Chapter 16 Max
SIXTEEN
MAX
The credits roll, cheerful music spilling out of the laptop speakers, but I barely hear it. I didn’t watch a single damn second of the movie. Not really.
I watched him.
The way Eli laughed before the punchline even landed, because he knew it by heart. The way his shoulders shook when he tried—and failed—not to snort at the stupidest jokes. The way his whole face lit up, unguarded and bright, as if the world outside his snow globe of a bedroom didn’t exist.
I sat there, pretending to be unimpressed, while my chest pulled tighter with every glance. It was the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen. And maybe that’s the problem.
Because I can’t find my reason. The one I’ve been holding on to—why this can’t last beyond a snowstorm, why it can’t matter. But it does matter. Too much. And if I look at it too closely, if I admit what’s starting to root itself inside me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to bury it again.
I snap the laptop shut before I think too hard, sliding it to the side. “So,” I mutter, dragging myself up off the bed, “you feeding me, or do I have to scavenge?”
Eli stretches, arms above his head, his toned muscles flexing in a distracting way that makes me think about things other than my growling stomach. He grins at me as if I just said something funny. “Lunch. Definitely lunch.”
His hair is a mess, sticking up from where I’ve run my fingers through it one too many times, and his cheeks are still flushed from laughing. He looks like trouble wrapped in sunshine, and I know if I’m not careful, I’m going to let myself burn in it.
I shove the thought down, reaching for the joggers I left draped over the chair to sorta dry. “Then let’s go before I change my mind.”
I tug my legs into my still-damp pants and grimace, already making a mental note that I need dry clothes from my dorm before we go back out into the snow.
When I glance up, he’s still naked. Completely, utterly, unbotheredly naked.
Eli runs his palm over his hip, slow and lazy, then drags it up across his abs to the hollow of his marked throat as if he’s on a stage he knows I can’t look away from. My mouth goes dry. For a second, all I can do is watch the way his skin shifts under his touch, golden in the dim light.
I cross the distance before I can stop myself, catching his mouth in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, teeth scraping, tongue claiming. He laughs into it, the sound bubbling up between us before he breaks away, breathless and grinning.
“God, I love the way you kiss. But,” he says, gesturing down at the half-hard length hanging between us, “I’m gonna have a whole new problem that needs solving before lunch. If you keep doing it.”
My gaze flicks down, then back up, and my cock twitches in agreement. “Then get dressed,” I growl.
His grin only widens as he reaches for his clothes, unhurried and smug. He knows exactly how close I am to throwing lunch out the window entirely and opting for the protein he can provide.
Eli takes his time pulling on a clean pair of joggers and a fitted thermal, the kind that clings to every line of his torso.
He’s humming under his breath, completely unbothered, as if he didn’t just spend the morning begging me to fuck him into the mattress and giggling at corny jokes in that movie.
I sit on the edge of his bed, lacing up my boots, but my gaze keeps dragging back to him, no matter how hard I try to focus on anything else.
The smooth pull of fabric over his body, the way he runs a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and boyish—it all needles under my skin, simmering low and hot.
When he turns to me, grin wide and cheeks pink from the growing chill in his room, it knocks something loose in my chest that I don’t want to name.
“See?” he says, tugging the hem of his shirt down. “Good as new. Ready for round two in the snow.”
I grunt, standing and grabbing my hoodie, trying not to let my stare linger. “You’re exhausting.”
I don’t mean it, not really. My slightly barbed words are the only defense I have left with him. But he doesn’t seem to take them to heart.
He only beams wider. “And yet you keep sticking around.”
I shove my arms into my sleeves and glance away before I can say something I’ll regret on Monday. Doesn’t matter how much he glows, how much he shines—it’s temporary. It has to be.
But my pulse is still hammering when he steps closer, tugging on his own coat, his scent wrapping around me, attempting to prove I’m lying to myself.
