Chapter 11
LOGAN
Max sneaks into my room, and I put out my half-smoked cigarette with a sigh. “Finally done fooling around, sunshine?”
He had been with her for over an hour, and I doubt taking care of someone takes that long.
“We didn’t fool around.”
What a terrible liar.
“Tell that to the shit-eating grin on your face,” I say, keeping the rest of my thoughts inside. I didn’t call Max over to talk. Since this shit between us started, I haven’t had to get myself off once, and I intend to keep it that way.
He flops down on my couch, way too close, and like every single time he does this, I don’t know what exactly makes him think I want him near.
“Didn’t you cuddle enough with her?” I ask, digging my elbow into his arm. “Thought that’s why you were so set on keeping her, to stop bothering me with this sweet shit.”
Hurt flashes across his features for the split second it takes him to regain control of his face. So fast it’s easy to ignore.
Max slides down from the couch and kneels in front of me, his hands crossed behind his back. Much better.
“Any particular reason you wanted me to come over?” he asks, pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth while he waits for permission to touch me.
He is always so eager to please, like it’s ingrained in his DNA. His absolute devotion to me is a double-edged sword; it drives me crazy, and that in itself is a problem.
I nod, gesturing for him to open my cargos. My cock is straining the fabric, twitching when Max pulls my boxers down a little.
“You better teach her to suck my cock like you do,” I say as he wraps his hand around me.
“Thinking about replacing me?”
Fucking cocky. My fingers tangle in Max’s hair as he licks a strip from the root of my cock up to the tip. Telling him to let his hair grow out was a perfect decision.
“Never,” I murmur, so quiet he doesn’t hear it. “Don’t tempt me.”
I stop his grumbling by forcing my cock into his mouth, pushing deeper without giving him time to adjust. He can take it, can take a whole fucking lot if I tell him to.
“Been thinking about the first time I fucked you, sunshine.”
Bucking my hips up, I press his head down at the same time. My cock hits the back of his throat, and when Max swallows around it, I let out a low growl. Always so tight and hot; his fucking lethal mouth one of the reasons I’m way too infatuated with him.
I wish I could keep him like this. Chained somewhere, with a pretty collar around his neck, ready to be fucked every hour of the day. He would be safe, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him so goddamn much.
“Celaya,” he pants when I let go of his head, allowing him to breathe. I’m sure he’d know the exact time and date too, probably has it noted in his diary with a ton of hearts around it.
“Looked so tempting that day, covered in blood. Slaughtered all those men just for me,” I say, pushing his head back down while I let mine fall back.
Max isn’t like me. He kills because his job demands it. I do it because killing is the only thing I was ever good at.
A part of me is still convinced Max’s performance in Celaya was a desperate—and concerning—attempt to court me, but the problem started way earlier.
From the day Rockwell introduced Max as the newest addition to the task force, I knew he was trouble. His smile too bright, his laugh too loud, his ability to read the fucking room, nonexistent. To top it off, I had to team up with the golden retriever.
Rockwell didn’t care for my complaints, ignored any explanation about how I work alone. So, I decided to put the new guy through hell.
But no matter how much I yelled at Max, no matter how degrading my punishments got, he powered through everything like it was a walk in the park. And instead of reaching my goal to break him and get him to leave the task force, he broke me.
Traumatizing him was impossible, so I tried the next best thing: neglect. But Max simply ignored my ignoring and continued to trail after me like I was his new mom, not just at work, but also whenever we had a day off.
Bars near base were always a safe bet for nights when I needed a distraction. Filled with girls looking for a man in uniform, a uniform I usually snatched from the little shithead because he had to be good for something.
It was a typical night, one where Max, as always, didn’t grasp the concept of personal space, just like he somehow never wanted to annoy Rockwell or Sam instead of me. And with his beach boy smile and his ridiculous jokes, he was a goddamn magnet for girls.
I just wanted a quick fuck to silence my head for an hour or two. And after a while, I did end up in a motel with a girl; and Max.
That’s when it clicked. The weird glances, his annoying clinginess, the way he coincidentally showed up everywhere I went, the goddamn plate of cookies in my office every Monday—that wasn’t lost puppy behavior.
