a wicked primal brat by night.
I tossed a couple of cheese cubes into my mouth and filled a pitcher with ice and water before I left the guys and headed back out.
“Look at’chu, acting like a Daddy,” Brad joked. “Is Max okay?”
He was firing up the grill for a late lunch.
“He can’t handle the wine coolers anymore,” I replied.
He laughed.
When I reached Max, he’d turned on his side, and he was using his towel as a pillow. He followed my movements through his pity-me expression as I sat down and placed the plate between us. The pitcher ended up on the floorboards, and I resisted the urge to throw water on him.
“You gotta eat, buddy,” I said.
He pushed himself up on his elbow and scrubbed a hand over his face.
He was damn gorgeous. We spent a lot of time outdoors in the summer, so we hadn’t lost much of the tan we got every year. It was extra visible with his trunks riding low over his hip.
“Can you take care of me like this all week?”
I chuckled. “You’re lucky we’re down here. I usually only do this for men who bend over for me.”
A bit of bullshit there. Max and I were good at supporting each other through colds, flus, and other shitty days.
That said, we did tend to behave differently on vacation. I didn’t know what it was, or why; we just stayed closer when we traveled. No wonder it was a favorite of mine.
Max hummed and went for a handful of grapes. “Maybe it’s worth it? What other perks are there?”
“For bending over for me?” I smirked. If he was in a joking mood, I was happy to play along. “For that, I’ll call you sweetheart, dote on you, and, of course, expect to be worshipped.”
He huffed and smiled ruefully. “You’ve never wanted to be worshipped.”