The short walk to my dorm room, I’m quiet, but Eli talks enough for both of us—something about the best place to grab sandwiches once we make it out—but my head’s elsewhere. I keep cataloging every grin, every brush of his shoulder against mine, until we’re standing in front of my door.
Inside, the air is colder than before, no body heat in here to help ward off the chill, the faint draft from the old windows gnawing at the heat that had been in the room. I drop my coat on top of my dresser and peel off my hoodie and shirt, reaching for the pants clinging damp to my thighs.
Eli leans against the door at his back, arms folded, eyes bright. He doesn’t even pretend not to stare.
“Keep looking,” I mutter, pushing my pants down.
“Oh, I am.” His grin is wicked and soft all at once.
I mean to tell him to stop gawking, but then I’m standing there naked, reaching for fresh clothes, and he’s already moving. Crossing the room.
His mouth finds mine before I can say a word, hot and demanding, kissing me until my head spins. I grip his hips, trying to steady myself, but he’s relentless sunshine, nipping at my bottom lip, chasing every groan I give him with swipes of his tongue.
By the time he pulls back, I’m breathing hard, cock heavy between us.
Eli glances down, eyes going dark with hunger, and then he drops to his knees without hesitation. My stomach lurches.
“Eli—”
But his hands are already wrapping around the base of me, his mouth sliding hot and wet down my length. I choke on a curse, bracing one hand against the wall to my left, the other tangling in his hair. He hums around me, sucking deep, taking me into his mouth like he’s starving.
“Fuck—” My head tips back. My thighs shake as he works me over, his tongue flicking and swirling over my mushroom head, his throat relaxing to take me deeper. He’s good—too good—and the way his eyes lift to mine while his lips are stretched around my cock nearly undoes me right there.
Eli’s lips slide off me with a wet pop, and for a second, I think I can breathe again. Then his tongue is at the base, licking slowly, dragging up until he’s swirling around the head just to watch me twitch.
“Jesus, Eli—”
He hums before sinking back down, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. The pull is tight, relentless, and I swear my knees are going to give out. My fingers fist in his hair, not guiding, just hanging on.
Then his hand drifts lower. His palm cradles my balls, rolling them with a careful squeeze that has me cursing loudly, hips jerking forward.
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets more wicked with it, fingers sliding back to stroke the sensitive spot behind, then circling further—teasing at my rim. My ass clenches.
“Fuck—don’t—” The protest dies in my throat, replaced with a guttural groan. The tease is maddening, his finger ghosting over me in rhythm with the drag of his mouth.
Eli glances up at me, eyes blazing; he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He bobs his head deeper, swallowing around me, cheeks hollowed tight, until I’m nearly choking on my own breath.
Every nerve in my body sparks at once. The heat coiling low in my stomach is white-hot, desperate, and I’m seconds away from losing it.
“Eli—” My voice is ragged. “You’re…fuck, you’re gonna make me—”
Eli pulls back just enough to swirl his tongue around the tip, his spit and my pre-cum glistening on his lips. He squeezes my balls with just enough pressure to make me gasp, then drags his fingers back to circle my rim again, lazy and taunting.
“Eli…” My voice cracks, more plea than command.
He grins up at me, lips shiny. “What’s that, Calder? Didn’t quite catch it.”
I groan, hips bucking forward in a silent plea, but he moves his hand from my base to grip me tight, stroking agonizingly slow. His mouth hovers, close enough to breathe warmth over my cock but not touch.
“Beg me,” he whispers. “I want to hear you say it.”
My chest heaves. Pride claws at me, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the fire in my veins. He circles my rim again, tongue flicking over the head of my cock, and I break.
“Please,” I rasp. “Suck me, Eli. Take me down. I need it—need you.”
The sound he makes is half laugh, half moan, and then he finally gives me what I’m begging for. He swallows me deep, cheeks hollowing in that perfect fucking way he has, throat working around me until I’m cursing loud, head tipping back.