No, the moron had been trying to flirt with me.
The realization hit me mid-fuck, and him having only eyes for me when he came all over the girl’s tits just confirmed what I didn’t want to accept.
Max moans around my cock, pulling me back to the present.
“Already struggling?”
He shakes his head while looking up at me, his eyes shiny with unspilled tears. My cock glistens with spit and precum when I pull it out of his mouth, making a lewd sound as I slap it against his cheek.
“Remember how many you killed that day?” He doesn’t answer, tries to distract me by mouthing at my cock instead. “Tell me how many, sunshine,” I growl, grabbing his face.
“Four.”
“Wrong.”
Gathering saliva in my mouth, I press my fingers into his cheeks until he opens his mouth for me and I let it trail down onto his tongue as my eyes meet his.
Max is all sweet and pretty on the outside. The perfect soldier, born to follow orders, but deep down, he’s just as sick as I am. Completes me in a dangerous, depraved way, as if I unknowingly spent my entire life searching for him.
“Six,” I correct him, yanking him up from his knees.
He doesn’t waste a second to straddle me, always so grateful for the crumbs I throw him.
“My little killer,” I laugh, my hand snaking to the back of his head.
His eyes are full of want, an almost unnoticeable tremble going through his body.
He wants to close the distance between us so badly, but even with his mind gone like this, he wouldn’t dare to do it.
The last time he tried to take what’s mine to give, he carried the marks for weeks.
“My sunshine, all fucking mine,” I whisper against his lips, smiling when he sighs and hot air hits my skin.
Fighting the urge to give in to his desire, he sticks to my rules as if his life depends on my satisfaction with his behavior. Gently, I pull his bottom lip between my teeth, and then I bite down. Hard, until the taste of his blood hits my tongue. Max doesn’t even flinch.
It’s only when I start licking over the fresh cut that he whines, moving his hips in a pathetic search for any kind of friction. I push his pants down until his cock springs free, loosely wrapping my hand around it so he has something to fuck into.
“Could think you have a pretty cunt with how wet you get,” I whisper, swiping my thumb over his slit that’s oozing precum.
Max bucks his hips, and I lean back with a grin, watching drops of blood form on his lip.
“So pretty when you go all stupid for me, sunshine. Would let me do anything I want to you, am I right?”
He nods frantically, and when his thrusts get sloppier, I let go of his cock. He wants to use his own hand, but I swat it away.
“Behave,” I hiss, wrapping my hand around both our cocks.
“Thank you,” Max forces out, over and over, strained and so fucking desperate as he begins to move.
“Don’t know what got into you that night,” I say when he slumps forward to lean his head against my shoulder, the movement of his cock against mine making me clench my jaw. “Had that fuckin’ crazy look in your eyes when you took the last one out.”
“Thought he hurt you,” Max mumbles, sounding almost ashamed.
I still remember the mission like it was yesterday. Our weekend activities had become a regular occurrence, but I didn’t trust Max. Trusted none of the guys, to be honest. Too used to fighting for myself, to leave nothing behind that could cause me problems.
And now I had a problem basically attached to my hip.
We were getting ready to raid a cartel hideout, and I told Max to stay behind. He started listing his qualifications, like I gave a shit about them. As if his lack of skill—something I often accused him of, knowing it was far from the truth—was the reason I wanted to go in alone.
I wanted to disappear that night. Do my job, make sure the others got into the building safely to gather their intel, and then vanish before anyone noticed.
Had it all set up, enough ammo, money, and fake papers in my pocket.
And when Max finally shut up and agreed to wait outside the building to observe the exits, I really thought my plan would work.
The moment I stopped answering Max over comms, he barged into the house. Slaughtered his way through the remaining men to reach me like I was a damsel in distress. And distressed I was indeed, but for entirely different reasons.
I yelled at him to fuck off, only for him to push me against the wall with an almost inhuman force. He crowded my space more and more with every insult I threw at him, and just when I wanted to tell him he was the reason I had to leave, his lips were on mine.
