5. Wallace #3
There were some times where Wallace felt like Maxamillion could have been a cool colleague. A couple times they’d chatted, and it had almost felt like talking with a real friend. Kind of how he was starting to feel around Magnolia and Angel.
Only Maxamillion was a corporate knowledge secretly lurking in Orbit’s mainframe, and Wallace knew that he was only being friendly to keep Wallace buttered up so he wouldn’t turn him in.
The knowledge wanted to transfer to an android body—which was fine as far as Wallace was concerned—but in the meantime he was running unchecked through their company’s data, without any security protocols in place.
Maxamillion had already caused two accidents by taking up so much processor bandwidth that the emergency response systems couldn’t kick in, and the absolute last thing that Wallace trusted him with was speeding up a project that his medical staff said needed another year.
Yes, he knew that Maxamillion, along with Benedict Curran, the genius who’d programmed him before he caught the spark, would probably have a thousand ways to do things better and faster.
Hell, he knew that they could probably step in, take one look around, and redesign everything before he even had time to blink.
But this was his project, dammit. He was the one who had championed it, and he’d been working on it for three years. If there were improvements to be made—and there always were, technology was constantly advancing—they could come in version two.
And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let cocky Curran come in and upstage him at the last minute by delivering on the unreasonable timeline that his father kept pushing.
“Okay, jeez,” Maxamillion relented. “So, doing anything fun this weekend?”
“No,” Wallace answered. It wasn’t true—he was hoping to both score ballet tickets and plan a trip to the state park—but he wanted to test if Max was listening to his private conversations, too.
“Did Daddy like your outfit?” Max teased.
He was referring to the cool app he’d made on the fly that matched up Wallace’s body shape—like, a 3D rendering of his actual body, not just a generic fat guy—to the clothes that would look the best on him and then sent links to buy them.
And though the program had been absolutely amazing, and had Wallace actually feeling good about how he’d looked on his date so he should probably be grateful, he could feel his face growing red. His relationship with Daddy was too new. Too private.
“You’re listening to my conversations!”
“No! No. I promise I’m not. I told you the only thing that I saw was one text with someone called Daddy on your phone, and that was weeks ago.
I promised I wouldn’t read your conversations, and I haven’t.
I just happen to be observant. Last week you were mopey and didn’t take your daily walks.
Then you were super anxious. Then you missed a day of work—for the first time in six years—and had a smile on your face.
Ergo, Detective Max put the clues together and figured that You. Got. Laid. ”
Max was all too pleased with himself.
Even if he was correct, dammit.
And apparently not overstepping as much as Wallace had thought.
Part of Wallace wanted to tell Max all about it. To crow about having a real boyfriend. To dissect every moment of the two days he’d just spent with Volt and pour over the best possible locations for dates.
But a bigger part of himself was still wary.
Max’s personality was larger-than-life. He had the vibe of someone who could make friends professionally, dropping charm and affection like the air rushing through his fans, without any of it meaning anything.
Wallace couldn’t let himself forget that Max needed to stay on his good side to avoid being reported.
Nobody would try this hard to be his friend in the best of circumstances, and obviously not when he was being this rude at every interaction.
No, this was all a facade.
So Wallace gave a noncommittal grunt.
Although Volt had complimented him on his clothing choices. And, well… What if Max could help him again? Maybe to find some clothes that were a little more… feminine?
No, that was far too personal to share with anyone. Not a chance in hell.
Even if Max wasn’t the type to judge, this was far too scary to share with someone else right now. Maybe ever.
Yeah, if no one but Volt ever saw him in the dresses he was barely starting to let himself imagine wearing, that would be just perfect. That was for him and him alone.
Well, him and Daddy.
“So do you want to…” Max started again.
“Go away, Maxamillion,” Wallace reiterated.
Max sighed. Heavily. “Alright. See you tomorrow! Oh, and you might want to tell Daddy not to bite above your collar line.”
Wallace slapped a hand to his neck.
Dammit.
He pulled his collar up, then checked his appearance with his phone camera. It was mostly hidden.
But then he pulled it down to look again.
It stood out, purple and red against his pink skin. It hurt a little bit when he pressed on it.
He was pretty sure he’d never had a hickey before, and suddenly, his day felt brighter.
He was wearing Daddy’s marks, and in just a few hours, he’d be seeing him again.