I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Just Eli—wet, hot, perfect fucking lips around me, dragging me closer and closer to the edge.
Eli’s mouth is a slick furnace around me, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks me deep, then pulls back to drag his tongue along the underside of my cock.
His fingers squeeze my balls, roll them slowly, and the other hand teases that circle at my rim again, threatening to press inside, all of it is just enough pressure to keep my whole body tight, trembling.
I’m so close I can taste it, every muscle strung up tight. My hips jerk, and he swallows me down again, deeper this time, throat flexing around me. I cry out, raw, undone—about to spill.
And then he pulls off with a filthy wet pop, stroking me with that slow, deliberate fist, lips glistening as he looks up at me.
“Not yet.” His grin is wicked, cruel, and holy fuck it makes me harder. “I said beg, Calder.”
“Jesus Christ, Eli—” My voice cracks, turning into a ragged groan as my cock twitches in his grip. My knees nearly give out. “Please. Please don’t stop. I need to come. Let me, Princess. Please. Let me come inside your hot fucking mouth.”
That’s what does it. He enjoys being called princess. His smug grin softens into something molten, and he sinks his mouth back over me, all the way down until his nose presses against my stomach. He hums, the vibration shooting straight through me, and I shatter with a broken moan.
My orgasm tears through me, spilling into his mouth in thick, hot pulses. Eli swallows it down, sucking every last drop until I’m shaking, gasping his name.
Only then does he ease back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He stands easily, watching me with a smirk.
“Mmmm, sweet,” he murmurs, as if he’s taste-testing dessert. His eyes glitter when they lock on mine, daring me to argue.
I’m still trying to breathe, chest heaving, sweat cooling on my skin. My legs feel like lead, and my cock gives a weak twitch even though I’ve got nothing left to give. “You’re insufferable,” I rasp.
Eli grins wider, dragging his palm slowly up my thigh until it rests high on my hip. “Maybe. But you begged for it.” He leans in close, lips brushing my ear. “Begged me so pretty, Max. I like it when you beg.”
Heat scorches my neck. I should push him away, get dressed, do something to put distance between us. Instead, I stay rooted to the spot, pulse thundering as though I’m still halfway to coming undone again.
He plants a quick kiss at the corner of my mouth, feather-light, before flopping onto my bed. His hair’s a mess, his lips swollen, his smugness radiating off him in waves. He kicks his boots off, and they drop to the floor with a thud.
“C’mon,” he says, patting the mattress beside him. “Get over here before you collapse. Or should I carry you, Calder?”
My jaw works, a dozen retorts jamming up in my throat. But the truth is, I don’t want space. I want to sink down beside him and let his sunshine burn me alive.
I drop down beside him, muttering under my breath, “You’re ridiculous.”
Eli scoots closer instantly, tucking himself against my side as if he was waiting for me to give in. His arm drapes across my stomach, his fingers drawing idle circles on my skin like he hasn’t just wrung me out completely.
“You love it,” he says.
I snort, tipping my head back. “Debatable.”
“Not debatable.” He props his chin on my chest, grinning up at me with those stupidly bright eyes. “You’d kick me out if you didn’t. But here I am. Still one hundred percent…” He gestures at himself as if he’s presenting a prize. “…me.”
“Unfortunately.”
He gasps, clutching his chest like I’ve mortally wounded him. “Unfortunately? After I just gave you the best orgasm of your life?”
I groan and drag a hand down my face, refusing to dignify that with a response. He wiggles in closer, satisfied anyway, his laughter muffled against my skin.
For a long beat, all I can hear is his steady breathing, the way it evens out once he’s comfortable. His body is warm, heavy against mine, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
“Admit it,” he says softly, almost sing-song, but there’s something gentler under it now. “You like me.”
I glance down at him, at his mess of hair and smug smile and the stupid way he glows even in my dim dorm light. My throat works around words that want to say just that. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I huff out something halfway to a laugh, and he beams like he’s won. Again.