Sam, Rockwell, and a few guys we had for backup took care of the lower floors and the cellar while Max and I ended up in a tiny storage room. With our limbs tangled and our damn gear in the way of everything, the only thing that kept us from falling was the lack of space to do so.
What made me lose all sense of responsibility in the end was the way Max looked at me. Blood all over him, his pupils blown so wide there was barely a sliver of pale green left. Like I would have been the next one with a knife stuck in his guts if I had tried to stop him.
He begged me to fuck him, immune to logic and reasoning.
Whined for my cock, until whines turned into demands.
The air in the small room was so thick with want I could no longer think straight, and my senses only came back for a moment when I had my hand wrapped around my cock, bullying the tip inside his tight hole.
Our blood must have consisted of pure adrenaline at this point, and before I had a chance to put my hands on Max, he came, moaning my name, and dragged me over the edge with him.
Time stood still in that godforsaken room, and while I tugged his pants back up so he wouldn’t waste a fucking drop of my cum, a part of me had hoped that more men would barge in and shoot me while I still had my damn cock out.
No one came, though, and my head felt like it was stuck in cotton, until I screamed at Max, asking how goddamn stupid a man could be; if he was trying to get the both of us killed.
And maybe getting killed would have been a blessing because I already knew things between us would never return to normal, if they had ever been normal to begin with.
We still picked up girls at bars. As something resembling friends, because we were a good team; on the battlefield, and in bed. And because it was so much easier to ignore the elephant in the room with a third warm body serving as a physical barrier between us.
It was when we started crossing that line a little too often that I knew I was in trouble.
I’m so deep in my thoughts I almost fail to notice how close Max is. Not that this is something I usually care about since he’s done when I decide he’s done.
He tries to ask for permission to come, but all that leaves his mouth is an incoherent mess. Finally, he manages to get out a desperate, “Can I come, please,” and I tighten my grip around our cocks.
His hips stutter while sweet moans fill my ears, and I’d tell him to tone it the fuck down if I wasn’t a bit too far gone myself.
“Keep moving,” I growl, milking the last few drops of cum from his cock until my load joins his on my shirt. So overstimulated a few stray tears run down his cheeks, but it’s not my fault they suit him so well.
Blissed out, I allow myself to feel his lips on mine, but once my head works correctly again, I turn away.
“Satisfied?” I ask, and he slumps down against me, making everything too warm and sticky.
“Mhm.”
“Great, then get the fuck off of me.”
Pouting, he retreats back to his corner of the couch. I pull off my shirt, wiping my hand clean before I throw it into the corner to the rest of our laundry. Ours, because someone acts like this room belongs to him, too.
In Max’s wonky logic, my bigger bed and proper couch seem to signal I want his ass in here all the time. Unfortunately, I slept like shit when he wasn’t around two nights ago. Something I wouldn’t even admit when held at gunpoint.
“How’s your girl? Had a mental breakdown because someone touched her pussy?” I ask, lighting up a cigarette.
“I’d say she handled it pretty well,” he says with a laugh. “Give her some more time. She’ll get used to all of this.”
“No,” I hiss when Max leans closer to steal a drag, turning the other way to exhale away from him. “That’s bad for you.”
“I am an adult, Logan.”
“Doesn’t mean shit.”
He throws his legs over mine, and I take another deep drag to keep myself from lashing out.
“She never had an orgasm,” I state dryly.
“Yeah, told me she thinks there’s something wrong with her.”
I let my head fall back and watch smoke rise up to the ugly popcorn ceiling. “There was definitely something wrong with her when she decided to marry that guy,” I say with a groan. “Thought about having a little chat with him.”
Max shakes his head. “Don’t piss off Rockwell. Mr. Holton is his problem, and I don’t want to risk anything as long as we’re hiding her on base.”
“Speaking of hiding her on base,” I say, turning my head to look at Max, “I’m still waiting to hear about your great plan, sunshine.”
“I’ll come up with something,” he says, playing around with my lighter. “Soon,” he adds when I glare at him.
I have a feeling that this is going to blow up all around us like Max’s side projects usually do.